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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

Ember

Tony Stark X Daughter!Reader

Warning: Child neglect, swearing, angst, death

Summary: After being kidnapped by Hydra, Y/N does some reflecting on her home life. Especially her relationship with her father

italics = past pov

Bold= thoughts

Italic bold= ghosts

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You never thought your life would end like this. Alone, trapped in a Hydra cell, full of anger and resentment for the one man who was never supposed to break your heart. Of course, up until now you had been pretty optimistic your father would realize the error of his ways and miraculously spend years making up for years of missed recitals, ignored achievements, and multiple other offenses. You always forgave him because, hey the man was a member of the Avengers, what should you expect having Tony Stark as a father?

But right now, as you lay on the cold, damp floor, writhing in pain from whatever glowey nuclear shit those assholes injected you with, you can’t help but remember the mistreatment and neglect bestowed upon you by your father.

It was, it was September Winds blow, dead leaves fall

You’ll always remember that September day. The day your entire life had changed

You were only eight when Loki tried to take over New York. You and your mom were coming home from the store when all of a sudden, people around you started to panic. Looking up, you saw a large portal in a once clear blue sky. Creatures appeared out of no where, destroying anything in their way. Your mother, terrified, took you by the hand and headed for a near by building. But, it seemed that others had that idea as well. Before you knew it, your vision was overwhelmed by the bodies of citizens trying to escape the chaos outside. After a few seconds, you found yourself in a crowed parking garage and no idea where your mother was.

You never saw her again after that.

After three days of searching, the police declared her dead and you were sent to live with your godmother, Pamela Isely.

She was good to you. She held you through nightmares, told you stories about how your mother and her met, and even taught you how to take care of plants. The only complaint you had was that she would usually leave you alone every once in a while and come back with a lot of money, and occasionally, a loud blonde woman in a clown costume would come through the window and pinch your cheeks too hard. Other than that, you got adjusted to your new life quickly.

Four months passed and your life changed again. It was a cold September day, and you had just got home from school. As you walked into the apartment, you immediately felt a tension in the air, and you saw a man at the table with your Aunty Pam, who looked extremely uneasy and pale. They stared at you until your Aunt spoke.

“Y/N...you’re going back to New York.”

Those words alone made the floor fall from underneath you. You had just settled down. You finally felt comfortable without your mother in the world and now this?? Then the man cleared his throat, causing you to snap back into reality.

“Y/n, my name is Tony Stark”

You knew that name, he was the man in the metal suit who helped save New York. You didn’t care at the moment though, you just wanted to know why you were leaving your aunt.

Ignoring Tony, you looked at your aunt and whispered,

“ Did...did I do something wrong?”

Immediately, Pams eyes filled with tears as she quickly gathered you in her arms and responded with a loud,

“Oh no, darling of course not”, She then proceeded to tell you the uncomfortable looking man at the table was in fact your father, who up till now you had never met. In fact, you never even fathomed the idea of having a father as your mom had always told you that you were a gift from some fairies she helped. You turned to the man who quietly sat at the table and looked over the man who was said to be your father.

He was definitely a handsome man. He wore a fancy looking suit and some tinted glasses even though he was inside. His hair was dark brown and messy, as if he was tugging or running his fingers through it. His skin looked to be am olive color but it was hard to tell as he looked kind of pale in the light of the small apartment you called home. You thought it was odd he hadn’t said anything other than introducing himself.

“ Is it true? Are you really my dad?” You asked in a quiet voice.

He finally spoke, “Yeah kid, I’m your dad”

To you, I did surrender

Two weeks, you didn’t call

It’s been two weeks since you were taken by Hydra. Two weeks since you were injected with that mystery substance. You didn’t die, at least you don’t think you did. But you didn’t exactly feel alive either. You were colder than usual, like your body temperature lowered. You slept longer than normal especially the first three days after you were injected. The guards had to wake you up just to get you to eat. But the most worrying symptom of all is that your eyes were the same shade of neon blue as the liquid that was injected into your body. And everytime your eyes turned blue, something weird would happen.

For example, the first time you noticed your eyes were blue, you woke up from the first long sleep.The second time, you thought you heard voices, screaming in agony and despair.This was odd because you were the only one in that cell block. As you came back to reality, you realized that you could see other ghostly figures in the once empty cells, and that you were floating three feet above your bed.

Within the two weeks you were in that cell, you learned that that day you were injected, your heart did stop for an hour until you miraculously sprung back to life with a loud gasp, scaring the absolute shit out of the Hydra guards that were tasked with disposing your body. That would go through physical changes as well. Your once brown skin would change to a pale ghostly blue. And your black kinky hair would change to a shocking neon blue to match the color of your eyes.

For two weeks, you learned the ins and outs of your newfound powers. Two weeks of being pushed to your absolute limits by power hungry scientists. Two weeks of learning the names of the dead around you in those cells.

It took two weeks, to realize that your father truly didn’t care about you.

And looking back on it, you should’ve known

Your life, goes on without me My life, a losing game

It had been a year since you had moved into the Avengers Tower with your father. It had taken you a while to warm up to the team and for the team to get used to having a child around. But once you all got to know each other, it was like having multiple aunts and uncles. Especially because you were around them more than your own father.

Unfortunately, once you had settled in and gotten to know everyone, Tony had locked himself away in his lab. Tinkering on a new project for weeks on end, ignoring his responsibilities as a new father.

Now, this didn’t really affect you till you started school. Tony had forgotten to pick you up multiple times, causing you to wait for hours on end till either Steve or Pepper realized that you hadn’t come home and rushed to the school , only to see you waiting on the front steps talking the ear off of the unlucky teacher who had to stay behind to wait with you.

Of course word got around that Y/N Stark was being forgotten at school everyday, thus prompting the kids at school to taunt you everyday after school.

“Where's your daddy Y/N??”

“I bet he leaves you here so you can get kidnapped so he doesn’t have to look at you”

“Your own dad doesn’t even love you”

Once you got to middle school, you joined as many after school clubs to hide the fact that there was no one to pick you up. And a small part hoped that it would be enough to gain your fathers attention. But it didn’t happen.

“Daddy! I made the volleyball team!”

“hmm, oh that's great kid, can you pass me that wrench”

“Dad! I’m in the robotics club”

“Y/N I’m really busy right now”

“ Hey dad...can you help me with--”

“Not now, go ask Pepper”

No matter what you did, you could never get his attention long enough. Nothing you did was good enough. You never got so much as a “welcome home” or a “ have a good day at school kiddo”. And you were fine with that. You were, because you knew that even though he didn’t show it, Tony Stark really did love you.

But you should, you should not doubt me You will remember my name.

After learning the extent of your powers, which included; flying,the ability to talk and see the dead, energy blasts, floating through walls, and the ability to shut off your powers at will. You decided it was time for you to make plans to escape.

You’d like to think that you were really good at pretending.

You did it on a daily basis, really. You pretended to be happy, not to notice Tony’s neglect, like you didn’t see the pity glances the rest of the team gave you. So convincing your captors that they finally broke you down wasn’t really a challenge.

“....fine..i’ll help you” You said in a tired weak voice.

The two guards were startled at first, not expecting you to speak so suddenly

“You..what?” The younger of the two asked in a suspicious tone.

“I said I want to help you” you repeated a little louder.

The first guard looked to the second, obviously confused at your sudden change of heart. They had a silent conversation with their eyes, as if debating on whether this was a trick or not. Finally, the older of the two turned to you and said,

“This better not be a trick, Stark.”

And with that, he started to unlock the door to your cell.

“Okay, now I can either fight them now and make a break for it, or I can wait till i get to the--”

Your thoughts were cut off by a loud wailing, piecing your ears and automatically giving you a headache. Wincing in pain you look around the empty cell blocks and try to locate the spirit that’s making all that noise. When you see it, your heart breaks. It’s a young boy, around your age. The first thing you notice about him is that he had white hair, kinda Danny Phantom. As you continued to stare at the boy, his head suddenly turned and you both made eye contact, the movement startling you enough to make you jerk in the hold of the guards

“ HEY, eyes forward!” shouted the older guard. “There's no way out, if that's what you're looking for’ He said in a smug tone.

“I said I wanted to join you, why would I want to escape?” You reply, irritation dripping from your words.

“Just don’t pull any tricks kid.”

God does he have any other lines, you think to yourself mentally rolling your eyes. Sounds familiar.

Oh Ember, you will remember

Oh Ember, one thing remains

“Y/N I’m busy, go as--” “I know, go ask Pepper”

“Oh kid, I’m sorry I forgot” “ yeah, I know”

“You’re on the volleyball team” “ yes dad. For four years now”

“Y/N! I’m gonna be in the lab with Peter so try not to bother us.”

“Y/N me and Peter--”

“Good job, Peter”

“Hey Peter--”

God were you tired of that name. You never ever felt the feeling of envy and anger as much as you did when Peter came into your life.

In fact, you were still healing from almost losing your family you found in the Avengers. Your dad didn’t want you around the “traitors” as he privately called them, so you were secluded. Watching them from afar and yearning for the comfort of hearing Steves pre-war stories, helping Clint pull off the most ridiculous pranks, helping Wanda teach Vision how to cook, and most of all you missed talking to Natasha. She reminded you of your aunt Pam, mainly because they both had red hair. You hoped that your father would understand this loss and step up now that you really needed a connection, but no. He decided that Peter Parker deserved all his attention. So you stopped trying as hard.

Oh Ember, So warm and tender You will remember my name

You walk into a room with a singular table and no windows. Sat at the table was a bald man writing in a notebook. The two guards lead you to the table and make you sit opposite of the bald man. He looks up at you and smiles.

“So, Ms. Stark has finally decided to comply?” He asks in a smug tone. You roll your eyes and answer back in a sarcastic tone,

“Yeah yeah, just cut the crap and tell me what you want me to do.”

The bald man just smiles and looks at you, as if trying to read your mind to figure out your motives.

“Well”, he says, leaning back into his chair. “Lets get down to business.” He then proceeds to talk about the process of join his team and what you will be doing. But you don’t hear a word of it. Because you were going to escape this hell hole one way or another.

“Well then, lets get you changed.” said the bald man. “Yeager, Jennings, take our guest to to her new room.

“Huh so they do have names.” You think, as they pull you out of the chair and into the hallway. Walking back into the cell block, you make eye contact with that white haired boy again. He’s quiet as he watches you walk back to your room, then he disappears.

You finally get back to your cell and notice a pair of black spandex, black halter top, grey boots and some black gloves on the floor. Changing into them, you take your hair into a pineapple with a hair tie they had given you. Looking into the piece of metal you used as a mirror, you changed into your ghost form. Suddenly, you hear a male voice behind you.

“Don’t let them know you can do that.”

You startle and turn around, only to see none other than the white haired boy. He looked equally as startled as he realized you can see and hear him.

“Why not?” you asked, changing back to your normal self.

“Because, they won’t ever let you leave.You’re already the first one to survive the injection. If they realize you can go ghost, they’ll do everything in their power to control you.”

Your mind flashed to Bucky. How Steve told you that they kept him. Brainwashing him over and over till he just became a weapon. You were not going to let them do that to you. You looked back at the boy.

“Can you help me get out of here?” you asked hopefully. The boy looked at you and said,

“Well I’ve got nothing else to do.” You let go a sigh of relief. You were about to say something when you heard Yeager and Jennings walking down the hallway.

“They’re coming” You whisper, “ what do I do?”

“This base is small. All the people here are the only ones who know about it. They’re all going to be in the training room you’re being taken to. Wait till you get there, phase into the floor to the basement and blow up the heater. That should cause the whole building to cave in”

You again don’t get to respond, as the two men finally get to your cell and unlock it. You walk out of the cell, head held high and allow them to lead you to the training room. Despite the look of confidence, you were dreading the next few moments.

“So how come I’m the only one here?” you ask, even though you know the answer. The older guard looks at you and says

“You’re the only one who survived.” You fake a look of shock and look forward as if the news made you uneasy. And it did. It made you mad that these people didn’t care that they were murdering innocent people. They couldn’t hear the cries and the wails of agony these poor trapped souls emitted. In a way, it was ironic. Back at the tower, you were the poor soul nobody could see. And now you were surrounded by them.

Your heart, your heart is rendered Your loss, now bear the shame

This was the last straw. There was only so much you an take before you broke and this was it.

Tony didn’t intend for you to hear it, but god did it hurt all the same. One phrase shattered your whole world.

“You know Spiderling, your kinda like the kid I always wanted to have.”

An tense silence filled the common room. The first time in months you were able to see th eteam and they had to bear witness to this. Of course they did, who else would give you that stare full of sorrow and pity. You barely even noticed though. You were too busy looking at the “heartwarming scene.”

“that's such bullshit” Oh, how you wish you had a camera if only to capture the look of pure “oh shit” painted on Steve's face.

“What..what was that kid?” Asks your father. You turn to him, a fury in your eyes that nobody has ever seen.

“THAT IS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT.” You scream. “ FOR EIGHT YEARS I HAVE TRIED SO HARD FOR YOU TO LOVE ME. EIGHT YEARS I JOINED CLUBS, GOT THE HIGHEST GRADED IN CLASS AND FOR WHAT?”

Tony and Peter look at you in shock “Y/n..wha..what are you talking about?” Peter asks in a baffled voice.

“Oh eat shit Peter! You know exactly what I’m talking about! Do you not find it weird, that your new mentor spends every single second of free time he has on you and not with his daughter?? Or are you so needy for some sort of parental validation that you don’t even care??”

Deep down you know it’s not Peters fault. Hell, you two probably could have been good friends if your dad wasn’t such a tool.

“Hey kid, I don’t know what's gotten into you, but that was way over the line.” Said Tony in a stern voice. Your eyes harden.

“Oh, did I hurt your poor little spiders feelings?? I didn’t even know you cared about other peoples feelings Tony? Or is it just your daughters that you ignore ?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t ignore you, stop being so over dramatic.”

OVERDRAMATIC?? DO YOU REALIZE THE ONLY THING YOU KNOW ABOUT ME IS MY NAME??” You are now sobbing. “ Do you even know my favorite color? How old I am?”

Tony looks at you, eyes wide.”Y/N...” You cut him off

“Just forget it. I understand now. I will never be important to you. Not like Peter apparently is. I just wish it didn't take me eight years to figure that out.” And with that, you run out of the room, tears running down your cheeks and ignoring the calls of your father, the team, and Peter.

You run for a few blocks and cry in an alleyway. not the smartest idea but you were too upset to care. And as you cry, you don’t notice the dark shadow behind you before its too late and the world goes dark.

Like dead trees, in cold december Nothing but ashes remain

The hydra base was now engulfed with flames. Your body was tired from phasing through the walls, and your head hurts from those energy blasts. But one thing brings some happiness in your heart as you watch all the souls that were trapped there realize they are free. All but one, the white haired kid. He walks up to you.

“So you did it.” He says with a smile. You smile back.

“Yeah I did. Thanks to you.”

“Blue suits you.” he says with a blush. You squint at him for a second and let out a chuckle.

“Thanks” ,You’re both silent for a few seconds, watching the souls leave. You speak up again.

“Why aren’t you leaving like them” You question him.

“I don’t know, I guess my time here isn’t up.” he says looking out at the horizon. You nod and look at around trying to figure out where you are.

“So, what are you going to do next” he asks. Your body stiffens as you are filled with resentment.

“I’m going to visit my father.” You say, eyes glowing a neon blue.

You will remember my name.

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A/N: HI!so this is my first ever fanfic! i hope anyone who reads this enjoys it!! Let me know what you think and what i can improve on!💕

#tony stark x daughter!reader #danny phantom #fanfic #marvel #marvel x reader #reader insert #tony stark #tony stark imagine #peter parker x stark!reader #the avengers #poc reader #avengers x teen!reader #x reader #danny phantom x reader #steve rogers x reader #crossover #poison #poison ivy

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snackleggg · 3 years

Text

Loud music and hard of hearing conspiracy

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An Unidentified Flying Ship one shot

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The music was blaring loudly but from the hallway at least it was a little muffled. Not entirely, Wes could still pick out the words to whatever awful pop song was playing if he focused but it was muted enough that he could at least ignore it.

How did I end up here?

A week ago everything had been fine, normal. Then everything went downhill.

It started when everyone was getting hyped about prom because it was only a week away. What was once an occasional subject that was mentioned once or twice in conversation quickly dominated the forefront of everyone's minds.

Of course with it came everyone talking about dates and Wes had rolled his eyes at the relationship drama that would proceed the school dance.

"What about you Wes?" His twin brother Kyle had asked.

Wes at the time was glaring at Fenton from across the cafeteria, totally zoned out from the world around him and whatever conversation was going on at the table but his brother's question had reeled him back in.

He blinked, turning his attention to Kyle who sat beside him "What about what?"

"Are you going with someone to prom?" One of the others at the table asked. Oh so the conversation had drifted there.

Before Wes could answer no, he was going to be too busy trying to gather evidence to expose Fenton someone else at the table went "I'm pretty sure he wants to ask Fenton to prom"

Wes' brain blue screened for a moment but when he saw everyone at the table nodding he was immediately snapped out of his stupor "wha- NO! Of course not! Why would you even think!?" Wes fumbled but then Kyle put his hand on Wes' shoulder.

"Bro, no offence but we all know you have a crush on Fenton and that you're just using your conspiracy theories as an excuse" Kyle said while looking at Wes sympathetically.

"I don't- I'm not using anything as an excuse, Fenton is Phantom! How can you guys not see it!?" Wes said, he was pointedly ignoring the heat he felt rush to his cheeks.

Another person at their table just shook their head in pity "Oh you poor thing, still in denial about your feelings. You know well still accept you no matter your sexuality right Wes?" They said and Wes heard his brother mumble something about how sad it was Wes thought ghosts were real.

At this point Wes was left completely speechless at the way all his friends seemed to agree with the outrageous notion that he had a crush on Danny Fenton. A crush.

Wes just stood up and walked away with his tray of half eaten slop. He could hear his friends sighing over how hopeless and oblivious he was.

It didn't stop there though.

Later that day at home Kyle, Wes and their older brother Easton were in the living room together quietly doing their own things. Kyle doing some homework, Easton texting someone and Wes looking over all the pictures he had gotten of Phantom after the fight earlier that day, unfortunately all were too blurry to make out anything Wes could actually use as evidence.

Then Kyle broke the comfortable silence.

"Hey Easton, you think you can give Wes some advice for asking his crush to prom?" Kyle asked, not even looking up from the algebra equation he was doing.

If Wes had been drinking anything he would've done a spit take, instead he settled for just staring at his brother in growing horror.

"Hmm? Crush? Oh you mean Jazz's younger brother?" Easton asked as he looked up from his phone. Wes already knew that Easton was good friends with Jazz Fenton but he became even more horrified by the fact that he had immediately connect the 'crush' Kyle had mentioned to Danny Fenton.

Kyle just nodded and Wes was still too shocked to say anything as he looked between his brothers.

"Well, you can never go wrong with chocolates and just straight up asking" Easton said with a shrug before looking back down at his phone.

Finally Wes regained he ability to speak "NO! I don't have a crush on Fenton!" Wes exclaimed.

"Wes you shouldn't be embarrassed to ask for help. I'm your brother, you can't really hide the fact that you have a huge crush on Fenton from me" Easton said simply and some part of Wes was thankful that neither of his brothers are currently looking at him because he knew his face was probably almost as red as his hair.

The larger part of Wes though was shocked and horrified by what his brother had just said.

Not for the first time that day Wes just got up and left without another word.

The rest of the week didn't fair any better.

Anytime Wes inforned his brothers or friends that he was going to tail Fenton to finally expose that he was Phantom they just rolled their eyes before going "Are you finally going to ask him to prom?" And everytime without fail Wes would turn bright red before stomping off in whatever direction Fenton had ran off to, muttering under his breath about how he did NOT have a crush on Fenton.

Finally, Friday he snapped.

"WHY!? Why does everyone think I have a crush on Fenton!? I thought it was obvious that I hate him!" Wes yelled after Kyle had off handedly asked if he had asked Fenton to prom yet.

"Duh, it's because you're pretty much infatuated with him" Kyle stated like it was obvious.

"I'm NOT infatuated!" Wes said.

"Then what do you have to say about all those pictures you take of him? Or following him and his friends around? The fact that you have an entire notebook filled with little facts about him that no one else would care to notice?" Kyle pointed out.

"That's all evidence! It's me trying to expose that he is really Phantom!" Wes argued.

"Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that but you can't live in denial forever bro. I mean why would you need to keep a catalogue of his interests or have so many photos of him just being normal and not at all 'ghostly' " Kyle said while making air quotes "that stuff can't be used as evidence so why still keep it?"

"Because! Be... because..." Wes stopped. Why did he keep all of those things? They weren't particularly helpful in exposing Fenton so why?

"It's cause you like-like him. Prom is tomorrow so I'm sorry to say your denial made you miss your chance to ask him out" Kyle said while patting Wes on the back.

Wes once again stood from the couch and walk away, up to his room and slammed the door behind him.

He spent the whole rest of the day just laying on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He went to prom the next day because some of his friends insisted he couldn't miss it.

For most of the night he had felt numb, especially as he watched people dance and talk and laugh together while he practically glued himself to the wall.

Then he spotted Fenton and Wes was hit again with his brothers words 'it's because you're pretty much infatuated with him'.

Wes hated to admit it but Fenton actually looked good. He wore a white dress shirt with a dark green bow tie and black slacks. It was simple but he pulled it off quite well and Wes couldn't help but notice how the flashing lights of the gym reflected off of Danny's ice blue eyes. How the constantly changing angle of the light highlighted his face a hundred different ways and none of them looked unflattering, at least not to Wes.

The music was loud, he could barely hear people standing right next to him so of course Wes couldn't hear what Danny and Sam were talking about on the other side of gym but Danny seemed to laugh at something she said and Wes couldn't tear his eyes away. He could almost imagine the laugh in his head, light and easy becoming a soft chuckle towards the end.

Wes looked down at the plastic cup full of punch he held in his hand. He could practically smell that someone had spiked it.

He soon found himself stumbling out of the gym because everything was so bright and loud and he needed more space between himself and Danny, definitely more than just a gymnasium's length at least until he figured out why the heck he felt his face flush when he thought about Danny's laugh.

So that's how Wes ended up sitting on the cool tile floors of the school's empty hallway. The lights were off so it was dark but the smallest bit of light poured in through the high up windows front the street lamps outside so it wasnt pitch black, even if it was hard to make out any details of his surroundings.

He didn't know how long he sat there staring at the swirling cup of liquid in his hands.

Eventually he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and he didn't need to lift his head to know it was Danny.

"Hey Wes" Danny's familiar voice echoed a little in the empty hallway, it wasn't the same kind of echo that his voice gained when he was Phantom Wes absentmindedly noted. He heard Danny sit down next to him on the cool tile floor.

"What brings you out here? Would've thought you'd be in the gym with your friends" Danny said.

Wes jostled the cup a little with his hand before gesturing to it "I think someone spiked the punch" Wes said instead of giving a straight answer to Danny's question.

"Oh? Good thing I was never a fan of punch. You good?" Wes could've sworn he heard actual concern leak into Danny's voice.

"Yeah, I only took a few sips" Wes shrugged and he leaned backwards against the metal lockers that lined the walls.

"What about you? Why're you out here?" Wes could now see Danny in his peripheral vision quite well. His legs were spread out straight infront of him unlike how Wes had his knees tucked against his chest. He also seemed to be leaning against the lockers behind them, looking relaxed against the cool metal.

"Technus decided to try and take over the DJ booth. I managed to stop him pretty quickly but I needed a breather so I came out here" Danny said, making a vague gesture with his hand.

"Hmm" Was Wes' only reply. The source of all his troubles, both old and new was sitting right next to him and they were holding a proper conversation like real people. No threats of exposing identities, no witty banter or mocking remarks.

To someone who didn't know any better it would almost seem like they were on civil terms with eachother.

What kind of terms are we on?

They weren't friends, not by a long shot. But enemies seemed too strong a word now that Wes thought about it. It wasn't like they were physically hurting eachother like Danny's other enemies. It was less literal battling and more metaphorical and figurative battling.

But after tonight would I even be able to do that anymore?

Wes couldn't just ignore the revelation forced upon him. He wasn't one for ignoring the obvious and when Kyle presented the evidence he had to admit his feelings were a tad obvious.

A comfortable silence was now between the two and Wes turned his head to look at Danny directly. His breath caught in his throat.

Danny was completely relaxed leaning against the lockers behind him. His hair was slightly disheveled, more so than usual. His eyes were closed and he had a faint smile on his face. The dim light shining in made his pale skin look like it was glowing, giving him an ethereal look. Wes was pretty sure that he could only glow in ghost form but that didn't stop the way the light reflected to make it seem otherwise. Wes also became hyper aware of the fact that they were sitting very close to eachother, if he leaned to the side a bit they would be brushing shoulders.

'Yeah, super obvious' Wes thought as he felt a blush find it's way onto his cheeks.

Wes managed to pry his eyes away and looked back down at his cup of spiked punch.

"Screw it" he mumbled before downing the whole thing.

"Hmm? What was that?" Danny asked as he peeked an eye open.

"Screw it" Wes said louder as he grabbed Danny by his collar and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Danny froze in place as Wes pulled back. The blush stood out against Danny's pale skin and Wes knew he was probably as red as tomato as he spoke "Wanna go dance? With me?" Wes asked cautiously.

Danny blinked before a doppy smile found it's way onto his face "Yeah, sure" he said.

Wes pushed himself up and held out a hand which Danny took without a moment's hesitation.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fic #my writing #wes weston #kyle weston #easton weston #danny fenton #unidentified flying ship #ufs #one shot #ficlet #drabble #my first time writing Wes #how'd I do?

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phantomphangphucker · 3 years

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Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger). Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

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bqstqnbruin · 3 years

Text

Always be my plus one - part 3

Ok, look, it's 4 am, there are going to be typos, and we're just going to have to deal with it. I also tried to find a gif that was Tyson and Cale but I couldn't find one in the gif insert thing on here so I just went with this one (it feels weird to change it up but like, oops)

I make no promises that you aren't going to be mad at me for this part so have fun !

This is shorter than the last part, coming in at around 5k words.

The only warnings I have here are implied sex.

Translations for the Italian in here: "tu sei uno stronzo" - you're an ass(hole)

stronzino - little asshole

Also want to thank @justjosty @zinka8 @hockeylvr59 @hockeywocs anons and I'm sure I'm forgetting people for helping me write this part but ily all I'm just dumb and tired

Read the previous part here!

Series masterlist

____________________

Valentine’s Day

The Feast Day of St. Valentine is traditionally celebrated in the Western Catholic Church on February 14, to honor the patron saint of love. Though not traditionally celebrated as a Catholic holiday, millions of people celebrate the day of love with those who mean the most to them. While pessimists of the day say it’s a ‘holiday made up by greeting card companies,’ approximately 190 million Valentine’s Day cards are sent in the United States alone, not including cards given by school children to their classmates. Couples enjoy the holiday with a romantic night out, presents, flowers, chocolates, etc., while those who don’t have someone or don’t care do whatever they want without the pressure of living up to a holiday that doesn’t mean very much in the grand scheme of things.

=============

February 12, 2022

“Where are you going tonight?” Matthew’s voice came through his younger sister’s phone. He had called early in the week to see if Anne could babysit Harper so he and Stephanie could do something for Valentine’s Day without having to shell out an extravagant amount of money on a sitter.

