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thebaddestofbatches · 3 years

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The Bad Batch Preferences pt. 1

Kissing

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Crosshair

Favorite Place: Just behind your ear and along your jaw. He prefers to wrap his arms around you from behind and these places are easier to reach. Plus they’re more sensitive and he likes to watch you squirm.

Makeouts: Definitely. And frequently. Whenever he gets back from a mission, you do something he finds hot, or just because he hasn’t kissed you in awhile.

First Kiss:

It was hot on Techitua. Dusty too. You lowered your shades on your nose, a polarized version of Tech’s goggles as Crosshair opened a case on the ground.

A makeshift shooting range was set up parallel to the Marauder, a metal piece with a target spray painted on it placed at a distance of 25 meters.

Hunter had told you that if you wanted to stay on board, you needed to know how to defend yourself and assigned you to Crosshair, without even asking if you had any prior experience.

“Alright. I don’t expect you to be top notch with this thing.” Crosshair said, his tone borderline patronizing as he removed a small blaster from the case. “Blasters take a lot of practice to use correctly and you’re only a doctor. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t hit anything.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and took the blaster from his hand. Barely looking at the target, you took aim and fired one, two, three, four, five shots.

Crosshair’s slack jaw and a quick glance told you they all hit the bullseye.

“You forget, soldier,” You said smugly. “I’m an army doctor. I can rip you apart and put you back together just as easily.”

Crosshair’s toothpick hit the dirt and then he was on you, smashing his lips to your hungrily.

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Echo

Favorite place: Your hand. He likes to hold your hand and bring it up to his lips for absentminded kisses. When you cup his face, he turns his head and presses kisses to your palm.

Makeouts: Not too often. He’s shy after all his modifications and you definitely have to initiate them, but once he relaxes, then he’s into it.

First Kiss:

“Dang ferreck!” You swore as the control panel of the rescued radio shocked you for the fifth time that night.

You gave it a swift thump on the top in retaliation, gritting your teeth.

You needed this to work. It had to work. It’d been so long since you heard real music.

Another try at the wiring and another spark that singed your fingertips. You let out another string of curses and tossed your screwdriver onto the counter with a clank before thumping your forehead against the table repeatedly.

There was a gentle touch on your back that stopped your assault on your cranium. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the poke of Echo’s prosthetic through your tunic.

“You alright?” He asked.

“No,” You grumbled into the metal.

Echo sighed quietly and after some shifting behind you, you raised your head to see his human hand disconnect two crossed wires and reconnect them at new points. There was a fizz of static and then a gentle song began to float through the speakers.

You let out a whoop of joy and leaped to your feet, grabbing the clone by his collar to pull him down for a quick kiss.

“Thank you!” You squealed, snatching up your screwdriver again and leaving Echo standing there, stunned and pink.

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Hunter

Favorite place: Your neck. He likes to feel your pulse point and kiss the sunmarks and spots along your skin. It’s also one of the best places for him to get your scent.

Makeouts: Not as often as Crosshair, but frequent. He likes to be affectionate with you and when he gets time or feels stressed, being around you and close to you is his priority.

First Kiss:

You’d been separated from the Batch in a marketplace and were now wandering aimlessly.

As you passed an alleyway you heard a whistle and a man sidled up to you.

“Hey gorgeous,” He said. “Where you going?”

“Away from you,” You muttered, but he heard it anyway and snorted. “Feisty girl.”

A gag rose up in your throat and you increased your pace. Behind you the man called. “Hey I’m talking to you! Though I appreciate the view!”

A hand landed on your butt and you whirled, fist raised to deck the stranger for daring to touch you. Before you could though, someone stepped between you and punched him, hard.

You looked up to see Hunter, a deep scowl on his tattooed face as he glowered at your harasser.

“Don’t touch her,” He growled, drawing up to his full height.

The man spat and launched himself at Hunter, sending them both rolling to the ground.

There was some yelling and sounds of fists hitting bodies before Hunter scrambled to his feet breathing hard as your harasser lay on the ground, groaning.

Hunter turned to you with worried eyes and you punched him in the arm hard and then quickly pecked his lips. “You didn’t have to make a scene.”

“Sorry,” He said, not sounding sorry at all as he pulled you in for another kiss.

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Tech

Favorite place: Your forehead and temples. He can get so busy with this or that and a quick peck to the forehead is his go-to for affection when he’s caught up in something.

Makeouts: Usually whenever he gets an idea he wants to try with you. He learned affection mainly from books so he’s picking up more and more as he goes. Usually you initiate the sessions. However, when he gains confidence later in the relationship, things get more serious as he experiments.

First Kiss:

“Tech?” You called from the porch of your hideout. Hunter had sent you to fetch the male for dinner and so far he was nowhere to be found.

“In here!” The clone called and you followed the sound into the shed to see Tech holding two vials above a pot.

“What’re you doing?” You asked leaning on the doorframe.

“I’m testing a theory. The substance excreted from the fire salamanders’ skin may have some properties that can boost our explosives.” He replied, carefully tipping the vial of white powder in, followed by the orange liquid.

“And you thought it was a good idea to test that in my shed?” You said, quirking a brow.

The technician had the decency to look a little abashed. “Well it isn’t in the house.”

He set the tubes aside and picked up a firestarter, holding it over the pot. “And a spark to trigger the reaction..”

Crack. Fwoomp! Boom!

The small windows shattered and you ducked as a blaze burst up from the pot and then died out just as quickly, sending up a cloud of ash and dust.

When the smoke receded, you heard Tech give a small cough and looked over to see his whole face covered in soot and the front of his normally gelled back hair spiked up.

You burst into giggles, picking up a small cloth from the worktable and approaching the clone to wipe his goggles clean.

He blinked at you from behind the lenses, like he was surprised to see you and you smiled. “That went well.”

Tech gave you a sheepish look. “I’m sorry about the windows. I’ll fix them tomorrow.”

You laughed again, waving him off. “It’s alright. I was prepared for damages when I brought you lot here.”

He gave you a grateful look and suddenly you couldn’t help yourself, darting forward and pecking his lips.

Tech immediately turned scarlet. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “For being you.”

And then you passed him the cloth with a wink. “Hunter says dinner’s ready. You should probably clean up a bit before you come inside.”

.*(*)*..**(*)**...**(***)**...**(*)**..*(*)*.

Wrecker

Favorite place: Your cheeks and nose. He likes to pepper kisses all over your face. He’s so enraptured by you that he wants to keep you close at all times to make sure you’re real. Plus he’s a massive cuddlebug.

Makeouts: On occasion. But this boy is too much of a teddy bear for anything more than gentle loving touches. He’s slow and sweet and so very careful with you.

First Kiss:

The Batch was pinned down in an abandoned bunker as a gang faction gathered outside. Echo was doing his best to reboot the turrets while Tech worked on the doors, but unless it happened fast, you weren’t getting out of this unscathed.

You were peering out one of the broken windows with Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker picking off grunts where you could, but they had greater numbers and illegal firepower.

A shot from a bike mounted turret hit the wall above your lookout and the ceiling caved in, causing Wrecker tackle you, cradling you to him as he rolled away.

“You alright?” He asked, pushing off of you, his voice higher than normal.

“Yeah.” You said and Hunter swore as glass shattered behind you.

“Echo!! What’s the status on those defense systems?!”

“Same as you asked thirty seconds ago!” Echo snapped. “These circuits are rubbish! This place should have been scrapped for parts years ago!”

Parts.

A light bulb went off in your brain and you immediately turned to Wrecker. “Give me a charge!”

“Why?!”

“Trust me!”

He gave you a look you couldn’t read under the helmet, but dropped an explosive in your palm.

Immediately you started dismantling it. “I need a gravmag, some wires, and anything explosive we can spare. Oh and Echo’s arm.”

“What?” Said Echo.

You ignored him and started your hunt for parts as you snatched a screwdriver, a multipurpose laser tool, and pliers from Tech’s backpack, stripped a console, broke Crosshair’s gravmag off of his grappling hook, and took three more charges from Wrecker. You dismantled, screwed, and rewired before beckoning Echo over and having him weld it all together.

“(Y/N),” Wrecker asked as he fired off another shot. “What are you doing?”

You waved him off as you activated your new, shoddy weapon of mass destruction and bolted for the window, lobbing it as hard and far as you could.

“Hit the dirt!” You yelled and there was a large boom and the whole building rattled.

When the dust cleared, you beamed proudly at the clear landscape.

The gang that had been surrounding your hiding place was now lying unconscious having been thrown a good 50 meters in all directions at extreme speeds.

“What-“ Said Crosshair in his rare stunned tone. “What did you do?”

“Simply,” You said. “I reversed the polarity and made it into a big bang.”

Wrecker whooped and tossed his helmet aside, scooping you into a bear hug and peppering kisses all over your face. “THAT’S MY GIRL!”

You turned pink and he drew back from you enough to press a sweet kiss to your lips, which only served to fill your face with crimson.

There was an awkward cough from one of his brothers and Wrecker turned a similar shade of red, setting you back on the ground.

“Er-“ He said, patting your shoulder awkwardly. “Good job.”

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angelofbloodlust · 2 years

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A/N: Took the time to actually write something that wasn’t headcanons for once 🤠 apologies if it’s lowkey a bit of a disaster, it’s been a while since I’ve written an actual story like this so I’m a bit rusty! Hope y’all like it regardless tho <3

Contains/TW: Brief mention of alcohol and weed use, your relationship with your dad kinda sucks (meaning a mutual dislike for each other, nothing too serious), light NSFW (mostly just making out and some grope-y stuff), Y/N lowkey being a dick to Billy at first

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Stranger - Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader (Part One ?)

“Why can’t we just go home, dad..? We’ve been out all day, I’m tired.” You whined out as you glanced to your father beside you, leaning closer back to the loud thumps of the pouring rain slamming against your car door’s window.

It was nearly 11 PM, and you had been visiting your aunt and uncle from the ass-crack of dawn. You hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place, but your father insisted that as long as you’re still living in his house, you’re to follow his rules. And that involved babysitting your little cousins while the rest of the adults got nothing short of absolutely blasted on alcohol and pot in the living room.

Fucking hell, you couldn’t wait until you had finally saved up enough money to get your own place. Being freshly out of high school, you already found you were more than overdue to move out.

“Enough whining, Y/N, it’s our last stop. It’ll be over before you know it, Ralph’s isn’t even that far from our house.” He exhaled in reply, his eyes stuck attempting to decipher what exactly was the road though the heavy downpour as the car’s headlights could only manage to dimly light your way. It was eerie, you couldn’t lie, but your irritation completely smothered any unsettlement within the situation.

“Fucking Ralph’s. No grocery store should even be open this late.” You hissed under your breath, shifting your eyes back to the pitch black view of your window while you two traveled further down the spindly road encased in surrounding forest. You couldn’t help but wonder if anything lived in those woods..

Your pout stuck within the few minutes of silence between you two, keeping your head leaned gently against the glass and feeling the vibrations of the car rattle your head as you got caught up in your own thoughts. You found yourself deep in a daydreaming scenario of being anywhere but where you were, until your attention was all of a sudden caught by the sudden halt of the car.

You were nowhere near Ralph’s. What the fuck was going on, why did he-

You felt your features drop into pure panic as the familiar sound of the car’s soft creak with one of the back doors opening, and briefly found your father’s warm smile before you fully found the no longer empty backseat.

“All alone out here, son?” Your father questioned the young hitchhiker in the back as he closed the door once properly positioned in his seat.

“Way to sound like a fucking serial killer, dad.” You muttered under your breath, turning smug as he shoots you a brief glare until the stranger finally speaks.

“Yeah, I’m sorry to make you pull over like this. Couldn’t see too easy in all this rain.” The man exhaled, flipping down his black hood to reveal his features to you both.

His gaze was dark and icy cold, although you swiftly chalked that up to the dim and mildly creepy lighting of the car’s interior. You couldn’t see him all too well like this, but you were able to recognize that he was right about your age, and someone entirely unfamiliar. You knew everyone that had went to school with you, and this wasn’t one of them. Where did he come from..?

“Oh, no worries! I wouldn’t want to leave you out here, especially in this weather. What’s your name?” Your father chimed back to him as he started up the car once more, pulling away from the roadside to continue on his way.

“Billy.” Billy replied calmly. Oddly calm, considering he just climbed into a car with two complete strangers, were you two just that un-intimidating?

“I’m F/N, and this is my daughter, Y/N. Is there anywhere I could bring you, Billy?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, I’m not from around here..” Billy gave a meek reply, shuffling slightly in his spot as he adjusted the backpack in his lap. He sure seemed a bit jumpy, and you worried slightly with this. It was hard to read what his intentions with you two would be, and you had never been much of a risk-taker. You could only hope he’d be out of your car real soon.

“Oh? Where’d you travel from?” Your dad questioned him.

“Um.. Far away. Sorry, I kinda.. ran away, so. I’m trying to forget that place.” Billy hummed in a more somber tone, and you briefly glanced back to catch a glimpse of genuine ache in his expression. You felt a tinge of pity, it was clear something upsetting lied in his past.

“So you have nowhere to go.. I’d suggest a hotel, but I don’t know what your money situation is.” Your dad frowned, not seeming to get any confirmation from Billy that it was a viable option for him. Suddenly your dad perked, “You seem like a nice kid, maybe we could help you out! Just for a bit at least, till we can get you somewhere stable.”

Your stomach twisted into knots inside of you, your heart sinking into your chest as you glared at your father in pure disbelief. He was inviting a complete stranger to live with you two? Had he gone fucking insane?!

“Dad.” You quietly snapped towards him, not caring much that Billy had picked up on it as your father gives a roll of his eyes.

“It’ll be fine, Y/N, it would only be temporary. Whaddya say?” Your father hushed you as he looked back to Billy, who gave an incredibly thankful grin as he perked in his seat. You already knew the answer before he could get a word out, and your hesitance grew with each millisecond longer he was sat in the back of your car. Something felt off about him, yet you struggled to place what exactly.

“That would be amazing! Thank you so much, sir, really, you don’t know how much this means to me.” Billy beamed to your father, the two of them giving out happy chuckling as you scowled silently. You were upset that you couldn’t do a damn thing about it, but your father ruled everything, as always.

Whatever..

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You three eventually arrived at Ralph’s, scampering inside quickly to avoid too much of the rain’s downpour (Billy was already drenched, however). You sighed softly as you looked around, before being met with yet more unpleasant words from your father as he spoke up.

“I’ll go and grab the stuff we need for dinner tomorrow, why don’t you take Billy with you and grab some more snacks? I’m tired of hearing you complain about us not having anything to eat.” Your dad snorted, and you forced yourself to just give a slight nod before ignoring Billy as you head down one of the aisles to search for things that appealed to you. Which was easy, luckily, considering you were starved from your tiring day and had eyes for almost everything around you.

“So, Y/N.. Guess we should try and get to know each other a bit if we’re gonna be staying together, huh?” Billy chuckled out lightly, and you quirked an eyebrow as you turned your head to face him.

You were finally able to properly see his features within the brightly-lit store, as you examined his sharp features, and the dark brown eyes that watched you over in a curious manner. His head tilted slightly as you could read he was trying to figure out what you were doing, causing a few of his brunet strands of hair to lean with him. He was resemblant to a puppy in his mannerisms, almost. Cute, and too innocent.

A soft huff escaped your lips when you finally recall his words, drowning out your unwelcome thoughts that came with the realization he was just your type to give a reply to him. “Do we? I mean, there’s no telling how long you’ll be staying with us.” You hummed, and you scowled once more as he gave out an amused laugh with your salty tone towards him.

“Man, you do not like me, do you? I mean, I get it, I’m sure you’re not happy to share your space with someone you don’t know. I won’t hold that against you.” He gave a soft shrug as he spoke, his eyes finding the line-up of chips in front of you both when he glanced them over curiously. Though your mind was nowhere close to food anymore as you gazed up to him, was he.. actually kind of nice?

