#and if you were wondering why this idea trumped the other candidate fics

[shinobicyrus]

The Not-Date

A belated birthday gift for my good friend @homebeccer. I probably failed attempting three different fics until finally ended up doing one that’s pretty much a continuation of last year’s fic with her OC Phuong. Happy Birthday Becs!

Tucker waffled for three days trying to think of someplace for Phuong and him to have lunch. 

The Nasty Burger always worked when he hung out with Danny and Sam- but Phuong was someone her barely knew. The idea of taking her to some trashy burger joint that had been demolished and rebuilt more times than there were Spider-Man reboots just felt...juvenile.

Not that any of his other options were any better. Restaurants were too formal, and a more casual cafe just screamed “lunch date.” Which is not what this was. At all. 

He’d done his best to be as clear as could be on that. Anything resembling a date was so beyond Tucker’s ability to handle. The last thing he needed was to send mixed signals with the wrong lunch setting.

(Hell, the last thing anybody needed was prolonged exposure to the smoldering, irradiated wreck that was Tucker’s Foley love life.)

Which still left him with...absolutely no idea where they should go. 

God, all this drama over Lunch. There was no word in English or Esperanto that could accurately express just how painfully pathetic Tucker was being, right now. Maybe the Germans had a word for it. This seemed like something they’d have covered. 

Nah, screw that. Confidence was the name of the game. He’s totally got this. He fights ghosts on a semi-weekly basis, has gone through inter-dimension portals, hacked a robot-ghost assassin, and briefly ruled a whole kingdom as a power-crazed tyrannical ghost-pharaoh...

Actually...scratch that last one. No need to revisit that. Teenager stuff, everyone goes through that phase.

The point was, Tucker was a grown man with a tech job, an apartment, alimony payments, and goddamn time travel experience.  He could handle a totally platonic lunch with a minimum of panic texts to Valerie. Sure, Ms. Hunts Her Prospective Love Interests may be in the eternal four-way-tie of scariest ladies he knows, but at least she’s safer than the alternative. There was desperate, and then there was desperate.

Sam would have broken his feeble protests on the not-date status of the lunch on the peak of a single raised eyebrow while balancing little James on her hip. Danielle would insist on being his wingman, Jazz would be a post-doc shark smelling ‘unresolved issues’ in the water, and Danny-

Danny would try to be supportive.

Valerie listened to his plight with the same patient silence she probably used for lying in wait with an ecto-rifle and suggested a practical, easy solution.  

The answer was, of course, Meatheads. Which Tucker of all people should have figured out sooner- because Meatheads. You ordered at the register, but after you sat down and they brought the food to your table. Perfect middle ground. 

Yeah, Tucker was counting this as a win. The bar was set ludicrously low. 

He goes early because it was easier than sitting in his apartment refreshing traffic conditions on his phone trying to math-out arrival times and debate how early is early before it’s back into descriptive German adjectives levels of pathetic again. Ordered some fries to settle the nervous queasiness, which didn’t really help because cajun seasoning is delicious but the very opposite of calming.

He didn’t think anything much over Phuong being five minutes late. She was new in town, and even with GPS going to new places was a hassle.

By the time she was fifteen minutes late he was guzzling his second ill-advised mixed fountain drink abomination and jittering his leg, constantly looking from his phone to the door as though she could slip in between the ticks of seconds. Jeez, get a grip, Foley. So she was fashionably late. Watch, she was going step through that day any second and you’re gonna feel like such fixating tool Vlad will probably swoop in and sue you for copyright infringement.

Twenty minutes he- he doesn’t even know. She’d text if she was running late, right? Even if she’d come to her senses and the ‘OMG You Saved My Life From A Ghost’ gratitude finally wore off she’d still...like...tell him.

She didn’t come off as someone who would bail without warning. All that time in her apartment, Tucker thought he’d gotten a pretty good indication what kind of person she was. Witty but hiding it behind that poker face. Tough too- most people would be screeching and next to useless when that ecto-heap of a ghost crawled out of her sink. Tucker had plenty of experience with tough, kickass women, but hers was an...ordinary, down to earth strength. The kind you built for yourself by hand, brick by brick. 

Sturdy. Decent. If she had something to say, she’d say it properly to Tucker’s face.

Half and hour late and no word. Checking his phone for the umpteenth time revealed it’d been a fully thirty-three seconds since he last checked. The couple a few tables behind him chatted quietly in a language that wasn’t English. Re-reading the last text conversation with her; they’d said 1:00, right? Yeah, and it was definitely today.

God, he was such a self-absorbed idiot. Phuong wouldn’t just blow him off- not without good reason. Plenty of perfectly normal reasons; in Amity, plenty of not-so-normal ones, too. Maybe he should call? Or send a text to see if she was okay? Then again, one text would probably lead another and then Phuong would quickly get an alarming amount of babbling text spam in her phone.