“I’m, uh,” Anne hesitates, “going out with Tyson. Sorry.” She hears Matthew let out a sigh on the other end. “Hey, stronzo, why don’t you ask Lucy? Her and Jason never do anything on Valentine’s Day.”

Matthew starts talking about how the last time he asked Lucy last minute to watch his daughter, despite their girls being best friends, she ended up going on a fifteen-minute rant. While Anne gets her heels on, staring at herself in the mirror and admiring the floor-length, red dress she had on the slit going up the side for no one but herself, Matthew continues to tell her about how his twin goes on and on about needing a schedule at all times, how she can’t just drop everything in a moment’s notice because he wants to do something with his wife.

“Hey, Matthew,” she cuts him off, trying to shrug her coat on, “Why didn’t you ask Lucy or Sebby after I said no earlier this week?”

“Because I didn’t think you actually had plans.”

“Again, tu sei uno stronzo.”

“I am not an ass!” he detests.

“Fine, you’re a stronzino, happy?” Anne hears him stammer again, not letting him get a word in, “I have to go, I’ll talk to you later, ok? Ask Ma, Dad’s off in Florida right now so she would probably love to have Harper for the night.”

He lets out another sigh, Stephanie’s voice coming through in the background despite Anne’s inability to understand what she was saying. “Fine. Have fun with Tyson. I don’t need another niece or nephew around Halloween, though, ok?”

“Don’t be gross,” she says, hanging up and finally heading out the door.

Her cousin Adriana was getting married to her soon-to-be wife, Izzy. Her family had no idea that she was the only one who still talked to them, her mother having a fight with her brother after their parents died when Anne and her siblings were younger and vowing to never talk to him again. So far, the stubbornness that seems to run through her mom’s blood going strong since it had been over a decade since she had last seen her brother. Anne was invited to Uncle Frankie’s daughter’s wedding, but no one else in her family.

Adriana and Izzy had this Valentine’s Day-themed wedding, everyone asked to wear red or pink in theme with the holiday, Anne not doubting that there would be paper hearts and cut-out cupids as the decor. The wedding gift she bought them, one of the first things she found on their registry that Anne could afford, was shipped to the apartment they already shared two weeks ago, Anne just needing to remember the card.

She was fully prepared to just sit in the corner with a bunch of people she didn’t know and watch as her cousin got married to the love of her life. Anne wasn’t sure that that side of her family would recognize her after how many years, guaranteeing her to spend her time on the sideline.

Anne slips into the back of the church, seeing no one she knew or recognized to even go up to and sit with them. Everyone was dressed in red, pink, and black. A bit too much for her own taste, but at least she looked good in red and would have worn the color anyway. ‘Note to self, no themed weddings,’ Anne thinks, not particularly fond of the lack of color or real choice that everyone had in figuring out what to wear.

A blonde boy in a red suit walks by her, too far past her to get a good look at him. There was something about him that caught her attention. Anne knew that walk, but she had no idea where she knew it from. It didn’t stop her from admiring him from afar, though, the short blonde hair and the obviously fit physique under the suit captivated her for whatever reason, leaving her practically unable to pay attention to the ceremony in front of her. Not that she cared, at this point she was just there to enjoy the free food she knew would be good at the reception later.

Anne sat at the table against the wall, her cousin not bothering to make a seating chart and just leaving it up to the guests to sit where they pleased. That meant she didn’t have to talk to anyone she didn’t want to, being virtually left alone at a wedding where she knew no one.

“Anne?” a familiar voice snaps her out of the trance she fell into watching Ana’s sister and brother-in-law, Catie and Danny dancing with their two daughters, remembering seeing their pictures on Facebook when they were born, not realizing how much they had grown.

She turns to the man in the red suit who had her attention throughout the ceremony. “Cale?” she smiles at him, not sure how the two had missed they would be at the same wedding this weekend. Since New Year's Eve, the two of them had been texting, calling, FaceTiming, they had hung out, spent the night with each other, Cale insisting he buy her dinner at least once a week. The only reason they weren’t dating each other was because neither of them had said they were. They both said they were busy this weekend, but who would have thought they would end up at the same place. “What are you doing here?”

“Izzy’s brother and I grew up playing hockey together. I grew up with her. What are you doing?” he asks her, taking the seat next to her.

“Ana’s my cousin. Her dad is my mom’s older brother.”

Cale smiles at her, Anne’s heart racing at the sight of it. “So I get to meet your family?”

Anne shakes her head. “I’m the only one here,” she tells him, explaining the family drama that went on between Frankie and Teresa.

Cale looks down at his lap, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his suit jacket. The red bowtie, red pants, red jacket even against the black shirt were so much Anne couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red because of the reflection of his clothes or for another reason. “Tyson’s met your family, hasn’t he?”

She nods, taking his hand in hers. “I told you, Tyson and I are just friends. I needed someone to come with me to a family thing, so he came with me.” Cale nods, not entirely sure that something wasn’t up with her and Tyson. Something was off, there was something he was sure Anne was leaving out, but he wasn’t sure. “Hey, I’ve seen Tyson, what, three times since New Year's? All of them when I was with you. I like you, Cale.”

Cale leans over for a kiss, his hand grazing Anne’s thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. “How about we dance like we did on New Year's?” he asks, standing from the seat, shrugging off the red jacket before he extended his hand out to her.

She rolls her eyes, getting up with him anyway. “I told you then, too, that I don’t like dancing.”

“And yet,” he says, pulling her close, his hand finding the small of her back while he presses his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes, “you danced with me all night then, and you got up to dance with me tonight.”

Anne laughs, knowing he was right, burying her face in his shoulder, swearing she heard some camera’s clicking, probably the wedding photographer hanging around somewhere and taking pictures of the guests dancing.

“I know I have to say this about the brides when they come in,” Cale whispers in her ear, “but you are the most beautiful girl here.”

Anne could feel herself blushing, her mind flashing back to New Year’s Eve when Tyson told her she looked beautiful. He seemed so genuine saying it, Anne thinking back and not sure if he meant it or was actually pretending. But with Cale, she knew. Cale meant it. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she tells him, ghosting his lips before kissing him.

Being with Cale felt fine. Not perfect, but fine. It was right, but not correct, and Anne couldn’t figure out why.

Everyone starts clearing off the dance floor, the bridal party getting ready to come in. Cale takes Anne’s hand and leads her back to the table where he left his jacket, some other people finding their home base at the same table. Cale knew one of the men at the table, probably from their little hockey group that involved Izzy’s brother. The bridesmaids and bridesmen, as the DJ put it, started coming in, Cale leaning back with his arm slung around the back of Anne’s chair. She leaned back into him, his fingertips dancing up and down her arm as they watched everyone come in.

They watched Ana and Izzy dance their first one as wives, Anne’s stomach starting to make noise as they waited for the food to come.

Cale leans over, nervous about what he was about to whisper in her ear. “Are you hungry for food or maybe something more?”

Anne felt her entire body go numb at his words. They had been seeing each other for a month and a half already, so was what he was insinuating really that strange of an idea? “That depends.”

“On?” he asks, nibbling on her ear before kissing the skin right behind it, losing any sense of care over who at their table was potentially watching.

“On how long you think we need to wait before we can slip out without it being rude?”

Cale inhaled sharply, wishing he could say right now. “At least until they cut the cake. Unless,” he says, his hand moving up her thigh, slowly in case she decided she wanted it to stop, “Unless you wanted to try to find somewhere to sneak away to now.”

“Not for our first time,” she tells him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “And not with my family around,” she laughs.

“I’m fine with that,” he tells her, kissing her. “Your place or mine, though?”

“Well, I drove myself here.”

“And I got a ride.”

Anne smiles, crossing her legs in hopes that whatever she felt would be stifled by that simple action. “So it looks like it’s going to be mine.”

They spent the rest of the night waiting for the moment the cake was cut so they could leave as planned, Cale’s hand never leaving her leg unless he really needed both hands to do something.

Anne could feel her heart racing as she watched Ana and Izzy smash their cake in each other’s face, Anne looking over to Cale and smiling. “You wanna go?” she asks, her keys already out of her bag and in her hand.

Cale drags her out without saying a word, Anne leading him to her car. He walks over to the driver’s side, his arms wrapped around her waist with her back pressed against her car. “You’re sure about this?” he asks her, his eyes flicking between hers and her lips.

“Yeah,” she says, kissing him before he opens the door for her. She couldn’t wait to get home, sure she broke a few traffic laws as she sped back to her apartment with Cale sitting next to her in the passenger seat, his leg shaking the entire time.

They got to the elevator, Cale leaning against her against the wall with his lips pressed against hers, Anne’s hands already working to unbutton his shirt. Cale’s kisses trailed down her jaw to her collarbone, his grip tightening on her waist.

Anne pulled away to lead him down the hallway, practically running, partially due to anticipation for what they were about to do, and because Anne could feel a breeze on her back, indicating that Cale had already unzipped her dress. That, coupled with the fact that Cale’s shirt was already open, his jacket in his free hand, Anne had no desire for any of her neighbors to be given the chance to see her and however Cale was to her already getting naked before closing the door.

As soon as she unlocked her door, Cale had her turned back around, kicking the door closed as he carried her to her bedroom, Anne able to feel everything about him against her body. Cale laid her down on her bed, his lips never leaving hers as he positioned himself over her, sliding her dress off while she did the same with his shirt. Anne’s breath hitched at the sight of him, his body perfect while he stared her down, the first time she saw the typically innocent boy she had been seeing with a mischievous grin covering his face, his eyes darkening at the thought of doing what they had both been wanting to do all night.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks one more time.

Anne nods, taking his face in her hands. “Yes, Cale. I’m sure.”

=============

February 13, 2022

Anne woke up the next morning, the events of the night before rushing back despite finding the space he had occupied in her bed empty. Her dress was on the floor, Cale’s red bowtie somehow having ended up on her night stand. Maybe he left it there as an excuse to see her again, making a mental note to put it in the living room so she would remember it the next time she saw him.

He had slipped out at some point that morning, Anne playing the voicemail that he left her while she slipped on a t-shirt to cover herself. “Hey, Anne. Sorry, I couldn’t stay, but morning skate was calling. I,” she hears him sigh, knowing he had a stupid grin on his face for whatever it was he was about to say, “I can’t wait to have another night like last night with you.”

It was her turn to have the stupid smile on her face as Cale continues, “Um, anyway, I’ve got something going on with JT and some of the other guys tomorrow for Valentine’s Day, a, uh, charity thing? I think? So would you be free this weekend for a proper date for the holiday? You know, not as crowded, not as much pressure, ideally the same outcome, if you’ll allow it? Oh, hey Tyson,” she hears him say, figuring that he was calling her on the way into the rink despite her being unable to hear Tyson. “Yeah, I’m planning Valentine’s Day with Anne. No, not tomorrow night, this weekend. Uh, Anne, I’ve gotta go, but let me know about, say, Friday night? Alright, talk to you later. Bye.”

Valentine’s Day date with Cale? Part two, more like, but still. Anne liked the sound of that.

“So, uh,” Tyson starts, already dreading what he was about to hear from his teammate given what he had heard him say into his phone. “You and Anne?”

“Yeah,” Cale breathes out, chuckling at the thought of what happened last night. “We, um,” Cale couldn’t even get a full sentence out, acting like a child who just got the toy he had been begging his parents for on Christmas morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he was that happy. “We spent the night together last night. I left from her place this morning.”

More of their teammates were filtering into the locker room, looking at Cale’s face turn bright red while Tyson stood there with him looking like he just about wanted to die. “Ok, but did you spend the night, or spend the night?” Ryan asks.

Cale started to stammer out nonsense, not really wanting to divulge the private details of his and Anne’s night despite the guys teasing him and congratulating him for what he wasn’t saying.

“Guys, keep it civil. Anne wouldn’t want us talking about any of this,” Tyson pipes in, Cale letting out a sigh of relief as the guys disperse to get ready for morning skate.

“Thanks,” Cale tells him, going off on his own to get his gear on.

JT appears by Tyson’s side, a stupid smirk on his face. “Would Anne not want us talking about anything, or would you not want us talking about anything?”

“Well, Anne definitely wouldn’t.”

“Oh, come on, we both know Cale would never.”

“Doesn’t mean I want him to have the chance.”

“You’re treading in deep water, dude,” JT sighs.

Tyson looks at him, hating that he knew what he meant. He had barely seen Anne, despite her brother’s texts from the night before asking if Anne really couldn’t watch Harper because of the two of them going out, Tyson going along with the lie just in case. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“It seems like you don’t know what you want from Anne, either,” JT shrugs. “But Cale does, and he got it.”

=============

February 14, 2022

12 hour shifts were the only shifts Anne knew. And they were the shifts that Anne detested the most. She was fine the first ten hours, but the last two always seemed to suck more than anything, leaving her exhausted for the rest of the day, into the night, depending on when she got home in the first place.

All she wanted to do was order dinner from the Thai place down the street, having it delivered despite her really not needing to since it was within walking distance, plop herself on her couch and watch whatever reality TV Lucy had texted her that she thought Anne would like. Anne knew she would turn it off after a single episode and switch to Food Network, but at least she could tell her sister she tried.

Anne walks to her apartment, dragging her feet to her door when she sees someone sitting on the ground, his head down looking at his phone. “Tyson?”

He gets up, grabbing the two bags he had with him as the smell of food filled her nose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my fake girlfriend,” he says, raising the bags while Anne opens the door to let him in.

“I’m confused,” she tells him as he sets everything down.

“Well, Matthew called me on Saturday asking if the two of us were sure we couldn’t watch his daughter, and I figured he might as well have some sort of photographic evidence as proof of us spending Valentine’s Day together,” Tyson explains. “So, I figured I’d go all out: flowers, dinner, and a present. You know, really convince them that we’re together.”

Anne stares at him for a second, not sure why her heart was racing at the thought of him going out of his way to keep up this facade with her family. “I don’t think I like that you and Matthew are so ‘buddy-buddy.’ Or that fact that he didn’t believe me the first two times I told him I was busy on Saturday night. And I thought that you guys had a charity thing tonight?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Tyson asks, handing her the container of food as she joined him on the couch, the Thai food she was planning on ordering right in front of her. “We have a groupchat. Yeah, it’s me, Sebby, Lucy, and Matthew.”

Anne scoffs, rolling her eyes at his failed attempt at a joke. “And let me guess: you gossip about me the entire time.”

“Actually,” he says, his mouth full of food, “you never come up. They think of me as the fourth sibling. The name Anne means nothing.”

Anne laughs, Tyson admiring the way her eyes closed as her smile grew. God, he wished he had gotten to her before Cale did. Why did he have to leave her alone at all on New Year’s Eve? If he were by her side the entire night like he had wanted to be, then he wouldn’t have to pretend to be her boyfriend, he could actually be getting somewhere with her.

“Hm,” Anne hums, swallowing her mouthful of food. “You said flowers and a present. When do I get those?”

“You can get them now on the condition that I can take a video to send to your siblings,” he offers, pulling out his phone and pushing the bag with the flowers and gift behind him. Anne rolls her eyes, smiling and nodding while he starts the video. He hands her the card first. “Read it.”

Anne pulls it out of the envelope, glitter getting everywhere and making her cringe, knowing that it would be impossible to get off her scrubs later on. It was covered with roses and hearts, bringing her right back to the wedding that weekend. “No one has ever made me feel like this. To the woman I love: Happy Valentine’s Day,” Anne reads, feeling a lump forming in her throat. The card was so corny, a little too corny for her taste, but coming from Tyson, she didn’t know why she loved it. She shakes her head, laughing at Tyson. “I love you, too,” she lies.

Tyson swallows hard at her words, wishing she meant them, pulling out the flowers from the bag and handing them to her. She looks down at the flowers, trying to figure out what they are before looking up at him. “Queen Anne’s Lace?”

“Queen Anne’s Lace for my Queen, Anne,” he tells her, cringing at his own words.

Anne giggles, placing them in her lap. “And my favorite flowers, anyway. Thank you, Tyson.”

“Wait, I have one more thing,” he says, hoping that the camera wasn’t shaking too much while he reached for the gift he bought her.

He hands it to her, a small red box wrapped with a gold bow. She unties it carefully, opening the box and gasping at the sight of it. A golden necklace with a white enamel heart as the charm, a golden pattern outlining the heart. “Tyson, it’s,” she starts, unable to find the words, “it’s beautiful.”

He stops the recording, figuring he had enough to hit send to his ‘girlfriend's' siblings. “Let me put it on you,” he says, Anne turning around and moving her hair out of the way. “I thought you would like it.”

Anne studies his face, the smile plastered on it despite her knowing that he didn’t mean it. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugs, grabbing his food off the table and staring at it now in his lap. “It was fun. I’ve never had a girlfriend who I could buy presents like this for. I mean, I still don’t, but I have you.”

“Oh, come on. You, Tyson Jost, have never had a girlfriend? Look at you,” she says, praying that she was careful with the words she chose. “You’re gorgeous, you’re sweet, you’re funny, you get along with everyone you meet.”

Tyson hated hearing Anne go on about him, knowing that she was just saying it as a friend instead of something more. He scoffs, trying to save face from whatever pain or other emotion he was feeling. “Come on,” he says, not believing her anyway.

“I’m serious!” she insists, reaching up and starting to fidget with her new necklace. “Any girl would be lucky to have you as her boyfriend. I’m lucky to even have you as a fake boyfriend.”

Tyson nods, turning his body to face the TV instead of Anne. “So what are we watching?” he asks, changing the subject and putting his feet up on the table, Anne doing the same.

“Whatever’s on Food Network?” she suggests, holding the remote in the air pointed at the TV.

The two of them settle in, Tyson not paying attention to the show she had turned on. “Hey, what’s that?” Tyson asks, racing over to the red fabric that was on Anne’s coffee table.

“Oh,” Anne blushes, taking it from Tyson. “This is Cale’s. He, um, let it the other night,” she explains, Tyson watching her turn his teammates bowtie over in her hands.

“So you and Cale are doing pretty well?” he asks. Anne looks at him, not sure if she really wanted to tell him about it. “Come on, we’re friends. You can talk to me about anything.”

“I mean,” she says, putting down the bowtie on the table, not taking her eyes off of it. “We’re together? I think?” Tyson already hated that he even offered to listen to her talk about her and his teammate. “I like him. A lot. And I know he likes me, but,” Anne lets out a sigh, not sure where to even take her sentence.

“But, what?” Tyson asks.

“I don’t know,” she shakes her head, looking confused. “Everything is great, but it’s, I,” she stammers. “Something is off, and I can’t figure out what.”

Tyson stares at her for a second, trying to figure out what to say. “It’s probably just that it’s new,” he shrugs. “Everything seems weird when you’re still figuring it out. You and Cale will be ok,” he tells her, hating hearing those words come out of his mouth.

=============

February 19, 2022

Anne stared at herself in the mirror, the black turtleneck she borrowed from her sister coupled with a beige skirt and black tights on her as she got ready for her date with Cale. He was bound to show up any minute, promising each other they weren’t going to do gifts due to a general lack of time on both ends. She didn’t believe that he wasn’t going to get her a gift, however, sneaking out to the bakery down the street and buying some pastries that the two of them would like, giving them an excuse to both show up back at her apartment. And if he didn’t give her a gift, then she got the pastries all to herself.

If not, she could share them with Tyson, who had been showing up at her place or asking her to go to his place any free chance they both had.

She heard Cale knocking at her door, Anne rushing as fast as she could in her heels to answer. Cale was standing there, a black crewneck similar to her own turtleneck, paired with dark jeans, black boots, and a grey coat. Cale kisses her hello, one hand behind his back with the other resting on her hip. “Every time I see you I don’t think you could get more beautiful, and yet, you do.”

“You’re cheesy,” she jokes as he kisses her forehead, Cale laughing against her skin. “But you,” Anne says, resting her hands on his chest, “get more handsome every time I see you, too. And, you’re hiding a present behind your back, aren’t you, even though we said no presents.”

Cale laughs, closing the door behind him. “Maybe I saw this and had to get it for you,” he admits, kissing her again and holding up the bag near her head.

“Should I open it now or should I do it later when we come back here?” she flirts, holding the bag in her hand.

“Oh, we’re coming back here?” he teases her, trailing kisses down her neck.

“I might have gotten some dessert for us so we had an excuse to relive last Saturday. Plus, you left your bowtie here,” she gestures to it, still sitting on her table, “And I was thinking maybe you wear that tonight instead of keeping it off?”

Cale raises his eyebrow at her, a silly smile on his face. “And what else would I be wearing?”

Anne shrugs, pretending to act innocent. “I was thinking only the bowtie,” she tells him, feeling his grip around her tighten at the thought.

Cale kisses her again, unable to keep his hands off the girl in front of him. If he could, he would forget dinner altogether and just go straight to dessert, but he knew Anne wasn’t that kind of girl, and he wasn’t about to force her into anything she didn’t want. “Hey, I like that necklace you’re wearing,” he says, twirling the charm around in his fingers. “The heart is perfect for Valentine’s Day.”

She reaches up and takes his hand in hers. “Thanks. My sister got it for me a few years ago for my birthday,” she lies. She couldn’t tell him that Tyson had gotten it for her for Valentine’s Day.

#tyson jost #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche fic #avalanche #avalanche imagine #avalanche fic #tyson and anne

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amerrierworld · 3 years

Text

Staring back at me

for @idrewbedraggledbreaths: Carol/Therese with top Carol and mirrors.

Summary: Carol gets what she wants.

Characters: Carol x Therese

Word Count: 2,254

Warnings: mirror sex! strap ons :) Carol being a raunchy girlfriend, as always

Therese heard the dressing room door clicking shut before seeing her blonde lover in the reflection. Her perfume drifted slowly towards her as Carol stepped into the space, watching Therese tidy up after her most recent model had come to the studio for a modelling session.

Carol had shown up a tad too early to pick Therese up, but rather than waiting in her car, she lingered by the door and watched Therese submersed in her work.

The model was some tanned, European beauty who giggled with a twinkle in her eyes and enamoured people with the gap in her teeth. But Carol didn’t care much for her, because Therese was wearing a button-down and vest, with loose jeans cuffed at the bottoms and in just her socks. She sat cross-legged on the studio space floor, so that her camera tilted up towards the model arching her shoulders and arms in numerous sensual and bewitching poses.

When Therese noticed Carol watching patiently with her arms crossed and eyes glittering, she had only stuttered a moment before finishing the shots. And as the model had gotten her things and changed her clothes, Carol nearly pounced on Therese right there on the floor, because the brunette had to gall to undo one of her top buttons.

Therese introduced Carol -her roommate- to the model, who amicably shook her hand, said they should all go out for drinks sometime, and was eager to see the finished product soon.

“I’ve got to clean up,” Therese said to Carol once they were alone, pecking her cheek. “Give me 15 minutes?”

Carol had contently hummed in the back of her throat and watched her lover scuttle back to the studio, putting away equipment and tidying up, then going to the dressing room and making sure nothing was left behind. Though Therese used the space for her work throughout the week, it didn’t belong to her, and the owner rented it out over the weekends for other creative minds. So, she liked to be thorough and not leave anything behind at the end of the week.

Now, it looked quite bare. There were no windows, and only the bulb lights framing the mirror were on, bathing Therese in warm light as she wiped down the desk space. That’s when Carol noticed the photographer had rolled up her sleeves, and her nostrils flaring at the sight.

“What do you want for dinner tonight?” she asked, seemingly oblivious to Carol’s reaction. “I was thinking we could stop by that Chinese place, the one Dannie recommended, on the way home?”

“Oh, sure,” Carol replied. Therese ran a cloth over the mirror, stretching up to catch the top edge of it. Her shirt rode up, revealing milky skin underneath. Carol came closer.

“Was it very busy today?”

“Hm, not really. I’ve managed to finish a lot of print orders. The last appointment only ran late because that girl was such a talker.”

“I bet,” Carol was practically flush against Therese’s back at this point, distracted by the way she seemed to glow in the lights. Therese was teetering as she tried dusting the top lights off. She nearly tipped forward had two hands not gripped her hips, making her squeal but holding her steady.

“I don’t think your landlord will care much about the dust on the top lights, darling,” Carol brushed her lips over the shell of Therese’s ear.

“I know, but you know me,” Therese protested, “I like to be-”

“Thorough,” Carol finished, before nudging Therese’s head to the side with her nose and pressing a firm kiss on her neck. She felt the muscles tense and quiver underneath her mouth and couldn’t help but run her teeth along the skin as well, making Therese gasp, and press back entirely against her.

The brunette stilled, breathing heavily as she realized what the firmness was that she felt underneath Carol’s slacks. And when Carol caught her lustful gaze in the mirror, with her mouth hanging slightly open, she knew that Therese was done for. Chuckling, Carol kissed her neck again, leaving a second bright red lip stick stain on the fair skin.

“You didn’t come all this way to pick me up just to-” Therese trailed off as she rocked her hips back against Carol, feeling the strap through the fabric of their clothes.

“No, I wanted to surprise you when we got home,” Carol mumbled, her fingers making quick work of the buttons on Therese’s outfit, “..you know how much of a hassle it is to put all those buckles in place. But when you took so long with your last client, I was thinking...”

She finished her thought with a sharp grind of her own hips against Therese, whose hand flew up and pressed against the mirror to catch herself before she fell forward, barely balancing on her tiptoes. When she slipped her arms out of the shirt with Carol’s help, her hand left a print behind on the newly cleaned mirror, and Carol clucked her tongue.

“Oh, dear, looks like we’re not done cleaning here yet,” she said. “You’ve made a mess of your work.”

“You’re lucky no one else is booked for the evening,” Therese gasped. Carol ran her fingers over her breasts, teasing at the edges of her bra, before tugging it down and using her fingernails to raise goosebumps on her skin.

“I don’t think you would’ve said no either way,” Carol whispered cheekily, making Therese huff out a laugh, quickly replaced by another grunt of pleasure as Carol rocked her hips again.

Carol let Therese go only for a moment, to unzip her own trousers and clumsily untuck her blouse, lust beginning to cloud her mind. Therese threw off her bra and spun around on the spot, dropping to her knees before Carol could protest.

“Baby-,” the blonde began, but Therese had already yanked everything down and took the toy in her mouth as deep as she could. Carol let out a low groan as the sudden push against her made her clit throb.

Therese knew how to make her quiver, knew how to make her beg, but Carol wasn’t having any of that today. Not even when Therese spat on the strap and sucked so loudly that Carol’s ears flushed red at the sound of it.

She put a hand in the fine brown hair and pulled, sharply, letting the strap go with a ‘pop’. Therese pouted at the loss, and her hands, which had been gripping Carol’s firm thighs, traveled up towards the harness. Her fingers wiggled underneath the contraption and brushed lightly against Carol’s clit, making her curse loudly.

Therese took the distraction to her advantage, dipped her fingers to her entrance, and took the toy in her mouth again. Carol could become addicted to the way her cheeks hollowed as she sucked in, the way her green eyes stared at her hazily. But when Therese’s fingers started rubbing and prodding a little too confidently, she knew she wanted control again.

She yanked Therese up, her chin wet with saliva, and attacked her mouth with a vengeance. They kissed roughly, Carol pressing Therese up until she was teetering on her toes again and she had to fling her arms around the blonde to keep from falling.