“It’s just not something I’m used to.. It’s been my dad and I for as long as I’ve known, so. It’ll take adjusting, I guess.” You pouted, allowing your tone to soften a little as you accepted your guard beginning to come down. It wasn’t fair to not give him a chance at all, you realized. You figured it wouldn’t hurt to at least have a conversation with him.

“That’s alright. I promise I won’t bother you much, I can stay out of your hair if you need.” Billy offered through that charming smile you couldn’t help but become slightly fond of, and the gentle shake of your head in response caused him to turn mildly surprised in front of you.

“No, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I’m considering giving you a chance.” You grinned playfully, joining him in his snickering as you took in the sight of his features contorting into what appeared to be genuine joy. He seemed to be sweet, after all.

Hell, you weren’t even slightly sure as to how he had convinced you to change your mind so quickly, was this some sort of witchcraft? Or just the work of a pretty boy using his charm on yet another girl who had the misfortune of falling into his trap? You were now entirely sure this man had been a playboy at some point in his life, there was no way a face like that didn’t woo every being he came across.

You wanted to be wary with him, but you were also so, so curious. You wanted to know more, you needed to know more about this stranger that suddenly entered your life without even the slightest warning. Was he going to be a blessing for your life you had previously considered less than satisfactory, or would he be the cause of your inevitable doom? You couldn’t be sure, reading those deep eyes of his gave you not a single answer into who this man really is, or where he even came from.

Though, you figured you would find out soon enough.

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Relief washed over you as your shoes met the hardwood floor within your house, taking in the dry surroundings happily while your father and Billy entered the house behind you. You had managed to settle with the new presence of Billy, after having some light conversation with him at the store and on the way home it came clear to you that he really wasn’t that bad at all. He made you happy, even. You had struggled before with making friends in school, so you felt he was something you had been missing. A friend.

After stripping yourself of your soaked jacket and shoes, you dropped yourself down on the couch to get comfortable and finally settle in after your tiring, painfully long day. Glancing up, you watched as your father headed upstairs briefly to soon return with a pillow and a blanket to place down beside you.

“Once Y/N finally pays some mind to others and gets up, you’re free to sleep here.” Your father held a slightly-passive aggressive tone with this comment, your nose scrunching with irritation as you internally grumble about how many nicer ways he could’ve handled this. You knew he just wanted to make you look like an asshole, he always did this in front of other people.

“Oh, it’s okay! I’ll hang out with her for a bit, I’m not ready to sleep yet.” The brunet assures, and you were shocked at how well he was able to push past that very brief glimpse of annoyance Billy held for a split second to instead give a sweet smile to your father. You were slightly puzzled, Billy seemed to be fond of your dad at first. But you felt no need to complain, at least you weren’t alone in dealing with your dad’s bullshit anymore.

“Alright. Well, I’ve got to get to bed, I have work in the morning. Goodnight, you two.” Your father hummed, narrowing his eyes at you as a silent way to tell you to behave before he heads upstairs to leave you on your own with the mysterious boy standing in front of you once more.

Billy let out a puff of air from his lips as he dropped down beside you, “Is he always like that?”

“Yeah. It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m used to it.” You snorted, giving a mindless shrug to further insist you weren’t bothered, even though you were, but just wanted to switch topics. He was a nice guy, but you were not ready to discuss your daddy issues with someone you still barely even knew.

You watched his brow raise, until he eventually gave his own shrug after reading your hesitance. “Hm. Okay. Anyways, what’s a pretty thing like you do on a late night like this?” He asked through a playful grin.

“Pretty thing?” You quirked an eyebrow in amusement. You felt embarrassed with yourself to admit that you sort of liked hearing him refer to you in that manner, but masked it behind teasing him. You didn’t feel quite ready to let him get to you with a simple compliment like that just yet, and it was adorable to watch the way he tensed out of nervousness that you may have not liked his choice of words towards you.

“Oh- Yeah, sorry, I just.. Kinda let that slip out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He snickered softly, sliding a hand up to rub at the side of his neck as he gazed at you, presumably to be able to read your expression and catch what you were feeling before you say it.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind. Just wanted to see you sweat a bit.” You cooed towards him, lifting a hand to take a soft grip on his lower jaw and tilt his head down to better hold the eye contact you two were sharing. You marveled in his clear reaction of shock, was he really this easy to catch off-guard?

“Oh.. Alright.”

His eyes began to scan over your features while you two were sat this close, repeatedly glancing towards your lips as it seemed any thoughts of the fact you could easily take notice of what he’s staring at slipped from his head. He was a little bit of an airhead, but you found it precious. Were you really starting to take interest in him..? You tried to remind yourself you had only met this man no more than an hour ago, but instead got entirely captivated in gazing back at him and gaining your own curious thoughts.

Your mutual staring lasted for a few more moments, until your intrusive thoughts won over your sense when you muttered in a soft whisper to him. “Can I kiss you?”

He only gave a nod of confirmation in reply, though it was enough for you as you pushed yourself forward to meet his lips in a kiss that swiftly turned a bit rougher than you intended. Despite how chilly his body still was, the sensation of his lips were warm and inviting, leaving you to crave more of him as your arms slid to wrap around his shoulders and bring him in towards you.

Though Billy had his own ideas, instead deciding to bring you to him as his strong grip took ahold of your hips and brought you to his lap. You didn’t mind this one bit, it was far more comfortable, anyways. If only his jeans weren’t so soaked...

You two were content with this for a few minutes, drowning out everything other than the feeling of your bodies pressed to one another and entirely being erased of the thought that your father could come back downstairs and get you both cussed out at any moment. You didn’t care, this was a new experience for you, you found your previous fear of being alone with a stranger now an intense thrill that absorbed you in all of the best ways possible.

Who gives a fuck about where he came from if he makes you feel this good?

Your breath heavy, you eventually will yourself to separate from Billy’s lips and allow him to instead kiss at your neck as you focused on catching air again. Fuck, were you really about to do this?

You figured you were in a bit too deep now, you knew you could stop him, but you didn’t want to. Anything he wanted to give to you, you were more than eager to let him.

You bit your lip eagerly as you eyed the white tee covering his torso, leaving a sweet kiss to his cheek as your hands make their way down his torso in a way to tease him before you take a grip on the bottom of his shirt to pull it over his head and toss it to your side.

Leaning back, you take a moment to soak in every inch of his sculpted torso, finding yourself losing the breath you had worked so hard to regain. God, he was so perfect. Your urges to lean down and kiss all over him almost overcame you, until you stiffened when your hand brushed over something you hadn’t noticed at first.

A deep scar on his right side. Not too big, but not small enough to have been from something harmless. You could tell it was somewhat new, it didn’t look healed enough to be something he had gotten years ago, closer to something of a few months. And why in such an odd spot..?

“Where did you get this from?” You questioned him softly, your mind now overtaken with curiosity for answers and losing any prioritization of the previous heated scene you had been having with the man a few moments prior.

“We can talk about this later, doll, come on.” He said in an almost whine, his hold on you tightening as he held a needy pout.

“But I wanna know, I’m curious!” You huffed in reply.

“Really? We’re about to fuck and this is more important to you?” Billy snorted, narrowing his eyes up to you. He only displayed playfulness, but you felt as if he was trying to avoid being questioned on this topic. Unfortunately for him, that only bumped your desire to pull an answer from him.

“It’ll only take like a second to tell me, c’mon! We can continue right after.” You giggled, oblivious to what answer he had waiting for you.

“It’s a stab wound, okay? Let’s keep going now.” He tried to usher you, leaning back in for another kiss until you stopped him.

“Hold on, why the fuck were you stabbed??”

Maybe your wariness hadn’t been so unreasonable after all..

#I kinda hate this but we’ll roll with it 😭#I HAD FUN TRYNA GET BACK INTO WRITING FICS THO WOO #scream 1996 #scream #slashers #stu macher #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #stu macher x reader

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kinglazrus · 3 years

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Double Date

Phic Phight

Submitted by @ghostgothgeek: Danny/Sam and Johnny/Kitty double date

Summary: All Danny wanted was some dating advice from the only couple he knows, but of course he got more than he bargained for. At least going to the boardwalk sounds like a nice first date, right?

Word count: 9464 | links to ffn and ao3 in my bio

Danny stares at the tickets in Johnny's outstretched hand. He looks up at Johnny's slanted grin, then back down again. On the other side of the roof, Shadow lurks in the shade of the Ops-centre, drifting dangerously close to the supports.

"When I asked for dating advice, this isn't what I meant," Danny says. He thought Johnny dragged him up to the roof of Fenton Works for some "man to man" talk, not... whatever this is.

Johnny shrugs and stuffs the tickets into his jacket pocket. "Maybe so, but it's what you're getting! You want to treat your girl right? What better way to learn than watching the best boyfriend you know in action?"

"Johnny, I've seen you in action. Downtown. Driving around the community college and looking at all the girls while Kitty is off doing whatever," Danny says.

"Is that really such a big deal? Come on, kid. Listen to me." Johnny throws his arm around Danny's shoulder and drags him toward the edge of the rooftop. "Look how big this place is." He sweeps out his arm, gesturing toward the city. The sun is nearly set, but lots of people are still out at this hour. A warm haze of light glitters on the northern edge of the city, at the beachfront. Danny can almost see the top curve of the Ferris wheel from here.

Johnny continues. "Lots of people down there. Who knows who you actually saw doing what? I bet there are loads of blond guys with bikes around here. And I've got two tickets to the pier that says so."

Danny turns away from the glowing city to stare incredulously at Johnny. "You're using a double date with you and Kitty to bribe me into not telling her I caught you ogling college girls?"

"You said it, not me."

"Did you steal those tickets?"

"Kid, I know you're the goody-two-shoes type. I bought them fair and square with money right of pocket."

Danny snorts. "Whose pocket?"

"I don't think that matters. Come on, it'll be fun. I don't give advice for free, you know." Johnny squeezes Danny's shoulder, a little too hard for what's meant to be a casual chat. The desperate sheen in Johnny's eye kind of ruins the threat, though.

As Danny considers the offer, a shiver goes up his spine. His next breath leaves in a puff of pale blue air. With a sigh, he goes intangible and extracts himself from Johnny's hold, smiling a little when the older ghost stumbles at the sudden loss of Danny's support. Looking over the rooftops, he can't see another ghost, but they can't be far if they set off his ghost sense. He hopes with all his heart that they might be here for a friendly chat, like Johnny, but doubts it. Danny isn't lucky enough for that.

"Okay. I'll go," he says.

"And?" Johnny's grin stretches as he gestures for Danny to go on.

Danny tips his head back and sighs. He doesn't have time for this. "And I guess I didn't see you at the college last week."

"Great!" Johnny gives Danny a hearty slap on the back and climbs back onto his motorcycle. "You're not so bad, kid. When you're not kicking my ass. Just stick with Kitty and me on the day and I'll show the ropes." He kicks up the stand on his motorcycle and revs the engine. "Oh, and before I forget. If this date doesn't go perfectly, then... Shadow!"

The murky ghost rises from beneath the Ops-centre.

"Wait, don't!" Danny shouts, too late, as Shadow zips across the roof, cutting through as many of the Ops-Centre's supports as he can before melting into the darkness. Johnny takes off cackling as the whole thing comes crashing down.

—

The next morning, Danny keeps his head low, his gaze locked on the bowl of soggy cereal in front of him. Across the kitchen, his father stops to slap the counter.

"Didn't even hear a thing! Can you believe that?" Jack asks.

"Crazy."

"Must have happened while we were sleeping."

"Must have."

"When I find the ghost that did it, they're gonna get a face full of Fenton grade vengeance! You know what happens when a ghost looks in a mirror, Danno? Makes 'em go crazy. We're working on this new gun that makes them see—"

"Look at that, time for school!" Danny shoots to his feet. He can't meet his father's gaze as he dumps his cereal bowl—still half full—into the sink and scurries out of the kitchen.

"Have fun!" Jack calls after him.

"Yeah, sure, I will!" Danny shouts back. Under his breath, he adds, "as long as I never have to see that gun." He grabs his backpack as he leaves, snagging the strap and swinging it over his shoulder on his way out the door. Once he is outside, and there's a solid barrier between him, his ticked-off father, and whatever ghost-fighting monstrosity his parents have made now, he stops to take a deep breath.

There are still a few minutes before Tucker should arrive for their walk to school, but Jack does not know that. Danny did not want to sit there and listen to his own father talk about all the ways he could make Danny double-dead, much less re-experience his first death. In fact, he usually tries to avoid people like that. Unfortunately, that does not always work when he lives with two of them.

Danny shakes his head. He can think about those things later. Right now, his conversation with Johnny is the only thing he cares about. Only time will tell if he made a huge mistake agreeing to the double date, but it would be nice if at least one thing could go right for Danny for once.

Inside the house, something slams, followed by a shout from Jack that rattles the window. Danny jumps away from the door and nearly tumbles down the stoop, his front foot slipping off the top step. He latches onto the bannister to keep from falling back, and his foot thumps against the next step. The landing jars his leg as his knee locks, a jolt shooting up his thigh.

"Whoa, it's freshman Danny." Tucker's voice drifts through Danny's ears.

Danny turns, rubbing his now aching knee, and scowls. "What?"

"You know. Freshman Danny." Grinning wide and smug, Tucker motions to Danny's entire person first, then his leg. "Clumsy as hell and too chicken to ask Sam out."

"Shut up! Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!" Tucker waves his hand in an airy gesture of finality, turning up his nose. He spins away from Danny, a signal that their little squabble is over. His mistake.

With a final cry of "Am not!" Danny launches himself at Tucker, pouncing on his back. Tucker shrieks in surprise, a peal of laughter echoing off his cry, and stumbles under the new weight. He tries to beat Danny off with the flat of his palm. In response, Danny clings tighter. He wraps his legs around Tucker's waist and hooks his arms over his shoulders, latching on to his wrists to keep a firm grip.

"Holy shit. You're so short, why are you so heavy." Tucker wheezes as he tries to pry Danny's arms off.

Danny throws his head over Tucker's shoulders, shifting his weight forward enough that Tucker bows underneath him. "Ghost fighting muscles, baby."

"Ugh." Tucker's palm finds Danny's chin and he pushes, shoving his head back. "You totally could have asked Sam out for homecoming but nooo, you had to go with me as a hot young bachelor."

Danny's cheeks burned. "It was your idea!"

"Only because you were getting all pouty about not going with Sam, and the only reason that didn’t happen is because you never asked!"

"Well, I'm asking today!"

Tucker freezes. For a second, Danny wonders how ridiculous they must look to anyone watching, with him clinging to Tucker worse than Klemper to literally anyone, and Tucker stretching back to push Danny's head as far back as it will go. Actually, maybe they wouldn't find it so strange. Danny's neighbours have seen a lot of weird things in the past four years; him and Tucker being their usual selves can't be high up on that list.

"You're really gonna ask today, finally?" Tucker asks.

Danny nods, as much as he can Tucker still shoving his head back. "Johnny was here last night."

"Oh yeah?" Tucker pauses, giving Danny a chance to elaborate. He doesn't, waiting for the gears to click in Tucker's head instead. It takes a moment, but he gets there. "Oh! Oh, right, yeah. He finally got back to you? Is that why, uh... you know." Tucker finally withdraws his hands and points to the roof of Fenton Works.

"Oh. Yeah." Danny's limbs go intangible, slipping through Tucker's torso in one final act of petty vengeance as Danny rights himself. Tucker shivers, shooting Danny a glare, before looking back at the Ops-Centre. Normally a pinnacle of Fenton genius that stands proudly above their home, now it lays on its side. Danny managed to catch it, barely, before it could crash into the roof, but overnight the saucer-like body crushed itself under its own weight. Now, the side touching the roof is a crumpled mess, the supports that once held it up rusted beyond repair.

"Shadow," Danny says. It's all he needs to say. Tucker nods, understanding perfectly what happened here. "Other than that it went... okay. He asked me out."

"What?!" Tucker's head whips toward Danny, his eyes wide. "I hope nobody tells Kitty. But he does give off bi energy, doesn't he?"