No, he should still send one. Just one. He typed up a quick, casual message that he immediately deleted, re-wrote to satisfy a criteria he couldn’t even be sure of, and by the time he had wasted yet another five minutes weighing tone (casual but maybe it’s too casual like he doesn’t care I mean the last one was waaaaay too desperate like wow stalker much?) and almost didn’t notice when Phuong barreled through the front door. 

She was panting like a marathon runner. Clothes wrinkled, hair wild and windblown. Tuck stared dumbly at her, so she was the one who spotted him and immediately made a beeline for his table, practically collapsing into the opposite chair and still breathing hard. 

“I’m...” she gasped out, wiping a sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Am so sorry. There was a- I don’t even know.” She gestured wildly, flailing and failing to charade it. “I was just. Walking. Here. On time. And there was this...this noise. And then this thing- person. I...I knew her, but. No, there was an...explosion first?”

Tucker spied the rest of the tables in his periphery. They were getting a few looks, but besides the sudden hushed indecipherable chatter from the two behind them, it would take more than a slightly disheveled woman to grab someone’s attention in Amity.

“That...would explain the uh...you know you have a bit of glass in your hair?” Tucker reached over and carefully plucked a glimmering little chunk of marble-sized glass and wrapped it carefully in his napkin. 

She felt around her abused-looking hair. ”Crap! Is there any more?” She looked down at her the state of her shirt. “Shit, I look like a mess.”

Tucker slid his pop over to her. “Here, take a drink of this and just...breathe a little.”

She obediently took the cup, popped off the lid and guzzled straight from it rather than the straw. Tucker watched with almost morbid fascination while she keep chugging, throat working steadily, until she finally slammed it back down on the table like something much stiffer. An echo of leftover, half-melted ice settled hollowly. “I hate soda,” she said.

Blasphemy. Tucker had concocted - nay, perfected- that mixed drink formula himself, and the Illinoisan in him demanded she call it pop, dammit. Still, priories. “That’s fine. Let the hate flow through you. Feel better?”

She was surprised by the belch she replied with, looked sheepish, and nodded instead. 

“So.” Tucker folded his hands on the tabletop. ”Explosion?”

Phuong’s brow furrowed, like she was trying to remember something but second-guessed herself. “I...I think Ember McLain tried to kill me.”

“Ah.”

The caffeine seemed to have righted  her head. She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. “You don’t seem even a little surprised.”

“I mean, I’m a little more informed than most because of the Fentons- but yeah, we were kind of due for an Ember tantrum. She has this on-again/off-again thing with another ghost and when they go off-again, she tends to go off.”

“Like blowing up a hipster record store some people minding their own business might be walking past?”

“She’s pretty much the reason you won’t find a Hot Topic in city limits.” Seeing his opportunity, Tucker propped up his hands under his chin and grinned at her. “That doesn’t explain how you recognized her, though.”

“I...refuse to answer that questions on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

“I didn’t know Ember’s albums were popular outside of Amity.”

“She was a world phenomenon- everybody knows her name!” Phuong burst out with what Tucker suspected was a lingering residue of musical thrall that had probably been implanted there since she was a teenager. Damn, talk about getting music stuck in your head.

“I’m only surprised you were into something so...mainstream.”

“So I’m not as picky with my music as I am with my movies. No one goes around singing lines from Hitchcock movies because they get stuck in your head.”

“Well, at least you survived an assassination attempt from your teenage-rebellion phase.”

“Only because some...some...super hero, I guess? He was literally wearing this black spandex.”

Years of training kept the grin off Tucker’s face. “Snow white hair? Glowing green eyes?”

“Yeah, that was the guy.”

“Congrats, you just got your first rescue from Danny Phantom. You’re practically an Amity...ite? Amityvill...ian? What would that be?”

Right there, Phuong looked like she had officially reached the tail end of her suspension of disbelief. “Danny...Phantom? You can’t be serious. What is he, some ghost superhero?”

“Pretty much. Keeps most of the meaner ghosts from getting too out of hand. Blowing up a shop was a little more extreme than usual- most the time it’s some floating boxes and a ‘Bewaaare’! Y’know. Wednesday stuff.”

By this point, Phuong’s fingers were carding through her already frazzled hair. “Of course there’s a ghost superhero. Why wouldn’t there be a ghost superhero. I find one nice apartment over the border with decent rent and now I’m getting blown up and there’s superheroes.” She looked up him, eyes screaming for sanity. “Please tell me he’s the only one. That’s there’s not like...a pack of super-friends or something I need to be on the lookout for.”

Their neighbors’ indecipherable conversation had picked up again- which Tucker found distracting. It was weird too- he couldn’t understand it, but he could almost swear he had heard it before. Japanese? Korean? Hindi? No...