Carol pried her away and let her catch herself to pull Therese’s jeans down as far as possible, running her fingers over her panties and chuckling at how damp they were.

Therese mewled, her neck and chest shining with beading sweat. She wanted to spread her legs, wanted to wrap around Carol, open herself up, but Carol kept rubbing firmly but slowly, and she could only tremble.

Her legs still confined with her jeans up to her mid thighs, Carol urged her to turn around again for her, her torso completely exposed in the mirror’s reflection.

“Oh my...” Carol breathed in Therese’s ear, rolling her nipples between her fingertips. “Someone should be photographing you, my dear.”

She was a vision, dark eyeshadow smudging, her stomach rippling with tremors and hasty breaths. And then Carol tugged her underwear down and slid two fingers against her, and she cried out.

Carol sucked her fingers, tasting the musk of her lover and smelling her heavenly scent before reaching down again, from behind, and firmly pushing those two teasing fingers inside.

“Oh!” Therese gasped at the intrusion, and Carol’s other arm wrapped around her middle, enamoured by the little twitches in Therese’s eyebrows that she could watch in the mirror.

“You’re so tight, angel,” Carol growled. “Do you like it like this? Like how tight it feels?”

Therese nodded. Carol had her hoisted up where she could feel the edge of the vanity desk nudge at her clit with every thrust of Carol’s hand, shooting shivers of pleasure up her spine.

“I’m almost tempted to urge you to be one of those Playboy models,” Carol groaned, “take photos of how gorgeous you look, especially when you're like this. Why no one has taken you on as a model yet, I’ll never understand.”

“Because I’m much better behind the camera,” Therese huffed.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Carol gripped her jaw, and Therese opened her eyes, staring into the mirror, into Carol’s sultry eyes. “Look at how fine you look; how elegant, yet disheveled. I’d pay a fortune to have this look hanging on my wall forever. You, coming undone; absolutely perfect, my perfect angel.”

Her fingers thrust hard, and curled up, and Therese felt her clit grind against the wood, and she came. It was a sharp, short orgasm, one that faded far too quick, but left her incredibly wet and aching for more.

Carol, impatient as ever when she was aroused like this, pulled Therese’s jeans down to below her knees, to allow her legs to spread, but only a little more. And then, with the slick from Therese’s cunt and her saliva, she pressed the strap inside, filling her up with a hasty, inelegant thrust. They both groaned as their bodies joined together, and Therese could barely hold herself up as Carol set a furious, demanding pace, jaw clenched. The brunette pressed both hands flat against the mirror, looking at how Carol grabbed her hips, how her eyes raked up from her ass, to her back, and then met her gaze in the mirror.

It was such a tight fit, such a deliciously tight fit, and Therese felt herself losing her mind with how dirty and ferocious it felt.

Carol wormed her hand around and between Therese’s legs, finding the hard tip of her clit with ease. The thrusting must have hurt her hand at least a little as it came in contact with the desk, but it barely took three thrusts for Therese to tip over again, because the consistent rubbing of Carol’s fingertips made her see stars.

Carol didn’t stop, chasing her own release as she kept pounding, and Therese choked out incessant whimpers as the toy kept rubbing inside her.

But Therese knew she wouldn’t be able to come like this; the angle wasn’t right and the harness wasn’t enough friction against her clit. She pushed up with what little strength she had, halting her lover’s thrusting. Carol watched her questioningly, barely containing herself, and then Therese reached around to push her fingers underneath the harness, until it was between the base of the cock and Carol’s mons.

Carol cried out, biting Therese’s shoulder as her young lover reached for her clit, rubbing firmly and as quickly as she could in the confined space she had. Carol seemed to lose her control, forehead creasing and hands grabbling at Therese’s waist. She managed to thrust against Therese’s fingers, making her whimper at the cock pressing deeper again, but the brunette didn’t relent until she felt that familiar tremble, and then the gush of warmth over her fingers.

Carol’s hands were nearly gripping her hard enough to bruise. It took several moments for the heat in them both to settle, and Therese kept her fingers pressed against Carol’s clit for as long as the shocks racked through her body.

Then, Carol tugged her hand away and slipped out the toy before practically ripping the harness apart and shaking off her pants in the process. Her naked form bracketed Therese’s in the mirror, rubbing soothingly up and down her arms, her back.

“Fuck,” was all she managed to say. Therese giggled, pressing her head back onto Carol’s shoulder as the blonde enveloped her, “love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Therese whispered, her throat dry and feeling exhausted.

Prying away, Carol grimaced at the sound of her body unsticking from Therese’s, their sweat and juices making them gleam in the light. Therese laughed at the expression, the feral sex beast not as present anymore as Carol checked her smudged makeup. She turned and grabbed Carol’s face, tearing her gaze away from the mirror as she began kissing her languidly and slowly, until Carol melted in her hold again.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall on the left,” Therese suggested as Carol fanned herself, trying to get rid of the flushed look spread over her chest and face. “You go first, I have even more things to clean up in here now.”

Carol grinned lovingly, putting on her underwear and blouse as Therese hoisted her jeans up again. They were sticky and uncomfortable, but it would have to do, at least until they got home. Chinese takeout would have to wait.

A/N: WHAT’S UP, i’m alive. Yeah if you’ve been here for a while, you’ll probably see that I tend to go through phases of *very present online and posting lots of content* to then *disappearing for days or weeks at a time*. I always come back, I promise! Sometimes it just takes a while to crank up the motivation again, but I appreciate all of you who have stuck around thus far <3

#carol #carol aird #carol movie #carol fanfiction #carol & therese #cate blanchett #rooney mara #therese belivet #The Price of Salt #patricia highsmith #todd haynes #carolxtherese #carol/therese #carol aird x therese belivet #wlw #lgbt #fanfiction #merry writes #idrewbedraggledbreaths

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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years

Text

Phantom Children [DP x Batman Crossover] Ch. 2

In which: Danny thinks, Talia is concerned, and we finally see Ra's al Ghul's pride an joy: the Lazarus pit

AO3 | Prologue | 1 | [ 2 ] | 3 |

---

DANNY COUNTS THE DAYS by the hours he is in the monitor room. One hour is all that he is allowed. One hour after a day of learning and fighting, of ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no sir’ and ‘stand up straighter, boy’ and ‘remember that you have feet.’ Of being handed a sword only to have it knocked out of his hand (pickitup-pickitup-pick-it-up). Of ‘here’s eight plants, only one of them is the antidote to the poison you just ingested, and you better hope you remember the difference because this is the life you live now, Danny.’ This is what you agreed to for some time in front of a few television screen.

One hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand and six hundred measly fucking seconds was all he got to see his family before he’s ushered back to his room. Dark. Barren. Windowless.

God, when was the last time he saw the stars?

He spent his multitude of ‘one hours’ simply watching. That was all he could do, really. Watch and collect snatches of Amity—of Before. Like torn pieces of an antique photograph, unable to be restored but too precious to throw away.

Talia would call him too sentimental. Danny would love to remind Talia that if it wasn’t for her and her freaky older-than-dirt dad, Danny wouldn’t even need to be fucking sentimental.

Breathe in for four. Hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Repeat.

Repeat again.

One more time.

There’s a voice in Danny’s head that sounded too much like Jazz telling him that this kind of behavior was unhealthy. The Jazz in Danny’s head didn’t exactly know why, though they’re both pretty sure that constantly watching your family and friends move on after your death probably isn’t good for one’s sanity. Especially since Danny isn’t really dead.

Well.

Dead-er.

He isn’t—

(family-love-mememe-why aren’t they looking harder-don’t they care-they care-for their own good-what about-happy-no-me-them-me-them).

Truth be told, Danny isn’t angry that everyone in Amity seemed to be getting on with their lives. God, he’s seen how his suppsed-death affected them. He can’t—he won’t be responsible for holding them back from living when he can’t even be sure if he’ll ever be able to return to Amity again.

(He’s seen what happens when someone refuses to move on. Hell, the Zone is full of it. It’s either you obsess with grief…or you try to rip it out of yourself entirely.)

Danny wanted them to live on. Be happy. (With him.)The FentonWorks portal remained under constant vigilance, and since Pariah Dark, most ghosts recognized Amity as his haunt and tended to stay away. With any major threats he could only hope that Clockwork would step in somehow and at least keep it contained. Tucker and Sam were more than capable enough to handle most of his regular rogues gallery, especially if Red Huntress was backing them up too.

Amity…didn’t really need Danny anymore to protect it.

(Family-happy-protectprotectprotect-what?-safe-not safe-not needed).

For all that they tried to find out, Danny, Sam, and Tucker never did manage to figure out what his ghostly obsession was. Sam went out on a limb and said Heroism which…wasn’t quite right but fit the bill well enough.

And what was the point of heroes?

To build a world where they aren’t needed.

------

There was a noticeable shift in her son’s demeanor after he learned of the true nature of his parentage. Though it should be noted that while Talia showed a photograph of her beloved to Daniel, she did not disclose his true identity as to Ra’s al Ghul’s orders. Her father reasoned that it was more advantageous for Daniel to develop a closer connection with the maternal side of his family as opposed to the Waynes—a name that would be more familiar and thus better viewed than the strange people who kidnapped him.

No; ‘Recovered’ would be the most appropriate term. Daniel was her child. Would always be her child, no matter who raised him.

Daniel was…quieter. Somber. His eyes glazed yet sharp—blue eyes bloodshot despite maintaining a regular sleep schedule. Like pit madness with neither the madness nor the pit; simply the look of rage that bubbles beneath the skin, close to boiling over yet never there.

He continued to watch his false family obsessively. Yet…he had taken to watching Talia as well. Quietly. Unobtrusively. Small glances at the corner of his eye. Contemplative looks with furrowed brows whenever he presumed she did not notice. He had even taken to meticulously check his reflection in the mirror; pinching cheeks and turning his face this way and that, cataloguing his features as if to find what parts of him was from her—or perhaps if there was any part of him that ever resembled the paranormal scientists he once called parents.

Even if the physical similarities were not there, the DNA testing—regardless of the anomalies found in Daniel’s genes—was proof enough that he was her son.

“You have been keeping with your diet regimen, yes?” Asked one of the League’s physicians. He pressed his gloved fingers against Daniel’s skin, brushing the ridges of his ribcage. Marring her son’s skin was a large, faint scars. Fractals branching across his torso like the branches of a gruesome tree. “You are still too thin.”

“Fast metabolism,” Daniel mumbled. He is sat on an examination table in their medical wing, black shirt neatly folded beside him. His figure, though not skeletal, per se, was gaunt. His ribs poking from his pallor skin, stomach still concave for a boy who ate double the portions than any other member of the League of Assassins. “I’ve had it since the accident, but it’s never gotten this bad.”

The physician hummed, jotting his notes down along side the results of Danny’s vitals. The exact numbers were unknown to Talia, standing as she was by the door, though she could infer the results from previous physical examinations. (Low blood pressure and core body temperature. Faint pulse, slight tachycardia,) “Do you have any ideas why?”

Daniel’s lips thinned, eyes darting to the side as he always did whenever Phantom was related in anyway. His face was too open; Talia needed to train him out of that. “My…” He took a deep breath. “Ghosts aren’t supposed to stay very long in the Material world. It lacks the ectoplasmic energies that helps them ‘stay alive,’ so to speak. Usually they can supplement some of this by filtering some of the ambient energy in the atmosphere to strengthen themselves—it’s why Amity was such a hotspot for ghosts because of the large concentration of ectoplasm in the atmosphere—but it still isn’t a good long term solution.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Since I’m still somewhat human, I’m able to spend way more time in the Material world and can substitute spending days in the Zone by instead filtering ambient energy and eating.”

The physician made another noise, the tip of his pen tapping against the side of the clipboard. “So I take it then that, as your other half doesn’t have access to this ‘ambient energy’ as you call it, it is forced to take what energy it needs from the calories you’ve consumed, yes?”

“Basically.”

“What will happen if you do not have enough calories to supplement this energy?”

Danny shrugged, a rueful smile on his face. “Dunno. Maybe this time, death will stick.”

Talia narrowed her eyes.

Such a thing will not happen. She had been forced to give up on Daniel once, and then later on she lost her youngest to her beloved. Never again.

This child was hers.

------

“Father, did you not say that the anomalies found in Daniel’s DNA were similar in composition to the Lazarus pit?”

Ra’s al Ghul did not pause in pause in his reading to look up at Talia. The bird shaped magnifying glass held steady above the ancient manuscripts spread across his desk, eyes focused on the words and figures carefully inked onto the page. “Yes.” He set aside the magnifying glass and gently flipped the page. “It is what strengthened my belief of the connection between the Lazarus pit and these spirits.”

Talia straightened. “With your permission I would like to place Daniel into the pit.”

Her fathered looked up, curious. “You forget what the pit does to those who are in good health.”

She placed the results of Daniel’s most recent physical exam on to of his desk. Ra’s sat back in his chair and idly flipped through the folder, reading the contents as if no different to reading the newspaper instead of how his grandson is slowly being starved by his own biology. “Well, well. This would be a problem.”

He closed the folder, a wry grin curling at his lips. “Have him ready for tomorrow. I am curious as to how the pit would affect one already half-dead.”

------

Danny is awoken by Talia sometime the next day. “Come,” she said. “You do not need to change, so come quickly.”

He got off the bed with a silent groan, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Where are we going?”

“Not far. Somewhere that will help you.”

He snorted. “Letting me go home would help me.”

Talia doesn’t answer, simply waiting for him at the door. Danny groaned, combing away as much of his bedhead with his fingers as he followed her.

For the first time since being dragged to Nanda Parbat, Danny is allowed to venture beyond his small section of the compound.

He didn’t really know what to expect.

Still didn’t stop everything from being so…anticlimactic.

Beyond the steel door, normally kept locked and guarded by two of his shadow guards, was a hallway. Endlessly long with a wide pathway, lit enough by the fluorescent lights overhead but not enough to banish the shadows that clung to the stone walls. The hallway looked empty. ‘Looked’ being the key word, here. Even if he couldn’t see them, Danny would bet on his half-life that the shadows were teeming with life.

Talia led the way through the maze of twists and turns (were they underground?), a couple of shadow guards quietly following behind them.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Talia looked at him from over her shoulder for a moment, then turned away. “Have you heard of the Lazarus pits?”

“Lazarus? Like the guy who came back to life?” Neither of his parents were really religious. His dad only really Baptist in name because he was born into a Baptist family that, too, wasn’t overly strict in their religion. The only reason why Danny knew of this Lazarus guy was because of Mr. Lancer’s unit on Greco-Roman and Christian allusions.

Talia nodded, turning a corner. “The Lazarus pits are natural pools with restorative properties, capable of rejuvenating the body, healing grievous injuries, and even bringing the dead back to life.”

Danny nearly tripped over his own feet. “What? That’s—” Impossible. He ran up to Talia, wildly gesticulating with his hands. “What’s dead is dead. Resurrecting the dead goes against the natural law of the universe!”

“Well, you seem to be doing fine.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “That’s different. I’m still dead, even if my entire existence seems like the but end of a Schrodinger’s joke.”

“Be that as it may, what I speak is truth.” She stopped in front of a door and opened it. Then, stepping aside to usher Danny in first. “See of yourself.”

Danny stepped inside, Talia following behind him, and—

Oh.

Before he even saw the pit, he could feel it. A low and steady hum reminiscent of the ghost portal. But…different. Not necessarily fainter but garbled, like hearing someone speak underwater.

The room was a large, open space, with stone walls framed by red wooden pillars. It was dim, lit only by the green glow of the pit that consumed the majority of the space. A square pool of too-clear waters and toxic-looking steam rising from the surface.

The waters felt of the Zone but…not.

“Ah, Daniel.” He nearly jumped out of his own skin. Ra’s al Ghul stepped out of the shadows behind him, hands folded behind his back. The green glow highlighted the sharp contours of his face; the shadows that clung to him only making his visage harsher. “It is good to see you.”

Danny greeted the Demon’s Head with a League salute. “Grandfather.”

The word felt foreign on his tongue despite being in English. To formal for a boy who never really had the chance to interact with his own grandparents. But Danny was told to refer to Ra’s like this, and so he did. (He was only grateful Talia didn’t insist on calling her ‘mother.’)

Ra’s al Ghul was an enigma. Centuries old yet he looked only about a decade older than his mom and dad. (Jack and Maddie Fenton will always be his mom and dad. They raised him. Loved him, in their own eccentric, science-y way. No blood test or adoption or ninja-assassins could change that). Like Danny’s still-unnamed biological father, Ra’s carried himself with theatrical purpose. Comically villainous in his attire and grand gestures, though unlike Vlad, Ra’s had this overwhelmingly intimidating presence that engulfed whatever room he stepped in.

Ra’s was a man that commanded attention as opposed to demanding it. And now, at the focus of the man’s calculating gaze, Danny could not help but stand stiff at attention.

“You’re mother was right,” Ra’s said. Danny barely restrained himself from perking up at that word. “You are wasting away, Daniel.”

Tell me something I don’t know.

“Well, at least you still have that fire in you.”

Danny startled, slapping his hand over his mouth. Shit, he didn’t know he said that out loud. Out of the corner of his eye, Talia suppressed a small smile.

“You have that in common with the Detective,” Ra’s continue, circling Danny like a carrion that spotted its next meal. “That and the rather foolish notion on not properly reporting the extent of your injuries.”

“With all due respect, grandfather, I wasn’t expecting on staying here for this long.”

Ra’s gave him a knowing look. “But something is keeping you here, isn’t it?”

“Keeping my family and friends hostage is a pretty good motivator, apparently.” An insidious thought bubbled in Danny’s mind. But that isn’t all, is it?”

“I have consulted your mother and your physician as to the nature of your condition, and I have decided that the Lazarus pit would be a sufficient way to restore your health.” He gestured to the pool. “It appears that your DNA shares several similarities to the composition to the Lazarus pit.”

Danny crouched at the edge of the pit, hovering his hand above the water’s surface. “It’s because it contains ectoplasm. An impure kind, I think.”

“Will the impurities be harmful to you?”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t think so? My body can filter out the impurities just fine, it’s just that I’ve never encountered thistype of ectoplasm before. It’s so clear and—aqueous, I think is the word.”

There’s a strange glint in Ra’s eyes. Dare Danny say it, it even looked mischievous. It made him uneasy, and just as Danny made a move to step back, Ra’s al Ghul picked him up by the collar of his night shirt—

And threw Danny into the Lazarus Pit.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #phantom children.txt

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Written In The Stars CXXXI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Right now Val’s fic and mine are screaming ‘Fuck Harry Potter!’ But in entirely different contexts and I love it jsdjsdj -Danny P.S. the Twins’ leaving always makes me cry when I read that.

Words: 4,428

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Fine Line’ -by Harry Styles

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Twins' Farewell.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I need a moment."

"You've been quiet for five minutes."

"Well, I found out my mother used to be a bully," She snapped. "I kind of have a lot to think about!"

Their parents had treated Snape the same way Dudley used to treat her and Harry when they were younger. Not only that, but Harry's mother appeared to hate James with a burning passion. As if that weren't enough, Emily had actively taken part in attacking Snape and threatened Lily with hexing her if she interfered. Harry was holding back information though, and she needed to know what it was.

"What is it?"

"Hmm?" Harry said nervously.

"You have that look on your face. You haven't finished the story.”

"I have."

"Don't lie to me."

She took advantage of his inexperience and forced the memory out.

Mel looked at the fifteen-year-old version of her mother and saw herself reflected on her. She had her eyes, hair (exactly as long as her mother's when she was her age, and it fell in the same elegant fashion). She also had her lovesick gaze, which caused her to realize Emily was head over heels for none other than James Potter.

It was uncomfortable to watch, not only because Matt and Sirius would glance from time to time with a grumpy expression, but also because they were so similar to their parents that it was like looking at a very odd mirror. James was utterly oblivious, he would look at Emily like she was an adorable toddler.

Emily, on the other side, was a lost cause. James would constantly look back at the group of girls that were hanging out by the lake, where Lily Evans was chatting happily. His eyes would light up the same way Harry's used to.

Then she had to witness the look of pleased evilness when they attacked Snape, the way Emily pointed her wand at Lily, ready to attack...

She pulled back abruptly.

"I told you not to do it!" Harry groaned, closing his eyes tightly and pressing his palm on his temple.

"I can't believe she never told me!" Mel exclaimed.

"What were you expecting? 'Hey, you know that boy you're friends with? I used to have a crush on his dad!"

"I don't know!" Mel blushed. "I... Sirius told me my mum had the longest crush on this boy before dating my dad... I never thought it'd be James!"

"I never thought my dad was an arrogant twat," Harry said miserably. "I can't believe Snape was telling the truth..."

"What if..." Mel pushed her hair back, and she grimaced at the thought of doing it in the exact same way her mother used to. "What if Snape tricked you into believing he's telling the truth?"

"How?"

"Well... we can't trust our brains, let alone someone else's! I mean, we treat Malfoy rather badly but we're not bad people, are we? If you were to look at us through his eyes we would look like monsters..."

Harry considered the idea, then shook his head miserably.

"Snape didn't want me to look at the memory, he'd hidden the Pensieve and I was the one who snooped around."

Mel thought back on all those years uncle Lupin never talked about his relation to his mother, how they said she was too young... They had been right, but Mel was old enough now.

"I think," Mel said, standing up and indicating Harry to do the same. "We deserve an explanation."

"But why haven't you got Occlumency lessons anymore?"

"I've told you, Snape reckons I can carry on by myself now I've got the basics... He says that if I need help, I can ask Mel," Harry shrugged, avoiding looking up from his parchment.

"Is it true?" Hermione raised her brows in polite surprise.

"Yeah," Mel lied. "We got this under control."

"So you've stopped having funny dreams, Harry?"

"Pretty much," He replied, his face almost completely hidden.

"Well, I don't think Snape should stop until you're absolutely sure you can control them!" Hermione frowned. "Harry, I think you should go back to him and ask —"

"No. Just drop it, Hermione, okay?"

"Are you done with the schedules, 'Mione?" Mel asked, trying to change the subject.

"Why are you making studying schedules, exams are ages away," Ron yawned.

"Exams are only six weeks away, Ron," Hermione sentenced.

"They're what, now?" He straightened up on his chair.

"How can that come as a shock?"

"I dunno..." said Ron, "there's been a lot going on..."

"Well, there you are," Hermione handed three identical schedules to Harry, Ron and Mel, "if you follow that you should do fine."

"You've given me an evening off every week!"

"That's for Quidditch practice," said Hermione.

"Yay," Mel said without excitement. Next game she was playing seeker against none other than Cho Chang, so she was starting to feel nervous.

"What's the point?" Ron pouted. "We've got about as much chance of winning the Quidditch Cup this year as Dad's got of becoming Minister of Magic..."

"All you need to do is stop the Quaffle from entering the bloody goal posts, how hard can that be?" Mel huffed. "I have to find the smallest little thing against a well-trained seeker!"

"You're well-trained," Ron argued.

"I'm not even close to being at her level—"

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione interrupted.

"What?" Harry gave a start. "Nothing..."

He picked up his Defensive Magical Theory book and Grey jumped onto his lap, Harry barely acknowledged him.

"I saw Cho earlier," Hermione started tentatively, "and she looked really miserable too... Have you two had a row again?"

"Wha — oh yeah, we have," Harry nodded.

"What about?"

"That sneak friend of hers, Marietta," He said.

"Yeah, well, I don't blame you!" said Ron. "If it hadn't been for her..."

The boy went off for several minutes about what an awful girl Marietta was, looking back on it, it was a bit unfair not to warn her about the risks...

Marietta was scared for her family, it was obvious she'd try to do the best for them. People are allowed to change their minds!

Mel was hoping her parents had done the same, otherwise she would have to live with the fact that they were... not the best of people.

‘CAREER ADVICE

All fifth years will be required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the Summer term, in which they will be given the opportunity to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below...’

The four of them were going through a bunch of pamphlets of different wizarding careers, trying to decide what thing suited them better. Mel was quietly reading the pamphlet on Magizoology when Fred and George sat down between her and Harry.

"Ginny's had a word with us about you," said Fred, putting his legs on the table and kicking pamphlets in the process. "She says you need to talk to Sirius?"

"What?" Hermione spat.

"Yeah..." said Harry, "yeah, I thought I'd like —"

"Don't be so ridiculous," said Hermione. "With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?"

"Well, we think we can find a way around that," said George. "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?"

"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" continued Fred. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we'd have messed up people's studying too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do."

Hermione looked at him as if she could not believe him to be so thoughtful.

"But it's business as usual from tomorrow," Fred continued, putting an arm around Mel casually. "And if we're going to be causing a bit of uproar, why not do it so that Harry and the lady can have their chat with Sirius?"

"I never said I wanted to talk with Sirius," Mel raised a brow, giving her wand a light flicker and making the pamphlets go back to the table neatly.

"But you do though," George replied. "You wouldn't miss the opportunity to check on your mum, would you?"

Mel pondered. "I guess not..."

"Yes, but still," said Hermione, "even if you do cause a diversion, how are Harry and Mel supposed to talk to him?"

"Umbridge's office," Harry replied matter of factly.

"Erick said that's the only floo line that isn't being watched," Mel nodded.

"Are — you — insane?" Hermione asked angrily.

"Yeah, people keep telling me that," She smiled.

"And how are you going to get in there in the first place?"

"Sirius's knife," Harry said.

"Excuse me?"

"Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock. So even if she's bewitched the door so Alohomora won't work, which I bet she has —"

"What do you think about this?" Hermione hissed at Ron.

"I dunno," Ron blushed. "If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?"

"Spoken like a true friend and Weasley," said Fred. "Right, then. We're thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact if everybody's in the corridors — We'll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office — I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?"

"Easy," George nodded.

"What sort of diversion is it?" Ron frowned.

"You'll see, little bro," said Fred, getting up at the same time as his twin. "At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy's corridor round about five o'clock tomorrow."

"Okay then," Mel sighed. "We'll do it."

"Hey," Harry whispered once everyone was back in their business. "Don't you get uncomfortable with the way Fred treats you?"

"Huh?" She blushed. "Oh! I don't even notice, you know? Yeah, no big deal..."

She hid her face behind the pamphlet, fearful that Harry would insist on asking questions.

"I'm sorry," McGonagall blinked. "Could you repeat that?"

"I'd like to pursue the careers of Auror, Magizoologist," She smiled, "and Unspeakable."

Umbridge (who had been supervising the interviews that day) let out the faintest little chuckled, but they ignored it.

"Miss Dumbledore, are you aware of the work—"

"Yes. I require a minimum of five N.E.W.T.s and nothing under 'Exceeds Expectations' for the Auror position. They ask for a character and aptitude test as well. I'm aware that they haven't taken any new blood for the last three years, but fortunately, that's the same time I have to finish my studies, so maybe by then, they'll have a spot — As for my character and aptitude test, well, I'll work on that. Moving onto Magizoology: I need to pass Care of magical creatures, Defense against the dark arts, Potions, Herbology and Charms. My weak spot is Herbology, but I'm sure I can catch up. As for the Unspeakable position, well, it's all of the above."

She knew it was ambitious, but Dumbledore had told her she could achieve it with hard work and the proper schedule, and she wanted to believe he was right.

"For two of those you'll need to have a respect for authority," McGonagall stared at her. "Something which I've noticed doesn't come easily for you."

"It's not that I don't respect authority," Mel replied. "I respect you and the other teachers, I respect most of the Aurors I've met, I respect my mother... I just have zero patience with idiots."