Danny rolls his eyes. "Not like that. He invited me and Sam on a double date with him and Kitty."

"Oh, so they're swingers."

"Tucker!"

Tucker snickers. "Okay, okay. I'm serious now. Promise." The cat-like grin he gives isn't the most reassuring, but Danny will take what he can get. "You're really gonna ask her out today?"

"Got carnival tickets and everything."

"Well, shit, man. Don't blow it."

Danny grabs Tucker's beanie and yanks it down over his face. Tucker's teasing laughter chases Danny all the way to school.

—

At lunch, Danny pulls Sam aside. He meets her at her locker, which is two halls away from his and Tucker's, waiting along the opposite wall for her to finish switching out her books for her lunch bag. The hall is still fairly crowded since it's only been a minute since the lunch bell went. Down the way, Danny can see Paulina and Elliot, standing with their heads tucked together by Paulina's locker, working on the local rumour mill no doubt. When Sam looks done digging through her bag, and Danny pushes off the wall toward her, Elliot happens to glance in their direction. His sharp eyes go from Danny to Sam, then back. A wicked smile takes over his face.

Danny ducks his head, letting his hair flop forward and hide his slowly reddening cheeks. In two quick strides, he crosses the hall and thumps against the closed lockers beside Sam's.

"Done lurking?" Sam asks without looking up.

"I wasn't lurking."

"Sure you weren't." Sam knocks her elbow against her locker door. Danny's eyes catch the small, black-framed mirror taped to the inside, which reflects the exact spot Danny was standing when it hits the right angle.

At this rate, Danny's face will be red as his shoes. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. What's up?" She finally looks up from her bag as she yanks the zipper closed. When she turns toward him, she hits her locker door with her elbow once again, this time to knock it closed; but, as the door swings, Danny glimpses Paulina and Elliot again. This time, they are both watching, and the way they cover their mouths as they talk is far from reassuring.

Danny's hand jerks out. He stops Sam's locker, shoving it back open, and holds it in place to block the gossiping duo's view.

"I wanted to ask you something," Danny says.

Sam shoots a raised eyebrow at her locker door, then turns it on him "Are you okay? You've been acting kind of weird all day."

"No, yeah, I'm fine. I was just– you know. This weekend, yeah?"

Sam looks entirely unimpressed with his fumbled words. "I can't say that I do."

"I have tickets to the boardwalk," Danny clarifies. "For this weekend. We don't have anything planned and I know you're free. So, want to go?"

As he waits for Sam's answer, he is struck by the realization that she could say no. They have been friends for years, and he has had an inkling, the past little while, that she might like him back. But he doesn't know it. No matter what Danny feels for her—and thinking about his own feelings makes his face hot and his heart stutter—she still might not feel the same. She could say no. And it's not that Danny hasn't thought about this before; there's a reason he is only asking her out senior year even though he has had a crush on her since they were freshman. But worrying about it in the back of his mind is very different from standing in front of her knowing it could actually happen.

This was such a bad idea. He is asking her out in the hallway. Within sight of Paulina and Elliot. He should have waited until after school, at least. Oh, god. Should he have gotten her something? Are you supposed to bring something when you ask someone out? Oh, this is so bad. She is going to say no, and then Danny will have to tell the story to Tucker, and Tucker will laugh because of course she said no, this is terrible.

"Sure, sounds fun," Sam says.

Danny blinks. He shakes his head, goes over her words in his head to make sure he heard it right, then blinks again. "Yes?"

"Absolutely. It's been so long since we've gone to the boardwalk. Maybe Tucker can win that stuffed shark he couldn't get last time." Sam nudges Danny's hand off her locker door and closes it, then snaps her padlock back into place.

Danny watches her blankly, slowly processing what she just said. "Tucker," he says.

"Yeah. At the ring toss booth, remember? I think he wasted fifty bucks on that thing. I told him it was a scam, but whatever." Sam starts down the hall toward the cafeteria, but Danny stays rooted in place.

He remembers the ring toss, of course. After Tucker finished emptying his wallet on the booth, Danny took a turn and got the top prize in one go. He might have had a little telekinesis to help him along, but no one else needed to know that; the giant stuffed alien was worth it. But that had nothing to do with this, right?

Before his thoughts can spiral too far, Danny shakes his head. "I meant without Tucker."

Sam pauses mid-step. Slowly, she sets her foot down and turns back around to face Danny. Her grip on her backpack tightens, and he can see the muscle along her jaw working as she clenches her teeth. Those are... probably not good signs. "Like, just you and me?"

In the background, Danny hears Paulina and Elliot snicker. He groans, dragging a hand down his face, and glares over Sam's shoulder at them. "Can you not?"

"Not our fault you're doing this in the middle of the hall," Paulina says.

"Seriously. I had way better class," Elliot adds.

Paulina looks at Elliot and beams. "You so did. But I've been rooting for this since the beginning, and I am so invested right now."

"Oh my God, this is so embarrassing." Danny has to fight off the urge to go intangible. He almost wishes his ghost sense would go off so that he could have an excuse to leave. This is not how he imagined this going, and Paulina and Elliot are making it so much worse than it has to be.

"Come on, Danny." Sam's voice snaps him out of his pity party. At some point, while he was wallowing, she walked back toward him and now has her hand on his wrist. She tugs him forward. He gives in, letting her drag him along the hall past the tittering pair until they disappear around the corner. Once they are out of sight, Sam's hand slips down into Danny's. It's warm. She squeezes his hand, just once, then tugs him into the nearest empty classroom and closes the door.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment.

Danny's hands flex at his sides as he tries not to fidget. Sam won't pull her gaze up from the floor.

"So, uh. Just you and me?" she repeats.

Danny nods vigorously, then stops and shakes it instead. "Yeah, but no. Johnny and Kitty will be there."

Sam's head snaps up.

The first thing Danny notices is the red tinge to her face, a rosy band stretching across her cheeks and nose. Her lips pinch together, not in a show of disapproval, but an expression of hers that he has become familiar with over the years. Sam doesn't usually do hopeful most of the time. Nerves aren't her thing either. But when she wants something bad enough, and she dares to look on the brighter side, she gets this look on her face. It's like she wants to smile but she holds herself back, sucking on her lips as she tries to keep composed.

That expression wavers now, her mouth relaxing as a frown tugs at her lips instead. "Now I'm confused. Are you trying to ask me out or not?"

"Yes!" Danny bursts out. "To the boardwalk with me. But it's, like, a double date with Johnny and Kitty, because he got the tickets. Actually bought them, although I'm pretty sure he stole the money." He considers telling Sam about the deal but holds back. "I really thought this was gonna go better but now I kind of want to punch Elliot in the face or something."

"Please don't punch my ex-boyfriend in the face."

"Right, not a good look. Got it."

Silence falls again. Neither of them can meet each other's eyes, although Danny keeps stealing glances at Sam. One hand hovers in front of her mouth, but when she turns her head away from him, he sees the full-blown grin on her face. Her eyes sparkle in a way he hasn't seen before. It sounds cheesy and dumb, but it's the truth. He looks at her and all he can see is how genuinely happy she is. Soon enough, Danny wears a grin to match hers.

"So," Sam says, and that one syllable sounds so much lighter than her usual tone. "It's a date."

—

In retrospect, asking Sam to go out with him on Saturday on a Wednesday wasn't the best idea. Danny floats around school for the rest of the day with a dopey grin on his face. He actually lifts off his feet a few times and Tucker has to clamp a hand down on his shoulder to keep him down. Over the next two days, he asks Tucker no less than five times if that really happened, if Sam actually said yes. Tucker, naturally, teases Danny relentlessly over it.

By Friday, Paulina and Elliot have made good work of spreading Danny's disaster attempt to ask Sam out all around the school. More than once, he sees money changing hands in the hallway, trying to be discreet and Danny and Sam pass by, so close together that their knuckles keep brushing as they walk.

He hasn't held her hand since she dragged him to the classroom on Wednesday, even though he wants to.

When Saturday rolls around, Danny phones Tucker an hour before he and Sam are supposed to meet.

"Do I dress normally?" he asks.

On the other end of the line, Tucker sighs. "Why are you asking me?"

"It's the boardwalk. People don't get dressed up for the boardwalk. And Sam has already seen everything in my closet. Should I try to look really nice, or should I just be myself?"

"We are talking about Sam, right? Relax, man. You know what she'd like."

In the end, Danny decides to go mostly normal. He throws a button-up over his usual outfit, rolls the sleeves up, and calls it a day. If he knows Sam, she would appreciate him not making things weird by getting too fancy and not like his usual self. He maintains that attitude up until he gets to the boardwalk and sees her waiting by the ticket booths.

"I should have dressed up," he whispers.

At a glance, Sam's outfit doesn't seem too different from her usual attire. Black on black with a few purple accents thrown into the mix. He has seen her in dresses before, but rarely outside school dances, and he has never seen this one with Flowing lace sleeves that slope down her shoulders and a flared skirt. She even has a new wide brim hat to go with it, even though it's already sunset.

Before Danny even considers turning back around and putting something nicer on, Sam's gaze roves over the parking lot and settles on him. She gives his outfit a good look. A second passes. She bursts on laughing.

"Oh, come on," Danny whines as he approaches.

"I'm sorry," she says, but she is still hunched over clutching her stomach. "But your face. You should have seen your face."

It takes a good minute for her to get her giggles under control. Even still, a few quiet snickers breakthrough when she finally composes herself, smoothing out her dress and righting her hat.

"Tucker texted me," she says. "He told me all about your little fashion dilemma."

"I'm gonna kill him." Tucker just had to get in one last jab before the date began, Danny supposes. He hopes it was worth it because Tucker is going to pay dearly. Although...

He subtlety takes in Sam's outfit again, the way the dress hugs her waist, and those boots. He didn't notice them at first but now he can't stop staring at them. Slick, black, buckled up to the knees, with the purple lace edging of a pair of stocking peeking out the top. The only exposed skin on her legs is a few scant inches of her thighs between the end of the stockings and the bottom of her dress. And it's a damn good few inches.

Danny silently amends his earlier statement. He won't kill Tucker; he will collapse into his best friend’s arms crying tears of gratitude for helping him spend a whole evening with Sam dressed like that.

Realizing that he is staring, Danny quickly drags his eyes back up to Sam's face. The last thing he wants on their first date is for her to punch him because he is being a creep. Except Sam doesn't look angry to have caught him staring. In fact, she is blushing again, nervously plucking at her sleeves with her nails.

"For a second I thought you had bought a whole new outfit just for today." Danny chuckles, his own nerves showing through. Despite how long they have known each other, he feels wholly unprepared for tonight.

"Not exactly," Sam says. She drops her sleeves and smooths out her skirt again, this time pinching some of the fabric in her hand and swishing it back and forth. "I've had this outfit for a while, but I haven't worn it yet."

"Oh, man. I'm really underdressed, aren't I?" Danny tugs at the collar of his NASA shirt with a grimace. The button-up, at least, is black, because he knew she would like that. But otherwise, he is plain old Danny.

"Not that you don't look good all dressed up, but I like it when you're yourself," Sam says.

The rumble of a motorcycle approaches from the distance.

"Besides, I think you'll look pretty fancy next to Johnny."

At least Danny has that going for him. They both turn toward and watch Johnny's motorcycle peal into the parking lot. It goes intangible, along with its riders, and phases through the parked cars, only coming back into the physical world when it screeches to a stop in front of Danny and Sam.

Johnny runs a hand over his slicked-back hair—is that gel? "You're really setting the tone for your first date, huh."

To Danny's horror, Johnny is dressed up. He switched his dusty gray jacket for a shiny leather one, and instead of his usual shirt, he wears his own button-up. But unlike Danny's, Johnny's shirt is white and crisp, and actually buttoned up.

Kitty, meanwhile, looks the same as always. "Come on, don't tease the kid. He ain't half bad looking. He snagged me for a couple weeks, didn't he?"

Danny opens his mouth, about to remind her that she had been using him to make Johnny jealous the entire time; one look at Johnny's scowl and Sam's glare has him shutting up before he can utter a single syllable.

"Uh, should we go in? You do have the tickets, right Johnny?" he says instead.

Johnny scoffs and reaches into his jacket, pulling out the tickets. "Cool it, little man. I got us covered."

"Johnny! You actually bought tickets?" Kitty gasps.

"Only the best for you, babe. Let's go." Johnny holds out his elbow for Kitty to take, which she goes with glee, her steps bouncing as they take off for the ticket booth. Over his shoulder, Johnny shoots Danny a wink.

"Oh, uh. Shall we?" Danny cringes as the words fall from his mouth, but offers his arm to Sam nonetheless. She looks between Danny and Johnny, a questioning look in her eye. Just when Danny thinks she is going to leave him hanging, she shrugs and loops her arm through his.

They follow Johnny and Kitty. Already at the booth, the ghostly couple is passing the tickets over when Danny and Sam get close.

"The pipsqueaks are with us," Johnny says.

The girl at the counter, who looks only a year or two older than Danny, stares at Johnny with wide eyes. His aura, a dull grey that's usually hard to see, is much brighter at night. With the poorly lit parking lot at their back, it's impossible to ignore. Kitty's soft green aura is far more noticeable, but she stands just behind Johnny, her arm still curled around his, staring ahead at the twinkling lights of the boardwalk.

The sun hasn't completely set yet, but the top of the Ferris wheel touches the darkest part of the sky, and its colourful lights flash in a mesmerizing pattern, beckoning people in.

Johnny seems to have forgotten the whole reason he arranged this date in the first place because he takes full advantage of Kitty's distraction to lean in close to Ticket Girl, looking her up and down.

Behind them, a line is forming.

Ticket Girl's lip curls in disgust, but Danny can see fear shining in her eyes. "Sorry, sir, but I don't know if I can let a ghost in."

The fawning curl to Johnny's smile drops away abruptly, twisting into something more similar. "That's a bit rude, don't you think?" Shadow rises from Johnny's feet, growing taller until he looms over the booth, a menacing grin stretching his blank face wide.

"Johnny!" Danny slides up to the booth, nudging Johnny over with the arm not held by Sam, and beams at Ticket Girl manning the booth. "Hey. You might recognize me—Danny Fenton, son of Maddie and Jack Fenton."

"The ghost hunters." Ticket Girl nods.

"Right. We're actually doing an experiment right now. See, some ghosts actually have really human behaviours. Like Phantom, I bet you love him. But any good scientist has to test their hypothesis multiple times. So me and my– uh, my girlfriend?" He glances at Sam, whose red face matches his, but nods in agreement. "Are here to observe these too ghosts"—he tips his head to Johnny and Kitty—"doing normal human things. Such as getting into the boardwalk with paid tickets, just like everyone else wants to do."

"But he...." Ticket Girl glances nervously at Shadow.

"The big guy will be so chill. Super chill. You won't even know he is here, because you'll be at the booth, far away from the ghosts that just want to get inside and definitely not hurt anyone here."

The kid snatches up the tickets before Danny finishes his sentence, ripping off the stubs, and shoves a handful of wristbands across the counter, along with a whole roll of game tickets. "Just don't come back, okay?"

"Thank you!" Danny grabs the items and hustles everyone along.

"Nice work, Danny." Kitty gives him a thumb up under her and Johnny's intertwined arms. "Way to use your head."

"I could have thought of something," Johnny grumbles.

"Sure you could have, babe. Now let's check out the roller coaster first!" She drags him off, both of them without their wristbands, but Danny doesn't think it will be a problem. Everyone steers clear of them as they plow through the crowd. Every second the sun gets closer to setting, every shade darker the sky turns, the more obvious it becomes that Johnny and Kitty aren't human as their auras grow brighter.

"What should we do first?" Sam plucks four of the wristbands from Danny's fist—the kid gave him seven—and puts them on, grinning at her little collection. She takes the remaining three and puts them on Danny.

"Roller coaster sounds fun. Go with the thrills first?" He watches her slip the bands around his wrist, looping them together so that all three are intertwined.

Sam pauses on the last bracelet. "But you like saving the big rides for last."