Wait.

“Well, there’s...a couple,” he admitted, trying not to enjoy the bang as Phuong’s head met the table. “There’s the Red Huntress- she flies around on a rocket board in this red and black armor. Usually stays out of the limelight- not nearly as active in the media as Danny Phantom. Then there’s...well. I guess who could call her Phantom’s side-kick. Invisobelle.”

Two tables behind, a chair scraping and some muffled words. Tucker kept his face schooled. 

“Invisobelle.” Phuong sighed. “That’s just awful.” 

He shrugged. “Like I said, she’s just Phantom’s sidekick. Not nearly as popular or as active as him.”

Before Phuong could say anything else, her very discontented stomach gurgled a noisy protest. 

“I,” she announced, “am so hungry I would murder the cow myself if it was faster, and I don’t care how many calories it is or what my mom would say about it because I have goddamn earned it.” She cocked her thumb back towards the line at the register. “I’m going to go up to order. Have you eaten yet?”

He tried not to sound guilty. “Just some fries?”

“Okay, tell me what you want and I’ll do it for the both of us. And I’m paying. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten.”

“I know better than to argue with you about it,” Tucker said.

“Good man.”

After she left with both of their orders, Tucker waited until she was well out of earshot before standing up and approaching the couple two tables behind theirs. 

They both stiffened at his approach. One of them hunched behind an open copy of the Amity Park Angle that was three days old.

Dammit, he freaking knew he was hearing ghost-speak.

Danielle, as incognito as she could manage in aviators and a My Little Pony(TM) beanie gasped unconvincingly.

“Whoooaa, Tucker? You’re here too? No waaaayy! Only in small towns, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m completely buying this.” He pulled down the newspaper to uncover Wulf wearing a baseball cap over his flattened ears and sporting a pair of novelty shades that would be comically large on anyone but a literal giant wolfman’s long nose.

“Uh...Amiko Tuck! Kio surprizo!”

“Already tried that one, dude,” Elle warned him in a sotto whisper.

A distant, out-of-body perspective yanked him violently from solid ground so he could examine the situation from above just to confirm that yes, this really was his life and was something he had no choice but to deal with. An ache bloomed behind Tucker’s eyes- the start of a bad headache like his brain was punishing him for putting it through this. Fair enough. Taking off his glasses let Tucker both massage the pain out of his temples and make it much easier to not look at them.

“You two. Can turn. Invisible.” He hissed through the pain. “Why the hell-”

“They won’t let you buy food here if you’re not visible.” Danielle explained. “Company policy.”

Wulf picked up a large burger from a tray already littered with the wrappers of past conquest and munched on it demonstratively, like Tucker was still buying the cover story.

“And what, no one minded having a giant wolf-ghost-man just...hanging around the restaurant?”

Wulf swallowed the last of his burger and shrugged. “Ĝi estas Amity.”

Danielle nodded. “Yeah, nobody minded. Wulfy-Wulf even got a few phone numbers. He’s a total player.”

Tucker’s head canted, straining to process this new information. Wulf titled down his gunglasses and winked. 

“I. Well. Okay then. That’s just brings up a whole lot of other questions I’m not sure I want answers to.”

“Estas la oreloj,” Wulf tipped his cap like an old-timey gentleman and wiggled his ears, suspiciously similar to how a puppy might. “Ĉiuj amas la orelojn.”

“No. Stop that. No making me wanna pet you instead of yelling at the both you properly about violating my privacy like this.”

“We’re not spying on you, Tuck!” Danielle insisted. “We came here to be supportive!”

“Jee, ni estas ĉi tie por vi, Amiko Tucker.”

“Oh. You were here to support me. While hiding behind last week’s Angle.”

Dani hid her cringe behind an awkward smile. “We were here for you in spirit?”

Wulf chortled. “Heh. Spirit.”

“I am so unfriending Valerie for this, the traitor.”

“Aw come on, Tuck it’s not like- we just wanted to make sure you were okay!”

“I know you two don’t get why-” Tucker cut off what he was going to say, breathed, and tried again. “I get it, I do, but I’m just having lunch with a friend, okay? I’m allowed to have those, aren’t I?”

“Well yeah, it’s just-” Danielle sent an appealing look Wulf’s way. “It hasn’t even been a year since you and-”

“Ni ne diras ŝian nomon,” Wulf growled. 

Danielle rolled her eyes. “Fine. Since you and Voldemistress finishing signing the paperwork.”

“Elle, I get it. Trust me, I do. I am nowhere near ready to even start thinking about dating. Phuong’s a- look she’s pretty cool, and she’s new here, so she needs a friend to give her the Amity Survival Training. This is absolutely not a-”

“Tucker?” Phuong asked behind him.