"You'll have to accept that some people will know better than you, even if you find them idiotic."

"Well, I respect Snape don't I? I have a solid 'Outstanding' in his class."

She might have been wrong, but she saw the faintest hint of a smile on the woman's face.

"Very well, Miss Dumbledore," She drew out a parchment from Mel's folder and started to write down subjects. "I won't deny it'll be a long time before you get everything you want, but I've seen your abilities and I trust you'll get there—"

"Excuse me," Umbridge spoke. "It's blatantly clear that a Dumbledore, one that's proven to be mentally unstable, has no place in the Ministry."

"Good thing the Unspeakables aren't obliged to respond to the Minister, then," McGonagall replied with disinterest.

"What?" asked Mel and Umbridge.

"Miss Dumbledore, I thought you'd done your research," McGonagall then did show a polite smile. "The Department of Mysteries is a closed ward, they don't talk about their work outside office hours and most certainly they don't talk about it with people who do not belong in their area."

"No one is above the Minister," Umbridge replied with outrage.

"You're quite right about that," McGonagall finished whatever she was writing and folded it. "The Unspeakables work in the basement. You're free to go, Miss Dumbledore."

Mel took the parchment McGonagall was offering to her, but the professor held onto it for a moment.

"Best of lucks," She said, gazing up at Mel through her glasses.

As she slowly made her way to Divination, Fred ran into her, looking more energized than ever.

"All right, Lady?" He smiled.

"Yeah," She said brightly. "McGonagall just approved my future careers, she says I have a good chance to do them all!"

"Nice! Are you ready for what's coming?"

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" She asked.

Fred had told her this was it for him and George, they wouldn't stay to get detention or being officially expelled. They were planning to run away, and Mel was dead worried.

"I'm brilliant," He smiled. "Everything's okay. Especially between us — I promised, didn't I? I'm keeping my word, and I promise to write as soon as I'm safe —"

"No!" Mel said. "Umbridge goes through our mail..."

"Don't worry, just leave it to us."

He started to walk away and Mel did too.

"Mel?" The boy called right before she left the hall, the girl stopped and turned to look at him. "Don't waste your chances."

Harry and Mel made their way to Umbridge's office as soon as they heard explosions at the far end of the school. They crouched in front of the fireplace and threw floo powder in the centre, the flames surrounded their heads.

"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" Harry said out loud.

She closed her eyes until the feeling of being pulled forward came to a stop.

"Sirius?" Harry asked.

However, when Mel opened her eyes she saw her uncle.

"Mel! Harry! What are you — what's happened, is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just wondered — I mean, I just fancied a — a chat with Sirius."

"I just want to know how my mum's doing," Mel replied clumsily.

"I'll call them," said Lupin. "He went upstairs to look for Kreacher, he seems to be hiding in the attic again. Emily's having a nap, she takes lots of those lately..."

"Is this really a good idea?" Mel asked the boy next to her.

"We're already here..."

Lupin returned with a short-haired Sirius (apparently he'd given in to Emily's desires) and Mel's mum, who was now six months into her pregnancy.

"What is it?" Sirius and Remus knelt, leaving Emily on a chair facing them so she could look at the kids. "Are you all right? Do you need help?"

"No, it's nothing like that... I just wanted to talk... about my dad..." Harry started. "About something I saw in one of Snape's memories."

Lupin and Sirius exchanged a look of surprise, Emily's frown deepened. When Harry finished his story, Lupin was the first to speak.

"I wouldn't like you to judge your parents on what you saw there. They were only fifteen —"

"We're fifteen!"

"Look, Harry," said Sirius, "James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can't you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be — he was popular, he was good at Quidditch, good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts and James — whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry — always hated the Dark Arts."

"Yeah, but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because — well, just because you said you were bored."

"And Mum helped him," Mel said, pouting. "You threatened to hurt Lily if she tried to help Snape!"

"I'm not proud of it," said Sirius.

"Neither am I," Emily stated. "As you've heard countless times before, I want you to grow having better morals than the ones I had when I was your age. I can't erase what I did, but I've learned to live with it."

"What you've got to understand is that your fathers and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did — everyone thought they were the height of cool — if they sometimes got a bit carried away —"

"If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean," said Sirius. "Matthew was the only one who knew how to keep his feet on the ground. He was a flirt, yes, but he was never a total prat."

"He kept messing up his hair," Harry said quietly, referring to James.

"I'd forgotten he used to do that," said Sirius, laughing.

"Was he playing with the Snitch?" asked Remus.

"Yeah," said Harry.

Mel felt tempted to mention her mother's crush; but what was the point, really? It'd been years since that, and in the end, Emily had stopped liking him, it was long over. Bringing that up would only make things awkward, and Mel knew there was no use in reliving things of the past.

"Well..." Harry started, "I thought he was a bit of an idiot."

"So that's where you got it from, then?" Mel teased.

"Of course he was a bit of an idiot!" said Sirius. "We were all idiots! Well — Ruddy and Moony not so much..."

"Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape? Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?" Lupin grimaced.

"Yeah, well, you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes... That was something..."

"Matthew wasn't afraid to be brutally honest, though. He would say the truth no matter what," Emily tilted her head. "Perhaps that's what made me liked him. I had an awful temper and he would always stop me from doing stupid things."

"That explains your temper," The boy whispered to Mel teasingly as well. "Oh! And... he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!"

"Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around," said Sirius. "He couldn't stop himself showing off whenever he got near her."

"How come she married him? She hated him!"

"Nah, she didn't," Sirius smirked.

"She started going out with him in seventh year," Lupin explained.

"Once James had deflated his head a bit," said Sirius.

"And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it," said Lupin.

"Even Snape?"

"Well, Snape was a special case. I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James, so you couldn't really expect James to take that lying down, could you?"

"And my mum was okay with that?"

"She didn't know too much about it, to tell you the truth. I mean, James didn't take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?"

"I was already friends with Lily by the end of our fifth year," Emily said, "actually, right after that day when we finished our O.W.L.'s we had a talk... yeah, I reckon that's when we decided to call a truce. I made sure she never got anywhere near Snape after that day, for her own sake, really. Snape was always awful to her."

"Look," Sirius said, "your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it. So did Emily, but they never did anything that could be considered a crime."

"Yeah, okay... I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape."

"Now you mention it," said Lupin, "how did Snape react when he found you'd seen all this?"

"He told me he'd never teach me Occlumency again," Harry shrugged, "like that's a big disappoint — Ouch!"

Mel had pinched his arm to stop him from talking, but it was too late.

"He WHAT?" Sirius yelled.

"Are you serious, Harry?" said Lupin. "He's stopped giving you lessons?"

"Yeah— But it's okay, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the truth, and Mel said she can teach —"

"I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!" said Sirius, trying to step into the fire but stopping when Lupin grabbed his arm.

"If anyone's going to tell Snape it will be me!" Lupin said firmly. "Emily needs you here. But Harry, first of all, you're to go back to Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons — when Dumbledore hears —"

"I can't tell him that, he'd kill me! You didn't see him when we got out of the Pensieve —"

"Harry, there is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency! Do you understand me? Nothing!"

"It's true, kid," Emily said, a look of sympathy on her face. "We need you safe."

"Okay, okay," Harry responded. "I'll... I'll try and say something to him... But it won't be..."

Mel raised a hand to quiet him down, they both heard footsteps.

"Is that Kreacher coming downstairs?"

"No," said Sirius, looking over his shoulder. "It must be somebody your end..."

"We'd better go!"

"Thank you for the talk!" Mel said quickly. "See you!"

They both pulled back from the flames, falling on their butts.

"Quickly, quickly!" Filch wheezed outside the room. "Ah, she's left it open..."

Harry pulled her close abruptly and Mel put the cloak above their heads just in time. Filch rushed over to the desk without paying attention to his surroundings.

"Approval for Whipping... Approval for Whipping... I can do it at last... They've had it coming to them for years..." He ran out holding a piece of parchment.

Harry and Mel left the room in a hurry, one floor down they took off the cloak and followed the noises. They ran to the marble staircase and found the entire school there.

It was just like the night when Trelawney had been sacked. Students were standing all around the walls in a great ring (some of them, Harry noticed, covered in a substance that looked very like Stinksap); teachers and ghosts were also in the crowd.

Prominent among the onlookers were members of the Inquisitorial Squad, who were all looking exceptionally pleased with themselves, and Peeves, who was bobbing overhead, gazed down upon Fred and George, who stood in the middle of the floor with the unmistakable look of two people who had just been cornered.

"No..." Mel tried to enter the crowd but someone held her arm before she could get in.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," Erick whispered. "Let them handle it. They're about to leave anyway."

"How do you know?" Mel asked in surprise.

"I helped them buy half of the things they needed for this. Umbridge doesn't check my mail."

"So!" The woman exclaimed. "So... you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," said Fred unbothered.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," Filch exclaimed in joy. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting... Oh, let me do it now..."

"Very good, Argus. You two are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what? I don't think we are. George," He turned to his twin. "I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," The boy responded.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?"

"Definitely."

"Accio Brooms!" They yelled in unison.

Harry heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance. Looking to his left he ducked just in time — Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor toward their owners. They turned left, streaked down the stairs, and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own.

Fred looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent, watchful crowd.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley — Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And Peeves, whom Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

Mel clapped along with her classmates, she'd promised not to cry over silly boys, but this was a different kind of crying. No more afternoons with Fred and George around to make her laugh, to tease her about her height or her temper. It hurt, but she also felt proud to call them friends.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked.

"I don't know."

"You'll be okay," He assured her. "I'm sorry Fred and you broke up, though."

"You and Fred broke up?" Erick asked in a strange voice.

"Have you been living under a rock?" Harry grinned.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Verboten 2 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 2

“I’m honestly surprised your parents allowed you on this trip, Danny,” his friend Sam mentioned as they and their other friend, Tucker, packed their bags onto the bus.

The now seventeen year old Danny shrugged as he focused on trying to make sure his bag wouldn’t be squished in the luggage compartment of the bus during the trip. He brought a foldable telescope with him in case he had a chance to stargaze, and he didn’t want it to get broken.

His school, Casper High, had some sort of deal with one of the local National Parks. The school was allowed to camp at the park at a reduced rate as long as the students helped the Forest Rangers with some minor tasks. Both parties considered it a win-win situation as the Park Service received some extra hands, and the school was able to pride itself on the survival and conservational experiences its students received. Technically, the trip was voluntary for seniors, but the teachers indirectly pressured the students to participate.

“To be honest, I’m more surprised they convinced Tucker to go,” Danny eventually replied after he was satisfied with the location of his bag.

“You’re telling me!” Tucker whined as he waited for his two friends while he fiddled with his PDA. “My mother actually threatened to stop making her meatloaf for me if I didn’t go! They said, “It would be good for me”. Can you believe that?”

“I think a little bit of hiking do you some good.” Sam poked him in the stomach for emphasis.

As Tucker shouted in protest, Danny and Sam exchanged a glance. Tucker did not like the outdoors, and he was very vocal about it. His world primary consisted of technology, and while it was amazing what he could do with his handheld and twenty minutes, his physical prowess was lacking.

“But seriously, Danny,” Tucker injected after he finally fended off Sam, “how did you convince your parents to let you come?”

Danny shrugged as he headed towards the door of the bus. Shouts from the teachers made it clear they would be boarding soon. “It seems like the school board managed to somehow convince them. All I know is that they had a meeting with them to raise concerns and to tell them I wasn’t going to go, but they came back stating it was fine. It must have been one heck of a persuasive argument.”

“That’s because my mother was involved.” The boys glanced over to see Sam angrily kick a rock out of the way. Her parents were often a taboo topic. “I thought I told you she was on the school board. I don’t know the full details of it, but I know she was preparing counterarguments to objections.”

“I’m honestly surprised your parents are so gung ho about this trip. You’d think they’d consider camping beneath them.”

“It’s because of the prestige. They can brag that their daughter and their daughter’s school has ties to a government agency.”

While Danny raised an eyebrow, he admitted it seemed petty enough of a reason. Sam’s parents were very wealthy and liked to show off their wealth, much to their daughter’s dismay. They often argued with her regarding her appearance, music tastes, friends, after school activities, and other issues as they believed their daughter’s choices reflected poorly on them. However, they were usually fine with their daughter’s activism regarding conservation and animal rights as long as she didn’t go too far with it, such as the time she tried to stage a break out at the local zoo.

Their conversation ended as the boarding began. The three somehow managed to get the back of the bus, which allowed them to continue to talk without interruption. Most of the other students tended to avoid their group. They didn’t know why until one of the band members, Mikey, once asked Tucker how he put up with being so close to Danny. Confused, Tucker asked him to elaborate.

According to Mikey, a lot of the other students felt unnerved by Danny. As polite and quiet as he tended to be, there was something odd about him that no one was directly able to pinpoint. Mikey said he thought it could have been his eyes, citing how at times it almost seemed like Danny saw the world in a slightly different way than the rest of them. Tucker just laughed it off and explained that Danny had a traumatic event as a child so he often seemed unusually reserved. Mikey seemed to accept that answer, and afterwards, at least some of the students involved with the band were more open towards Danny.

The Fentons moved to Amity Park two years after Danny’s disappearance, so the majority of the student body was unaware of the event. If he was honest, Danny would never have told Sam and Tucker what happened, but his parents’ eccentricities forced the issue.

When his parent’s found out about Sam’s activism the first time she and Tucker visited their house, they made her swear she would not take their son into the woods with her. When he was finally allowed to take them to his room after Sam promised she wouldn’t, he hesitantly explained why they were so intense. His friends were very understanding, though they were just as puzzled about the entire thing as he was. Tucker even offered to hack into the old case file if Danny ever decided to look into it.

Sam did mention that it did help explain why they sometimes caught him staring off into space. She figured he was probably traumatized by something he couldn’t quite remember. Danny mentioned his sister once told him something similar, but he honestly didn’t remember anything that happened.

What he never admitted to his friends was that he knew why he sometimes seemed distant. Ever since his disappearance, he sometimes saw figures out of the corner of his periphery. Usually, he thought it was another person, but when he tried to check, whatever it was had disappeared. More recently, however, the figures seemed to let him glimpse them for a second or two. He could never make out anything other than the vague shape as a person. Since no one else seemed to notice them, he figured it was some weird sort of paranoia due to a repressed memory.

….

About a half hour after they left, Danny received a voicemail from his parents. He had forgotten he had put it on silent, but there was no way he could call them back while he was on the bus since Mr. Lancer was the chaperone for his bus, and that man was a stickler for the rules. Instead, he made a mental note to call them back as soon as he had permission as he clicked the play button.

His mother’s voice sounded absolutely frantic. “Daniel, you call me as soon as you get this! I don’t know what came over us, but we never should have let you go without some sort of protection. I should have never have let you go. If the teachers won’t let you call us, jest remember to never be the last or first in line, and never, under any circumstances, go anywhere alone. And, this is important Danny, if anyone you don’t know offers you food, don’t take it.” His dad could faintly be heard in the background talking about some sort of weaponry he made.

“And here I thought only my mom could sound like that. What was that about?” Sam asked. Her raised eyebrow told him she wasn’t going to let it drop until he had an answer.

“I think my parents finally realized I was going into the woods,” he replied as he put his phone away.

“I thought you said they were fine with you going,” Tucker chimed in while he rummaged through his back for a snack.

Danny didn’t immediately answer. He glanced away for a moment before finally he decided to open up about something which had been bugging him. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but my parents almost seemed like they were in a daze after that school meeting. They were so adamant I was not going to be allowed to go on that trip, and then they just changed their minds and stopped voicing their concerns. It was so weird that I actually called Jazz.”

It was true. He had called his sister at collage because of how out of character it was. While Jazz understood his concern, she reassured him one of the teachers or other parents managed to ease their concerns, and/or they realized some of their worries were silly and unfounded. He tried to tell her there was something more to it as she couldn’t physically see how off they were, but she just told him he was being paranoid and to enjoy himself.

Tucker whistled. “It must have been weird for you to do that.” Both Sam and Tucker knew full well how Jasmine “Jazz” Fenton tended to overanalyze almost everything. As a result, Danny often tried to avoid asking her questions regarding why a person would act in a certain way. The resulting explanation was often too lengthy to be interesting.

“As weird as that is, do you really think anyone in Amity would do something like drug or hypnotize your parents?” Sam argued.

“I… I don’t really know. Look, I never told you guys this,” Danny sighed as he steeled himself, “but, there has been a second incident prior to us moving. Our old house had a wooded area behind it. It wasn’t dense or anything, and you could see in it for like a half mile… but, according to my parents, and Jazz confirmed it, I went missing again for several hours in those woods. I don’t remember saying this, but they said I mentioned something about my playmate from the forest in Arkansas payed me a visit. There’s been an unspoken worry that this guy is following us for some reason.”

Neither of his friends said anything for a while until Sam spoke up. “That’s really messed up, but do you really think that’s the case? How would this person be able to find you? Do you even know what he or she looks like?”

He shook his head. “You know my parents are big names in fringe science. It’s possible he found us that way. I know that it’s really unlikely… It… It’s just… it was too weird, you know? With how my parents go on and on about other dimensions and being spirited away, them just suddenly changing their minds went against everything they believe.”

“Don’t worry, Danny. You’re with us and a bunch of other students. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

“And if something does happen, Sam can chase off the bad guy with those boots of hers. Ow!” Tucker glared at Sam as he rubbed his shin. “That was a compliment.”

She just snickered which caused the two to start bickering. The familiarity of it helped ease some of Danny’s worries. He knew he was just being paranoid, and that it was very unlikely anyone did something to his parents. It was just that he couldn’t shake off his uneasy feeling.

….

Their camp ground was in the Cuyahoga Valley region which was on the outskirts of the Allegheny plateau. The hills in the area were rolling due to the plateau and ancient glacial activity, but they were nowhere near as large as the ones found closer to the mountains in the next state over. Like many forests in the plateau, it was surprisingly old and dense.

Danny was unsettled by it. The hardwood trees blocked out a large percentage of the sun which cast permanent shadows on the area. Not only was it unlikely he would be able to stargaze, he kept thinking he saw something peek out from behind the trees. Chalking it up to paranoia, he decided to focus on the interior of the bus until they reached their destination. He didn’t need to freak out this early in the trip.

Due to the amount of students, the school split them into groups of about thirty and split them around the park. His group was sent to a series of cabins near one of the ranger stations. There were five or six assigned to each cabin. Thankfully for Danny, Tucker was also assigned to the same cabin.

After Mr. Lancer told them some general rules, they were told they had an hour to settle in before they would met up for lunch. The unpacking was fairly uneventful, though Danny was dismayed to learn some of the football players would be in his cabin. Most of them tended to leave him alone, but the one, Dash, liked to bully him. It was strange since he was the only person aside from Sam and Tucker who would come anywhere near him. Thankfully, other than a warning to keep his weirdness to himself, the football players decided to ignore him and Tucker.

He unpacked fairly quickly, so he decided he had enough time to try to contact his parents. Stepping outside, he tried to make a phone call. Someone picked up on the other end, but the signal must have been poor as the call was extremely choppy. After several minutes of trying to figure out what she was saying, he told her he would ask the Rangers if they had a land line he’d be able to use before he ended the call. He frowned as he checked the bars on his phone. There signal was strong enough that the call shouldn’t have been that choppy, but it was a cheaper phone since he had a bad habit of breaking them, so that could have been the reason.

They ate lunch at a mess hall in the camp complex. It was a fairly modest meal, but the beef and gravy was surprisingly good. Danny mused it was probably because his parents often experimented with cooking which often created strange results. He was also surprised that there was a vegetarian option available for Sam, but the school must have called ahead to let them know.

When they were finishing up, Mr. Lancer announced that one of the Rangers had an announcement. Danny glanced over to see a stern man, possibly in his late thirties, move towards the front of the room. He was fit and weathered, but every once in a while, there was a haunted look in his eyes.

The ranger, Rusty, gave the group a rundown of the general rules. He then paused for a moment before he spoke again. “This is unprecedented, but we are going to need your help for a search for a missing person.” Murmurs of excitement ran through the students. “This is a serious matter, and I request you pay attention. We have our search and rescue people and volunteers out right now looking for a twenty-two year old male. He is Caucasian and was last seen in a red jacket and blue jeans. He goes by Aiden.”

“Because you are not properly trained,” Rusty continued, “I only ask that you walk along the nearby trails for a couple hours in groups of two or more. Each group will be given a walkie-talkie. If you see or hear anything strange, call it into us. Don’t go off the trails. We don’t need more people getting lost today.” He fell silent and seemed to argue with himself for a moment before adding, “If you hear what sounds like screaming, particularly a woman screaming, call it in immediately. Large cats sometimes make that kind of sounds, and we definitely have Bobcats around. Luckily, they tend to avoid people, but we do like to know when we have signs of them.”

Twenty minutes later, the teens separated into their groups. Each group was provided a map, compass, and walkie-talkie. Rusty took them to a large map posted outside the Ranger station and explained a little about the area. The trails he wanted them to take circled the surrounding area and were well marked. Before he let them go, he again warned them to report anything off, but did try to reassure them by letting them know other rangers would be regularly sweeping the area.

“Well, isn’t this a reassuring start to our trip,” Tucker sarcastically mentioned as he tried to figure out the map.

“It can’t be helped,” Sam told him as she ripped the map out of his hands and corrected it before handing it back to him. “They must be desperate if they’re asking students to help.”

“Hey, I’m not used to replying on handheld maps.”

“You could try bringing it up on GPS,” Danny mentioned as they headed towards the one trail.

“That’s a great idea!” Tucker fiddled with his PDA for a moment before turning back to his friend. “Are you okay, dude? You sound a little off.”

“Oh, I guess this would hit a little too close to home,” Sam mentioned as she examined his expression.

Danny sighed as he glanced away from her. “Kind of. Even though I don’t remember it, I was in this exact same situation before. I hope they find the guy, at least for his family’s sake.”

The trio fell silent as they began their walk on one of the easy trails. They didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, though Tucker complained starting about halfway through the hike. Sam tried to distract them by identifying some of the local flora, but it only worked for so long.

By the time they made it back to camp, it was almost dinner time. Danny was glad to be back around the group. Although he never mentioned anything to his friends, he felt as if he was being watched the entire time. The trees seemed oppressive at times, and he was honestly surprised he didn’t have a panic attack while they were on the trail.

After dinner, he asked Rusty if there was a phone he would be able to use. Rusty told him that he would have to wait until the morning because they needed the line for the search. Danny understood and thanked the man.

Before he had a chance to head back to his cabin, Rusty called out to him, “While you’re here, make sure you never go off on your own.”

“I know. I mean, my parents drilled that into me for years,” Danny admitted with a shrug.

Rusty examined him closely before stepping closer and whispering, “You’ve witnessed something strange in the past. I can tell by the look in your eyes and how tense you are. In any heavily wooded area, the more open you are to the unusual, the more likely it might show up again.” He walked off without another word. Unnerved, Danny returned to his cabin and waited for his friend.

Tucker still wanted to complain about the amount of walking they did when he returned to the room, which prompted a discussion regarding how in the world Sam was able to enjoy things like that. Danny was about to bring up what the ranger told him when the football players burst into the room. Normally, Danny would just ignore them, but this time, he was intrigued by their excited whispers.

“Hey dweebs,” Dash addressed them, much to Danny and Tucker’s surprise, “did you hear what happened?” An evil grin appeared on his face when they told him they didn’t. “Kwan overheard the rangers talking earlier. You know that guy they were looking for?”

“Yeah,” Danny answered, “Did they find him?”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t alive.”

“Wait, what?”

“You heard me. They’re saying he’s dead.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- End of chapter notes :

The Cuyahoga (Ky-ah-HOE-ga) Valley is a real place. I chose it for some very specific reasons. 1) The forests in that area are extremely large 2) I’m fairly familiar with the landscape and weather as I grew up in another part of the Allegheny plateau 3) The parks in that area are a bit unusual as you have a mix of privately owned and government owned areas which I’m using to my design as there’s more leeway with what they can and can’t build in those areas 4) some old towns have been “swallowed” by the national park including one famous “helltown”

The Allegheny (Al-ah-gain-ie) plateau is one part of the Appalachian Mountains, which are said to be the oldest mountains in the world. You don’t really have the high peaks or rock terrain associated with other ranges since they��re so worn, but there are a lot of hills, valleys, creeks, and streams. There are also a lot of coal mines since it’s a coal rich area. What’s also very strange about the plateau is that you can be in a town or suburbs, but within 15-20 minutes, you can be on the outskirts of a deep forest. There are also some swamps and marshy areas within the plateau as well.

Also, a lot of the names for natural landmarks in the Allegheny plateau originate from the tribes who originally settled there. There are even some burial mounds in the Cuyahoga area.

#so i heard you like folklore #danny phantom #danny fenton #danny phantom au #dp #dp au #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fantasy #supernatural #sam manson #tucker foley #maddie fenton #jack fenton #vlad plasmius #folklore #sooooooooo much folklore #Verboten

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chayacat · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (2)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Nothing is more pleasant than silence when you sleep, isn’t it? The sweet sound of silence...Until some idiot has the good idea to use his car horn. Danny Johnson groaned putting his pillow on his head in vain to mitigate the noise. He looked over to his alarm clock that read 8:11 am. Well, a good sleep to start the day.

Fortunately for him, he’s got his day off just yesterday so he slept more than usual. He gets out of his bed, raises his arms in the air and stretches until he feels his back muscles crack. Then he does the first thing he do every morning: take a shower. He walks to the bathroom, turned the shower on, undressed and climbed in. The contact with the water made him shudder a little, but he gradually got used to it. Leaning his head back, a grin appears on his face. He remembers about his last victim, Travis Maloney, who he must admit it, wasn’t so easy to kill as he believed.

Travis was an American football player, often spending time in arcades, fast foods, gyms and parks than in class. But when it’s about American football or movies, Travis was unbeatable. Danny stalked him for about an entirely month before taking action. What a coincidence it was for Travis to meet Danny, or as everyone else knew him, Jed Olsen, who had a film culture as strong as him. It was risky for Danny to get so close to Travis, but luck smiles on the bold, isn't it? Befriending this young man was a breeze for Danny allowing him to study his home in order to better strike. And when the time comes that night… Damn it was so delicious, so satisfying. A real pleasure of blood and tears.

Of course, Travis tried to wrestle with his athletic muscles, but Danny was more agile than he was, even though he still managed to hit him in the stomach. What a lovely sound he makes when Danny planted his knife in his back multiple times before turning him like a vulgar piece of meat to pierce his belly like a balloon and finish him by slit his throat with a sharp and precise blow. After taking pictures and making sure he had left no physical evidence of his presence, Danny escaped through the same window where he entered.

Danny came out of the shower after several minutes and dressed. A white shirt covered with a grey jogging jacket, blue jean and black shoes. He looks his reflection in the mirror thinking about all those men who dyed their head. Seriously why they do that? Just for being more attractive or hide their true hair color ? Foolish idea.

Natural beauty is better than artificial and Danny was the best example he knows. He knows that he can seduce any girl with just a glance as himself or Jed. He styled his hair in a ponytail and put his glasses on. It’s time for him to be Jed Olsen, reporter of Roseville’s gazette, kind colleague and friend. He takes his bag and leave his home. But lost in his thoughts, he’s bumping into someone...and it was you.