He peeks over Sam's shoulder. Johnny and Kitty are halfway across the boardwalk already, well on their way to the coaster. Johnny twists mid-step, catches Danny's eye, and beckons him forward.

Right. Stick together. See how it's done.

"Yeah, but it might be fun to shake things up." He takes over putting the last bracelet on, hurrying to slap the sticky pieces together. In his rush, he catches some of his hair, drawing out a wince, but Johnny and Kitty are nearly there, and they've fallen way too far behind. "Come on!"

Danny takes Sam's arm and pulls her along. Focused on the path left by Johnny and Kitty's charge, he misses the frown on Sam's face as she looks down at him.

—

It goes better than Danny expected. Kitty leads the way, picking attraction after attraction with such gusto that he thinks she has never been to a theme park of any kind, which may very well be. Danny doesn't know much about Johnny and Kitty's life before ghost-hood, except that they died young and poor.

More than once, Danny catches Johnny watching other girls. Kitty doesn't seem to have noticed, so far, but Danny is not taking any chances. He remembers Johnny's threat and Shadow's piercing eyes watching them every step of the way serves as a constant reminder. Whenever he catches Johnny in a moment of distraction, he nudges the ghost and draws him back to the present. It earns him a few glares, but it works.

Despite Johnny's mounting annoyance, he still fulfills his side of the deal, giving Danny quick advice, either through vague gestures or whispered words while the girls are distracted.

"Let her choose what to do." Johnny feigns examining the bright bulbs overhead as they wait in line for the bumper cars. The golden lights dangle from the tent, flashing intermittently. Neither Sam nor Kitty are paying attention to the boys. Sam leans against the railing, cheering on the current bumper car drivers. A quick glance into the rink shows Valerie Grey ramming her cart against Dash Baxter.

If Johnny weren't dispensing important advice, Danny would be right next to Sam cheering along.

"It makes her feel like you care about what she likes when you do," Johnny continues.

"I do care," Danny says.

"Perfect, then you won't have a problem."

The bumper cars don't provide ample opportunity to use Johnny's advice, but when Kitty drags them to the Tilt-a-Whirl next, he gets the perfect chance. At the front of the line, he and Sam get first pick of the available seats. The Amity Park boardwalk, unlike other theme parks, has an eclectic collection of Tilt-a-Whirl cars ranging from a cupcake, to a plain seat, to a bat to a spaceship. Danny already knows which one Sam would like.

"You want to take the spaceship?" Sam asks, tugging Danny in that direction.

He resists her pull. "Don't you like the bat?"

"Yeah, of course. But you like the spaceship."

It's the strangest tug of war Danny has ever found himself in. He nearly gives in, but Johnny kicks the back of Danny's leg—lightly—and coughs "lady's choice" under his breath.

"It's just a car. We can take the one you like," Danny says.

Sam frowns, her grip slackening. It's all that Danny needs, and he eagerly pulls her toward the bat, sliding in before she can protest further. When he turns to face her, instead of a smile, she meets him with a frown.

"Is something wrong?" Danny asks, startled. Panic rises within him. Oh, no. She is not having a good time. It's a disaster after all.

"No, it's fine," she says after a moment of silence, which does nothing to assuage Danny's worries. Everyone knows "fine" doesn't actually mean "fine." It's one of the most used words in Danny's vocabulary, typically after a nasty ghost fight that leaves him limping and bruised.

Desperate, Danny leans out of the car, searching the ride for Johnny. He finds him across the way, sliding into the cupcake next to Kitty. Johnny meets Danny's gaze and motions for him to watch. In one smooth move, Johnny stretches his arm out with a feigned yawn, then settles it down around Kitty's shoulders and tugs her close. When Danny leans back into the car, Sam is watching him.

"You're acting weird," she says.

"I'm just a little tired." Danny stretches his arm up, just like Johnny did. Sam's gaze follows it all the way until he drapes it over her shoulder. It isn't until he has settled that he realizes he forgot the yawn.

The rest of Johnny's advice follows that same vein: do what Sam wants and use every chance possible to invite her closer. Danny follows it to the letter, mimicking everything Johnny does. Take the lead when walking, but let her choose where to go. Keep her close, but let her wander when she wants to. The hardest part, though, is finding excuses to stick with Johnny and Kitty.

"We don't have to spend the whole night with them," Sam says.

They are loading onto the Ferris wheel, Johnny and Kitty taking one side of the four-person carriage while Sam and Danny get the other. Danny had hoped to save this for the end of the night, for just him and Sam, but Kitty wanted to go now. When Danny tried to suggest otherwise, or even suggest he and Sam take a different carriage, Shadow's low growl cut off his protests.

"I want to make sure they don't get into trouble. You know they like to cause drama," he whispers needlessly. Neither Kitty nor Johnny is listening.

"I don't think we have to worry about that. We've been here for three hours already and they haven't done anything. I think they just want to have a good time. Mostly." Sam tilts her head, shooting Johnny a pointed look.

To Danny's dismay, Johnny is once again feasting on the local sights. As Kitty braces herself against the rail of the carriage, staring out over the beachfront, Johnny leers at the woman who helped them onto the ride. His posture mimics Kitty's as the Ferris wheel turns for the next passengers to load on, and he leans over to get one last look at the woman.

"It's a double date. Aren't you supposed to stick together on a double date?" Danny draws Sam's attention back to him with the question and uses that moment to kick Johnny's ankle.

"Ow!" Johnny cries. He whips around, fixing a glare on Danny. "The hell was that for?"

"Do I have to say it?" They both know he won't, though. With the threat of Shadow hanging over the evening, Danny won't risk letting Kitty on to what's happening behind her back.

Sam, however, has no such qualms. "I can't believe you. You're literally on a date and you're not even paying attention to your girlfriend?"

That grabs Kitty's attention. She turns, eyes wide, and looks at Johnny. "What?"

"I bet she spent a long time getting ready for today, trying to look good for you, but here you are, faking interest when she watches, then looking to someone else whenever you think she isn't." As Sam berates Johnny, her voice slowly growing louder, Danny gets the sinking feeling that she isn't just talking about the ghost. "I wonder how long she has been looking forward to this. Probably a really long time, but you're so distracted that you can't even see she isn't enjoying herself."

Danny's stomach plummets. He really screwed up, didn't he?

"You. What?" Kitty's ice-cold voice reminds Danny that there are real stakes on this date.

"I was checking out her jacket, not her! It looks like the kind of thing you like to wear," Johnny rushes to explain.

Kitty's eyes narrow. In a blink, she lurches across the carriage and takes Johnny's place at the rail, peering back at the receding woman. Damningly, she isn't wearing a jacket.

"You! You! I can't believe you!" Kitty shrieks. "I thought you wanted to take me on a nice date. I didn't even care that you the ghost kid and his girl were coming, because he's nice, and you were finally taking me to a theme park like I always wanted!"

Viridescent tears streak down Kitty's cheeks. Danny has seen her livid and raging plenty of times over the past few years, but now she looks downright distraught. Her face crumples, scowl giving way as a sob wrenches from her throat. Johnny looks as stricken as Danny feels.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean it. You know you're the only girl for me," he says, dropping to his knees.

"I thought this– this meant something." Kitty struggles to speak through her tears, fighting against the tightening of her throat and gasping sobs. "How could you?"

She takes off, then, launching herself out of the carriage with enough force that she sends it rocking. Johnny reaches after her, but it's no use. She streaks across the sky, a blur of red and green, and disappears into the sparkling lights of the game booths, out of sight in seconds.

An oppressive silence descends for one long moment.

Johnny, shoulders trembling, turns to Danny. His shadow bubbles and bulges as two furious eyes blink open. "Kid, I am going to kill you!"

Sam jumps forward, sending the carriage rocking again, and brings her leg up. Danny glimpses the neon sole of her boot before she slams her heel down on Shadow's growing face. Shadow screeches in pain and withers into the floor, disappearing into a grey blob with a pathetic sizzle.

"Shut the hell up, Johnny, and go after your girlfriend!" Sam shouts, thrusting an arm out toward the game booths.

Johnny gnashes his teeth but doesn't fight. "This isn't over, kid." He falls through the floor of the carriage, intangible, and takes off after Kitty.

With a huff, Sam drops onto the bench opposite Danny, crossing her legs and arms, and glares at a point over Danny's shoulder.

Danny fidgets, pinching the fabric of his jeans and rolling it between his fingers. He looks up at Sam, down, then out after Johnny and Kitty. "Should we–"

"They can wait until the ride is done," Sam snaps.

Danny nods, afraid to say anything else and screw this up even further. He should have noticed Sam wasn't enjoying herself. It started off great, and now... he is not sure if there will be a second date. He wouldn't blame her. With that realization comes the dawning horror of what that might mean for their friendship. It would end because of this, right? They have fought a few times over the years, and it never lasts long, but this is different. They tried dating; that changes things. If it doesn't work and they go back to just being friends, it won't be the same. They will both know that they like each other, and they will know that it didn't work.

What would happen then? Danny can't imagine not having Sam in his life, but if she is really mad at him... she has dropped people for less. Everyone in Casper High remembers the middle school debacle that led to Sam cutting off all ties with Paulina. They might be better now, but it took six years for them to become friends again. Danny couldn't wait that long.

"Danny!" Sam jostles him, her hand on his shoulder, and yanks him back to the present. She stares into his eyes, assessing him. Once she is satisfied that he is back in the moment, she returns to her seat, this time with her gaze fixed on him.

Looking outside the carriage, Danny realizes they are over the crest. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he missed half the ride, including the best moment. The realization hits him worse than one of Skulker's ecto-seeking missiles. He nearly spirals again, but Sam reaches out and clamps onto his knee, keeping him grounded.

"Danny, I think we need to talk."

This is his nightmare. Literally, he has had nightmares about Sam rejecting him. They usually end with the haunting echo of Elliot's pompous laughter as Sam chooses him, old jealousies thriving in his dreams. Sometimes Valerie is there, too, her face overlayed with Sam's as they turn him down in unison. But the worst ones are when it is just Sam, looking him straight in the eye, and saying no. Right now, this is all too close to those nightmares.

He swallows, unable to find the right words, and nods instead.

"Why did you ask me out if you weren't even going to pay attention to me?" she asks.

Danny's mouth stays clamped shut as his earlier fears are realized. Her rant was for more than just Johnny.

"You asked me if this outfit was new." Sam skims her fingers along the lace of her stockings, tracing the spiderweb patterns hidden within. "I didn't lie when I answered. I bought this a few months ago for homecoming. It was our last one, and I thought... I thought you were going to ask me to it."

"But that's not..."

"Yeah, I didn't wear it."

The dress she did wear was fancier, with layered skirts and glittering black beads.

"I bought this one because I knew you wouldn't care if I dressed fancy or not. And I know you don't like to unless you have to." She nods to Danny's casual outfit. "So when you asked me out, I already knew what I wanted to wear, because I know you. But this whole time, you haven't acted like the Danny I know and care about. You've been clingy, and overly accommodating, but at the same time ignoring everything I wanted. And when you weren't doing that, you were watching Johnny?"

Sam ducks her head and looks away. With the brim of her hat hiding her face, he can't see her, but the quiet sniffle she makes is unmistakable.

A rotten taste seeps through Danny's mouth. This was supposed to be a nice first date, but all he did was make Sam cry.

"I know I say I don't care about this stuff. I say it all the time, but..." She reaches up, carefully dabs at her eyes so she doesn't ruin her makeup. "I wanted you to look at me."

Danny finally finds his voice. "Sam, God, no. You're beautiful. When I saw you? Holy crap, I couldn't breathe. You're always beautiful. Not that that's the only reason I like you! You're my best friend. I love your passion, and your smarts, and how you won't put up with guys like Johnny getting away with any of their shit. Or me getting away with mine. I love so much about you, and I love–"

He cuts himself off before the last word, the unsaid "you" hanging between them. He knows what he meant. She probably does, too. Now isn't the right time to say it, though, so he lets his voice fade to quiet.

The Ferries wheel jerks to a stop, their carriage rocking back and forth, and the ride technician opens the door for them.

"Hey, weren't there for of you before?" she asks.

"They got off early," Danny says. He ignores the startled look on the technician’s face as he rises to his feet. On instinct, he reaches toward Sam but holds back at the last moment. Clingy. The word echoes in his head. He wavers, unsure what to do.

Sam takes the choice away from him, jerking to her feet before he can decide. She touches his hand, but doesn't take it and brushes past him, exiting the carriage onto the boardwalk.

"Harsh," the technician whispers.

"I deserve it," Danny mutters back before running after Sam. She walks at a brisk pace, weaving through the crowd toward the line of booths. Danny catches up as she reaches the first tent. "Where are we going?"

"We need to make sure Johnny and Kitty haven't trashed anything, don't we?" Sam says.

"Right, yeah." Danny wishes his ghost sense would go off. At the very least, it could tell them if Johnny and Kitty were close by, but that only worked if they left his range in the first place. In his freshman year, they might have, but today his range stretched over most of the boardwalk, if not the whole thing.

As it turns out, tracking them is easy even without Danny's sense. When he and Sam reach the tightest cluster of game booths, they find a trail of destruction. Fallen stands, scattered prizes, and shattered lights guide them through the maze of booths and back out into the main thoroughfare.

"This looks tame for Shadow," Sam comments.

"Twenty bucks says Johnny did it," Danny says as they pick their way through shattered boards.

"Not Kitty?"

"Right now, the only person she's mad at is Johnny. But when Johnny gets mad, he isn't the only source of bad luck in their trio," Danny explains. It doesn't come out often, since Shadow does most of the fighting, but he has seen it often enough to recognize the effects.

When they leave the booths behind, they find themselves near the boardwalk entrance. In the middle of the wide path, Johnny and Kitty are locked in a screaming match. Or Kitty screams while Johnny wilts with every new word.

"It was always supposed to be our place, Johnny! And you ruined it!" She beat her fist against his chest, wailing all the while.

Johnny's silence under the onslaught speaks volumes. He doesn't even look mad anymore, just heartbroken.

"All I ever wanted, and you couldn't even—!" She stops, shuddering, and takes a deep breath. Her next words come out quiet. "If you hadn't tried to look at that stupid girl! If you had just watched the road like you were supposed to!" A gut-wrenching sob cuts her off. "Leave me alone, Johnny."

She turns on her heels and runs toward the nearest building. For a moment, it doesn't look like Johnny is going to follow. His legs tremble, seconds from collapsing beneath him. He manages to lift his gaze, though, and finally notices the sign hanging over the building that Kitty missed: Hall of Mirrors.

"Shit! Kitty, wait!" he calls, but she ignores him. With another swear, he leaps up and flies after her.

"Oh, no," Danny says. He sprints across the boards, Sam following without question. They're halfway to the house of mirrors when they hear a piercing scream followed by a crash. The building crackles. Something inside pulses, imperceptible to regular humans, but it makes Danny stagger.

"Danny, what's going on?"

Before he can answer, a wave of power surges from the house and everything goes back.

—

Danny wakes to a sharp ringing in his ears. Hazy light edges his vision. His hearing returns slowly. First, the muffled sound of his name, then the fizzle and pop of broken lights, and finally the soft rumbling of a gathered crowd.

All at once, Danny becomes aware. Sam hovers at his side, her hair tousled, a thin cut on her temple, and her hat in her hands. He sits up, squeezing his eyes shut when the world spins around him. Sam provides a steady hand, rubbing small circles on his back until he can open his eyes again. Around them, the stalls are dark. Thirty feet out in every direction from the house of mirrors, every light is broken. Glass litters the boardwalk. The normally glowing entrance to the park is dark, the metal twisted. Beyond that, the ticket booth lies on its side.

Directly ahead of them, a large crack splits the house of mirrors.

"What... what was that?" Sam asks. "It was like Shadow's power but way bigger. I've never... did Johnny do that? I didn't know he could."

Danny groans, rubbing his head. The piercing ring lingers in the back of his head, and it probably won't fade for a while, but it is not so bad that he can't ignore it. "Normally, yeah, but..." He grimaces. "We should get in there."