“Dankon pro la averto, Wulf,” Tucker hissed, and turned around. His face burned under her scrutiny. “Uh...hey Phuong! You’re back. You wouldn’t believe who else had the idea to eat here today? Small towns, right?”

“Oh sure, he can do it,” Danielle grumbled.

Phuong, looking as though she hadn’t even heard him, was gaping past Tucker at Wulf. “Who...are your...friends?” The last word she said with skepticism. 

Tucker spoke up quickly to cut off Dani. “Oh. Right. Uh...Phuong, this is Danielle- she’s the cousin of my best buddy Danny, and...this is my very good friend-”

“Wulf,” he stood up to his full height and took off his hat in a way that reminded Tucker of old movies, when gentlemen stood up when a lady was present. “Estas plezuro renkonti vin. Ajna amiko de Tucker estas amiko mia.”

He held out his hand...paw. Sans the claws, thank God. Phuong looked down at the massive furry hand. Looked up at the enormous, wide-shouldered wolf-man that had at least a foot on her, and accepted the handshake like it had challenged her. “Nice to meet you,” she said. Her hand was pitifully small in Wulf’s palm, but he shook it gently. 

Tucker clapped his hands together. “Greeeaaat, everyone’s introduced so glad hey didn’t you say you two had to rush, Elle?”

“Huh?” Dani was hard to read with those stupid aviators, but thank God she decided to not be a little troll for once. “Oh yeah. Come on, Wulf. I forgot we had to the do that thing in that place that wasn’t here.”

“Eh? Oh! Jee, tre okupata. Ni vere devas rapidi-”

“You don’t have lay it on that thick Team Jacob she can’t even understand you.”

Plastering on a big smile, Danielle hooked her arm into Wulf’s. “It was nice meeting you Phuong.”

“Likewise. Maybe I’ll see you two around.”

Peeking over her sunglasses, she leered at Tucker. “I’m sure you will.”

“Good-bye, Danielle.”

Snickering, Danielle pulled Wulf along with alarming ease, considering their size difference. In his free paw, he held up a few scraps of paper and napkins with scribbled numbers on them. “Kio pri-”

“Dude, not now. Lot’s of things have changed in the dating scene since you’ve been alive. There’s like...a rule about not calling people right away.”

“Oh. Mi ne havas telefonon.”

“Yeah, there you go. Like phones, that’s a big one.”

Phuong waited until they were out the door. “Well they were...interesting. Wulf, especially.”

Tucker scratched the back of his head. “Yeah he. Uh. Definitely makes an impression.”

“Oh, I definitely got a few of those,” Phuong pursed her lips, chewing on a thought. “How long-”

“Since I was fourteen.”

“You two must be very close, then.”

“About as close as two guys that have saved each others’ lives get. Or...un-lives, depending on who you mean.”

“Lot of that seems to be going around,” Phuong noted with a conspiratorial little smile. Like it was their in-joke. Tucker smiled back.

A server came up bearing a tray of burgers. “A bacon-ranch half-pounder with a side of fries?”

“Oh thank God,” Phuong seized her tray and sat back down at the table. 

The server looked around the surrounding tables. “Uh...what happened to the-”

“He left, sorry.” Tucker said.

“Aw dammit. I mean,” blushing, the server hastily shoved the tray with Tucker’s food at him. “Enjoy.” And scampered. 

Phuong was already tearing into her burger with gusto. Tucker, taken aback, lingered over his food. She noticed him watching her, and asked with a full mouth. “Wahf?”

“Nothing. Glad I picked the right place.” 

“Thowwy-” She swalloed. “Sorry again I was so late. I would have called but whatever weird guitar blasts Ember was doing cracked my phone. I swear I’m not usually this bad.” 

“Trust me, happens to everyone eventually.”

“While we’re on the subject,” Phuong pointed a fry in Tucker’s direction. “Any other major Amity hazards I should know about? Because at this point, I’m pretty much numb to ridiculous bullshit, so you might as well give it to me all at once.”

“It’s...quite the list,” Tucker warned her. 

“I just had a literal blast from my black-leather past that almost gave me tinnitus. I can handle it.” She opened up her arms like she was inviting a hit. “Come on, what else is there? Are dragons real too? Vampires? Wizards? Government conspiracies? Is this whole town sitting on top of a portal to hell, or something?”

Tucker didn’t answer for a long moment- mostly internally debating whether Clockwork could technically count as a wizard.

“I don’t like how quiet you’re being.” Phuong said. 

“How about this? You eat, I’ll talk.”

“So do you usually go out to lunch with chaperones, or was that a one-time thing?”

They walked side-by-side down the sidewalk, parting for any fellow pedestrian going the other way. Offering to walk her home was only right, after having a literal scare from a raging dead rockstar on the rebound.