“Oops. Well looks like It's my fault this time. Sorry. Nothing broken?” he said with a little smile.

“No worries, everything is fine! Almost everything...” you said a little disappointed.

“Why? What happen?”

“Well, I’ve to receive a delivery of Colombian coffee beans for my coffee shop today but...There's been a problem and I won't get it until tomorrow. So, I won't be able to officially open until Friday. I have a little more time to organize everything at least.”

Jed patted your shoulder to comfort you while Danny held back from not smiling. He's keeping that information in his memory for later. Maybe Ghostface will go for a little tour to get to know the place...Just in case.

“oh...It’s bad luck. You own a coffee shop?” Said ‘Jed’ interested.

“Yup! It's not far from here! Two blocks away instead of Joe's old dinner. I finally fulfil one of my dreams. If it works of course. Because in this kind of business, it passes or it breaks from the opening. But I'm confident about it! And at least it will always give me a good experience.” You said full of determination.

“I hope it will work for you. Joe’s old dinner you said? Roseville’s Gazette building is further, at the end of the street. I think I'd come often if you make good coffee. Between us, Joe's coffee was really disgusting. A mixture of shoe juice and rotten egg.”

“Eww...Gross. Don’t worry, my coffee won't be a horrible mix to make you sick, neither do my pastries. I got to go. I have to finish two or three things for the grand opening.”

“I can take you if you want. It's on my way. This will save you from wasting gas.”

“That really nice of you Jed...But I don’t to bother you and make you arrive late at your job. I'll feel guilty if you get yelled at by your boss because of me.” you respond embarrassed.

“I wouldn't offer it to you if it bothered me. And then if I get yelled at... You'll owe me a cup of coffee and a pastry.” He laughs advancing towards the entrance to get out with you walking behind his heels.

Danny walked to the van parked at his location and unlocked the doors. If Jed laughs a little for having a van, Danny would have liked to drive a slightly more comfortable car. But hey when you are a journalist and you have to go a little far, you have to be able to sleep on the spot to get interesting information. he opened the passenger door so that you could get into the vehicle, from the corner of his eye he noticed that his gesture did not leave you indifferent and that made him smile. One thing he had in common with his alter ego Jed was gallantry, even though the motivations were different. Jed was in order to be polite to everyone, Danny was in order to approach his victims and learn a little more about them. A wolf in sheep's clothing. Devil in disguise.

He went up on his side, put his bag in the back and started the engine before heading towards the coffee.

“So... What convinced you to come and live here? I would have thought that you would go more to open a business in a big city rather than here” Said Danny

“Well, I wanted to change the landscape. I was born and raised in Indianapolis, Indiana. I was tired of the big cities where the buildings are as big as mountains and where privacy is hardly respected. Roseville have that charming and welcoming little side that I like. How about you? Did you grow up here?” you said with a smile

“No, I'm a pure Florida boy, I came here for the same reasons. And by being a reporter, I often had to change places to report what’s happening in the towns and villages of our dear country. I can't even remember how many times I moved since I started this job.”

“You see things, I guess. it doesn't have to be easy every day to be a reporter...”

“oh no I can confirm that. Cases of fraud, murder, corrupt politicians... We don't just make friends in this business. But I must admit that all this is nothing compared to what happens here with Ghostface. it's scary to know that a monster like him is lurking in the wild. All his victims ended up in states... I wish I could erase that from my memory” said ‘Jed’ disgusted while Danny holds back from smiling as he remembered his bloody masterpieces.

“I suspect it wasn't supposed to be beautiful to see. I read your last article it's really impressive, you know? it's almost the only thing I'd read from the paper.” You say before you see the storefront of your business.

Danny parked in front of the shop. At least we know the theme and atmosphere of your cafe. And it would be hard not to spot it with this particular blue that stands out more compared to the colors of the other shops. at first glance, no security camera but better be careful.

“thanks again for the ride Jed. You're such a sweet I don't know how to thank you.” you said with a sweet smile

“Well to be able to taste your coffee and your sweets will be more than enough for me. And don't forget, if I get yelled at...” reply Danny giving you a wink.

“Ha ha you don't lose the north you! Promised a coffee and a pastry offered by the house. See ya !” you said before leaving.

“...She’s prettier than the last tenant at least. Much prettier and innocent...”

Danny smiles before he gets back on the road to work. So, you read his articles? And besides, you love them. A smile made his way on his face, he feels flattered to see how much you appreciate his work. Jed's work instead. he arrived on time in front of the newspaper building, taking his bag before entering, passing through the security pole and climbing the stairs leading to the offices. While some colleagues were writing their articles for the next edition, others were chatting quietly over coffee. Danny put his bag at the foot of the office and went for a coffee just to wake up a little.

“Hey Jed! So, this day off? Tell me you've actually rested and not worked over and over again like you do.” said Melina tapping on Jed's shoulder.

Melina was the first to welcome 'Jed' into the team with Mattew. Even though Jed was the quietest and shyest of the three, as soon as they were together it was a real mess. But at least they were setting the mood in the offices. But in meetings, they are the most serious group.

“ha ha promised this time I rested. I know how you're reacting if I don't listen to you on this.” He laughs

“You'd better do it, yes! otherwise I swear your hair will change color. Although I might do it on Mike. What an asshole. Sir thinks he's the best reporter in the world when clearly you're much superior!”

“I'm just doing my job, you know. Nothing more than nothing less.”

“Hey Jed! The boss wants to see you in his office!” shouts Mattew by heading towards them.

“Already? It must be important then. Hoping I'm going to get my straps up. Usually when he wants to see someone so early in the day... See you later guys." Said Danny before leaving

“Do you think it's serious?” said Melina

“Well, the boss looked pretty happy when I told him Jed had arrived.” respond Mattew.

Danny walked towards the office of the director, Johann Hembrook. This man, in his fifties, had been practicing journalism for 33 years. He had covered some of them as scandalous as each other and had decided to open his own gazette here in Roseville. Over time it became practically the only source of paper information in the city and then came the technology. But that didn't stop the newspaper from continuing to prosper. Through the door, Danny could hear a conversation that seemed to end and recognized the voice of Mike, his 'rival' since his arrival.

Mike Harris joined the team five years before 'Jed'. His pretensive side makes him take all the others for little sandbox journalists boasting himself to be the best ,even if it is true that he does a very good job, but not to the point of claiming this title. He hates Jed since he arrived and it didn't arrange when he saw this newbie see himself in charge of the articles on Ghostface. It must have been him and not a novice junk.

If Jed didn't react to him, Danny wanted only one thing: slit his throat. Slowly... Make him suffer as much as possible to make him beg. Oh God it would be divine …

“Get the f*** out of my way Olsen. I don't want to throw up when I see your nerd face early in the morning.” Mike grunts as he shoves Danny to pass.

Danny breathed deeply, holding back from planting a pen in his throat and knocked on the manager's door before entering.

“You wanted to see me Sir?” He said with a smile.

“Ah Here's the best reporter in Roseville! Yes, come in Jed. I want to talk. Please take a sit.” said Mr Hembrook offering a seat. “I want to congratulate you again on your last article. It's impressive for a young man like you to write an article of this quality. How old are you already?”

“27 Sir. I’m glad to know that you liked my articles but I'm just doing my job, sir. Just like the others here.”

“And modest with that. However, the police disagree. They'd like you to talk less about these murders. They think you're too involved in their business. You know how cops are with us, they think we're dirty little snoops.”

“If no one reports the facts who will take care of it? Them? Just to say that someone is dead. People want to know what is going on in their city and it is our duty to keep them informed down to the smallest detail.”

“That's exactly what I told them. You remind me of me at your age. Shyer that said. You have free hand for your next article. If you have any ideas...I know I'd never be disappointed with you.”

Danny smiles before gets up and leaves the office. He already knows what he's going to write in his next article. sometimes you have to put aside the negatives and take care of what is developing in the city. Like your coffee, for example. He passed all morning thinking and writing his article but little problem: without knowing the name or the owner of the café, people will not rush. He took his bag and left the offices to join his vehicle in the parking lot and then set me on. once he reached his destination, he went down and arrived at the door, he tossed what startled you. after all you're not supposed to be open today.

“Well, eager to see me again?” you laugh.

“I'm coming as a reporter this time, and I thought you might get a little advertisement in our newspaper. It always helps.” said Danny with a wink.

After you allowed him in, Danny sat down with you at a table and started asking questions for his article. He kindly accepted a cup of coffee with a slice of blueberry pie and checked every piece of information. He took out his camera and took a picture of you and the café to illustrate his article.

“Only for my article. promised I delete the photo once the newspaper is published.” Lied Danny. What do you think? Of course, he will keep it for him once the newspaper published! “There's only one question left on your café : What's his name?”

"Well... I've been thinking about it all night and all morning and I think I'm sure of my choice. I'm going to call it...”

***

(Hey! Finally finish this one! I'm so happy to see that you like the first chapter! thanks a lot! Don't hesitate to give me your opinions and ask questions if the heart tells you! Once again, thank you very much, I hope that you’ll like this chapter as much as the first! See ya guys!)

#dbd #dbd fanfic #dead by daylight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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justjessame · 3 years

Text

Sins of the Father: Chapter 9

I considered skipping dinner, but I hadn’t had any time with Danny since breakfast and that felt wrong to me. Sliding out of my bed and taking care to redress for dinner and remove any signs that might show that I had any distress at all during my day, I found that we’d be eating inside - and I was thankful for it.

Anytime we dined al fresco, the atmosphere became more and more frantic until it became a party and I was in no mood for that.

“You look more rested,” Dad offered once everyone greeted me, holding my chair for me, and brushing a kiss on my temple. “Do you feel better?”

“A bit,” smiling at Danny, I was happy to see that he wasn’t holding a grudge for my lack of attention during the day. “I guess my jetlag finally caught up to me.”

That was all the others needed to get going, and the conversation flowed. Jed kept a careful distance, her comments never directed at me, but never too awkward either. She knew how the sharks could smell blood in this group, and was well practiced already in keeping her weaknesses covered. She needn’t have bothered, I was busy listening to Danny’s plans for the next day - he wanted to go to the beach and I was more than willing to take him.

While we chatted with one another, and ate, the others discussed the best ways to deal with jetlag and weariness in general, because once you got them going - that’s really all it took.

Dinner wound down sooner than it would have if we were eating on the patio, which was more welcome than I could contemplate. Danny asked if I wanted to see something he’d found while I was resting that he’d left in his room, but Dad asked if I could spare a moment for him first.

“Of course,” winking at my little brother and telling him to go ahead to his room and I’d meet him there, I followed Dad into his hidden study. Wishing for all the world that we didn’t have any need for hidden rooms and cloak and dagger nonsense, but Ropers will Roper. “Do you want me to pour you an after dinner drink?”

“No,” he held up his still full glass. “I’m good.” He gestured to the chair next to his and I sat, wondering what the latest dictate would be concerning Tom and his nursing duties. “How are you feeling, honestly?”

I considered what he was asking. How did I feel? Tired, still, but not nearly as ready to run headlong into the ocean. That was progress. “Better. I think resting helped.” He nodded. “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow.” Another nod, but his mouth opened and I was certain he was going to remind me that lunch duties were still necessary.

“Perhaps someone else could tend to Quince’s bandages,” he offered instead and I felt irritation crawl up my spine. Someone else? Who? Jed? “The doctor will be coming to remove the bridge holding his nose in place soon. It can’t be that difficult to tend to his -”

“I’ll check on him before we go out,” my mouth was saying before I even made the choice to say it. “Then when we come back.” Dad’s lips were curling into a smirk and I glared at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He sat his glass down on the table in front of us and turned to me. “I think that your idea is perfect. Quince will no doubt find it far more pleasant than having Corky take over for you.”

After saying goodnight to everyone and heading up to see what Danny had to show me - a piece of sea glass that had found its way onto our balcony - I made my way back to my room, after forcing a promise out of my little brother that he wouldn’t try waking me up before the sun rose.

Keyed up from dinner among the entourage, the talk with my father, and then my decision to keep taking care of Tom - I felt that getting my bag ready for the beach might be a good way to relax before bed.

It didn’t help. So I drew a bubble bath and soaked. And soaked. And soaked. It felt like my skin was vibrating and I had too much caffeine.

Drying and dressing in another pajama set, I sat in front of my vanity mirror and studied my reflection - trying to see what Dad was alluding to when he said I drew attention like Jed. Curly hair the color of the blackest ink, with the palest green eyes that anyone had ever seen - trust me, I’ve heard it my entire life - my skin stayed pale, until I got a sunburn that would terrify people to see (lobsters would be envious of the red) and then it would eventually darken to a nice golden tan. Petite was the polite way to describe my height deficiency, short the cruel way. That’s it, that’s what I could see staring back - well not the shortness, that was only noticeable when I stood next to a “normal” sized person.

What did other people see when they looked at me? A small curly, dark haired pale girl with big green eyes and - that’s it. That’s what they must see. Right?

Sighing, I worked my hair into a braid for bed. Otherwise I’d end up with a bird/rat’s nest or a mouthful of it before morning. Neither was something I’d care to deal with - again. The issue, I realized as I tied my braid off, was that I still wasn’t the slightest bit tired.

Stepping out onto the balcony attached to my room, I glanced down at the pool and smiled when I noticed that Dad and Jed were there together - alone. I couldn’t hear them, but I also couldn’t hear the normal noise of the rest of the group, so that might mean that I could go down to the kitchens for some cocoa or a snack without tripping over all of them.

Grabbing my book, in case it took awhile to heat my drink, I left my room and started toward the kitchens -

And ended up outside Tom’s room, where Sandy was sitting guard. “Esme?” He barely breathed my name and didn’t get up from his chair.

Holding my finger to my lips, I smiled around it. “Is he asleep?” He shrugged and I fought rolling my eyes. “I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow and I thought if I checked his bandages tonight -” Sandy looked convinced, but then confused by my lack of first aid supplies. “I leave some inside by his bed.” A convenient lie. “They shouldn’t need changed, but -”

“Go ahead,” he nodded toward the door and yawned. “Not like he’s going anywhere.”

“Exactly.” I agreed, moving to the door and knocking gently before opening it. The mosquito netting, mostly for decoration, fluttered in the breeze of the open window of the balcony and I wondered who left it open? “Tom?” He was lying prone, but I could see him move in the light offered from the starry, moon bright night. “It’s just me, Esme.”

“Esme?” His voice was rough, and I thought he might be half asleep. “Ah, a dream,” he murmured, and twitched again - the linens moving lower off his legs.

I bit my lip, wondering if he thought I was a dream or if he was flirting again. Setting my book on the chair by his bed, I stared down at him and realized that he wasn’t awake, not fully anyway. “Tom, could you -” I leaned over to try to wake him up, but I truly didn’t realize his strength, not even in his battered state. With a tug he had me on the bed with him, his hands sliding up my sides, and then both hands were cupping my face and pulling it toward his own. “Thomas, I think you should wake up,” I murmured, my legs were tangled with his and I was afraid I was going to injure him more.

“If I wake up,” his breath was fanning my face, warm and spellbinding, making my stomach twist in a new delicious way. “Then you’ll disappear and I can’t do this.” One of his hands moved to cup the back of my head and the other went on a journey down the length of me, as his lips managed, even with the bridge and bandaged nose in the way, to finally touch mine. His tongue dipped into my mouth when I gasped and I forgot what I was arguing with him about - why was I against this again? And then he rolled over and we both remembered when he hissed in pain. Right, invalid - “Esme?” He was squinting down at me, awake now, fully.

I was burning, far hotter than the blush had been during the day, and this time it was EVERYWHERE. And I was panting harder than either of us had been before too. All I could manage to do was nod. At least until I caught my breath again. “Yes, it’s me.”

“How did you end up -” He was hovering over me, his arms like a cage around me, while he tried to make sense of it. “Did I -”

“You were having a dream,” I said. “A vivid one.”

“I -” He didn’t seem to know what to do. “Are you alright?”

I nodded again. Aside from feeling like I’ve been lit on fire, and the fact that there are parts of me that are literally a puddle - Yes, I’m fine. “I’m fine.” He didn’t move and I could tell why, it was pressed into the puddled part of me and it was making thinking pretty difficult for me too. “I should have waited until morning.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, don’t - it’s fine.” We were stuck, but he was trying to convince me it was fine. Of course, so was I. “Why did you come tonight?” Right, why was I here now?

“I’m taking Danny to the beach tomorrow,” mentioning my little brother helped the part of him that was somewhat turgid start to relax slightly. “I thought I’d check your bandages tonight.” I started out strong, but it sounded lame even to me toward the end. “I planned on coming in the morning as well.”

“I see,” he wasn’t moving, even though he wasn’t in the same predicament as he had been. “And while I was sleeping seemed a good time to check my bandages because?” Fuck.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Verbal diarrhea. I’ve come down with a horrible case of verbal diarrhea. “I was coming down to get some cocoa and -”

“Ended up in my room instead.” Tom wasn’t being as careful with how he was hovering now, his rigidness might have gone slightly soft, but he let his hips settle into the softness of mine, and my body was more than willing to accommodate him. His fingertips were tracing the lines of my face, teasing my lips as I spoke. “And somehow, we ended up like this -” he didn’t have to gesture or look down, I knew precisely what he meant.

“You were having a dream.” I reminded him. “About me.”

“I know,” he leaned in and this time when he kissed me, we were both awake. His lips were surprisingly soft for the beating he’d taken, and he grew bolder when he realized I was a willing participant, nipping at my fuller lower lip. He pulled away when he noticed I wasn’t touching him. “Esme?” My eyes opened and he smiled. “Touch me? I won’t break, and I trust you.”

My hands obeyed before I really considered his words, and his mouth met mine, my fingers sliding under his shirt and along the bandage I’d wrapped around his chest. Thinking that lower might be more interesting for both of us, I dipped beneath the waistband of his shorts and swallowed the growl that he fed me. He rocked his hips into mine and I licked into his mouth as I felt the resurgence of his hardness, my legs wrapping around his and arching up into him. He drug his mouth free from mine, the bandage, tape and bridge digging into my skin and wrecking havoc on my skin - not in a fun way. Sighing, he pulled away.

“I want you,” I nodded up at him, how badly I wanted him right back. “But you’re going to wear tape burns if we continue right now.” The laughter built in both of us and bubbled over, causing him to lie back on the bed, and hold open his arms for me to lay against his shoulder, still careful of his more tender parts. “Will you stay the night with me?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Sandy was outside and while he might doze off, the idea of Corky finding me in Tom’s bed wasn’t something I wanted to experience on our first night together. “I want to,” he’d gone still and silent again. “I do, but I don’t want you to get harmed further because of me, do you understand?”

I could feel him brush a kiss on the crown of my head, through my curls. “I do. I don’t like it, but I do.” His arm that was wrapped around my back holding me to his side tightened. “Can I hold you for a while at least?”

“I’ll allow it,” I curled against him, breathing in the scent of his neck, and sadly the scent of the salve I’d slathered on him. I laid in his arms until his breathing evened out and his arm relaxed. Then I slipped away, grabbing my book and slipping out.

“How were his bandages?” Sandy asked, looking no more awake than he had when I went inside.

“Not too bad,” I offered with a smile. “I’ll check in again in the morning. I’m going to the kitchens for some cocoa, want something?”

“Coffee?” Nodding, I promised I’d get him a cup and headed to my original destination. Grabbing two cups, one fully caffeinated and one of herbal tea instead of the chocolate. I needed sleep, not more excitement. And after Tom’s touch, I think warm tea would be a better option than sugar.

I dropped Sandy’s coffee off and headed to my room. Once inside, I sat down at my vanity again, to check my braid and nearly screamed. Hoping that Sandy was too tired to have noticed or that it was too dark in the hallway - Tom hadn’t been wrong about the tape. There on the side of my cheek, where he’d started to nip and move down, I had a huge mark that proved I’d done more in his room than just check on his bandages. Grabbing everything I could think of to remove it, should it be removable, I tried - but no. It was a scratch, and the closer I looked the more I wanted to smack my head against something. It wasn’t just the tape, I think it came from the bridge, it was the same shape and size. And - Closing my eyes, I gave up for the night. Maybe when I woke up I’d come up with a fix, or maybe it was because I was so damn tired. That’s it, I was sleepy and so it looked worse than it was. Right?

#jonathan pine x oc #jonathan pine #Richard Roper #the night manager #alternate universe #slow burn #eventual smut #minor smut

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fic-a-rooney · 4 years

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Anything Can Happen

Fandom: Diary of a Future President

Ship: Tennis Boyfriends (Bobby x Liam)

Word Count: 799

Synopsis: The continued conversation between Bobby and the Barber.

Bobby kept his head down as the barber began to get to work on his hair. The silence was only disturbed by the snipping of scissors. That was until the barber started to make some small talk.

“So, excited for the dance tonight?”

Bobby, knowing better than lifting his head while sharp scissors were close to it, kept his head in place as he responded.

“Sure, I guess. Kind of nervous, but y’know, it’s chill.”

“Nervous?” The barber gently combed through Bobby’s hair as he continued the conversation, making the occasional snip as he did so.

“Is it about that person you may or may not want to look nice for?”

Bobby almost lifted his head, but his hairstylist gently but firmly pushed it back down. “Hey, what’d I say? Head down.”

Bobby sighed and let his head dangle. “Well, is this special person the source of your nervousness or is it something else?”

Bobby, embarrassed, didn’t respond as his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. While it was true, Bobby didn’t want to talk about it that much. He’s never really been the type to share how he feels. Mostly because even he sometimes can’t figure out what he feels. That has especially been a problem after the knee touching incident with Liam.

The stylist, sensing Bobby’s awkwardness, decided to lighten the mood with his next words.

“Well, don’t worry too much. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be a heartbreaker for sure.”

A small grin grew on Bobby’s face at those words. His gut was still filled with anxiousness, like how he felt before a tennis match, but he did feel a little better. Even it was just a little bit. Bobby wanted to change the topic a little though, still not feeling comfortable talking about it.

“Do you remember what your first dance was like?”

The man gave a slight chuckle. “Boy do I ever. Lift your head a bit, tilt it to the left slightly.”

Bobby did as he was instructed and the barber continued to talk about his dance while Bobby listened to it, along with the sound of the scissors by his ear. He watched him through the mirror as he was talking.

“I remember I was looking forward to it forever. There was this one guy in my social studies class that I was head over heels for. Of course, I wasn’t out at the time. Hell, I barely knew what the word ‘gay’ meant. But I knew I liked talking with him a lot and I wanted to keep talking with him at the dance.”

Bobby’s eyes drifted away slightly from the man’s reflection as he felt himself relate. Sure, he liked to chill with Ziggy and Danny, but with Liam, it was different. He told him things about himself that nobody else knows about, and Liam did the same thing. His talks with Liam were the things he found himself longing for almost every day. Bobby’s heart began to flutter slightly when going over those talks in his head.

“Did you talk to him?”

The man’s head shook slightly as he walked around in front of Bobby, starting to clip at the front of his hair.

“Not really. I was too nervous. The most I did was say ‘hi’ as he walked past me. I stood by the punch bowl the entire time.” He cuts a little more off the front of the hair and Bobby tries to sit still as he blinks strands from his eyes. “Luckily, my confidence has grown a lot since then, and that’s how I ended up with Bruno.”

He put his scissors down as he combed his hands through Bobby’s hair, styling the final product.

“And your confidence should have grown more now too.” He says as he unclips the gown from Bobby’s neck. “Because your hair looks fantastic, if I may say so myself.”

Bobby gives himself a once over in the mirror, the smile on his face growing by the second. “Chill.”

The barber smiles along with him, proud of his work. “Chill indeed.”

Bobby turns to him, a grateful expression on his face. “Thanks, man. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh no, please, it’s on the house.”

Bobby smiles at the man again. “Seriously, thanks, dude.”

“It was my pleasure. Have fun at your dance. Hope you’re braver than I was. Take a chance. Anything can happen.”

Bobby nods gratefully and gives the man a wave as he goes over to a waiting chair. While he waits for his mom and sister to get ready to leave, he imagines what could happen that night.

He and Liam can talk more, have fun, enjoy each other’s company. After all, it is a middle school dance.

Anything can happen.

#diary of a future president #doafp #bobby x liam #tennis boyfriends #cartero #disney plus #bobby cañero reed #liam carter

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five-rivers · 4 years

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Recipe (For Disaster?)

A holiday truce fic for @wastefulreverie ! I was your replacement gifter. I’m sorry it took so long to get this done. Your prompts kind of ran away with me. Or I ran away with them? I hope you enjoy!

Recipe (For Disaster?)

Before he opened his eyes, Danny knew he had died.

It had hurt. It had hurt a lot.

It still hurt.

His muscles (or whatever had replaced them) spasmed, grinding his skin into the harsh tile floor. Something else moved inside him, something cold, powerful, and lighter than air. It bubbled and roiled, twisted and turned, settling into his burnt and burning bones.

(Still, he was behind himself, in the portal, pressing that button, and screaming screaming screaming forever and ever two worlds straining through his brain and it hurt.)

He twitched, pressing his face into the floor, the rough edge of the tile and the grout abrading his cheek. A gust of air, a wheeze, just shy of being a whistle, escaped his throat.

(Why was he breathing if he was dead?)

He forced himself up onto his hands and knees. The tiles seemed to sting, biting into his flesh, his skin sticking to the inside of his gloves.

(Burning and tingling, outlines of lightning creeping along his skin. No.)

Slowly, he opened his eyes. The light against them made them feel like they were cooking.

(Like in the portal. Stop. Stop.)

His hands wavered into view, rippling beyond his tears, which dripped to the ground from the tip of his nose. They looked wrong. Why did they look wrong?

The gloves- They were white. A weird, silvery white that glistened and shone. His knees and elbows were gray-black, but somehow still glowed. His tears were glowing.

He knew he had died, knew he was dead, but seeing it was something different. He shuddered, and climbed to his feet. To his feet, and then farther. He floated, an inch above the floor. A squeak escaped his lips, and he dropped. More than an inch. He had fallen more than halfway through the floor before he managed to curl up on the floor again. His limbs flickered. Was that his eyes playing tricks, or..?

Once more, he stood up, this time successfully, and stumbled to the deep lab sink in the corner of the basement. There was a mirror hung above it. A dirty, tarnished mirror, but still. He needed to know what he looked like.

He gripped the edge of the sink and looked into the mirror. An alien face looked back. Instead of blue eyes, he looked into great green disks, the same color as the portal swirling behind him. Instead of black, his hair was the same moonlight white as his gloves. His skin was burnt tan, rather than milky. His freckles, usually almost unnoticeable, were a dim green. Shaking, he reached for the reflection.

That was really h-

Light.

Bright and blinding.

Almost as bright as the inside of the portal as it turned on.

(Almost as bright as the light that had killed him.)

He doubled over and vomited into the sink. Huh. He hadn't known ghosts could do that. Shouldn't his stomach be back with his body, if it hadn't been entirely vaporized by the portal?

Was- Was he dying again? He remembered his parents talking about how ghosts needed ectoplasm to survive. Should he have gone to the portal instead of the mirror?

Dazed, he looked up into the mirror. Blue eyes looked back at him through a fringe of dark hair, his skin was almost paper white and slick with sweat. His pulse throbbed visibly in the arteries of his throat.

... what.

He was-? Was that-? He didn't understand.

(Was he alive?)