Sam nods and helps Danny to his feet, pulling him up by the arm. He staggers toward the broken attraction with Sam at his shoulder, casting wary glances all around them.

The gathered crowd isn’t big, yet. It looks like Danny was the only one knocked off his feet, the only one really affected by the ghostly surge—three guesses as to why that is, and the first two don't count. Judging by the sparks still raining down down from the shattered lights, it has only been a minute since the surge. Security isn't here yet. That gives them some time.

The employee manning the attractions sits on the boards, staring wide-eyed at the broken building. He doesn't even blink as Danny and Sam slip through the curtain.

Inside, it's dark. The lights are all down. Glass crunches under their shoes, every mirror in sight shattered, leaving blank boards behind. Johnny and Kitty aren't far from the entrance, no more than a few feet. Sam sees them first, catches the glow of their auras in the corner of her eye, and points toward a dead-end alcove after the first bend in the maze.

Kitty is tucked against Johnny's chest, her jacket pulled up around her head. Johnny has his arms around her waist, and his soft voice provides the only noise beyond the glass under Danny and Sam's feet.

When Johnny hears them, lifts his head, just enough to glare at them through the darkness. No threats spill from his lips, though, and he goes back to comforting Kitty soon enough.

Danny can't help it. He looks down at the mirror shards below them, and immediately wishes he didn't. Bloody road rash stretches up Kitty's right side, torn to the bone. Her face, protected by the darkness around them, and the shadows of her jacket, remains hidden from Danny's prying eyes. He prefers it that way.

A gentle nudge at his side reminds him that Sam is with them.

"What's going on?" she mouths.

Danny crouches, carefully not to make too much noise, and picks up a shard of glass. Johnny still hears him, though, and Shadow rises threateningly at the sight of the glass. Danny holds up a placating hand, then motions to Sam, the glass, then himself.

No matter what low opinion Johnny has of Danny right now, he wouldn't stoop so far as to expose other ghosts like that. To Danny's surprise, however, Johnny thrusts an arm out and motions for the glass. Danny raises his eyebrows. Johnny sticks his hand out further. Without complaint, Danny passes it over.

Johnny holds the glass up, angling it so that they can see his face. He and Kitty have matching road rash.

Sam gasps.

"Come on," Danny says to Johnny and Kitty. "Security will come soon. And if they see a couple of ghosts, you know they'll call my parents."

Kitty sniffs. Danny can't see her well behind the jacket, but the way her hair bobs, he assumes she nodded. All four of them go intangible, Danny lending his power to Sam. They slip through the mirrors toward the side of the building and step out into the open air. As Johnny continues to comfort Kitty, Danny creeps toward the corner of the building and peers out into the open. They left just in time. A security guard pushes through the gathered crowd and heads for the front entrance.

Danny retreats before anyone can see him, leaning against the side of the building. He shudders.

"I didn't know that could happen," Sam whispers as she comes up beside Danny.

"Not your fault. Ghosts don't make a point of going near mirrors," he says.

"You do, all the time. I saw you in a mirror this week."

"In your locker, yeah. But I'm not a ghost all the time. It doesn't work when I'm in human form."

"So, when you picked up the glass..." Sam trails off. Danny doesn't answer, letting her fill in the blanks for herself.

Neither of them says anything for a long moment. They hear the shout of the security guard, calling an al clear. Danny feels sorry for the workers at the park who have to deal with the aftermath. It didn't affect the whole boardwalk—he can see the Ferris wheel operating just fine, and a glow in the air from the game booth lights.

"Hey, kid."

Danny lifts his head toward Johnny.

"We're heading out. Consider us even."

"Thanks for showing her." Danny tilts his head back and thumps it against the wall of the house of mirrors. "You know, so I didn't have to."

Johnny shrugs. "Yeah, whatever. You're too young to deal with that shit, is all. Take care of your girl, alright?" He doesn't wait for an answer. Kitty is already gone, and Johnny goes invisible before Danny can think of a reply, leaving him and Sam alone.

"You never actually answered," Sam says, breaking the silence between them. "About why you took the double date."

Thank God it's too dark for Sam to see Danny's face go scarlet. In retrospect, of course Johnny's idea wouldn't end well, Danny was just so desperate he was willing to risk it.

"I asked him for dating advice," he mutters.

Sam splutters, a startled laugh bursting out of her. "What?"

"I couldn't think of anyone else to ask, so we made a deal. He invites us on a double date and gives me some tips, and I don't tell Kitty I caught him at the girl's college."

"You are such a dork." Sam snickers. "Is that why you kept watching him? I thought for a second me and Kitty might need to band together to keep you two apart."

Danny groans. "Please don't say that. Tucker already got me with that."

"Good. I hope he did." Sam shuffles over, leaning against Danny, and rests her head on his shoulder. "Danny, I don't need to hang off you like some soul-bound lovebird. We've known each other for ten years. I don't need some idealized romance, I just need you."

Danny feels like an idiot for ever thinking otherwise. The date might have been a train wreck, but half the boardwalk is still functioning. Maybe the evening doesn't have to be a total waste. He pulls the roll of game tickets—a precious commodity at the boardwalk—from his pocket and holds them out.

"Want to win Tucker that shark?" he asks.

Sam laughs, her shoulder shaking against his. "Only if we can ride the spaceship car on the Tilt-a-Whirl."

"Deal."

69 notes · View notes

dekalko-mania · 3 years

Text

Things That Lurk in the Dark (Pt. 1)

Amity changed the day the portal opened, in more ways than one.

....

As a young child, Danny had an immense fear of the dark, so severe that he had slept with his parents until they'd attached glowing stars to his ceiling and assured him there was nothing wrong. He'd assumed the problem was no longer there, pushed aside by the many other obstacles he'd faced in his past year of ghost-fighting.

He'd assumed wrong, it seemed, when he began to once again see the shadows in a sinister light.

Danny had first attributed it to his increasing paranoia, an overactive imagination fueled by being constantly alert. He was used to seeing things that were not there upon second glance, accustomed to jumping at any figure he saw from his peripheral vision. This was different, he knew, when he found himself knocking on Jazz's door more often, asking if he could sleep on her floor.

"This is the third night in a row, are you sure you're okay?"

His sister asked the question every night without fail, despite only ever receiving a lie as an answer. His nightmares were back, that was his response, knowing all too well that to get them he would have to have slept at all.

He lay awake that night, lulled into a rare sense of calm by Jazz's soft breaths. Maybe if he counted them, like one counted sheep, he could finally rest.

He planned on doing just that, when a familiar humming filled the room, coming from beside his sister's desk. He sat up, head snapping in the direction of the intrusion as tendrils of darkness formed into abstract shapes.

He stared, not daring to take a breath as he waited. Tonight, he would let it be for longer, observe first and then shoot after. As he watched, cold waves of terror creeping up his spine, the shadows formed into what looked like a door.

He had previously predicted they would become something outright threatening, a creature that lurked in pitch black, or a hand creeping out from beneath their wooden floors. This was somehow much worse, a gateway from who knows where, into their world.

Getting on all fours, he crawled forward, reaching out towards the handle. Before he could make contact, it began to jiggle, beginning as a gentle side to side, and rapidly shifting into an aggressive attempt to enter.

Without sparing a thought, he lit a fire on his palms, green and incredibly bright to ward the door away. That somehow always seemed to work, destroying whatever fragile arrangement had made its place near him.

Deciding that sleep was out of the picture, he shifted into a sitting position, keeping his eyes out for any more potential threats. The following morning, Jazz found him that way, both hands set ablaze and drooping eyes filled with apprehension.

....

It had been difficult explaining away Jazz’s worry, even more difficult to explain to Sam and Tucker why he was acting so strangely. He had grown as Phantom, realized that when facing his fears it was better to be strong and fight through them. If he let his guard down, people would be hurt.

Yet, somehow, after literally facing death, he found himself once again fighting against a childhood fear. It was humiliating, having to admit it, so he kept it hidden as best as he could.

"Daniel!"

Danny shot up, snatching the arm waving in front of him on instinct, earning a series of giggles from the class. He tightened his grip, realizing that the lights had been dimmed in the time he'd been nodding off. Already, in that short time frame, he was beginning to see the darkness curling into itself like smoke, caressing the walls in unnatural shades. Surely someone had to have noticed?

"What, he’s gonna fight the teacher now?"

"Loser."

Danny took a sharp intake of air, seeing who exactly the arm belonged to. With an apologetic expression, he released Mr. Lancer’s wrist, lowering his head and mustering the most sincere “sorry” he was capable of in his current state.

“It’s alright, I’ve faced worse at PTA meetings,” Lancer grunted, upset but with a kind tone. “I noticed you dozed off. I know educational movies aren’t preffered, but unless you pay attention, you’re going to fail the upcoming exam.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny repeated. “It’s just, the lighting here is making it hard to stay awake. Could we maybe flip a switch?”

Danny did his best to hide the tremor in his voice, all too aware that the gaze of Dash and co. were pinned onto him. Lancer, unaware, surveyed his student, face unreadable as he apparently didn’t like what he saw.

In a low mutter, he told Danny to grab his backpack and wait for him in his office. As someone who had been sent there countless times in the past, he needed no direction, quietly making his way out of the classroom with a mental groan at seeing Dash smirk in his direction.

Great, among his cryptic visions he would now have to deal with his long-time bully.

Danny leaned against the lockers, running his hand along them for stability in the all too quiet hallway. The humming was everywhere, within the walls, under the cracks in empty classrooms. Anywhere scarce of light, they always lingered, the vague figures, never tangible except for the doors. The longer he stared at one spot, the more Danny noticed them.

They had always been there, waiting for him to spot, knobs twisting as the unknown tried to worm themselves inside of him. They appeared to him as Fenton the most, weak human Fenton, rendered useless with limited access to his ghost powers. He’d found himself growing bitter of this half of him more as of late, wishing that he could always carry the confidence of Phantom, the fearlessness.

He pushed open the office door more aggressively than he’d intended, dumping himself onto a leather chair with a heavy sigh. He inspected the room in his wait for Lancer, fingers twitching with impatience. The man meant well, setting him aside from a situation that obviously made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t find it within himself to appreciate it just yet.

Maybe he would be more grateful if the humming would stop. He clasped his hands over his ears, overwhelmed by the frustrating noise that never ceased to grate on his nerves. As if taunting him, the sound seemed to travel through the flimsy barrier his fingers provided, emanating from his right side.

Thump, thump, thump

He glanced over to the source, teeth clenching at the old storage cabinet that filled his vision. Its drawers rattled, forcing themselves open, before crashing closed.

The surreal qualities of Amity were everywhere, strongest in the darkest places. Objects disappearing in the blink of an eye, room layouts changing completely on a daily basis, all things that the residents should’ve noticed. But no one did, not even his family or closest friends.

He was alone, the only one who was aware of his bizarre surroundings, now stuck in a room with a seemingly haunted cabinet. Danny stood, shifting into a fighting position.

“Whoever you are, get out of there right now!”

The slamming stopped, relieving him for a minute, before restarting again with increasing vigor. It was like it was mocking him, the whole town was.

“Cut it out! I can’t deal with this crap anymore!” He readied a blast, uncaring if he would get detention for the rest of the year. “I’ll give you until three-”

The rattling came to an end, leaving the room quiet except for the ticking of a clock on the wall.

“I can’t believe that actually worked.” He relaxed his posture, though only by a margin as he’d learned to never underestimate his luck’s ability to run thin.

“Daniel?”

He jumped, realizing Lancer must’ve walked in while his student was glaring at the cabinet. He stuffed his hands into his pocket, attempting to seem unfazed.

“Was that you yelling? I could hear it from the hallway.”

“Um, yeah sorry. I thought there was a ghost.”

“Is that what it is?” Lancer closed the door, gesturing for him to sit down. “I wanted to talk to you about your behavior lately. You’ve been more taciturn than usual, perhaps it’s due to the increase in ghost activity?”

Huh, so there were some who had noticed something odd, even though it wasn’t to the full extent. Danny thought for a moment, testing the waters. Maybe Lancer saw more than he let on, noted the gradual changes to their city.

Quietly, uncertain with his teacher’s response, Danny spoke. “I’m fine. Things have just been a little odd lately, besides the ghosts.”

“Well, I have an hour until my next class. Perhaps you can explain it to me,” Lancer leaned forward, showing his undivided attention. “You’ve been doing well this semester, I don’t want us going back to square one.”

Danny thought back to his freshmen year, bombarded with the change of his lifetime, having absolutely no time for his assignments or anything else in between. It was an arduous effort adjusting to his new life, or half life, and he wasn’t keen on losing control of everything he’d worked so hard for.

“No, I don’t want to either. It’s the changes that are bothering me, I think. Amity.” He glanced over at Lancer’s face, eyeing any changes in expression.

“I don’t think I follow.” He looked slightly confused.

At this point, Danny would’ve usually given up, swept the issue under the rug and moved on with his day. He didn’t enjoy sharing his emotions, his burdens, but he just needed to know that there wasn’t something wrong with him, that someone else could see it too.

“Don’t you ever see...I don’t know, weird things that shouldn’t be happening? Maybe hear noise and see light under a door, but walk in and there’s nothing there?” He steeled himself, looking up to meet Lancer directly in the eye, hoping that the man saw that he was speaking with clarity. “Or have you ever been behind a locked door and felt that someone was trying to get in? Or the dark...that’s where it’s the worst. Do you see any of that?”

“I can’t say I do, Daniel.” Lancer frowned. “And if that was the case, I would say it was the ghosts.”

“But it’s not the ghosts. I know it’s not them.” His ghost sense would’ve gone off by now. “Entire buildings shift positions at night, there’s this dark fog everywhere. I know it sounds crazy-”

Lancer held up a hand. “I’ll have to stop you there. Nothing is ever too far fetched in this place, and I don’t like my students discrediting themselves before they get a chance to fully speak.” He paused, considering, before continuing with a grim tone. “Look, I know you won’t particularly like this answer, but do you think it possible you’re being haunted? It’s not unheard of for ghosts to become attached to a host here.”

“I don’t...” It wasn’t possible for ghosts to haunt other ghosts, was it?

“Before you decide, I suggest you talk to your parents. I know people your age don’t like to approach them for help, but they’re the biggest paranormal experts in town. You’ll find a solution there.”

Realizing that was the best response he was going to get, Danny slumped into his seat, disillusioned. “Alright, I’ll try bringing it up to them tonight.”

“Good, and in the meantime, you know my office hours. I’m always open to helping you catch up.”

....

Danny had absolutely no intention of approaching his parents about his findings, confronting them was his very last resort. He remembered the incident with Youngblud, how their first instinct was to scare the crazy out of him, and he wasn’t keen on repeating it.

Still, Lancer had unintentionally given him an idea, one he was surprised he hadn’t thought of before. If by any chance something was going on in Amity and his parents knew about it, they were sure to have kept data, information that the entire Fenton family was privy to. His parents were unconventional in the sense that their work was not kept secret from their children, all security activated by fingerprints or face recognition.

It was, he knew, done with the hope that their kids would become just as interested in the study of the paranormal as they were. It was also, what they did not know, partly responsible for contributing to his accident.

After double checking that his parents were not home, he snuck down to the lab, beelining his way to their work computer. As expected, it was easy as usual to log in, endless arrays of information at his disposal. To an untrained eye, his parent’s work was disorganized, even Vlad had said so. But he knew better, knew his way around their strangely named folders like he was reading the table of contents in a nonfiction novel.

Ghost profiles, weaponry charts, data on present, past, and future projects, new developments...there.

He clicked on the folder, apprehensive as it took a moment to load. Once it did, it took only a glance to tell that something was very, very wrong.