They’d been walking in amiable silence- so the question caught him off guard. “Relax,” she said. “I thought it was kind of sweet.”

“Sweet?” 

“Well, I’m guessing by how much you were trying not to look embarrassed while you were introducing them that their being there wasn’t your idea.”

“No, it was definitely not.”

“Thought introducing me to your ghost-friend was a bit too soon?”

“More like either of them. Danielle had a...weird upbringing and Wulf is...”

“Very loyal, seems like. And nice. At least...I think  he was being nice? I paid attention in enough Spanish classes to get the gist of it.”

“I’m actually kind of impressed,” Tucker said. “You dealt with the whole three hundred pounds of fur and claws way quicker than...well...anyone not in our immediate friend circle or non-furries.”

“What can I say? I’m learning to roll with the Amity Weirdness. After getting caught in the middle of a Rocky Horror Show street fight, the giant shaggy dog-man was pretty...tame.”

The emphasis at the end there. Tucker shook his head in mock disappointment. “I saw what you did there, and you should be ashamed of yourself. Also, he’s technically a giant shaggy wolf-man. He’s very sensitive about it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. And good side-stepping the topic, by the way. I almost didn’t notice.”

“Doing my best.” He shrugged away another rise of heat in his cheeks. It would be so easy for her to just ask, a few well-target words and Tucker knew he would unravel right in front of  her. It felt too much like his feet dangling over a precipice- a feeling he was disturbingly familiar with thanks to a best bro who could fly.

“I won’t ask about her.” Phuong reassured him, and Tucker could almost feel the phantom hand pressing down on his chest east. “But if your friends’ reaction to you going out to lunch with someone is to adorably fail at the covert part of a stakeout...”

“I didn’t take the divorce very well,” Tucker admitted. Understatement of the century. Take a nerd’s natural self-worth issues and throw in the colossal failure of a marriage crashing and burning, and of course clashing with someone who knew you well enough to say just the right things that would stick long after she left.

Phuong nodded to herself. “Y’know, if you ever want to talk about it with someone who wasn’t involved, even if you want to just vent-”

“I make it a rule to never talk about exes on a d-” Tucker stopped himself, wincing.

Of course Phuong noticed. “Never discuss exes on a what, Mr. Foley?” Her smile was just the right kind of smugly teasing, and- aw hell, this lady was so, so dangerous. “I thought this was just a nice, simple lunch between friends?”

“I-it is! I-I just. See, what I meant to say was-”

“And friends,” Phuong went on, as though she didn’t hear his pitiful stammering. “Are practically honor-bound to listen to another friend go on about bad exes and shitty breakups.

“And I,” she pointed at herself, “have had some truly awful exes. Seriously, you would’t believe.”

Oh, he could probably guess. “Bigots?”

“Just the three. I got pretty good at filtering out them out, especially the ones with a fetish. You?”

“Just two. Well...three, counting the homophobe. She thought our two month relationship would somehow trump a few years of friendship with Danielle and her girlfriend.”

Phuong snapped her fingers. “I knew it.” At Tucker’s questioning look, she said: “The aviators.”

“Ha. And that was her trying to be subtle.”

“Morbidly curious what she looks like going all-out, now.”

“She will probably hit on you just to see your reaction.”

“Being irresistible to all sexes is truly a curse,” Phuong replied smoothly. “Okay, my turn: stalkers?”

“Do hauntings count?”

Without skipping a beat: “Depends on what base you go to.”

Tucker choked. “What?”

“Well? Did I stutter? Come on, Foley, out with the dirty details. Was it like that unnecessary Ghost Buster’s scene with Dan Aykroyd?”

“...just second base. But I would like to state for the record that she looked way more alive when she was luring me in before the scary kill-murder banshee mode.”

“No judgments. I’ve dated my share of cold fish.” That poker-face delivery was so deadpan, Tucker couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I take it you made it through scary kill-murder banshee mode unscathed or am I talking to a meat-loving ghost right now?”

“Don’t joke about that- they exist.” Tucker warned her. “And nah, nothing hurt permanently except my pride. Phantom showed up and saved my dumb ass.”

“Hmm. That’s two I owe him, now. Might need to start running a tally.”

“Good luck. He’s saved this town more times than I can count, and you are talking to an obsessive nerd here.”

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” Phuong asked him suddenly. “You said it yourself- this town is dangerous. Haven’t you ever thought you could just...move away? Get out of the spooky warzone and live a nice normal life?”

“Sure. My parent’s argued about it a lot when I was younger. They might still move away when Dad retires, but I...” He looked up at the city. The billboards for Mayor Masters’ re-election campaign, the ‘BEWARE’ posters warning about spectral overshadowing, the cackling ecto-pusses swimming past in the sky. “My other family is here. Danny and Sam, my godson, Danielle, Valerie- that’s her girlfriend, Wulf. I know I don’t matter that much. When you get right down to it, they could get along just fine without me.