Part of him wanted to drop to the ground, but he was afraid that if he did that, he wouldn't get back up. He shuffled around the sink, and slid against the wall until he reached a counter, and used that to prop himself up the rest of the way to the stairs. He crawled up them on his hands and knees, ignoring how burnt and melted his left glove was.

At the door, he rested. He put his forehead against the cool metal door, and breathed. In, out, in, out. With his right hand, he felt up the door, searching for the doorknob. As soon as he found it, he twisted it, not thinking about the consequences, and the door swung out under his weight, dumping him onto the kitchen floor.

He curled and wheezed.

"Danny?!"

Danny fiddled with the IV in his arm. Maddie took his hand with both of hers, and pulled it away.

"Alright, Danny," said Maddie, "tell us exactly what happened."

They were in Danny's room, which had been stuffed full of various ectoplasm-run and ghost-related medical machinery. His parents had stripped him of his hazmat and clothes, and gone over him with every scanner they had available, before finally putting him to bed in his pajamas.

There hadn't, as much as they searched, as ragged and burned as his clothing had been, been a single mark on him, inside or out. His temperature had been weirdly low, he was dehydrated, and he couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop the pictures that flashed through his mind every time he blinked, afterimages of his death using his eyelids as a projector screen, but there wasn't a scratch, or burn, or bruise anywhere to be found.

Danny's eyes flicked from his mother to his father, one sitting by his bed, the other looming awkwardly in a corner, unable to find a safe place to sit.

"You're not in trouble," said Maddie, reassuringly. She had done so several times. "We just want to know what happened, so we can help you, and figure out what's going on."

Danny bit his lip. "I- Um. You and Dad, you were upset. You were really, really upset. When the portal didn't work, I mean, and I- Sometimes, sometimes when you're working on things, you miss things." He tilted his head to the side, finding the wall near his bed suddenly very fascinating. "Like, obvious things. Like- Like not plugging things in, or missing some wiring, or, you know... Forgetting about, you know, a button... on the inside of the portal... I thought I'd check." He trailed off.

"Oh, honey," said Maddie. "You hit it?"

"Not on purpose!" protested Danny. "I put on my suit, and looked around- I wasn't going to touch anything!- but I tripped over something on the ground. And it- It turned on. It turned on and it-" Tears started to prick at his eyes. "It turned on, and it... hurt. It hurt a lot and I-" How to describe what he had felt? What he had seen? The way he had been sure, absolutely sure, he had died? How, for a split second, he thought he had heard someone else screaming with him? "Then I was on the floor in front of the portal. And I got up, and I went to the mirror, and I realize I had- I had snow-white hair and glowing green eyes, and my skin was all weird, and I- Before I got to the mirror there were weird things happening." He bunched up his sheets in his free hand and rubbed them between his fingers.

"Weird things like what?" prompted Maddie, after he fell silent.

"Like... For a second I couldn't see my hands, even though I was looking at them. Then I kind of... I floated? Like, I flew. When I got back to the ground, I almost fell through the floor like- like I was in a video game with the collision turned off!" He bit his lip. "I thought I was dead," he admitted, quietly. "I thought I was a ghost."

"No way, Danny-boy!" boomed Jack. "You're a Fenton! Fenton's don't become ghosts! Besides, you're definitely alive now!"

"Jack's right," said Maddie, patting Danny's hand. "After all, you can't be alive and a ghost at the same time. I'm sure it was just a side effect of being exposed to so much ectoplasm all at once. A temporary thing." She sighed. "We'll look into it. Just focus on feeling better, alright, Danny? And then, maybe, we'll do a refresher on lab safety." She made a face. "You'll probably have to be decontaminated, too, but that can wait. It's a good thing school doesn't start for another month."

"Okay," said Danny, already dreading whatever decontamination entailed.

"Okay," repeated Maddie. "Jack, will you stay here? I want to go down and check on the portal, make sure it doesn't-"

Something inside Danny went deeply, impossibly cold. He arched back, grasping at his chest as whatever had come to life inside it pulsed and grew, rippling and buzzing as it intersected his skin, light throwing his room into stark contrast.

It stopped. Danny was wearing gloves. White gloves, over black sleeves. He looked up at his parents, flinched back at their shocked expressions, and kept going, floating into the corner of the ceiling above his bed.

"Mom?" he said, hugging himself, confused and alarmed. "Dad?" His voice broke. Where was the IV? Had he pulled it out of his arm as he levitated?

"Danny?" said Jack, oddly hushed.

Danny nodded convulsively. "What's happening to me?" he asked, desperate. The portal had done this, so they had to know, didn't they? They had built the thing, pouring their lives into it.

(Danny was honestly surprised his mother and father hadn't left to check on the portal earlier.)

Jack stepped up to the bed, and reached for Danny, gently taking him by the elbow and pulling him down to the bed. "It'll be alright, Danny. We're Fentons! We'll figure this out!"

Jack and Maddie frowned at the latest machine readout as Danny perched on his stool and fiddled with one of the wires attached to him. Jazz was sitting angrily in the corner of the room, her arms crossed. She'd been in denial about this whole thing, thinking Danny had finally succumbed to their parents' particular brand of insanity, until Danny had accidentally... transformed in front of her. Now she was just permanently angry at Jack and Maddie.

"Well?" said Danny. He'd been living with this thing for almost a month and he'd gotten better at preventing himself from changing, but he didn't want to be like this forever. He especially didn't want to be like this at school. Middle school was hard enough without a condition that turned him into a ghost once a day. "What is it? Can you fix me?"

Maddie pursed her lips, and shook her head. She looked at Danny, then walked to him, pulling out a (significantly shorter) stool to sit on so she would be at eye-level with him.

"Danny," she said, then paused for much longer than was comfortable. "Danny, I'm sorry. We can't do anything. Not yet."

"Why not?" asked Danny, trying not to hyperventilate.

"Simply speaking," said Maddie, "we don't have the tools to separate you from... whatever this is." She briefly touched Danny's glowing knee. "We're still not sure what's causing this and..." she trailed off.

"And what?" asked Danny, rather more harshly than he had planned.

"We aren't sure," she said, looking back at Jack, who shrugged, "but we think it might be keeping you alive. Some of the blood tests we did, when we filtered out the ectoplasm in the samples..." She looked pale. "There were a few promising trials, but after a while..."

"They disintegrated!" said Jack.

"Oh," said Danny, sagging. "So I would-?"

"We don't know that," said Maddie, quickly, "but we'd rather be safe than sorry, and it doesn't seem to be doing you any harm, now. In fact, your body seems to have adapted to it quite well, all things considered. It's just inconvenient."

"But we can help! We've got all sorts of things we can invent! Just you wait, Danny-boy!"

Maddie sighed. "If only we had more data on ghosts, then maybe-"

Jazz snorted. "Typical! Even after this, all you care about are your inventions and ghosts!" She stormed up the stair, slamming the door hard behind her.

"Oh, dear," said Maddie.

"Why don't- Why don't you go talk to her?" suggested Danny. He would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying the extra attention he was getting from his parents, lately, even if he hated the reason for it. He understood how Jazz felt right now.

Maddie went upstairs.

"Well, Dan-o, don't you worry," said Jack, jauntily. "We Fenton men eat inconvenience for breakfast! Why, when I was a boy..." Jack rambled on, barely pausing for breath.

Feeling somewhat guilty, Danny tuned him out. He had heard all the stories before, and they rarely made sense. Instead, he turned inwards.

He was stuck like this, stuck as a freak. Could he even be called human anymore? Maybe when he looked normal, when he looked like himself, but in this ghost form? Not a chance. He had tried to distract himself with the idea that he had cool 'powers,' but he barely had any control over them.

What if his parents never figured out how to fix him? What if he was like this forever?

He would never be able to be an astronaut. Not with all the weird physical things that had shown up in his body over the last couple of weeks. Not with his low temperature, weird heartbeat, and contaminated blood.

A chill went through Danny's body, and he shivered, exhaling vapor. He tensed. Before, he'd been feeling sorry for himself, but he'd also felt... secure? Safe? Whatever. Now he felt on-edge. Something was wrong. Or about to be wrong.

He slipped off the stool, feet hitting the ground without a sound. Barely thinking about it, he phased off the wires and his hazmat suit reformed around his body. Something was wrong. Something was dangerous, a danger, a threat. His eyes roved over the inventions piled against the walls, the beakers of ectoplasmic sludge, whatever Jack was fiddling with, and finally landed on the portal.

Danny narrowed his eyes, and stepped forward, only to leap back as an over-sized, sucker-covered tentacle burst through the portal, and latched, perfectly silent, onto the wall and ceiling above. It flexed as Danny watched it, pulling from the portal a translucent, glowing, green octopus. A second one dragged itself out a moment later, and they floated in front of the portal, as if in water, malevolent red eyes scanning the lab.

Danny stayed still, holding his breath, hoping they'd go back to the Ghost Zone. Each octopus was bigger than him!

Jack kept talking.

The octopuses glare fell on him. Their tentacles reached out.

No.

"Tell me what happened again," said Maddie, as she cleaned a tiny cut over Danny's eyebrow.

"A couple of ghost octopuses came through the portal and tried to attack Dad, so I fought them and threw them back into the Ghost Zone."

"And you didn't notice this at all, Jack?" The question was delivered in a tone halfway between exasperation and real anger.

"Not until I looked up and saw Danny standing by the portal."

Standing was a far too generous term for what he'd been doing at the end of the fight, but Danny didn't dispute it.

"We'll have to pull the lab camera footage," said Maddie "But, you're alright, Danny?"

He nodded. Surprisingly, he felt better than he had in a long while, as if using his powers had taken a weight off his shoulders.

"Okay," said Maddie. "We'll need to make some doors for that." She frowned at the portal. "It isn't actually supposed to let anything in."

"It isn't?" asked Danny, surprised.

Maddie shook her head. "It was supposed to be a window, not a door." She put the swab aside, and stuck a band-aid over the cut. "Now, if you get any odd bruising, or start to feel odd, tell us right away."

After all the scrutiny at home, going to school was a relief. Sort of. At least it was a change. Every day, Jack and Maddie loaded Danny down with all sorts of things that were supposed to prevent his powers from surfacing and a cellphone with strict instructions to call and come home if anything unexpected happened.

For the first week, nothing did. It was school as usual. Banal, boring, and a little harder than middle school, but still. On the upside, he finally got to hang out with his friends again. Danny had been isolated from Sam and Tucker throughout his recovery from his 'illness.'

(Actually, if he thought about it, it kind of was an illness, wasn't it?)

But the second week, when Sam proudly revealed that she had convinced the school board to do a 'vegetarian' week? When she was, consequently, attacked by a ghostly lunch lady? One that interrupted their onslaught to ask if they wanted cookies?

Yeah, that was unexpected.

Sadly, Danny was too busy trying to keep her from killing Sam to call his parents, who would probably have done a much better job at containing the ghost. Well, at least his mom would have. Danny wasn't so sure about his dad. He had seen Jack practice with the ectoweapons before, after all.

So, he fought the ghost. He punched, he kicked, he threw random objects, and, finding all of that generally ineffective, he grabbed his friends and ran. Well. Flew.

Then he passed out.

"You understand that you can't tell anyone," said Maddie to Sam and Tucker, some time later. They and the Fentons, including Jazz and Danny, were seated around the kitchen table, three boxes of pizza stacked between them.

"Well, yeah," said Tucker. From his slightly glazed look, Danny guessed that he was still processing the situation. "It'd be, like, in a comic book or something, right? There'd be people wanting to study you. And, you know, cut you u-"

"Tucker! What is wrong with you?" demanded Sam, giving him a shove. "You can't just say that!"

Danny made a face. "Well, I don't think anyone is going to, like, dissect me or anything, but, yeah, basically." He shrugged. His parents had talked a lot about hunting ghosts before, but now they rarely brought the subject up. At least in those terms.

"Don't worry, Danny, we can keep secrets," promised Sam. "You know that."

Tucker nodded in agreement. "But, like, how does this all work? How did this happen? And those powers? Those were wicked man."

"It's a bit of a long story," said Danny. It wasn't. He just didn't want to talk about his maybe-maybe-not-death. "But what are we going to do about the lunch lady ghost? What if she comes back?"

"We talked to your school and asked them if we could do a sweep!" said Jack. "But they didn't believe us about the ghost!"

Maddie picked at her lip. "I think the best thing to do right would be to return the menu to the way it was. That would probably appease the ghost, at least temporarily-"

"What!" exclaimed Sam. "No way! I campaigned for vegetarian week all summer! We can't adopt a policy of appeasement! When will it end?"

"Well, I think that's a great idea, Mrs F," said Tucker. "The old menu is much better than this one, anyway."

Sam whirled on him. "Say that to my face, meat-eater!"

"Alright. I will. Your food sucks and tastes like dirt! Also, it made a ghost try to kill us!"

"You're just narrow minded!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

When Danny arrived at school the next day, he didn't know what was worse, that his friends had both somehow whipped up utterly insane protests in front of the school overnight, or that his parents had decided to camp out in front of the school in the 'Ghost Assault Vehicle' (actually a heavily modified and armored RV, and a hazard to all other road traffic) all day, in case the ghost was still there and still angry.

A few minutes later he decided that, no, the worst part was how each of his friends were pressuring him to choose their side or face an unspecified doom.

Actually, no. The worst part was that Tucker's protesters had brought a lot of real meat that the lunch lady ghost could use to make a giant meat monster.

This sucked. A lot. But what could Danny do but fight?

Danny put the cap on the thermos, breathing hard, and stared at the invention. That had been... bizarre, at best. But what was his life except bizarre, at this point?

His friends came running up to him, followed shortly by his parents.

"Danny!" said Sam. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" said Danny, meaning it. "I'm fine. Better than fine! I-" he looked down at the thermos, turning it over in his hands. It gave him an odd satisfaction, knowing he had stopped the ghost from causing any more damage, stopped her from hurting anyone, stopped her from hurting his friends. He looked back up at his friends and family, at the other people still running around behind them. He had protected them. "I feel pretty good, actually. Exhausted, but good."

"Really?" said Maddie. "You've just used your... abilities more than you ever have before. We don't know how that will affect you."

Danny felt his good mood wilt somewhat. "It's just," he said, trying to rally, "I feel like I finally know why this happened to me. Why I got these powers. I mean, imagine if you got the portal opened without," he gestured to himself, hoping to get the point across, even though he was in human form, "this. How would this have worked out?"

Jack and Maddie exchanged a glance, and Danny could practically see what they were thinking. None of their weapons or techniques, bar the thermos after Danny had done... Well, Danny wasn't quite sure what he had done with it to make it work, but it had, and it was the only thing that had been really effective against the lunch lady. If Danny hadn't been here, hadn't had his powers, this could have been bad.

Danny glanced at the red smears of raw meat scattered across the school's front lawn. Really bad.

"We probably would have worked something out," said Maddie, but Danny could tell she was dubious. "I think we ought to go back home and give you a checkup."

"Mom," groaned Danny, "I'm fine."

"I still want to check. Would you two like a ride home, or..?"

Sam snorted. "Honestly, they're probably not even going to cancel school."

"Yeah," said Tucker. "I mean, what are they going to say, that they were attacked by a giant meat monster? Please."

"Hey, Mom?" asked Danny, as he ate breakfast the next morning. "Do you think ghost cookies are, like, a thing? I mean, what would they even be like?"

"Ghost cookies?" repeated Maddie. "Where did you even get that idea?"

Danny shrugged. "I don't know. Something that ghost said the other day. Never mind, it's not important."

"If you say so, sweetie."

"Jack," said Maddie, after Danny had left. "Have you noticed that Danny seems a bit depressed, ever since the accident?"

"Depressed? No! Quieter that usual, but not depressed!" Jack looked down. "But I'm not really the most observant person, I guess! Why would he be depressed?"

"Jack, really. Wouldn't you be depressed?"

The length of time it took Jack to respond was unusual, and showed that he was really thinking about the question. "I guess I would be. I'd be scared, too, not knowing what's going on." He paused. "I'm really glad he didn't get ecto-acne, though, like Vladdie! That would have been really hard."

"I think it's because of how well his body adapted to the ectoplasm," she said, then shook her head, pulling herself out of scientist mode. She sat down on the couch next to Jack. "I don't think we've been very helpful, either."

"What do you mean?" asked Jack. "We've been doing our best to help!"

"Emotionally, I mean," said Maddie. "You remember all the things we've said about ghosts. About how ghosts are evil. About what we wanted to do to ghosts."

"But Danny knows we'd never do that to him! And he's not a ghost!"

"Yes, but he's still... Some of our tests... I guess the best way to put it is that he's a sort of hybrid, and remembering what we've said, it must be disheartening." She paused. "Jazz gave me some papers on internalized racism, and some of it made me wonder. We haven't really taken any of it back, and it isn't like we ever had any empirical evidence for it! Just anecdotes, from your ancestors."

"All the ghosts we've seen so far have been bad!" protested Jack.

"Not Danny," said Maddie, "and based on our original theories, what happened to him shouldn't be possible. Based on Danny's description, the lunch lady ghost was more complex than we thought a ghost could be, too. We need to get rid of our assumptions, Jack, and we need to make sure Danny knows we aren't making those assumptions anymore."

Jack picked up one of the pillows on the couch, and began to fiddle with the embroidery. "I guess," said Jack. "But if he's really depressed, do you think it's going to be enough?"

"No," said Maddie. She slouched into the couch, almost sinking into the gap between the cushions. "I was thinking about something he said yesterday, and it occurred to me, maybe we're being too negative about this."

"It is a negative thing!"

"Yes, but it could be something he's stuck with for the rest of his life! We don't know if we can ever fix this, if we can ever remove this, and if we can't... Maybe we should focus on some of the positive aspects of this." She put her hand to her head. "I just- I don't know how to do that. I don't know how to make him feel better about this, after I shot him down, yesterday."

"You didn't shoot him down," said Jack, confused. "Neither of us hit him at all!"

"Metaphorically speaking," said Maddie. "I brushed off what he said about getting his powers for a reason. I ignored him."

"Well," said Jack, "when I was first diagnosed with autism, my mom made me my favorite fudge, and that made me feel better about it! Fudge always makes things better!" He frowned, and scratched his cheek. "I don't know if it will help Danny, though. This isn't really the same thing."

Maybe... Or maybe the two situations were more alike than they seemed at first glance. Maddie struggled up out of the gap between the couch cushions. "There was something he said, earlier, before he left."

"About his powers?"

"No," said Maddie. "Jack, do you think it would be possible for us to make cookies with ectoplasm?"

Maddie would admit that she was not the best cook in the world. In fact, cookies were the only food item she had consistent success with. Everything else had a slight tendency to come to life, explode, catch on fire, disintegrate, turn to mush, or somehow become so ectocontaminated as to be inedible. Or just be bad.

But now she was purposefully trying to contaminate a batch of cookies with ectoplasm, in a way that would make them edible and nutritious to him. In a way that would show him that she and Jack weren't against him, his new situation, and his ghost powers. In a way that would let them reconnect. In a way that would show Danny that they accepted him, that they would always accept him.

It was a lot to put on a batch of cookies. Especially when she wasn't sure they were even possible.

She poured over Danny's latest test results, picking at her lower lip. She didn't want to introduce anything harmful into Danny's system. That was the first priority, above appearance, taste, or any other condition.

Purified ectoplasm would probably be a safe choice to start with.

It had taken more time than Maddie had expected to actually get a cookie that worked as a cookie. Two months, to be exact. Two months in which her poor baby had been repeatedly beaten up by ghosts. Her little cookie project was pushed back by more necessary tasks. Such as setting up protections for Amity Park that wouldn't affect Danny and battling violent ghosts.

On a more and honestly shocking positive note, Danny had befriended one of the ghosts. A little gray ghost that haunted the school. If Danny hadn't already scrapped Jack and Maddie's theories regarding the morality of ghosts, this ghost would have done it.

In any case, here, now, in this first week of November, Maddie had a batch of fragrant and faintly-glowing cookies. They were rather plain. Maddie had wanted to limit the number of variables in the cookies, the number of things the ectoplasm could react poorly to.

But they wouldn't be a success until Danny tasted them.

She sat down at the table, exhausted. She could only imagine how Danny felt. She knew he snuck out at night to fight ghosts that their scanners missed but his 'ghost sense' picked up, and that on top of all the fights he had during the day and all his schoolwork.

The cookies sat delectably on the counter. She dearly wished she could do more to help him than make cookies. Yes, she was doing other things, but they didn't seem like enough. Not nearly enough.

Especially after all the trouble she and Jack had given him during their anniversary, and the trouble he had gotten into in the Ghost Zone of all places. With the Ghost Law. Or at least a ghost that claimed to be the law and attempted to arrest Danny. Maddie was still wrapping her head around the idea that ghosts had a society complex enough to support such a thing or a lie about such a thing, as the case may be.

She rested her elbows on the table, and put her head in her hands. Here she was, making herself depressed, right after her big victory. Or before her hopeful victory, she corrected herself.

The front door swung open and Maddie looked up.

"Wow, that smells good!" said Danny. "What are you making, Mom?"

She heard a thump, probably his backpack, but not the two that usually followed it as Sam and Tucker came in.

"Cookies," said Maddie, standing. "Are Sam and Tucker not with you?"

"No, they had to go home today," he said. "Apparently their families are missing them." He walked into the kitchen, rubbing his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" asked Maddie. "Was there a fight?"

"Nah, I just banged into the corner of the lockers at school. It's been pretty quiet today." He quickly rapped on one of the cabinets. "Knock on wood, right." His brow furrowed. "Are those cookies glowing?"

"Yes, I put some ectoplasm in them. I'd been thinking about it since you mentioned them."

"Really? But that was months ago." He sat down at the counter, and poked at one of the cookies. There was an odd expression on his face. "Can I- Can I try one?"

"I made them for you, sweetie. Just- Only one for now. I don't know how they taste, and they should be safe, but..."

Danny's lips quirked up, but something wavered in his eyes. Maddie's heart dropped. Did he think that she was using him as a guinea pig?

"I get it, you don't know how I'll react. Better safe than sorry, and all that. I had wondered, though, seeing all that ghost food in Walker's prison..." He picked up a cookie, and nibbled at it. He took a larger bite. Another one. His chin trembled.

"Is it not good?" asked Maddie.

"No," said Danny, his voice cracking. "It's good. It's really good." A tear tickled down his cheek. He sniffed and took another bite of his cookie. He hiccuped.

"Danny..?"

"I'm okay!" he said around the cookie in his mouth. "I'm okay. I just- Just-" He shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Maddie rubbed Danny's back. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"It's just- You made this for me. And it's not- It's not a weapon. It's a ghost thing, but it's not a weapon, and-"

"Oh, sweetie," said Maddie. "I'm so sorry that you thought that we..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say, even if it was what she had been afraid of.

"It's just- Ghost cookies." He laughed a little, and shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth. "It's good," he said, slightly muffled. "Are you sure I can't have another one?"

"Maybe in a couple of hours? You don't want to ruin your dinner."

Danny laughed.

#danny phantom #holiday truce #holiday truce 2019 #winter truce #gift #my writing #wastefulreverie #phanphic #phanfic

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stormtrprinstilettos · 5 years

Text

10 Easy Rules (Ch. 1) - Dom!90sRoger x sub!reader (smutty smut) {18+}

Series Summary: Reader is a young 20-something who is living back home with her parents, and she meets their new neighbor. (More info of what to expect here.)

Chapter summary: Introductions... every kind of introduction.

Chapter warnings: nothing major - language & smut (of course), minor D/s, very minor bondage, denial.

Word count: 6190

(This is the man who started it all...)

You absolutely hate these neighbor gatherings every weekend. Today you’re across the street. Next week they’ll all be at your house. This time you get to meet the new neighbors. “They’re lovely,” your mother told you. “Nice couple with a few kids.” Great. “And Sarah said Danny will be there.” Even worse. “He’s such a nice boy, Y/N.” She’s wanted you married and pregnant to Danny since you were born.

You’re feeling completely foolish, even embarrassed. Back home with your parents when you should be out there in the world living on your own like the other twenty-somethings you know do. But no - you’re here because your roommate moved out and you can’t afford rent by yourself, because your parents refuse to help you out since you quit your studies. You’re listening to your headphones that you bought recently because your mother complains when you play the music too loud. Or when you’re on the phone too late. Or when you come in too late. Or when you sleep too late. But you grin and bear it. For now at least. You have your waitressing job, and you’re saving every bit you make from it so you can move out as quickly as possible.

“Y/N, will you please take those things off,” your mom groans as she pulls the headphones off your head. “Can you pretend to be at least a little bit social today?”

You roll your eyes and take off the headphones. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“To make your mother happy,” your dad says. “She wants to show you off.”

You start to laugh as you reach the front door of the neighbor’s house. “More like sell me off to the highest bidder.” After your father rings the doorbell, you giggle. “I bet Mr. Ward would pay a lot for me.”

“Please, Y/N,” you mom groans again. “Best behavior, okay?” You roll your eyes and put a piece of chewing gum in your mouth and chuff. “These are new neighbors you’ll be meeting today. You don’t want to start off with a bad impression right away.”

“You’re right,” you say with a giggle. “I should give them at least a week before they start to think bad about me.”

You knew today would be annoying and boring, and it was. At least for a while. You were being followed around by Danny, who was trying his hardest to impress you, but he couldn’t. You met the new neighbors – well, the woman and the kids. Her husband would be there later. “They’re not really married,” your mother told you, “but we aren’t going to judge them for that.”

You ended up finding yourself in a conversation with the new 14-year-old neighbor. She was just as bored as you were, so you took the time to give her the rundown of all the juicy gossip. Mr. Ward, first name Peter - he’s kind of a harmless pervert who likes to watch you when you go on your morning jog. His wife, Sarah, drinks a lot when the kids are off at school. Their son, Danny - that’s the one your mom wants you to marry – is in college, for what you don’t remember because you really don’t care.

Then there’s the Garlands – Sam and Charlotte. Charlotte is the one who has the money for them to live in this neighborhood since her parents were rather wealthy and left her their inheritance. She’s 15 years younger than Sam, and she spends her days with some younger guy while Sam goes off and does whatever he wants. Sam and Peter like to go out and do “man things” on Friday nights.

Then there’s your parents – you father doesn’t like Sam and Peter much, so he doesn’t go do “man things” with them. Your mom and Sarah Ward do their day drinking together. Then there’s you, the only child, who kind of got put on the back burner, but that’s fine because you’re not really into all of this mess anyway.

“I’m so happy my parents aren’t lame,” she laughs before she starts to groan. “Okay so maybe my dad is lame sometimes. He’s probably going to come make some stupid comment and embarrass me now.” When you look in the direction she’s looking in, you see her dad walking up.

“You two look like you’re having as much fun here as I am,” he jokes. Your new friend groans and walks away, not wanting to be around her “not-lame” dad.

“If you consider wishing for a sporadic tornado to pass over fun, then yes,” you say with a snarky smile.

He holds out his hand for a shake. “I’m Roger.”

“So the rumors are true. I have a famous neighbor,” you say as you shake his hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, so those rumors are true as well. I have a cute neighbor,” he smirks. Suddenly you find yourself locked in a gaze. A nice, relaxing, sexy gaze that neither one of you knows how to break. “Pete and Sam think highly of you.”

“They think highly of my…” You suddenly stop yourself from finishing that thought and clear your throat.