Unnatural levels of ectoplasm in the air, measurements at a high of-

Cognitive dissonance experienced by a reported 1 in 10 Amity citizens, signs of-

Missing teen, Ross Lucas, 16 years old, blonde hair, blue eyes, last seen in Amity Forest Reserve-

Polluted lake at Amity Central Park, no side effects reported, but water glows green-

Missing woman, 37 years old, brown hair, brown eyes, last seen in Amity Forest Reserve-

Reported disorientation, home layout changed. Upon further questioning, memory loss is reported, no reminder of filing the report-

Minor detail: green tint to sky at certain points of the day-

Missing man, 22 years old, brown hair, brown eyes, last seen in Amity Forest Reserve-

Poltergeist activity, Amity Police Station-

Missing teen, Jenny Lee, 15 years old-

Missing-

-last seen in Amity Forest Reserve

From above, Danny heard the telltale rattle of the front door opening, lumbering footsteps and daintier ones tapping along the tile.

Acting on impulse, Danny shut down the computer, turning invisible and keeping quiet in case his parents approached. Sure enough, he heard them nearing the lab after a minute of rustling. He stood, holding his breath, while the Fenton’s chatter got nearer as they appeared. He noted that his dad carried a briefcase, unusual for a man who preferred his casual attire, one with the Amity Police Department seal along the bottom corner.

After what he had seen, he could only stare at the case in apprehension.

“Let’s handle this before the kids are home, Jack. I don’t want to scare them.”

“Why can’t we tell them? It’s dangerous right now, Mads. Vladdie wouldn’t risk the safety of his god kids for this.”

His mom sighed, plopping onto the desk chair and booting up the computer. “I want to as well. Especially Danny, he’s always sneaking off somewhere. I can’t imagine him leaving, seeing his name among the victims.”

“We don’t have to ask him for permission...”

“You’re right, we don’t. The kids know how to keep quiet.” Maddie went silent, gesturing over for the case. Jack laid it on the table, unlocking it with a quick passcode and handing her a series of documents. She placed them beside her, pulling up a series of weaponry profiles.

“What I don’t understand,” she continued, “is why he was so adamant about them not knowing. Danny more than Jazz. What could possibly be the issue of keeping them safe?”

“Vladdie thinks ahead. Maybe he was worried they would try solving this themselves. Do you want me to ready the vault?” Upon his wife’s nod, Jack made his way over to the section of the wall behind Danny, waving a hand over a sensor to reveal hidden sliding metal doors. From behind them, hundreds of weapons resided, all of various types. He grabbed two, planting them beside Maddie. “Anyhow, this is one of those rare times I admit I disagree with him. Let’s tell them tonight.”

His wife chuckled, amused at the prospect of Jack disobeying his dear Vlad.

“That’s rare to hear.” She bit her lip, eyeing the sheet. “What a tragedy. There’s a group that’s gone missing, we haven’t had so many at one time.”

“That’s five people! What were they doing in there?”

“I don’t know, the forest is rumored to have more ghosts than usual. You know how teens are, maybe it was a dare. The question is, how is it possible that our devices state the victims are in the vicinity, but none of them have come out?”

“Perhaps they’re being held captive, or maybe, maybe they’ve become...”

Jack didn’t dare finish the sentence, but Danny knew what he meant to say. If something evil lurked within the reserve, a being that wouldn’t allow a human to live, it’s possible their spirit hadn’t moved on.

Trapped within its confines as a ghost.

“I’m holding onto hope that’s not the case. We’ll get them out Jack, we’ve got Amity’s biggest experts joining us in the raid tonight. Vlad himself will be there, it’ll be alright.”

Deciding he’d heard enough, Danny kicked off, uncaring of the clatter of beakers he left in his wake. There was someone he needed to see, a person who owed him an explanation and who deserved the sucker punch of their afterlife.

His parent’s were optimistic, and whatever raid they spoke of obviously included thorough planning, but if there was anything he’d learned about fighting the paranormal, it was that one was not sure if those on the front lines would make it out alive.

He couldn’t allow that, he had placed that responsibility onto himself, and he would be damned if someone else would have to bear it.

#Danny Phantom #dp fanfiction #danny phantom fanfiction #things that lurk in the dark #haven't posted any dp fics before lets hope this is alright so far lmao #im a slow writer so bare with me sorry in advance :')#my fics

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abbysfrenchbraid · 4 years

Note

Hello! I’d like to request an imagine with Abby and a female reader, I was thinking something like they’re both on a mission and lose (not death) eachother because of how hectic everything is

(image reference by @cloudyreality)

What a great idea for my first time writing angst! Thank you for your request 💌

This is a 3.7k fic in which the reader and other members of the Salt Lake Crew are called out on a rescue mission and things get chaotic.

Warnings: language, violence (against reader and others), mention of attempted sexual assault, death (no major character)

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A Close Call

You were ripped from your sleep by a firm hand shaking your shoulder. When you opened your eyes, Manny’s bearded face was inches from yours. It was still dark outside, the only light in the room creeping inside through the cracked door to the hallway.

“Get up, Y/N, we need you.”

You rose with a start, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and grabbing some clothes to put on.

“A mission? Right now? What’s going on?”

Manny filled up your water bottle and brought you another few supplies while you packed your bag.

“Scar attack during a patrol run. Owen just came back alone, Jordan and Leah are still out there. Jordan got hit, I don’t know how bad it is but we gotta get them out of there immediately.”

Quickly slipping on your boots and grabbing your jacket, you followed Manny out the door and to the garage.

Nora and Abby came in at the same time, carrying a metal box with medical supplies. Abby’s face was still pale from sleep but her eyes were alert and focused. Owen was standing at the back of a truck and marking the way to the others on a map of the city center. When he turned around, you flinched. He looked awful. His eyes were sunken in and there was no color in his face except for a dark purple bruise on his cheekbone. Yet, as he spoke, he sounded calm and collected, ready to get this mission done and bring everyone back safely.

“Alright, I left them at this bank here. The rain these last days has made the rivers downtown much more dangerous, I just tried to map out the best way with the Jeep but be prepared to continue on foot if needed. Jordan took an arrow to the hip and it somehow paralyzed his leg, we couldn’t get him out of there alone.

I need us to always stay together in a tight group, watch all possible hiding spaces for Scars, and get in the bank as fast as possible. Then, Nora has to try and patch him up as much as possible so we can take him back to the truck. Manny and I will carry him. I need you” - he looked at Abby and you - “and Leah to protect us and Nora on the way. Be as quiet as possible. Understood?”

You all agreed and Owen jumped in the driver’s seat while Manny sat next to him with the map to navigate. Abby lifted the metal trunk in the back of the truck and helped Nora up.

“You okay, Y/N? I can hear your teeth rattling from here.”

You tried a smile. “Thanks, Abby, I’m alright. Just cold and tired, I hope this works out as planned.”

She helped you up as well, then she jumped on and closed the tailgate, sitting down next to you and putting an arm around you to keep you warm. No one spoke, but as you leaned closer into Abby, Nora gave you a slight smile and a nod. You were going to be okay.

As expected, the flooding in the city was worse than usual, but at least the rain had stopped and the moon guided your way. You could already see the building Jordan and Leah were hopefully safe in at the moment when Owen suddenly stopped the car.

You stood up to see what was going on and swallowed hard as you saw the scene in front of you: rapids had formed in the river and were brutally ripping down plants and taking other objects with them. You had to get to the other side and, even more difficult, get back with the injured Jordan.

Everyone began moving silently down the stream, weapons drawn and forming a circle around Nora and her medical kit. When you finally found a more or less safe spot to cross, Owen and Manny went first, testing out the rocks and debris that had been wedged into each other to form a momentarily stable bridge over the rapids. Nora went next, silently jumping from step to step and keeping an impressive balance and smoothness to her movements. Abby covered you as you quickly crossed the stream and quickly followed your steps, placing her hand on the small of your back reassuringly as your team rebuilt its tight formation and started moving through the shadows towards the abandoned bank.

Owen led you to a side entrance he had covered with some wooden planks and the five of you quickly slipped inside. You were all on the lookout for infected but the place seemed clear, the rings of your flashlights illuminating the counters and smashed glass fronts, rotting bills of old money on the floor and finally the door to the back room where you could hear quiet voices.

Leah jumped up and drew her gun as Owen entered. A wave of relief washed over her face when she recognized Owen and Nora, the medic rushing to the injured man on the floor beside the dark-haired soldier.

“Oh thank god you’re here! I was so scared you didn’t make it to the base.”

Jordan was conscious but badly hit. An arrow was protruding from the top of his right leg right at the hip joint and a small pool of blood had formed on the floor underneath. Manny sat down next to Nora and helped her sort out her supplies. He loosened the makeshift bandage Leah had made out of some old fabric and tied around Jordan’s leg and hips. Nora was Isaac‘s best medic and she proved her reputation now. Completely calm and collected, she clipped off the arrow and started to strategically fasten bandages around Jordan‘s torso.

„I can’t take the arrowhead out here, it’s probably damaged some nerves, and pulling it out could make it worse. You need surgery back at the base. Can someone get me more fabric and something to make a splint?“

Leah quickly got some towels from a cupboard and started cutting it into stripes while Owen took his axe to some shelves and brought back a few long, slim pieces of wood.

You knelt down and helped stabilize the wounded wolf as Nora began fastening the wooden splints to Jordan‘s leg and hip, forcing him to stay completely straightened out so he wouldn’t fall or bend over and increase the damage to his hip.

Jordan would be carried upright, supported by Owen and Manny and using his healthy leg to move with them. A stretcher would make a bigger target and immobilize those who carried it; you were still in a war zone.

You helped Nora pack her things while the men got into position and Leah and Abby discussed the best defensive formation for the way back. Abby was going to go first and keep an eye out for any movements, then the three men, then Nora and Leah in case Jordan needed help, and finally you to watch your backs.

At the front door, you took a final breath and braced yourselves, then Abby gave the signal to move. The first steps went better than expected. You were moving fast, the only sound being Jordan’s quiet panting as he gave his last bit of strength to get back to the truck.

When you were almost at the crossover, you noticed something in a first-story window across the river. The woman clad in beige and brown saw you at the same moment. She pulled out an arrow from behind her head in one swift motion and cocked her crossbow just as you screamed „Get down!!! Ambush!“

Suddenly there was movement. You ducked and the arrow intended for your head soared over your shoulder so closely you could hear the feathers on it whispering in your ear.

Hooded figures emerged behind pillars and burned-out cars just as you pulled your gun and shot at the woman in the window. Her mouth opened as if she wanted to say something, then her head tipped back and she vanished from sight.

There was no time for shock, you had to protect yourself and your team. Abby was fighting a large man with a giant hammer, but you could tell she would be fine. Jordan had slung his arms over Owen‘s shoulders from the back and held on so he would stay standing up while Owen had his hands free. He was shooting at Scars further away while Manny was dealing deadly blows to a younger man‘s head with a metal pipe. Leah was covering Nora with a shotgun and blasting away through the empty car windows. You stepped out from the shelter of the house front and scanned the other buildings for more archers, ignoring the screams of anger and pain around you. Protect the squad. Watch your backs.

The man Abby had fought was lying in a puddle of his own blood. She was further away from you now and fighting two younger scars at once. One of them slashed her arm with a knife and she howled out in rage. Your first instinct was to scream out her name but you stopped yourself. It would distract her and allow the scar couple to catch her off guard. She was furious, pulling two knives and lunging forward at her attackers. They stood no chance, red hot blood spilling from both their throats as they looked at each other with an expression that seemed surprised, but not scared. They staggered towards each other and fell to the ground, choking and wheezing before finally laying still.

Abby had already moved on to help Owen fight a man with an axe that had come dangerously close while he had to take a second to reload.

Suddenly a rush of panic made you whirl around and look up. An older man with a bow almost as tall as him was standing on a first-floor balcony, aiming directly at you. You pointed and shot exactly at the same time he let go of the arrow.

Too slow. You watched the arrow come towards you in slow motion, undeviating from its owner's last target. Your attempt to dodge the sharp silver dart came too late. The tip sank into your shoulder as you watched the man fall forward and hit the ground with a dull thump.

The others hadn’t noticed what had happened. Leah was fighting back to back with Manny, Nora was crouching behind her trunk and shooting at a woman running towards her, Owen was holding up Jordan behind a pillar and shooting at several scars still behind the cars and Abby was in another bloody fight with two men with a hammer and a knife.

Your shoulder didn’t hurt at all. It just felt like someone was pushing you back, trying to tip you over. Stumbling backward, you scanned the buildings trying to find other scars on higher ground before they could hurt your friends. A sense of calm waved over you. You had done your job, there were no other Seraphites hidden to attack from behind. The gun in your hand dropped to the ground, the metal clank strangely loud in front of the fighting noise.

As you fell backward, you could hear the rushing of water underneath you. The rapids were screaming at you, daring you to take up a fight with them and lose as so many others had before. The surface felt like a brick wall when you hit it, then the current pulled you under. The water was ice cold, thousands of needles pricking you at once and suddenly there it was. Agonizing pain. Your shoulder felt like a fire had been lit inside of it and it was burning your lungs from the inside, eating you up and leaving no room for anything else. You let out a terrified scream that was swallowed by the water around you.

You needed to get to the surface. Breathe in air before your lungs could fill with water. You kicked and thrashed about, trying to find your way back up without moving your wounded arm. Finally, you burst through and gasped for air, your functioning hand desperately grabbing on to plants and scraps of metal at the water’s edge. How far had the water carried you already? Were the others ever going to find you?

You managed to hold on to a branch and pull yourself onto the riverbank, the water relentlessly continuing to pull and tear at your feet. Your teeth were chattering and you couldn’t feel your hands and feet, breathing becoming the hardest task this day had given you.

„It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re just going into shock, it’s okay, they’ll find you, just breathe,“ you kept whispering to yourself as you lay on your back and closed your eyes.

You could hear shots echoing from the walls of the buildings and screaming; they couldn’t be far. After a last, deafening shot, there was silence. Owen was talking, he sounded exhausted but okay. Apparently, no one had gotten badly hurt. Suddenly you could hear Abby screaming.

„Y/N?! Y/N!!! Where are you?!“

You had never heard her this distraught before. Her voice was cracking and her yelling was high-pitched and panicked. Now everyone was screaming your name and running around. You tried to take a deep breath and answer but only produced a gurgling sound.

„Y/N?! Fuck, check if she was pulled behind one of the cars or into the building. Did these pendejos take her?“ That was Manny. He was close.

„Abby, come here! Her gun!“

Someone was running. Metal scraping over concrete. „Y/N!!! Are you down there? Fuck, you think she fell in? The rapids, oh god-“

It sounded like Abby was close to crying now, screaming and pleading your name as she ran along the river.

„She’s not in here, I checked.“ That was Leah. „Shit, did she fall in the stream?“

„I don’t know, her gun was next to it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, please let her be okay. Do you guys see anything in the water?“ The usually so collected and strong soldier sounded absolutely terrified.

You tried to answer again. It was only a whisper, but you kept going.

„Abby, I’m here. Please come. Abby.“

Your whisper became a mumble, your raspy voice refusing to work with you, but you concentrated and tried again.

The steps were close. You took a deep breath. „Abby.“

„Y/N?!“

A blonde-haired head peeked over the broken off concrete over your head. Abby looked horrible, tears leaving white streaks in a mixture of blood and dirt on her pale skin, her lip cut open and bleeding and strands of hair sticking to the drying blood on her face and neck. When she saw you however, her face lit up and she screamed out „She’s here! Come quick!“

With a single jump she was next to you, pulling your upper body onto her knees and lifting your head so you could breathe better. Manny and Nora were there in a heartbeat. The dark-skinned woman pressed a hand to your shoulder and raised her eyebrows.

„Another arrow? Jesus Christ. Y/N, listen to me, you’re gonna be fine. I’m going to get that thing out of you as soon as we’re back at the stadium. I'll patch you up a bit now, but we really need to get moving."

„That’s okay,“ you whispered. „I’m just so cold.“

Abby immediately took off her jacket. Nora stopped her.

„Wait, let’s get that wet jacket off first. We’re gonna have to cut her out of her clothes anyway.“

She grabbed a knife and quickly freed you from your soaked, ice-cold army jacket, then she cut off the long arrow a few inches from the entrance wound. The medic was quick to press some bandages around the wound and form a sling out of strips of fabric to fixate your arm to your chest. When she was done, Manny helped prop you up and wrap you into Abby‘s jacket. It was coated in blood, but still warm and most importantly, it was dry.