“But...I’m not sure I could get along very fine without them.”

“I think,” Phuong touched the side of his arm. “You are forgetting that two of those people on that list were so worried about you getting yourself hurt again they put on hilariously terrible disguises and waited over an hour at a Meatheads...just to make sure you were okay.”

Tucker stopped walking. “Oh. I. Guess they did do that. Huh.”

Phuong waited a few heartbeats to let Tucker process this new revelation that his friends cared, and gave his arm a squeeze before letting go. "Does that mean there’s a chance we can have another lunch next week? I still feel bad about making you wait so long.”

“Really, it’s fine. I’m just glad you got through your first real ghost fight unhurt and not running for the hills.”

“Thanks, I think I- wait. That ghost in my apartment doesn’t count as a real ghost fight?”

“Nah, that was just pest control. It doesn’t get serious until the ghosts name themselves and start monologuing. But I wouldn’t object to an encore lunch. And no chaperones next time- honest.”

“Great. A week should give me time to replace my phone,” she took it out, thicker, older, but still serviceable if it wasn’t for the giant crack in its screen. “There wouldn’t happen to be ghost-attack insurance I can get on my next model, is there?”

Tucker’s mouth jumped ahead without his consent. “I can fix that.”

“You. Really?” 

“Yeah, for sure. May I?” She handed the phone to him, to examine. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen way worse than this. Just replace the screen, check to make sure none of the guts got jostled, an Ember-class screen protector; easy fix.”

“How much?”

“You just fed a bored tech geek with a project, consider it already paid for.”

“You’re...” She shook her head in disbelief. “Amazing. How soon can you-”

“Tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. I can deliver it to your place, if you’d rather not wait.”

“You already know where I live, and I am a phone-addicted millennial getting psychosomatic hives from cell-separation. The sooner the better.”

“Consider it done,” Tucker pocketed it. “Tomorrow, then.”

“It’s a date.”

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY BECS #Tucker Foley #Phuong Foley #other people's ocs #Danny Phantom #Dani Phantom #Wulf #my writing #my fanfiction #damn this fic kicked my ass #but I will say writing Tucker and Phuong's banter is hella fun #I hope I captured her personality Becca #sorry again this is so late #kind funny I'm getting this done on MY birthday lol #I don't know why I am headcanoning that Tucker goes into a anxious depression after his divorce #but I like channeling my nerd angst in Tuck and his self-worth issues are kinda Canon already #so I think it fits #and if you were wondering why this idea trumped the other candidate fics #it was totally wulf in a baseball cap and sunglasses #keep trying Wulfy Wulf

[theplumsoldier]

PREMIERE NIGHT

Request: Anonymous asked: So if you have time and motivation and like my prompt could you write a fic where y/n joins the Avengers cast to play young Black Widow maybe? and she’s in her early 20s but she’s got this massive crush on Chris Evans but is too proud to make the first move because she’s scared of rejection but he likes her too, and then there’s a party with all MCU members - maybe the Oscars or A4 premiere afterparty, where they get drunk and make out in front of everybody and then maybe smut ensues? Please xx

A/N: i cant see endgame until tuesday i hate myself. the people tagged are from various captain america or chris evans taglists of mine, hope none that did not want to be tagged were and if so, feel free to dm me so i can remove you from the list (:

Pairing: chris evans x reader

Word count: 2478

Warnings: smut, explicit scenes, vulgar language.

His admiration for you was enormous and quite difficult to describe. Before the fourth and final Avengers movie, you had only ever done small theatrical shows and minor close to dispensable roles, so when you were cast to play a young version of Black Widow it was utterly impressive you came and stole the show with your undeniable skills, even if your overall screen time was just about 10 minutes.

However, even with no more than little screen time, you had to undergo an insane training program and take ballet classes—even if that had been your own decision. Your dedication to make your time worth was evident and you took all the advice you could, always listening to directors and coworkers to make the best of your performance. This was one of those “once in a lifetime opportunities” people always spoke about and considering you had never attended any acting schools for it was a miracle you had even landed the role, and at the ripe age of 23.

Set was amazing in spite of the long hours as the dynamic was beyond magical. There was no question whether these guys were professionals, which should have put you off and feel a tad out of place, only they never failed to make you feel part of the MCU family—one man in particular.

It was nonsensical to think just two years ago you had been at the verge of giving up on acting and went to carry on the family business. The flower boutique had always been like a second home but in your final years of school, you had sworn if you were to spend another minute in that godforsaken place you would blow it up and your head with it.