He laughs quietly, sensing your minor embarrassment and changes the subject. “How often do we have do these? I’m told it’s often.”

“Oh, I don’t have to do any of these. You, however, do these every week.”

“If you don’t have to be here, then why are you here?”

“Wanted to be polite and meet my new neighbors,” you smile. “Had to see if the rumors were true.”

“Y/N!” your father calls for you and you roll your eyes.

“That’s my old man. Guess I get to leave now.” You start to walk away before turning around and walking backwards. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Taylor.” You smile and bite your bottom lip. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “And don’t call me ‘Mr. Taylor.’ Call me…”

“Daddy?” a kid yells out.

You start to giggle. “Alright. I’ll see you around, Daddy.”

“I could get used to hearing that,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry?” You heard what he said. You just didn’t want him to know that you did.

“Nothing,” he smiles. “I’ll see you…”

You haven’t been able to shake him from your thoughts for the past month. Of course, it doesn’t help that you see him around all the time. He always manages to find himself at the foot of his driveway when you’re returning back home from your jog. Seeing him out there is much more exciting than seeing Mr. Ward so it doesn’t bother you one bit.

You wanted him. Badly. But he wasn’t just some bloke you could throw yourself at, so you had to be subtle. A bit blatant, but subtle. Just as he seemed to have your schedule memorized, you quickly memorized his. The wife/partner, whatever she was, would leave and bring the kids to school around 8:00 and she would be gone all day until she picked them up. But not on Wednesday’s. That’s the only day she would spend at home. Easy enough to remember. So this morning you left for your jog at 7:00, as usual, when your parents left to go to work and to whatever it is your mom did, and you were going to conveniently lock yourself out of the house. And he was going to invite you in to stay there until your mom got home around noon.

Your plan worked, shockingly easy.

As you stand in his living room looking at pictures, he walks in with a glass of water and sees you looking at a picture with the kids. “I’m sorry if she gets annoying. I know you don’t exactly enjoy talking with a teenager.”

“Oh it’s alright,” you smile. “When I was her age I had an older friend too. She lived in this house, actually. She taught me everything I needed to know about sex.”

He started to cough before quickly composing himself. “You are far too young to know everything about sex.”

“I didn’t say I knew everything. Just what I need to,” you grin. “I stink and feel gross. I need to find a way in the house so I can shower.”

“No,” he says, quickly swallowing his water. “I’m sure I have something you can wear. And I’ll let you shower. Wash up. If you want.” You smile and nod, pretending to act timid, and you follow him up the stairs. The only thing keeping you from pushing yourself on him when you get to his bedroom is the fact you’re sweaty. He probably wouldn’t mind, though, judging by the way he’s looking at you.

You purposely don’t close the bathroom door all the way. And thanks to the glass shower walls, you can see his reflection in the mirror as he watches you shower through the crack in the door. You can see him nervously running his hand over his neck. You can see him shift and take a deep breath as you run your hands over your tits. And you can see him reach down in his pants and stroke his cock by the time your lathered hands get down to below your waist. You watch him the entire time, and you don’t turn the water off until you see him cum underneath his shirt.

You wrap your hair in a towel, then your body, and you walk out of the bathroom. He’s still standing in the same spot he was standing in as he watched you, his face still in shock and awe. “I don’t have anything to change into, Mr. Taylor,” you giggle as you walk closer to him.

He’s speechless. You love this. Maybe you’re being cruel. Maybe he’s being cruel standing there looking at you like he wants to fuck you into the next dimension. “I hate when you call me that,” he smiles. “‘Mr. Taylor’ sounds so formal.” He quickly turns and walks away to find you something – anything – to wear.

“You’re right,” you say when he turns his back to you. “I think we’re well past formalities now, don’t you think?”

He slowly makes his way back to you holding a t-shirt and some sweatpants in his hand, staring at you like he’s willing the towel would come loose and fall down. He gets close – really close – and brings his hand up, not touching you, but he wants to. “Yeah,” he whispers, bringing his fingers under your chin and lifting your head, hovering his lips just over yours. “Way past formalities.” He gives you a kiss, a very careful kiss, almost as if he’s not sure this is what you want.

“You can do better than that,” you whisper into his mouth. This time he kisses you deeper, still not sure this is what you want. His hand slides down your shoulder, and just as it makes its way to the towel, he’s interrupted by someone calling his name.

“Roger, I’m not busy today. Maybe we can go into the city and look for that new desk?” She’s home and she just ruined everything.

Tonight you’re working your normal dinner shift at the restaurant. You know you’ll be seeing Peter and Sam - they’re here every Friday night to gawk at you and practice their new pickup lines they took all week to think of. Nothing shocking when you see them walk in, except for the fact that tonight they have Roger with them. You can hear them as you take the order from the table next to theirs.

“I wonder if she’s on the menu because she is looking absolutely delicious tonight,” Sam says.

“It’s nice having her back in the neighborhood. I get to watch her jogging in the mornings,” Peter chuckles.

“I’m not a religious man, but I’m praying for sunshine tomorrow. She’ll be out by the pool…” Sam is quickly interrupted.

Roger snaps. “Stop talking about her like that.”

“Oh come on Rog,” he groans. “You should know how this works by now. She parades around looking like she does and we get to watch.”

“Now, now, Mr. Garland,” you giggle when you walk over to the table. “You know how Mrs. Garland feels when you look at other girls.”

“Are you busy tonight, Y/N?” Peter asks. “Maybe we can go get a pint when we’re done here.”

“Oh, I appreciate it, Mr. Ward,” you say politely, “but I have other plans.” You glance over and smirk at Roger who is quite amused at how you’re handling all of this.

After they finish their meal and you clear the table, your shift is over and you go outside to leave. Roger sneaks out to follow you, and catches you leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. “You should stop smoking. It’s not healthy.” You roll your eyes and giggle, throwing the cigarette away and turning to face him as he leans with his back against the wall next to you.. “Those two are something, huh?”

“Let me guess,” you say, moving to stand in front of him. “Peter talked about watching me jog in the mornings and Sam is excited because he gets to see me in my bikini tomorrow.” He’s quite amazed that you know about this. “They’ve done this since I turned 18. Did they start arguing over who was going to take care of me? They do that sometimes.”

He grabs your arm and turns you around so that you’re now against the wall, and he’s resting his hand next to your head, tracing a finger over your chest. “Do you need someone to take care of you?”

“In what sense?” you whisper, pulling him closer to you by his shirt and flashing him a flirtatious grin.

He gives you a flirty grin back and runs his fingertips over your shoulders. “You aren’t as innocent as people think,” he says in a low tone, his fingers tracing a path down to your breasts. “You’re a naughty little girl, aren’t you?”

“Do you want me to be?” you whisper. “I can be as naughty as you want.”

He lowers his face to yours, his lips getting dangerously close. “You better watch that mouth of yours. Could get you in a lot of trouble, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I like trouble.”

He pulls you close and hovers his mouth even closer. “You are trouble,” he growls and slides his hand down dangerously close to your crotch. “Have any of these guys around been lucky enough to fuck you, Y/N?”

“No. Not yet,” you say with a smirk.

“Not yet, huh?”

“There’s only one of them I want.”

“Yeah? Which one.”

“You… Daddy,” you whisper in his ear.

“So you are a naughty girl,” he chuckles. “This morning was no accident, was it?”

“I know how to get what I want,” you say, lowering yourself and sneaking away from him under his arm. “I saw you this morning, Mr. Taylor,” you whisper from behind him. “I saw you watching me.” This time he’s not as gentle when he pushes you back against the wall again. “You know you want me too.”

“Do you promise to be a good girl, Y/N?” he murmurs, holding his hand under your chin, raising his thumb to enter your mouth between your parted lips. “Promise to do whatever Daddy tells you to do?” You smile and shake your head and he slowly backs away. “Come on, princess. I’ll give you a ride home.” He winks and walks away as you stand there watching him, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

He was watching you again. You see him watching you as you lay out by the pool, soaking in the sun. You have the headphones on and you’re wearing your sunglasses. You see him. You know he knows you’re watching him, too. He knows because as soon as everyone else is inside to get lunch, you stick your fingers down the front of your bikini bottoms then pull them out, and when you walk by him you make sure to suck on them very slowly.

He follows you up the stairs. No one sees. They’re too busy eating the food and drinking the drinks and trying to outdo each other with grandiose stories. He closes the door behind him when he walks in your room, and you turn around. He puts his finger over your mouth before you can say anything. “Do you enjoy teasing me, Y/N?” he asks. “Because it’s not nice to tease.”

You walk to your closet and take out a dress you want to change in to. “I don’t want to tease, Roger,” you sigh. “I’m just trying to…”

He walks up behind you and starts to untie your bikini top, interrupting you. “Trying to get me to fuck you?” he whispers in your ear. “Rule number one, Daddy’s the one who calls the shots here, not you.” He turns you around, a soft smile on his face, and slides your bikini top slowly off. “Is this really what you want to wear?” He takes the dress from your hand and throws it on the bed. “Surely you’ve got something better than that in there.” He pushes you to the side and starts going through the clothes in your closet before finding a yellow sundress. He keeps talking, ignoring your confused looks, as he takes it off of the hanger and slides it over your head. “This one is much better.”

You don’t even know what to say, so you just smile and walk to your dresser to get some panties. When you turn back around, he’s sitting on your bed, feet on the floor. You reach under your dress to pull your bikini bottoms off and toss them to the side. He stops you when you go to put your panties on and signals for you to walk over to him. Normally you would have made at least five sarcastic comments by now, but he’s managed to render you speechless. You get in front of him and smile, and he’s smiling and he guides you to straddle his leg. You’re incredibly confused, but you don’t protest.

“Rule number two, I get to have you whenever, wherever, and however I want,” he whispers. He holds his hands on your hips and rocks you, very slowly so your pussy rubs slowly on his thigh. “I don’t have many rules, don’t worry,” he grins. You take a deep breath and wrap your arms around his neck. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “It feels good.” Your eyes start to slowly close as you feel yourself rubbing against his leg, his shorts having raised above the spot of his thigh you’re covering.

He moves your hips faster now, and your forehead falls forward and meets his. “Such a sweet girl,” he chuckles. “I knew there was a sweet girl in there somewhere.” You bite your bottom lip and start to giggle, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze. “You like rubbing your hot cunt on me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. His brow raises and you realize that’s the wrong answer. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl,” he whispers. “You’re going to be such a good girl.” He moves his hands away from your hips, holding them against your back and you start to grind harder and faster. “That’s it, baby. Like that.”

He starts to kiss you, finally a kiss that isn’t awkward or careful. His tongue darts in your mouth, your moans pushing into his, and as much as you’re loving all of this, you want more. “Please, Roger… Daddy. I want you inside me,” you whisper.

“Oh, baby girl,” he chuckles. “You haven’t earned my cock yet.” You let out a frustrated groan and he nudges you to stand up. “Rule number three, you don’t cum unless I say you can.” He wraps your arms back around his neck and lifts your leg, resting your foot on his thigh. He moves his hand slowly up your leg and then underneath your dress, his fingers gliding gently over your soaking lips. “Your little pussy feels amazing,” he whispers.

There’s a quiet knock on your door, and you jump, but Roger holds you in position. “Y/N? Are you in there?” It’s your mother. Roger mouths for you to answer her, all while his fingers continue to play.

“Yeah, I’m in here!” you yell out. As soon as the last word leaves your mouth, one of Roger’s fingers slip inside of you, and you gasp.

“Are you coming back out? The food will get cold,” she asks.

“Y-yeah, I’ll be out,” you stammer, trying to keep your composure. Roger starts to pump his finger in and out of you, and he slides a second finger in.

“You’ll just have to eat with Mr. Taylor when he comes back,” she says. You let out a whimper. You tried to stifle it, but he started to rub his thumb on your clit, and the look he’s giving to you right now isn’t helping you stay quiet. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Yes, mamma, I’m fine,” you say, trying to sound normal. “I’ll be down in a little while. Go…” You take a deep breath. “Fuck, Roger,” you whisper. He’s chuckling very quietly, amused by your inability to control yourself. He stops moving his hand to allow you to answer your mother. “Go entertain your guests,” you tell her.

Once he hears her walk away, he resumes his relentless finger fucking of your pussy. “You feel so tight, baby,” he groans. “You really could use a good fucking.”

“So fuck me,” you whine. “Just fuck me, please.”

“Don’t worry, Princess,” he smiles. “You’ll get fucked. Just not today.” He pushes his fingers in as far as they can go and wiggles them around. “What’s rule number three?”

“I can’t cum until you say I can,” you groan.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “You’re learning so fast.” He starts his beautiful assault again, and now he can’t even control his sounds. “Do you want to cum for Daddy?”

“Yes,” you groan. “I want to cum for Daddy.”

He pulls his fingers out and holds them to your mouth, forcing you to open wide so he can slide them in. And as you close your lips around them, he starts to smirk. “Not yet, dove.” You let out a frustrated groan and he chuckles deeply. “If you’re a good girl for the rest of the day, you’ll be rewarded.”

“That’s mean,” you whine as he gently pushes you away. “You do all of this and then…”

“What’s mean,” he says as he grabs you and pulls you close, “is how you’ve toyed with me for the past month. Now baby girl has to learn her lesson. It’s not nice to tease.”

“You could have taken it,” you groan. “I was offering it…” You bend down to grab your panties off the floor, but he pulls you back up.

“You don’t get to wear those,” he smirks. “Second lesson. You have to learn how to control yourself.” He gives you a playful smack on your ass and pushes you to the door. “Now get out there and be a good girl. I’ll be down in a little while.”

You do as your told and walk out, leaving him in your room. You’re not sure why he wants to stay in there, but you don’t ask questions. Instead, you make your way downstairs and join everyone there, trying to take your mind off of what just happened.

But it’s hard to do, especially when he comes in 20 minutes later and sits next to you, pretending nothing happened as he easily jumps in the conversation being had. You, on the other hand, have been quiet. Almost eerily quiet, given how you’re never one to not speak, always eager to throw in a sarcastic remark or make a joke.

All of the women went back outside, and you’d normally follow them out, but you don’t, because you don’t realize they left. Your mind is somewhere else, clearly. “Are you okay, Y/N?” Mr. Ward asks. “You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet since you came back down.”

“I’m fine,” you smile. “Just tired.”

“Long night?” he asks, with a suspicious brow and cheeky grin on his face as he looks at both you and Roger. “Did Mr. Taylor not bring you straight home last night?”

“Alright, Pete,” Roger chuckles. “Don’t start.” Your dad sits on the other side of you and gives Roger a glaring look. “I went to the restaurant and I couldn’t let her just walk home.”

You dad keeps glaring at Roger, and now you’re uncomfortable. “She walks home every other night,” he sneers. “She wouldn’t have to if she wouldn’t have sold her car.”

“I needed money,” you groan. “Are you ever going to let that go?” Roger can sense your frustration, and he subtly rubs his thumb on the side of your leg so no one can see. Amazingly enough, it immediately calms you down. “It was better than asking you for rent. I did what I felt I had to do.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” Roger says. “If you don’t want me…”

You dad starts to apologize. “I’m sorry for snapping,” he says. “I just see these two idiots…” He shakes his head and starts laughing. “I’m protective of my daughter. Maybe too much.”

“No,” Roger laughs. “You have good reason to be protective.” You look over at him and sneer, but he doesn’t stop. “She’s a pretty girl. I’d be protective of her too. Especially with those two,” he laughs, pointing to Peter and Sam, who are looking a bit unnerved by everything. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t try anything,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You quickly stand up and walk out, feeling way too uncomfortable, saying nothing as you do, and join the rest of the females outside. “… one day she’ll become responsible enough to leave again,” you hear your mother say. You know she’s talking about you. She’s always talking about you – more like she’s always complaining. “We had no problem supporting her while she was studying, but she quit, so…”

You clear your throat to announce your presence and take a seat next to her. “Glad to hear you’re still bothered by my life choices, mother dear,” you giggle. “Maybe I’m still trying to find my way.”

“Being a free spirit won’t help with the bills,” you mother tells you as she pats you on the leg.

You don’t realize that Roger’s wife/girlfriend/whatever she is to him is sitting across from you until she starts to talk. “You work at that restaurant down the road, yes?” she asks, and you nod your head. “Don’t feel bad about that,” she smiles. You wanted to snap at her and tell her that you don’t feel bad about it at all, and you wanted to smack that little “you pathetic little thing” grin she was giving you off her face, but you kept your composure. “I was a waitress once too, and now look at me.”

“Yeah, look at you,” you grin, sarcasm seeping out. Your eyes glance up and you see Roger standing behind her, raising his eyebrows, silently telling you to calm down. “You’re a lucky woman.”

She starts to yammer on about how she and Roger met, the dates he took her on and some other things you’re really not sure about, because you’ve tuned her out. You’re too focused on him, standing behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders as he chuckles along. You’re trying to hide your jealousy, but you’re almost positive everyone can sense it. They really can’t, though, because they’re not paying you any attention. Not until your dear mother opens her fucking mouth.

“One day this one may find someone to put up with her,” she laughs as she puts her hand on your back. “It won’t happen until she stops being so difficult.”

Roger starts to laugh, trying to ease the tension. “Surely she’s not difficult,” he says, sitting down across from you. “She’s spunky.”

“Spunky?” you fuss. “Fucking spunky?”

“Language, Y/N,” your mom groans. “This is another trait of hers that’s not very becoming…”

You try to stand up but she pulls you back down. “See, my parents are disgusted with me,” you explain as you look at Roger. “I quit my studies and they hate the fact that I’m an independent woman.”

“You’re living at home with your parents,” your mother chuckles. “You’re not independent.”

You stand up and walk away, going back inside and up the stairs to your room. You don’t want to see anyone anymore. Not even Roger.

But that’s not going to happen.

“Hey,” he says as he stands in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I just want to be alone, but you followed me,” you groan as you lay back on your bed. “I’m sorry. I just…”

He walks in and closes your door and lays on his back next to you on the bed. “I get it. I do.” He pulls you close, and you roll on your side and rest your head on his shoulder. “Don’t let them get to you, alright?”

“Easier said than done,” you chuff. “I feel like such a waste sometimes.”

“Don’t,” he fusses. “You’re not a waste. You just haven’t found your direction yet.” You exhale breath you didn’t know you were holding in, his voice immediately relaxing you, just as his small touch did earlier. “Don’t ever talk about yourself like that. That’s rule number… what number are we on?” he chuckles.

“Four,” you laugh. “Rule number four.” He props himself up on his side, looking down at you and cups your cheek. “Where do they think you are?”

“I went home. I’m tired too,” he smiles.

“How are you going to sneak out of here?”

“Your mum and dad are going to the park to listen to the music with everyone else,” he says. “So by my calculations, we have at least three hours before I have to leave.” He leans down and kisses you softly, and before you know it the two of you are making out on your bed like a couple of horny teenagers until he pulls himself away. “Does my sweet girl still want to cum for Daddy?” he smirks.

You groan and push him away. “Please. Don’t start again unless you’re finishing this time,” you giggle.

But he moves back close. “Daddy,” he chuckles in your ear, “wants to make his baby girl feel better.” He moves your hands above your head, looking deep into your eyes as he smirks. “Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice raspy and almost in a whisper. You nod your head, but that’s not good enough. “Use your words, sweetie.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I trust you.”

He takes a scarf from under your pillow and ties your wrists together. You look at him, confused, and he smiles. “I hope you don’t mind,” he starts. “But when I was in here earlier, I found this.” He pulls at the knot he’s made, making sure it will hold. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “But I won’t be able to touch you.”

He gives you a soft kiss and runs his fingers on your cheek. “That’s okay. This is about you, not me.” He leans down and kisses you again, running his hand slowly down your leg then up and underneath your dress. You gasp softly as you feel his fingers run up your thigh, and you gasp even more when they find your wetness. “Now be a good girl and relax,” he tells you in a soothing tone. “Naughty little girl, already so wet,” he groans. “So needy. When you left me in here earlier I told you to control yourself.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“No, no,” he chuckles. “That’s good. You did good. Because this isn’t yours to control. It’s mine.” He moves down on the bed, his hands running down your body to your knees and presses them apart. He starts to run his hands up and down your thighs, relaxing them open and lifting your dress up gradually while he lowers his face. He starts with kisses first, savoring everything he can: the sound his lips make when they kiss your inner thighs, the soft sigh you made when he parted your outer lips, the gasp you made when his tongue finally finds your yielding pussy.

Your body stiffens as you feel his tongue invade you, opening you up, sending pulses of exquisite pleasure up your spine. The sensations are almost unreal. “Roger… Daddy. That feels…” You can’t say anything. You’re breathless. You feel Roger's hands on your thighs and lips, parting and holding them while his tongue moves in deeper, exploring every corner he can reach.

When his tongue finds its way to your clit, you jolt at the intensity of it. Your legs fall apart and your body entirely relaxes as his magic tongue paddles you through wave after wave of pleasure. You hear yourself moaning loudly, and feel his hands grip on your ass, squeezing and holding your hips. Then you feel one finger enter you, then a second, and you quickly remember rule number three. “Roger?” you call out, but he doesn’t answer, and you feel him chuckle against you. “Daddy?”

“Hmm,” you feel him hum against you, still chuckling.

“Please, Daddy, can I cum?” you whine. You can’t take it anymore.

He pulls his mouth away and looks up at you. “Cum for me, beautiful. Cum all over my tongue.” His tongue flicks over you and his mouth sucks on your lips as his fingers slide effortlessly in and out, curling inside of you. Your orgasm goes from merely amazing to absolutely mind-numbing. Your body shudders and rocks, bucking against Roger's face. And he keeps his face and tongue right there until you relax.

“Wow.” That’s all you can say. You feel stupid because there’s so much you want to say, but that’s all that wants to come out of your mouth.

“Such a good girl, cuming for Daddy like that,” he chuckles as he moves back over you, kissing you. “Such a good, good girl.” He unties your wrists and lays next to you, laying on his side and moves his hand back down to rub your pussy. “And you taste so sweet, too.” He looks down your body as he rubs, watching everything his fingers touch. “I’m a lucky, lucky guy,” he smiles and you giggle.

You lay with your head leaning against his chest, his unoccupied hand running through your hair, and the room is silent. You feel safe. Protected. Secure. And you want nothing more than to make him happy. He doesn’t stop you as your hand runs down to his waist. He doesn’t stop you as you unbutton his shorts and slowly move the zipper down. He doesn’t stop you when your hand reaches for his cock, or when you release it and start to stroke it slowly.

“Is this okay, Daddy?” you ask with a sweet giggle, your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock that’s already dripping precum.

“Mmm hmm,” he groans, trying to answer. “That feels good, baby.”

You lay there, talking about random things, places you want to go and things you want to see. Things you want to achieve, all while you enjoy his fingers dancing over your still pulsing pussy and he enjoys your soft hand sliding up and down his shaft.

You can't help but notice the swelling of his cock in your hand, knowing an orgasm is approaching. You lean closer and nuzzle into his chest before looking up and speaking softly. “Will you please cum for me Daddy?”

He doesn’t have time to say anything. He quickly lays on his back and grabs the back of your head, shoving your face toward his cock. As soon as your mouth wraps around him, his hips buck up and the first blast of cum arches from the tip of his cock to the top of your mouth just before your lips close around the shaft. You suck, swallow, and fight to keep from gagging as he fills your mouth with his thick cum. You moan with happiness as you clean it off before slowly tucking it back in my shorts, looking up at him with a glassy-eyed smile.

He lifts your face to his and kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue as you run your fingers through his hair. Once he releases you, you lean back against the headboard and grin. “I take it you enjoyed that?” he asks with a smirk.

You giggle. “Of course I did. Would have preferred it if you would have fucked my brains out with it, but I’ll take that.”

“Keep talking like that and I'll give you more to wash out that dirty mouth,” he retorts, unable to keep a chuckle from coming out.

“Promises, promises, Daddy,” you giggle again. “Keep talking like that and you might make me fall in love.”

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#10 easy rules #roger taylor smut #roger taylor series #roger taylor x fem reader #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x you #dom!roger x reader #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor fic #roger taylor fanfic #my stuff

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ladylynse · 4 years

Text

Revision: Maddie can’t deny it any longer. If ectoplasm can become blood, there’s more to this story than she ever realized.

Part 4 [FF | AO3]

(Previous)

-|-

“I tried tracking Danny’s cell,” Tucker said, “but he must’ve figured Vlad would do that and finally turned it off. Or it died. You know he never remembers to charge the thing.”

“I’ll head to Dora’s so you can stay out of the dead zone,” Sam said. “If you don’t want to challenge Skulker to see who can find Jack or Danny first, then head straight to Frostbite. That’s probably where Danny went. Dora can drop me off and pick up Poindexter and maybe Johnny 13 and Kitty if she can swing it.”

“Do you have extra Fenton Phones?” Jazz, being careful as always. Taking the lead, as she’d asked. Maddie stood back, holding the jet packs while the kids went over the plan. She’d checked everything over three times, knew these would work, but—

“Always,” chorused Danny’s best friends in unison.

They’d done this before.

They must have done this so many times before.

How could she and Jack have never noticed?

“Be mindful of the power supply on your jet packs,” Maddie said, hardly believing that she was handing them to two fourteen-year-olds and being perfectly okay with letting them go into the Ghost Zone on their own, virtually unprotected. “They should be able to draw on the ambient ecto-energy within the Ghost Zone, but you will have to stop somewhere to allow it to recharge or risk being stranded.”

“Don’t worry. We got this, Mrs. F,” promised Tucker as he shrugged on his pack. Sam was already tightening the safety straps on hers. Perhaps she hadn’t needed to tell them as much about these as they had; it might not be the first time they’d used this particular invention. “We’ll let you know if we find them. Any of them.”

“We’ll even ask Clockwork,” Sam put in. “I don’t think he’ll tell us anything, but we’ll try. Assuming we can actually find him and he’s not just pretending he’s not home again.”

Maddie didn’t know the names of half the ghosts they mentioned, let alone have any concept of where in the Ghost Zone they could be found.

She nodded anyway, pretending. Pretending to understand. Pretending to be strong. Pretending that this didn’t feel as wrong as it did, letting these kids do what she could not. Adults were supposed to protect children, and she felt like she was asking them to run into fire for her sake.

But they’d tread this path before, gone this way far more often than she, and were much wiser than her for it. She had to trust their judgement. They knew better than she did. They knew more than she did. It was as simple as that.

And if it meant protecting Jack and having a chance of finding Danny and Danielle….

“Thank you.” She wouldn’t be able to say it enough. “Good luck.”

The two flashed her grins and thumbs up, all signs of their earlier tiredness gone by now. They’d been given a mission, and they were ready for it. More than. She waved as they raced each other to the portal and dove into the Ghost Zone.

“You don’t have to pretend,” Jazz said softly. “Not with me, anyway.”

She had to. She had to, or she’d be curled up on the floor of the lab again, crying until she had no more tears. She couldn’t give up on this semblance of sanity. If she let her guard down, if she allowed herself to remember exactly what she’d done and who she’d done it to and—

Jazz walked over and hugged her, and Maddie felt her resolve crumbling.

“We’ll get through this,” Jazz reassured her, tightening her hug. “I know what I said earlier, but Dad will come back safe, and we’ll find Danny and Danielle, and then we’ll figure things out from there. This isn’t going to ruin us.”

It might have already, and she had no way of knowing.

Because she’d never listened.