„Everything okay down there? How long until we can move?“ Owen yelled.

Nora closed her metal case. „We’re done for now. You can start moving Jordan to the crossover, we’ll be right with you!“

Abby gently pushed her arms under your body and pulled you towards her. You wrapped your healthy arm around her neck and she followed Manny and Nora back up to the others.

„I thought I’d lost you.“ Her voice was quiet, her eyes still alarmed and scanning the perimeter. You sank your head against her chest and found comfort in her warmth.

„I know, me too. I thought I’d drown.“

The blonde inhaled sharply and held you tighter, not able to look you in the eye.

„I should have paid more attention to you and protected you. I'm so sorry.“

Before you could reply, you had reached the stepping stones through the water. Leah, Owen and Manny were helping each other carry Jordan over to the other side, deeply focused but still on edge for any possible attackers. Nora was next, pressing her medical kit to her chest and hopping from one safe step to another in concentration. You and Abby went last. She carried you like it was nothing, never losing her balance in the slightest while Manny and Leah were watching the area attentively with their guns drawn.

When you finally got to the Jeep, the others made a bed of blankets in the back for Jordan and you. Leah sat cross-legged with her boyfriend's head in her lap and Abby lifted you up on the platform next to him. She climbed up and pulled you close to her again while the others got on, still on guard. Owen and Manny jumped in the front and Owen hit the gas.

He was driving as fast as possible without throwing you two around in the back. Nora was already preparing Jordan for surgery, he would be the first in the operating room. Manny tried to radio the stadium entrance so they would get everything ready for your arrival but had had no luck so far.

Abby was rocking back and forth slightly, softly caressing your hair and face with her rough, bloody fingers. The terror in her eyes still hadn’t subsided, she was staring through you and chewing on her bottom lip.

„Abby.“ It took all your strength to form the words that were fighting to get out. „This wasn’t your fault. We all did the best we could. It’ll be okay.“

She flinched and looked up, letting her eyes wander over the buildings around you.

„I should have watched your back. I didn’t even see you fall.“

Her eyes were glinting, tears dangerously close to following the paths that had been carved out for them earlier. You put your healthy hand over the soldier's and were surprised to find she was shaking.

„Listen to me, Abigail. I don’t blame you for any of this. If you need my forgiveness, you have it. I know you did all you could. Will you please forgive yourself, too?“

Her mouth became a harsh line as she wiped away the tears with the wrist of her free hand. She turned her head and raised a hand, probably to greet the wolves at the entrance to the base. You knew you wouldn’t get anything else out of her.

Abby had this habit of making everything her problem, her responsibility, or, in the worst case, her fault. It had been that way when those men from the outpost had followed you one night after drinking too much a year ago. You had watched a movie with Abby and Manny in their room and walked back to yours when the hunters emerged from the cafeteria. They had come on to you from the back and tried to hold you down but they didn’t know you and weren’t expecting you to be a trained fighter. You brought them up to speed in less than a minute and they were out cold long enough for you to get Isaac, Abby, and a few other soldiers to be there when they woke up. Isaac had them thrown in his prison wing and you hadn’t seen them since. He probably tested out some tactical ideas on them and you didn’t mind one bit.

Abby however had been inconsolable. She didn’t speak for a week after, infuriated with herself and convinced the attack was her fault as she should have walked you back to your room and watched your back. You had tried to get her to calm down and let it go for weeks, telling her over and over that nothing had happened and you could take care of yourself. She had probably never really gotten over it, even though she had slowly become her normal self again.

This had to be a hundred times worse. You had actually gotten hurt today, and none of it was Abby’s fault but you knew there was nothing you could say. So you just held her hand and pressed yourself closer to her body, closing your eyes and waiting to arrive at the medical tract.

Luckily people were already waiting for you, instantly carrying Jordan inside on a stretcher and offering you one, too. Abby just told them to get out of her way as she carried you in the second operating room and laid you down on the cold table.

“I’ll stay right here all the way through, I’m not leaving. You just keep breathing.”

The pain and disappointment in her flat voice were heartbreaking. You squeezed her hand and nodded. “Thank you, Abby. I’ll give my best.”

When the medics came in to get you prepped for surgery and put you under a light anesthetic, you were almost asleep anyway. Abby cleared the space for them but stayed in the corner of the room like a statue, grinding her teeth in thought as she stared at the table beneath you.

You knew you had to make this right somehow, you couldn’t let Abby beat herself up over this forever. As you drifted into a sedated sleep, you promised yourself to spend every day at Abby’s side until she was laughing again. This woman was everything to you and you would show her. You would love her so much she had to finally forgive herself and let go of all the regret to make way for better things.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #the last of us 2 #abby tlou #abby simp society #abby anderson fic #abigail anderson #angst

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paversandplatters · 3 years

Text

||𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚙|| (3/20)

Apocalypse! Au (TW! Minor gore and cussing)

Reader x multiple

Chapter 3: A Site to Behold

Nick manages a slow shake of his head as she looks up at the railings of the church choir loft, it’s about 20 feet above them. She reaches for the knife at her hip, pulling the bloodstain instrument from her belt keeping it at the ready. With a few hand signals motioning to follow.

With some great reluctance they begin to ascend the stairs with her cringing slightly as each wooden step creaks softly in protest. Once at the top she realizes that there are three doors two on the left hand wall, both a women's and men’s restroom and at the very end of the narrow walk way is a door slightly ajar leading into what they can assume is storage. With bated breath she listens silently noting that the sound seems to be coming from the women's restroom. loud rattling and scraping of metal against the floor, heavy footsteps marching back and forth; faster and not as clumsily as the cadavers below them were. Chains, she realizes, it sounds like chains.

With a few hand waves they position themselves around the doorway with their backs against the wall she reaches for the handle of the door slowly pushing it open. The rattling of chains and footsteps stop in time with the dull whine the door makes- silence returns. Heart pounding in her ears, she glances towards Nick and George seeing how both are white knuckling their guns In anticipation of the worst.

A moment passes ...

Then another ...

Nothing.

Not a sound.

They glanced between each other- a conversation carries on silently. Who is going to look in? Though the question isn't left unanswered for very long before she takes the first step to move into the doorway, craning her neck to peek at what hellish creature maybe waiting there.

Her breath is caught mid step,She'd been expecting this but somehow the site still caught her off guard. Perhaps it's just the sheer towering height of the thing stood there in the middle of the room- it's figure outlined in the dull orange morning light that’s managed to seep through the cracks and opening of the boarded up window in this dirty abandoned restroom... Or maybe that it’s the bulky metal chains connected to each appendage. Each end of chain is anchored to different areas of the room some to the ceiling, other to the walls and the floor very obviously meant to restrict the movement of this thing. But the most striking feature was the large circular mask on its face bearing no features save a simple smiley face. Much like the biters downstairs a large crudely made cage framed his head connecting to a heavy and equally crudely made metal collar around its neck.

She's frozen, examining the creature before her. The very presence of this thing is almost overwhelmingly terrifying. It's just standing there stock-still faced in the vague direction of the door, covered head to toe in caked blood and dirt. She almost doesn't notice it at first but… it’s shoulders are rising and falling in a slow rhythm. It's breathing. It’s ALIVE.

“Holy shit!”

She must have been caught in her trance too long as Nick’s reaction not only makes her jump but also the person before them suddenly starts to move and reel backwards, thrashing violently like a wild predatory animal trying to escape its bindings. He’s backed himself into a a corner pulling on the chain hard enough she sure his wrists have to have taken some sort damage but he makes no reaction to such. Nick unconsciously stumbles back crashing into George sending them both onto their asses, George whines at the Jostling of his still unattended wounds.

“Nick what the fuck-“ The thought is suddenly cut off as he catches site of the thing before them.

“What isI the fuck is that?!”

George squeals out now three shades paler, be it from the shock or loss of blood. Nick is the first to level his gun at the figure. Instinct takes over as she knocks the gun from his hand the single round missing its target and lodging itself into the rafters above.

“WAIT!” The proclamation is met with two very confused faces.

“He's alive! don't shoot hold your fire.” She doesn't so much ask, as much demands. They exchange a look of complete disbelief, truthfully she knows they can’t be blamed.

“Just hold on they're still alive and obviously being kept here forcibly.” she clarifies. The ominously large figure pauses in its violent thrashing to turn an look in her direction or well the direction of her voice. Can this thing even see? The tension in his posture is enough to let her know he still hasn't let his guard down but is obviously listening to her words. Lord only knows what he's seen and experienced in the time that he’s been shackled here.

Cautiously she steps forward.

“You are alive aren’t you…?” It takes a moment but she’s answered with a curt nod.

“Why are you being kept here…” nothing happens for a long moment before he shrugs. She moves to take another step.

“Can you speak…?” The knife in her hand is still raised and ready. A glance behind her assures that her two companions are poised and ready for back up.

Again he doesn’t speak but his body language tenses a bit more but he doesn't make a move to oppose her coming closer. Boots thump softly against the floor, his breathing sounds labored now, likely exhausted.

“You’re injured aren’t you..?” The massive figure takes a moment to tilt his head questioningly before nodding.

“I can help, I won’t hurt you unless you hurt me… understand?”

Another nod. Good this makes this much less complicated. When her hand finds his arm, it’s quickly yanked from her grip drawn backward away from her in protest.

“Woah hold on big guy it’s just me, I have to check you over… make sure you’re not infected or something. “

He slowly stills, allowing her hand to rest on his forearm.

She begins to narrate her next steps as she moves her hands to grab the bottom of his shirt. there's too much blood, dirt and grime on the garment to be able to tell the extent of the wounds there. The shirt ends up being peeled off, having been stuck to the skin with now long coagulated clumps of blood. It reveals a long gash that starts at the bottom of his ribcage curved down to just under his left hip. She has no idea how he still holding together- from the looks of it his guts should be spilling out onto the floor. She’s not sure whether or not to call this a miracle or some hellish punishment he’s meant to endure. Continuing on to check him over, there are numerous blossoming bruises and welts, all in different stages of healing. she swears she that one of his ribs is poking out at an odd angle. The more she inspects the more it sickens her to look at.

“You’ve really been through hell haven't you..” there is no response to her words.

“He’s clean. No bites just fucked up.” She calls out confirming her findings to party waiting in the doorway.

“That thing is really alive…?” the Brit mutters out still looking on with complete shock still settled into his features.

“So now what? He must have been chained for a reason, are you just gonna let him out..?” Nick questions voice obviously portraying his concern. Again she doesn’t blame him, there’s no evidence to suggest any of this is a good idea.

“He could’ve killed me already if he wanted… besides he knows he’s out numbered..”

“What- you’re not actually going to- y/n no absolutely not!” George squawks protest.

“I can’t just leave him here.” Y/n confirms, hands already in her pocket fishing for the one of the most invaluable items she owns: a hair pin.

“He could be a murder for all you know!”

“Like we aren’t..?” She mutters back. In the two years the worlds gone to shit, survival comes at any cost- even at the expense of other people lives. It’s a harsh reality sure, but what other choice is there? You do what you can to keep moving, if you’re lucky you find a party that’s willing to move with you for the sake of safety in numbers and a common goal. George of all people should be aware of that more than anything…

With out any further words of protest, she produces the pin from her pocket setting to work on freeing his arms and legs first. He keeps to himself but begins to tremble slightly. It’s takes some time and finessing, but shackles clatters to the ground one by one. The only thing that remains on his person is the cage and mask on his head.

“You’re too tall, lean down so I can get that stupid thing off you.”

He bows his head almost eagerly, nearly folding himself in half trying to grant her as much access as possible. The angle is awkward, making the task that much harder, none the less after a few minutes of fidgeting the collar pops open. Just as soon as it does his hands fly to his neck, desperate to remove the cage. He tosses it aside, and frantically his hands reach to the back of his head pulling the straps of the mask still stuck on his face. With sheer brute force it’s pulled free, joining the cage at the other end of the room.

Suddenly she’s met with wild green eyes that peek out under from long wavy dirty blonde hair. Just barely, able to make the faint marking of freckles on his face before he turns quickly to stare down at the two men guarding the doorway. The cloth gag in his mouth is pulled free as if were made of paper.

His voice rings out raw and cracked.

“they’ll be back soon.”

Let me know if your like to be added to the tag list!

@the-wandering-pan-ace

#dsmp x reader #dream x reader #techno x reader #georgenotfound x y/n #philza x reader #sapnap x reader #dsmp #ranboo #tubbo #tommyinnit #all minor characters are left out 18+ situations #the behavior of sheep

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spookyspaghettisundae · 3 years

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Impossibilities for All

Numb legs. Dry mouth. Cold sweat.

Light shone from buzzing streetlamps and from lonesome windows, a hollow valley of brick and steel. Stars twinkled in the black sky, far above.

The tapping of sneakers echoed arrhythmically, sometimes scraping across asphalt whenever exhaustion weighed them down enough to drag. When she shouted, only her own echoes answered.

Lifeless cars stood parked along the sides of the streets. A piece of newspaper rustled as it danced madly on a gust of wind, tumbling down the sidewalk.

She had been running for what felt like forever. Her sides hurt. Even more so every time she stopped to rattle at locked doors or bang on them with her fists or call for help. Things she did less and less frequently because they proved to feel more and more pointless.

Advertisement posters of smiling people stared at her with lifeless eyes and muted corporate colors from the sides of a graffiti-covered bus stop, and neon signs glowed everywhere in the windows of shops and from the tops of tall buildings.

Yet with all these signs of a world that should be teeming with life, a city that supposedly never slept—even in this witching hour—she was all alone. Every street, every alley, every corner; all devoid of life. A husk of an urban metropolis.

Completely abandoned except for her and her pursuer. And the trail of blood she was leaving wherever she stumbled, dripping from an arm and a leg.

Every glance she shot behind her, he remained absent. But she knew he would show up any second now. If not after looking over her shoulder the sixth time, then the seventh. He had been following her since she stumbled drunk out of the party, and he had killed her friends with a crowbar.

He turned a corner and stood at the end of the street crossing from where she had just run.

As far as his attire was concerned, he looked normal. Normal as far as crazy serial killers were concerned. Crinkled three-piece suit. Holding a crowbar in one hand, hanging down with something dark dripping from it.

Just some guy. Just some crazy guy.

Just… minus a head.

And yet he walked. He walked quickly—he walked quicker than her.

And when she started running, so did he.

She did not even bother with yelling. Just no point.

Breath had to be saved. Her weary legs had to carry her faster, she had to make up for her limping, and the distance between them would shrink quickly. The sound of Kelly's skull cracking underneath the swings of that crowbar still haunted her. Rob had tried to fight back, and the end of the crowbar ripped his eyeball out with the first sickening crunch, not to mention what it must have done to the rest of his head after other blows had followed.

The headless guy with the crowbar was unstoppable. Merciless.

And just a little bit too fast for her. The deaths of her friends had bought just enough time for her to run away.

She tripped on the curb and stumbled and caught herself before running right inside a movie theater where the doors stood wide open. The letters on the glowing sign above the entrance read

THE PIANIST

Not a soul in here either, just wide-open halls with velvety red rugs and brass decor and a diffuse, warm light. Would have been nice under other circumstances.

Her breathing ran ragged, her lungs burned like they had been doused in gasoline and set on fire. She shoved her way inside a bathroom door and grabbed it from the inside and pulled it shut in hopes of stopping it from swinging—and making her pursuer struggle to find her here.

She backed away from the door and when her sneaker squeaked on the bright white clean tiles underfoot, she gasped and held her breath.

She even caught a drop of her own blood in her hand before it could hit the ground. Had to make sure he could not find her here.

She backed farther away and crept into one of the stalls and closed it behind her and locked it and stood up on top of the toilet seat where she crouched down, doing her best to not make a sound, trying not to breathe despite wanting to vomit, and her nostrils flaring more and more, and trembling all over the longer she denied her lungs that vital air.