Now instead with no hands nor brains in your ablaze childhood home, you stood with a drink in your hand and a huge grin on your face, greeting Scarlett Johansson for the first time since your last on-set encounter.

“So, what will our next movie be?” asked she and you grinned at her overt hint.

"Well, Feige has yet to turn down a Black Widow solo, soo. . .” responded you, dragging out the ‘so’ for obvious reasons. Nudging her lightly, you earned a laugh and she lifted her hands as if to say “one never might know,” but her sparkly eyes told you otherwise. One might know. “You have no idea how nervous I was when my faced showed up on that screen.”

“Oh, you had no reason to be,” dismissed Scarlett with a wave of the hand. “This is about the best family you could have landed yourself in.”

“I know that now! But, you know, the fans are so dedicated and I figured that would mean either they would love my portrayal, or like—absolutely fucking hate it, you know?” chuckled you nervously and sipped from your drink, eyes scanning across the room.

Scarlett laughed, “well, all I have to say is that I’m glad about the casting director’s choice, getting a new face. I cannot tell you who you were up against, but—trust me when I say, you trumped her in every way.”

Your eyes lit up with both joy and curiousness. “Oh, now you have to tell me!”

Hours had passed and you had never been showered with more compliments and good wishes in your entire life, the fact that they all came from successful personas made you think this was not the last the world had seen of you.

On several occasions had you had your shot at doing something about the immense crush you had on the infamous man of your dreams, however, both worry, perturbation and pride took away what courage the alcohol had built up the entirety of the evening. All you had ever managed to come up with, was your gratitude which was more modest than self-assured as your usual kind of flirting would sound.

Your weak knees and flushed skin was nothing that made you wonder; you knew very well why you were vulnerable to such, and you could only think that the man exposing you to the affection, knew it as well. At least, when your cheeks would burn red at his comments or touch, he seemed pleased with himself.

It was an unusual feel and one you did not like much, contrary to the butterflies fighting in your stomach telling you otherwise. His mere voice took away what confidence was only habitual to your customary tone and the scrunch of his nose when he would laugh never failed to take away your breath. The stunning suit he was clad in assured that even if you managed to hide your uncertain stance, you would show in other ways and some that made you shift just a bit too often. How you should have worn a pantsuit rather than a dress.

Some had kids and some had families, others had varying excuses but the truth was you had nothing awaiting you at home. You did not even have a home to return to for you were going straight back to your hotel after this. However, you did not mind, the thought of sharing a life with someone was nice, surely, only the truth was you did not long to leave. The night had been filled with such happiness, which to you was not wonted; how could you want to leave that behind? If so, it was for the reason to take care of your untamed amorous state.

Troubled with your own thoughts, you had yet to recognize it had been Chris to move beside you until he spoke up.

“No one to go home to?”

You could recognize the kindness in his eyes anywhere. With a soft chuckle, your finger traced the stem of the wine glass and blinked at him. “That should only be if room service's waiting for me. If not, then sadly, no.”

His eyes glistened in the dim lightening from the bar, the bright ones behind his head contributing to the lit glory hovering above him. With a smile, Chris sat down, the halo vanishing as he did. “You’re still checked in on the hotel?”

Nodding in affirmation, you raised the glass to meet your lips, your eyes never leaving his blue ones. It was funny how they seemed prettier than ever in this uncertain state. Against common sense and acumen, your judgment decided upon speaking freely, picking what topic you never would have thought yourself to feel confident enough to. Whether it was because you had had enough of being lonely or it simply was the alcohol taking a toll on you, allowing more candidness than needed, you did not know. However, you felt a sudden urge and the words escaped.

“You know I like you, right?”

Chris’ face remained its joyous, laid back look, only the corner of his mouth puckering up. He could not say he was surprised. At least not with your admitted feelings, however, your frankness was something else. Undeniably, he was aware and saying those particular feelings were not reciprocated, would be about the fattest lie of the evening.

“You only say that because you’re drunk.”

“Yes,” drawled you and confessed. “It’s still true though. I shouldn’t have drunk this much.”

“You have been nervous tonight—why?” wondered Chris, thinking of the observation of the night. Whenever spoken, talked or even as little as share momentary eye contact from opposites sides of the room, you had taken another sip from your glass.

With a sudden puff of discomfort, you felt all the more self-conscious. Now, this was awkward.

“I haven’t. Or I have—but, uh. . .” You had no idea how to respond, and from his insoluble expression and soft, awaiting eyes you were forced to find the right words. “I’m not usually like this. Drunk—I, it’s really your fault—”

“That you’re drunk?”

“No—that’s my poor sagacity. You make me nervous,” divulged you, not finding the courage in you to look up for the reaction you so longed for. Instead, your head fell back, sucking in a deep breath and you found him through the corner of your eye. “I guess I wanted to build up the courage to. . . I don’t know, I was afraid this was the last time I would see you.”