Jazz waited a moment more before pulling away and stepping back. “Did you have any luck with the Booo-merang?”

“I reassembled it,” Maddie whispered, “and fed it the copy of Phantom’s ecto-signature that we had on file.” She wasn’t sure if it was perfect. The Booo-merang was more Jack’s invention than hers, and she knew he’d made tweaks that weren’t in the blueprints. She’d done what she could. If Vlad—

“We can tie a note to it,” Jazz said as she took out her hairband, “so that Danny knows it’s safe to come home even if we lose sight of it. I’ve done that before. It will get to him eventually.” She moved to the computer desk to get a pen and paper and began to write. After a few moments, she looked back up at Maddie. “You should write something, too. So Danny knows he can trust my word.”

Maddie moved slowly, finally reaching out to take the pen from her daughter with a shaking hand. She imagined accusations—accusations she deserved—and couldn’t think of the right words to say. What could she write to convey what she felt? The depth of the wrong she’d done?

I’m sorry, she wrote. It looked trite. False. I hurt you both. It was an understatement, but at least it was an acknowledgement. I want to do better. She couldn’t ask for forgiveness, not without doing anything, and even then…. Even then, she might not get it. She wasn’t sure she’d deserve it if she did. Please let me try. She could imagine an offer of help being turned back on her, Danny spitting that they didn’t need her kind of help, but…. But she’d rather that than write a plea that they come home and have him tell her this wasn’t home for him anymore and wouldn’t ever be again.

She had always thought she hunted monsters.

She hadn’t realized when she’d become one.

Jazz gently nudged her hand aside and slid the paper away, neatly folding and then securing it to the Booo-merang.

“What if he doesn’t want to come back?” Maddie asked. “What if he gets our note and ignores it?”

“He won’t ignore it forever, even if he doesn’t act on it right away.” Jazz turned the device on, and Maddie saw the light at its head begin to blink. “That’s not who Danny is.” She flashed a grin. “Are you ready?”

She wasn��t remotely ready, but there wasn’t time for her to be mentally prepared for all that this would entail. “We have no way to follow it if it goes into the Ghost Zone,” she said, “and even if we try to follow in the Fenton Ops Centre, we’ll still need to be able to keep it in sight for that.”

“Which we can. Dad added that tracking feature, remember? We’ll link it to the Booo-merang. Just like the Spectre Speeder. And if it goes into the Ghost Zone, we can put Sam or Tucker onto it.”

Maddie let out a breath. “Okay.” She couldn’t afford to argue. She didn’t know enough to argue.

Jazz drew back her arm and threw the Booo-merang. It spun, making a quick loop of the lab.

And then it made a second loop of the lab.

And a third loop.

A lazy fourth.

And then it crashed into the dissection table, skittering across it before falling to the floor.

Something was squeezing the breath from Maddie’s lungs, and she couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t do anything. She just watched as Jazz frowned and walked over to the device. She checked it over and tried tossing it again.

This time, it made two and a half loops before catching on one of their shelving units. Maddie winced as glassware shattered. Jazz fetched a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the pieces while Maddie watched in silence. As Jazz dumped the remains into the shards discard bin, Maddie summoned the strength to walk over and pick up the Booo-merang from where Jazz had placed it on the top of the workbench.

“What’s wrong with it?” Jazz asked softly when she was finished.

Maddie looked at the Booo-merang’s blinking light. “Nothing,” she whispered. “The copy of Phantom’s ecto-signature just isn’t sufficient.”

Jazz furrowed her brow and leaned closer, though Maddie knew there was nothing more to be seen. “What do you mean?”

“Ecto-signatures aren’t like fingerprints; they don’t stay the same unless some change is forced upon them. They change slightly over time naturally, to reflect the changes within each ghost.”

“But it’s always locked onto Danny. That’s never been a problem before.”

“That’s why it hasn’t been a problem. Because it could update its signature to evolve its records. Now, it’s been entirely reset, and the ecto-signature I gave it is just too different to be recognizable as the same one Danny currently has. I….” So much must have happened to cause that change, and she’d been blind to all of it. “I’m sorry. This isn’t going to work.”

Jazz huffed. “It’ll work,” she said, snatching up the Booo-merang and hugging it to her body with one protective arm. “We’ll just have to get the ecto-signature from Vlad.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Vlad. Like I said, he’s obsessed with Danny. Trust me, he’ll have a recent copy of Danny’s ecto-signature.”

“So you wanted to shoot him earlier, and now you want to work with him?”

“Oh, I still want to shoot him. Taking a blast from an ecto-gun in human form won’t do as much damage as when he’s in ghost mode, but it’ll still hurt.”

Human form. Ghost mode. It was jarring to hear Jazz talk about molecular fusion so offhandedly, to the point that she could mention it like that. She must have discovered and accepted this idea ages ago. And Danny—

“But whether I like it or not, it looks like we need him. At least until we hear from Sam and Tucker.”

Maddie took a slow breath. The idea of working with Vlad…. It didn’t sit well with her now that she knew the truth. There was too much of Plasmius in Vlad. He wasn’t the same person she’d known in college. She had to stop thinking of him as such. “I don’t think I can pretend to be ignorant of everything you’ve told me.”

“You don’t need to. Vlad would probably see through an act anyway. He won’t be happy that I’ve told you everything, but he won’t be surprised after what’s happened. He’ll take what he can get.”

Maddie frowned and glanced at her daughter. “Meaning?”

“Meaning this would still give him the opportunity to spend time with you, and that might be enough bargaining power.” Jazz hesitated. “I know that sounds bad. It is bad. I just…. I don’t know if we can afford to wait for Sam and Tucker. Vlad definitely won’t be waiting. And whatever Skulker says, he’s really not the Ghost Zone’s Greatest Hunter. He’s not going to be a better option when it comes to asking for help. Vlad might have him looking already anyway.”

Skulker. The ghost that used a mechanical exoskeleton. She’d seen Phantom—and Danny?—take it down multiple times. It made her want to question Jazz more about all of this, about halfas, about the consequences of which she was currently aware, but there wasn’t time. She couldn’t afford to distract herself that way. Not when Danny…. Not when Danielle….

“All right. Let’s go.” She was afraid that if she didn’t commit, she’d find a way to talk herself out of going. Convince herself that they could find another way, whatever Jazz thought. The idea that Plasmius might have convinced Vlad to—

But Jazz was right. Different, albeit just as unscrupulous, options were out there to explain Danielle and her true relationship to the Fenton family. And Maddie wasn’t in a position to point fingers when it came to unscrupulous behaviour. Not after what she’d done.

You don’t understand.

She was convinced she’d never forget the cries.

I’m not just a ghost.

She didn’t deserve to forget.

I’m human, too.

She couldn’t just pretend this hadn’t happened, that she hadn’t done what she had. In order to do better, she had to remember. She couldn’t allow herself to fall into old patterns and risk repeating the same mistakes, even unintentionally. She wouldn’t be able to ease her guilt right away, but maybe, with time, with enough changes, with enough effort, she could…. She could accept what she’d done, if not forgive herself entirely. She didn’t think she’d be able to forgive herself unless the others forgave her, and they….

They had good reason not to.

She could ask for it, but she knew very well she might not receive it. That hurt, too, just thinking about it, but—

“Come on,” Jazz said, wrapping her free arm around Maddie and steering her towards the stairs, “I’ll drive. I left a note on the fudge in case Dad comes back before we do. He’ll see it there.”

-|-

Vlad had not intended to come back after a quick change of clothes, whatever he’d tried to make it sound like. Maddie realized that now. Still, it only made standing on Vlad’s stoop this early in the morning even worse.

When the door finally opened, Vlad himself was there to greet them, looking like he’d recently stepped from the shower. “Ah, Maddie, how delightful. And Jasmine. I hadn’t quite made myself presentable for—”

“You can drop the act,” Jazz said as she elbowed her way past him. “I told Mom everything.”

Vlad raised his eyebrows. “Everything about what?”

“Phantom and Plasmius,” Maddie whispered. She had to force herself to meet Vlad’s eyes, and she saw motions flicker across his face until his features settled into a careful mask. Practiced. Polite. The same one he used to wear while convincing the higher-ups at the university that they should be allowed funding and space for their projects.

“Ah.”

He didn’t say any more. He simply stepped aside and let her in.

“We need a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature,” Jazz said. “I know you have one, so don’t bother denying it.”

“Showing your hand so early?”

Jazz rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at Maddie. Vlad glanced in her direction as well and then sighed. “I am doing what I can to search for Daniel. Whatever your implications, my involvement isn’t a farce.”

“Then prove it by giving us a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature. You ruined ours, so if it was purely accidental and not on purpose, what’s the harm?”

“Jazz,” Maddie said, a warning in her tone. They could only push Vlad so far. They were still asking for his help.

And she didn’t particularly want to meet Plasmius right now.

It…. She couldn’t see him. She’d thought she would, now that she knew. She’d thought there would be something behind Vlad’s eyes that she’d be able to identify, some little piece of Plasmius. Not because she doubted the truth of Jazz’s words, she didn’t; rather, she wanted to think that she could pick apart which being was more in control of Vlad, Plasmius or one of her former friends.

But all she saw was Vlad.

The same Vlad who’d stood up for her and Jack when they’d made their first group presentation on the paranormal. The same Vlad who’d stayed up late with her to pore over Jack’s last-minute changes to their blueprints. The same Vlad they’d met again at the reunion and seen so frequently since.

“Surely you know I would hardly impede your investigation when it came to finding the little badger—”

“Which is why you deliberately destroyed the Booo-merang?”

“—but I’m afraid I really don’t have a recent copy of Daniel’s ecto-signature. He, ah, deleted my files just last week.”

Jazz narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she spat. “Say I believe that. Say you really don’t have a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature. Why ruin ours?”

“I never intended to ruin it. I merely wanted to try to obtain a copy of it for myself.”

Jazz pursed her lips and met Maddie’s eyes. Maddie knew that long-suffering look on Jazz’s face. It was the one she made when she was barely restraining herself from parroting back Danny’s words in a mocking tone, trying to convince herself that she was an adult and above such childishness. Jazz was quite mature for her age, but she was still a teenager. Even…even if she knew as much about the world—and the Ghost Zone—as she did.

“I’m sure I could be of help in other ways. If Maddie and I—”

“You’re not getting hours of alone time with my mom,” Jazz interrupted. “What about Danielle’s ecto-signature?”

“You really believe Daniel would allow me to keep that?”

Jazz’s smile was sudden and triumphant. “Then you admit it. You know who she is.”

“She’s a ghost who’s passed through this town,” countered Vlad. “Whatever you and Daniel think, I do try to protect Amity Park. Keeping tabs on ghostly activity is merely part of that.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Vlad,” Maddie said softly, “please. Even if you don’t think it’s important, anything you could tell us would be appreciated. I’d never seen that ghost before, and I know Jack would have told me if he’d had an encounter with a ghost so like Phantom.”

“My dearest Maddie, I can assure you that I harbour no ill will toward Daniel. I want to see him back with us as much as anything.” Vlad spread his hands. “I simply do not have the resources Jasmine thinks—”

“Shut it, Plasmius. We’re not buying that you’re the good guy. If you won’t give me the copy of the ecto-signature, I’ll find it myself.” Jazz turned and stalked away. Vlad, surprisingly, let her.

Or was it Plasmius who had? That’s what she’d called him, but Maddie still couldn’t—

“I’ll make tea,” Vlad said, putting his arm around Maddie and steering her towards what she knew was the kitchen. She managed not to flinch at his touch. Any other night before this, before knowing, she would have been so grateful for the support, but now— “Or coffee, if you’d prefer. We could do with something right now, I daresay. We’ll catch up with Jasmine in a few minutes. I change my security codes daily.”

“So it’s all…true,” Maddie managed. “You and Plasmius—”

“We really don’t need to talk about such things right now.”

Of course they did. How could they not? Vlad and Plasmius. Because of the proto-portal accident. It had to be. Months of hospitalization, bankrupt at the end of it, dropping out of college and—

And turning around and making millions. Billions.

Vlad had been skilled, but not—

“Please,” she repeated. “Please, just…. It’s really true? You and Plasmius? Like Danny and Phantom? And…and Danielle?”

Silence.

Vlad’s steady steps never faltered. She was desperately trying to think of a way to broach the conversation again. She didn’t want to let it go, to let it die, to let it lie between them unspoken. She couldn’t. Not after what she’d done with Danny. And….

It’s not that she felt comfortable with Vlad. After what Jazz had told her, she couldn’t, and it made her realize that she hadn’t been wholly comfortable with him before that, either. She’d wanted to think that maybe it was just her reacting to Plasmius’s presence, but since she’d realized that she couldn’t tell who was in control—

She wished Jack were here.

She wished he hadn’t gone to search the Ghost Zone alone, but she wasn’t sure there had been another choice. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been her, and he never would have let her go alone. But one of them needed to stay on this side. If Danny decided to call—

Maybe they shouldn’t have left the house.

She could have called someone to stay while she and Jazz came here. Or she should have come by herself. In case Danny phoned. He had their cell phone numbers, of course, but she wasn’t sure how many of those numbers he had memorized; she knew he knew the home phone, but if his cell phone really was dead—

“Every situation is different,” Vlad said at last. He led her into the kitchen and left her to lean against a counter while he busiest himself with preparations. There was no table to be had in here, oh no. Counters, islands, workspaces of all sorts, but nothing small and cozy, nothing intended for anyone to sit down and have a bite to eat or something to drink. This was a kitchen meant to be fully staffed, and—

It occurred to her that she had never seen Vlad’s butler.

Or a maid.

Or any staff, really.

They were always mentioned, and she knew he must have someone—he could hardly keep a place this large clean by himself on top of his mayoral duties—but it always seemed to be their day off whenever she came by.

She only ever saw Vlad.

“What…what do you mean?”

“I doubt the girl is quite like the others.”

“Her name is Danielle.”

“Yes.” His words were a whisper. “It is.” He turned around and presented her with a warm cup of— Coffee, by the look and smell of it. Black.

She took a hesitant sip.

He’d sweetened it with sugar.

He remembered how she drank her coffee, even after all these years.

“I—” Vlad paused. “Daniel and I, our circumstances aren’t quite the same.”

He was admitting it, then. She hadn’t thought he would after his earlier denials. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified. A denial she could have spun into truth for herself, at least for a time. Long enough for her to find some steady ground to stand on. Long enough to make sure she wouldn’t have her feet knocked from beneath her again.

“How do you know?” If she didn’t ask, if she kept talking, she’d lose the opportunity entirely, and she knew she couldn’t afford that.

“I’ve spoken with her. The ghost girl. She’s come to me for help in the past. As I daresay you’ve realized, she’s as much girl as she is ghost.”

I’m human, too.

“And you and Plasmius—”

“I’m stable. Daniel is stable. Poor Danielle is not. Or she wasn’t, the last time I had her in my lab.”

“You still have a lab, then?”

Vlad smiled. “Oh, Maddie, I could never give it up. It reminds me too much of the treasured moments I used to spend with you.”

“And Jack,” she added pointedly, remembering Jazz’s words. Vlad has an unhealthy obsession with you.

“Yes, of course.”

The words came quickly, smoothly, but she wasn’t sure they were honest. How could she? Jazz hadn’t had the slightest bit of doubt in her voice when she’d said Vlad hated Jack. Hated. It was such a strong word. Maddie hadn’t noticed anything herself, but she’d never looked for it, either. Jack’s enthusiasm about his friendship for Vlad had always been her lens for their relationship, and Vlad had always been friendly towards her.

But recent experience had certainly taught her that there was so much she could miss—even from people close to her. If she’d never realized the truth of Danny and Phantom, she hadn’t much hope of seeing past the façade Vlad put up around her.

Maddie took another sip of the coffee, buying time to collect her scrambled thoughts. “And Plasmius doesn’t…hinder you?”

“Far from it.” Vlad flashed her a smile she could no longer call genuine. “The situation has grown on me, and I do find ways to make the best of it.”

How much was the honest truth and how much was a carefully scripted truth? Perhaps things had changed, but Vlad had rarely told direct lies in their college years, even little white ones. He’d delighted in misdirection and obfuscation. He had always been quite proud when he’d managed to convince someone of something false, telling perfect truths riddled with oft-unseen holes where he’d lied by omission. It was never in his papers, of course—he’d been far too credible for that and wouldn’t dare risk being accused of falsifying results—but he had always loved a good verbal battle, to match wits with someone he considered worthy.

She’d seen him to do it so many times.

She wondered why she hadn’t thought she could be on the receiving end of it until now.

Best to change tack, then. It was unlikely that she could catch him off his guard—he clearly knew so much more of the situation than she, and how could he not?—but she had to try. She had to know. “Why does Jazz think you have a copy of Danny’s ecto-signature?”

“She is, no doubt, aware of the tracking I do, as is Daniel.”

“So when you say Danny destroyed your files—”

“I’ll admit I don’t think it was Daniel directly; it’s far more likely to be his friend Tucker’s work.”

Vlad said he kept tabs on ghosts to help him protect Amity Park, but Phantom fought those ghosts routinely. Phantom fought Plasmius routinely. Plasmius couldn’t be helping Vlad protect Amity Park—unless Phantom simply saw him as another ghost and acted accordingly? She still didn’t understand how much influence the ecto-entity had over the human host, but it would surely be greater when the ecto-entity was in control, and—

No. She couldn’t make assumptions. She had to stop doing that. She didn’t know how much was Vlad and how much was Plasmius, just as she wasn’t sure how much was Danny and how much was Phantom. The notes she and Jack had accumulated on both ghosts were surely wrong; they had never accounted for human ties, and that would skew their results terribly. They knew nothing. She knew nothing.

Which meant she couldn’t believe everything she was told, whether from Jazz or from Vlad. Each would have their biases, just as she had hers, and what they told her would be coloured accordingly. And there was always the chance that what they knew was wrong, even if they believed it to be true, just as she and Jack had been wrong.

Except….

Vlad was a primary source, and though Jazz’s knowledge was second-hand, it would all come from Danny. She didn’t want to mistrust either of them, but what they told her didn’t always line up, and—

Maddie set her coffee down on the counter and took a steadying breath. “May I speak with Plasmius?”

Vlad spluttered, losing his composure and nearly choking on his own cup of coffee. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like to speak with Plasmius. Is that possible?”

“I— Yes, of course it’s possible, but—”

“Then let me speak to him. Please.”

Vlad set his cup aside in favour of closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I should have realized you were taking this awfully well. I am sorry, Maddie. I didn’t doubt Jasmine when she’d said she told you everything—she’s no reason to pretend otherwise, blatant as she’s being—but I hadn’t realized that you didn’t yet understand.”

His words chilled her. “What do you mean?”

He opened his eyes to look at her. For the briefest instant, red replaced familiar blue before it was blinked away. She started and took a step back, only to hit the counter. Vlad looked resigned as he said, “You’re already speaking with Plasmius.”

(see more fics | next)

#danny phantom #maddie fenton #jazz fenton #vlad masters #phanfiction #dp fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #dp snippet #snippets #revision

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mariephillipswriter · 3 years

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Square Eyes

Do they still say that if you watch too much television you'll get square eyes? Or is that an expression that went out of fashion when kids started spending all their time in front of the internet? Putting aside the obvious riposte (televisions aren't square, they're rectangular) I can report that I have been doing extensive research in this area and have come to the scientific conclusion: no, you won't. I have been watching so much television. SO MUCH TELEVISION. I never believed that I could watch such an immense quantity of television. On the whole I don't watch it during the day except for sometimes when I am having my breakfast and also when having my lunch, but in the evenings, when I have finished pretending to work, I might start watching television at about 6pm, or 5pm, or 4pm on a bad day, and keep going until, say, 11pm or midnight. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE. HOW CAN A PERSON LIVE THIS WAY. Well it's easy enough, it turns out, if you're under lockdown in London in December and it's dark from 4pm and raining most of the time and you have the emotional resources of a gnat and reading is too demanding and talking on the phone is too exhausting and the light in the living room is not good enough for doing a puzzle in evening hours and you quit social media a month or so ago because it was driving you out of your mind with anxiety. I don't watch six or seven or eight hours of television every night. Don't be ridiculous. Some nights I only watch about three hours of television because I have a Zoom call or I'm cooking dinner or I've got stuck into a good cryptic crossword, maybe the Saturday Times Jumbo one because the Guardian ones are too gimmicky, or at last I've found a book gripping yet easy enough that I can't put it down (thank you Robert Galbraith, thank you Marian Keyes), but I would say that three hours is the minimum and my god that is a LOT. EVERY DAY. THREE HOURS. MINIMUM. But you don't need to me to explain that to you because you are all watching three four five six seven hours of television every day and when you are not watching television you are phoning your friends and first of all talking about the specific way that your own personal lockdown is terrible but then eventually saying 'what are you watching on television' because what else is there even to talk about? At the start of lockdown there was quite a small pool of television that everyone was watching (that thing about the Tiger King, which I didn't watch because by the time I got back from my early lockdown in Costa Rica you'd all seen it, and Normal People which I didn't watch because I was too embarassed to sit through all the sex scenes with my flatmates, and I May Destroy You, which I didn't watch because about five minutes of it was enough to send me into a massive panic spiral, but I hear was very good), but once we had all (other than me) got through that and Covid dragged on for months, our conversations began taking on the tenor of Vikings crowding around one another as a boat returns from a foray, WHAT IS OUT THERE, WHAT DID YOU FIND OUT THERE, IS THERE SOMETHING OUT THERE THAT I MIGHT DESIRE? And the Viking says yes, there is this thing called Schitts Creek but you really have to push on through the first season because I promise you it gets better and better and you will start to love that obnoxious family. And then we all watched Schitts Creek. (Including me, it's wonderful, you have to push on through the first series you will start to love that obnoxious family, Dan Levy is a divinity in human form and if you want more of him you could do worse than checking out the lesbian Christmas-themed romcom Happiest Season, which you can rent from Amazon Prime.) And now we are beyond even that and all our lives resonate with the screeching sound of a televisual barrel being scraped and now this is when things get really interesting (or put another way, VERY VERY BORING) because everyone has fractured and we are all watching different kinds of random stuff found in the dusty corners and unloved algorithms of our streaming services. There's the friend who has got into watching obscure French crime series on Netflix (The Chalet! La Mante!) and the friend who is watching every episode of Poirot on Britbox (thirteen series, 70 episodes) (though that pales in comparison with the friend who did a total rewatch of Friends from beginning to end (236 episodes) and finished it ages ago and is starving for more) and the friend who calls me up seemingly every week with a new old show nobody else has ever heard of (such as the early 1990s Nigel Havers and Warren Clarke comedy spy drama Sleepers, which he is watching old-school-style on DVD, and which apparently is like The Americans only with Nigel Havers and funny, and also, you should watch The Americans.) When I look back on the amount of television I have watched this year it defies comprehension. There were the things I would have watched anyway like the whole of Strictly Come Dancing and His Dark Materials, and the things that took me by surprise, like the stealthily hilarious Danny Dyer gameshow The Wall that was on straight after Strictly and drove me into a total obsession with the way that Danny Dyer says "Drop 'Em" (he's talking about the balls that are dropped down the wall, it's hard to explain, you can find it on iPlayer, but meanwhile if you only click on one link in this whole newsletter PLEASE click on that one), there were the things that were created especially to get me through lockdown (the wonderful David Tennant and Michael Sheen Zoom comedy Staged, which is not only extremely funny but allows you to see inside David Tennant's house which I'm not sure I am technically allowed to watch because of the restraining order? Anyway, new series coming on Monday, fellow DT fans) and the familiar things I watched to soothe me when it all got too much (Doctor Who, starting before Tennant even gets in on the action, right at the begining of the New Who seasons with Christopher Eccleston, because armchair space travel is the only kind of travel we are going to be getting for a while) and the exciting things I watched when I could no longer bear the tedious repetition of every identical day (Line of Duty, in which the famous-for-the-far-inferior Bodyguard writer Jed Mercurio delivers ludicrously compelling twisty-turny stories about police corruption that cannot be predicted for even a nanosecond) and the things that I watched just because I loved them (Fosse/Verdon, the Bob Fosse and Gwen Verdon bio-series starring the breathtakingly charismatic Sam Rockwell and Michelle Williams, which is one of the best-made pieces of television I've ever seen, Love Life, the Anna Kendrick romantic comedy series which was surprisingly touching and truthful about the relationships that make up a life and which didn't make me want to open a vein as a single person the way that many looking-for-love shows do, and Better Things, a sort-of-comedy sort-of-drama written, directed by and starring Pamela Adlon, which began as a collaboration with Louis CK and initially reflected the sensibility of his show Louie, but became far more experimental and interesting once, after CK's disgrace, Adlon took over completely - the fourth series is maybe the closest thing I've seen on TV to a representation of the rhythms of real life, with long scenes of Adlon just cooking a meal on her own, or contemplating the rain, of having arguments with her children that explode from nowhere and end just as suddenly with tears or laughter or nothing at all.) And this entire paragraph is just things that I have watched on the BBC. Not even everything that I have watched on the BBC. The BBC is INCREDIBLE and my license fee has been serious value for money, before you even count all that time spent watching the news [Munch Scream emoji]. But overall, it doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of television that I have watched this year. Though while we're here, have you noticed that sometimes it's more relaxing to watch something bad than something good? Have you noticed that a vapid, cliched show like Virgin River (heartbroken city nurse with a secret moves to small town and falls in love with battle-wounded bartender with a secret), a show that makes This Is Us look like Succession, has the same effect on your brain that taking off your work shoes and putting on your slippers has for your feet? You can rest now, it says, there is nothing more for you to do. Have you noticed how easy it is to chug down, say, four episodes in a row of Designated Survivor - a show designed by a committee charged with taking elements of The West Wing, Homeland and 24, and making something similar but, crucially, much more ridiculous - without your mind even noticing that anything has happened at all? And if you're really ready for something utterly idiotic, might I suggest The Bold Type, in which three twentysomething girls in bonkers designer outfits "work" at an aspirationally "feminist" glossy magazine, and by "work" I mean constantly leave the office in the middle of the day to take care of personal business, and by "feminist" I mean "empowering women by for example having them post selfies of themselves looking perfect but without makeup on social media", a feminism so very feminist that they called the magazine's parent company Steinem in the first series and then had to change it to Safford, I can only presume because Gloria Steinem threatened to sue them. A couple of episodes of that is the televisual equivalent of having a nice relaxing full frontal lobotomy. Don't get me wrong: I love these shows. I owe them more gratitude than I can say. I would be unable to survive without them. I've managed to watch five hours of television just since starting this post24 hours ago (three episodes of Doctor Who, half a really cheap and very bad Sky Arts documentary about the musical Hamilton, and a travelogue in which Torvill and Dean go in search of a frozen lake in Alaska on which to dance Bolero but can't find one for almost the entire show because of global warming, which made me simultaneously and conflictingly want to give up air travel, fly to Alaska immediately, become obsessed with Torvill and Dean AND wonder how they managed to skate together all these decades without killing each other especially Torvill but also especially Dean). Five hours of TV, sounds like a lot, but with eight hours of sleep, that still left me eleven hours to fill in this boring boring boring boring BORING BORING BORING boring boring BORING boring BORING BORING lockdown. I think I am being incredibly restrained, all things considered. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some time to kill, having finished writing this post, and with at least five hours to fill before bed. I wonder what's on TV?

***

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