“Nonsense. You’re in the Marvel-family now—”

“I know, I know and it’s great, I just—I really like you.”

Silence imbued, the tension you felt pent up completely locking out any signs of the ongoing party behind you. Good thing you were sat on a stool otherwise you might just have fallen to the ground as you knees were about as weak as your sense of vaunt. This man shot you all the way back to your high school years and for making you all hot and bothered, you tried to convince you did not like him. But truly, what was there not to like. With a heart of gold and always decent presentation, sense of humor and bearing soul, he was the one.

“So if I kissed you right now, you would not mind?”

One of your eyebrows bounced in surprise and Chris stifled his chuckle, how glorious you looked tonight. “Right here?”

Giving you no time to contemplate, he leaned in and in a split-second, your lips were connected in a sweet kiss. Being what you had only ever dreamed of, you melted under his enchantment. He tasted sweet and fresh, his cologne lingering to your nostrils and you could only worry of what strong liquor he might sense. But it did not make him stop and careless to what eyes might lurk from behind, he pulled you closer by the neck and parted his lips, deepening the kiss. At his touch, his large hand forcing you closer to him, you hummed into his mouth, reaching up to rest your hand by his beard as you allowed his tongue to dance with your own. Sweet with a pinch of sourness, you lost track of time and only departed when you had completely abated the intensity of your surroundings.

Retreating, you distanced yourself with only a minuscule amount of space left between you, catching your breath.

“Perhaps this is not the best place to do this,” admitted you, a grin playing on your lip and a glimpse flashed in your eye.

“So we leave then,” proposed he and stood up, almost to fast and your eyes grew big for a moment, knowing what he implied. Was this real?

Holding out his hand, you did not hesitate for more than what seconds the stun took and you were then on your way. Pace steady and moderate, something you could keep up with in your heels and you held your head down as you exited and cameras flashed. Out of instinct, you went to retrieve your hand, thinking Chris, too, was not keen on being seen like this. But he did not let go. His grip even tightened and casting a fleeting look across his shoulder, he offered you a sincere smile.

Up in your hotel room, little time was left to settle or even wriggle out of your dress, for the second the door was closed, your lips were once again touching. Chuckling to yourself, you were pleased to know you had not been the only one longing for this moment.

Reaching behind to fondle with the zipper, you managed to pull it down and with the help of Chris, you were freed from its clutching grip on you. Pooling down by your feet, Chris' hands slid up the backside of your legs. On his knees, he peppered kisses, trailing up, closer and closer to your sex, ensuring you would drip the second he removed your panties.

With a final flicker of his eyes, he found you watching him closely with soft and lustful eyes, bottom lip tugged between your teeth and how the pleasure pulled at your features only made him harder in his pants. Taking the encouraging hum you emitted as consent, he rid you of the remaining garment. Licking his lips, he pushed you back to sit on the bed and adored the sight of you. So wet and all for him.

Moving his hands back down your legs, Chris lifted them over his shoulders and dug right in between your legs. His tongue blending with you arousal was enough to elicit a dulcet sound from you, moan after moan escaping as he took care of you.

His facial hair nuzzling where you were most sensitive as he licked long strokes, draining you from what you could offer, you knew he would have you shaken in a matter of seconds. Aching for more friction, his hand came to the rescue, thump grazing past your clit, earning an upward thrust from your hips. His other hand came around you and retiring for just a moment you bucked up to find what sensation had become vague, but when he inserted two fingers in you, the wait was worth it.

At a modest pace he began, just enough pleasure for you to adjust to his two fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, and when first the velocity increased, Chris’ tempo was adequate to make you cum hard right then and there.

The room resonated with your moans and you had to cover your mouth in order to quiet yourself, slightly embarrassed he had you wrapped around his finger like that. But soon his hand removed your own, wanting to hear you more than anything, desperate to hear what he did to you. It had been all too long since he felt this powerful and you gave him everything you wanted by allowing him to eat you like to the likeness of a starving animal. The vibrations, the shameless, guttural groans, the tremors—it was all in the mix of pushing you over the edge and your clawing in his hair as he continued drawing moans from you.

Upon your culmination, you finally released on his tongue, mellow same as wanton sounds escaping you in the process. Riding out your orgasm, you ground your sex against him, pulsating around his fingers and when you finally came down from your high, but Chris did not yield. Continuing, he merciless rammed into you, groaning loudly at the feel of you clenching around his fingers.

Cleaning you with his mouth, Chris relished in your juices and first then he parted from you, only to stand tall before you and his hands fiddled with his black tie. Dark eyes and glinting beard, loosened knot and then the sound of his belt clanging rang in your ears. He nodded down at you, a desiring shade peaking behind the blue in his eyes. “Turn around for me.”

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