Footsteps thumped outside. He had caught up. Ran down the movie theater hallway in his mad chase.

The thundering footsteps went right past the door to the ladies' room.

She allowed herself to breathe.

Then the running stopped.

Her breath stuttered, freezing as she held it once more, letting the searing pain in her lungs flare back up again.

Thump, thump, thump. THUD.

The bathroom door creaked as it slowly opened.

A shoe screeched when it twisted on the squeaky-clean tiles of the floor, punctuating nearing of his footsteps.

WHAM.

The door to the first stall slammed.

"You did this to me," said a raspy, gurgling voice.

The first time he had spoken since losing his head. How in the hell was he speaking, anyway?

WHAM.

The door to the second stall slammed against the wall.

"You did this to me, and you will pay," said Headless.

She had done this to him. Just yesterday. She somehow knew it had to be him.

She had bumped into him on a crowded sidewalk and down he went, tumbling right into the street where a fast truck blared its horns and swerved too late—where its massive tractor winged his head. Headless looked more like his head had been sliced off at the neck and less like half his skull had been smashed to bloody bits of bone and brain by a speeding truck. But to her, there was no doubt.

It had to be him.

WHAM.

The door to the third stall slammed against the wall.

Last door before reaching the one she hid behind.

"I'mma need all I can get to have a new head reattached," said the voice, crowned by something like retching sounds. Bubbling with anger.

Thud. THUD. THUD.

He kicked away at the door to her stall.

"I-I d-don't have any m-money on m-m-me," she stammered out in pleading. "B-b-but I have money! I can get you money, man, just l-l-leave me alone!"

She did not really. She lived on the edge of poverty even her attire said otherwise. Like most people she knew, like most people who lived outside the center of the city. But she would have promised to pluck the blue out of the sky for him at this point.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP.

Headless reared back and then lunged at the door with his heaviest kick.

THWUD!

Whatever the bathroom stall walls and doors were made of, it all splintered once he jammed the crowbar in and started jimmying it open, widening the gap to sharp sounds of the material snapping and breaking entirely.

She shrieked when he cracked open the lock far enough to reveal his decapitated silhouette.

WHAM.

She screamed when he kicked the busted door fully open.

Headless pulled his crowbar back in both hands, readying to bring it crashing down on her skull with full force.

She flinched before he even lunged. Slipping on the edge of the seat, one of her shoes slid straight into the toilet and got immediately soaked. She flailed her arms to break her own fall and accidentally flushed.

Fa-WOOSH.

Water splashed everywhere, shooting cold wet up all around her. She sputtered and her hands found no traction on the walls of the stall, fingertips and palms just skidding down as she fell and fell and fell.

The vortex of water dragged her down, the horizon transformed into the toilet's bowl, and the crowbar smashed into its edge like a dark meteor, exploding in an avalanche of white ceramic chunks the size of boulders that chased her down the spiraling world, spinning around and around, making her dizzy and sick but also impossible to see as she screwed her eyes shut in the flood of water, flushed right down the toilet.

Impossible?

Sure. But Headless was impossible, too.

She left behind one impossibility for the next, shooting down dark watery corridors like a kid riding down a slide in a water park. Except that her clothing was drenched, her lungs burned even brighter as she held her breath to not inhale whatever water enveloped her, and horror shook her with a chest-bursting fear of death.

Everything else was drowned out.

The dark tunnels meandered, pushing her along and slamming her against the sides of metal walls surrounding her.

Then the flood abruptly ejected her into a brighter environment. Even with her eyes shut, she could tell that some lights glared around her. She hit the ground hard and rolled, water splashing and spraying all around.

Finally, she dared to breathe, gasping for air. The pain of having skinned her knuckles and knees set in with delay. Trembling and bloody as she surveyed the damage, she pushed herself up off the ground.

Asphalt. Back out on the empty streets again.

Her thigh and her arm also hurt from where the crowbar had hit her in their previous encounter. She spat and got up and then instantly bent forward as a wave of nausea welled up inside and made her entire body buckle. A jet of vomit shot from her mouth before she could pull her hair back, splattering the street, and emptying her insides of all the booze and finger food she had ingested in that night.

The rancid, stinging taste lingered, and her eyes had teared up so much that the neon-colored nightscape blurred around her, yet she still distinctly noticed something odd in the splash of vomit, staring at it in disbelief and disgust.

Some pills. Not any she remembered popping and nothing from her prescription.

Had someone slipped her those somehow?

But how?

It was not like you could just roofie someone without them noticing. And if it had been in the food, these things should have dissolved beyond recognition by now. It had been hours, right?

With trembling fingers, she wiped some chunks and gobs of vomit from her strands of hair and then pushed it all out of her face. The smell only diminished with delay.

Finally had a chance, finally stood still, and looked around. Her clothing was sopping wet like she had been in a swimming pool, still dripping like crazy, admixing with the smells of iron and dirt. The cool breeze made her shiver beyond the exhaustion and pain and terror wracking her body with tremors.

The asphalt around her was wet and the gushing of water never stopped, sloshing and sloshing in an infinite torrent behind her. It still sprayed from a busted fire hydrant on the side of the street.

The nightly city around her, however, was still just as deserted and abandoned as before. She reckoned she might be stuck in a nightmare, but the pain said otherwise.

She stopped looking around—not only because it was making her feel dizzy and queasy all over again, but because her gaze came to rest upon the crowbar on the ground.

Droplets of watery residue on the black iron of the crowbar reflected all the colorful lights from her environment.

She snatched the tool up and gripped it in both hands, muttering a curse under her breath from the fiery pain of her knuckles stretching where top layers of skin had broken, exposing the ones beneath with a sheen of fresh blood.

With the crowbar in her hands, she staggered away. And walked. Finally breathed, defying all the pain and the cold and the terror.

Every glance over her shoulder helped ensure that Headless was nowhere to be seen. She wandered the streets, not as desperate to find help anymore. Somehow, she had just given up, even if she was still far from accepting death and welcoming its dark embrace. It had all made way to anxiety, a simmering dread of being all alone in this huge, soulless city.

Walking past a darkened storefront window, her own mirror image made her stop. Made her choke. Made her stare in disbelief.

She was wearing a business suit now. A perfect fit, crinkled and in need of ironing, but it would have looked good on her under other circumstances.

Impossible?

Sure, but she had just flushed herself down a toilet only moments ago.

In disbelief, she looked down, patted herself down. To ensure that it was not just the reflection, to make sure she was not just losing her mind.

Indeed, she was wearing the crinkled suit. Just like Headless earlier, though tailored to fit her frame. Still drenched. It would take forever to dry; she would catch her death by exposure in the cold air like this. She needed to find a safe haven somewhere.

Hell, she needed to limp her way to an ER. Headless may have busted her leg and her arm.

She still bled.

And then: voices.

Voices echoed down the streets. The tiny flame of hope flickered in the back of her mind. It flared up into a flame and shone brighter than any nagging doubt.

Traffic, too. A horn honked somewhere else.

She jogged down the sidewalk, rounded the next corner, and there they were.

Everybody. The city was as alive as it should be, even this late at night. Some people loitered around at a bus station, waiting for a ride home. The red taillights of a car glowed at the next crossing; its engine purred as it took off from where it stood when the traffic lights turned green.

She approached the group at the bus station. They were fully engrossed in whatever conversation they had going on. It sounded somewhat unimportant, but then again, it all sounded like incoherent slurring to her. Had she suffered a concussion, too?

Some of them drunkenly swayed, visibly having spent some time at a party just like the one she had come from.

She fought the urge to cry out, did not want to come across as a crazy person. Instead, she limped over to them.

Other than a few furtive glances laden with disgust like she was some sort of homeless person, they paid no attention to her.

She reached up to tap one of the guys there on the shoulder, and he swiveled.

Too quickly—he bumped into her.

And she fell, stumbling right into the street.

The honking horns of a truck blared as it sped by the bus stop in that very same moment, cleaving off the top of her skull and spraying the asphalt with bits of bone and brain matter.

The people around were all shocked, scarred for life, one of them screamed in terror. Just like she had when this happened to Headless the day prior.

When the police officers had concluded their investigation and someone zipped up the body bag, the world went dark, and the air tasted like plastic.

The zipper opened to a place of blinding bright light, phosphorous white in color and exuding an unbelievably cold air. Machines uncaringly beeped and hummed around her.

Strange figures in surgical masks—their heads horned like devils—all huddled around her bed and leaned over her. They looked like they were dressed like hospital staff, but the objects they held and wielded looked more like they belonged in a workshop's collection of power tools for woodworking.

The spinning saw blade cleanly cut through skin and bone with a high-pitched whine and squelching whenever it had to sever the softer tissue. Though she could not resist, could not fight back, and just witness; at the very least it did not hurt. The demonic doctors took off what little remained of her head until only the flat stump of a headless neck remained.

Eventually, a third demon showed up with a clipboard, studying it with hollow eye sockets and then turning his head as if to lock eyes with where hers should have been.

"It says here that your faith plan does not include body part replacements. Unless you can pay the soul exchange out of your own pocket, you'll have to make do like this for now," said the demon doctor.

He shoved the glasses back up the bridge of his nose which made little sense because he had no eyes to speak of. He sighed and flipped a page on the clipboard, then turned away with a shrug.

Minutes later, two orderlies carried her by the arms and tossed her outside the hospital entrance where she landed on her ass, just as if they were bouncers throwing a troublesome drunk out of a nightclub.

The crowbar clanked as it landed on the sidewalk next to her. The demons in white outfits disappeared back inside, and the sliding doors closed behind them.

Now that she was Headless, she saw no other option than to reap some souls. Not that she saw anything at all, strictly speaking—she just knew these things instinctively.

And she might as well start with the guy who had bumped into her and killed her.

Bastard was probably out there, somewhere, partying.

He had done this to her.

And he would pay.

—Submitted by Wratts

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dokidokey · 4 years

Text

catch me falling

summary: in a world where quirks and soulmates exist, number one pro-hero deku must have angered the universe to have a soulmate he is supposed to take down － y/n, the league of villains’ newest recruit, and also his childhood best friend.

pairings: midoriya izuku x reader

bingo slot: on the run

prompts: “stay. i need you more than you think.” / soulmate au

genre: angst

warnings: cursing, violence, deaths, and kiribaku

word count: 2,317

notes: happy birthday, deku! this is for @bnhabookclub’s celebrating deku event, in honor of our number one boy, midoriya izuku’s birthday! also a cross-post for the hero camp bingo event! hope you enjoy! my event masterlist can be found HERE.

“Dabi!” You shout, both in desperation and pain as the throb on your sprained ankle flares up, and the raven-haired boy zooms past you.

“Keep up, princess!” He yells back and he’s gone.

“Fuck you,” you wheeze, eyes pinching close from the pulsing pain.

The alleyway you’re hiding in is dark even though it’s the middle of the day and the sun is high up. You faintly hear the blasts from Ground Zero somewhere, along with the general chaotic noises that you and Dabi started up.

The League of Villains had been quiet for a long time, with Shigaraki plotting up new crimes to take down these ridiculous Pro-Heroes. It’s been months since you caught Shigaraki’s attention and proposed to you the idea of joining them. Of course you accepted, and here you are now, with a sprained ankle and an asshole of a crime partner.

You’re drenched in sweat, the thick cloak around you not helping relieve the warmth in your body. It’s one of the things Shigaraki thoughtfully gave you to conceal your identity to the Pro-Heroes, but mostly to the Number One and Number Two.

It’s one of the reasons too, why Shigaraki wanted you.

You grew up with Bakugou and Midoriya. You were there when Bakugou got his Quirk, the same jealousy Midoriya had tingling within you. When you got yours though, it was Midoriya that left. It did something to get your bond stronger with the blonde boy. You were an arrogant kid too, so getting along with Bakugou was easy.

Despite the toxic relationship between the two boys, you were there to balance them. Sure, sometimes you’d join the jabbing at Midoriya, but when it gets too much, you were always there to stand up for him. But everything changed (when the fire nation attacked) during the last months of your middle school. Your family died because of a Pro-Hero and you were left with nothing but the scalding hot hate for every Pro-Hero. You stopped attending school because you didn’t want to spend the money your parents left behind on it. What good would it bring you anyway?

You resorted to stealing and being a street child when the money you’ve been keeping with you was stolen. For years, you lived in the streets with rats, under sweltering hot days and stormy nights. Sometimes you’d cry yourself to sleep, wondering if life would be better if you only sought help. For sure Midoriya or Bakugou’s mom would be more than happy to take you in, but your grief turned you blind to the world.

You hear a shout nearby and, using the large ass garbage can you’re propped on, you push yourself up with a wince, your ankle flaring up again. You’re barely walking away when a voice rings on the other end of the alleyway.

“There you are!”

Oh great. Your one and only friend’s soulmate is here. Red Riot barrels toward you, quickly followed by the gradually increasing sound of bombs going off. Your heart stutters when you realize it’s Bakugou. What startles you more is the green-haired hero running along.

“You won’t fucking get away from us!” Ground Zero calls after your quickly retreating form. Good thing the shadow of your cloak obscures the heroes from seeing your face. Ignoring the pain on your ankle, you push through, internally cursing Dabi for leaving you behind like this. You’re a hundred percent sure Shigaraki won’t be happy when he knows.

The wind whistles in your ears as you run away, all sweat and rattling breaths. Blindly stretching your arm behind, you release a laser beam from your hand.

“Kirishima!” Ground Zero shouts in alarm as the sound of a body hitting the concrete reaches your ears. You turn to look back at what happened, and that’s your greatest mistake. The hood of your cloak falls off and you make eye contact the with the Number One hero.

There’s a current that starts at your heart and spreads on the tips of your fingers and toes, shaking your whole body so bad you fall to your knees.

Deku abruptly stops as he feels the same wracking current through his body, almost falling over.

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters in wonder? Hurt? Disappointment? You don’t know. After all, you’re not even sure yourself if your old friend’s soulmate is still alive after that reckless trick you pulled. His eyes are wide as he stares at you, slowly standing up.

The blonde hero whips his head back around from the red-haired man on the ground to you when he hears Deku, gaze hard and cold.

“Fuck you,” he spits as he cradles the unconscious man on his lap, the side of his head bleeding. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

You see it, clear as the day. Bakugou’s right hand is shaking is it sizzles and sparks. But you’re quick, and you’re not thinking, so you raise your arm up before you realize what you’re doing, and a beam of light shoots off your palm again.

He barely dodged it with a heavy weight on his lap, but you’re running off before he blasts an explosion on the wall near where you stood.

“What are you doing fucking standing there!?” You hear him roar before you’re turning the same direction Dabi ran off earlier. “Go after her!”

There are crackles in the air as Deku runs after you. You shouldn’t have looked back. You should have just blasted another laser from your hand. Maybe if you did, you won’t be feeling this－ this guilt. You’re a villain, for fuck’s sake. You’re going to hurt people eventually, but it to be your old best friend’s soulmate? You didn’t ask for that. You didn’t want that.

“Y/N!” Deku calls your name. He’s close. Your feet have nothing against his Quirk so when you see a broken door, you go for it. The stairs leading up seems to go on forever. There’s an ungodly stench wafting through the air, probably a dead cat or something. What did you expect from an old, abandoned building anyway?

Your feet is heavy on the stairs and your breath is labored. There’s a reason why you hated too much running. Plus, the guilt of your unnerving act earlier is not helping.

You’re high up when you hear thumping footsteps following you. Shit. You’re not sure if you can make it out of here alive with your ankle. When you reach the top, it’s a clear room with shards of broken glass and ripped apart planks. There’s another spiral stairs leading to the rooftop. You run, feet banging against the metal steps.

You’re blinded by the light when you fling the metal door open. Running as far away from the door as possible, you’re now standing near the edge. It’s not long before Deku barges in, barely dodging the ray of laser you shot at him.

“Y/N!” He breathes out in relief, gauging your reaction. He reaches out a hand carefully, stance still on guard. “Let’s talk this out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you snarl. God, it’s so fucking hot here with the sun glaring down at your cloaked form.

“You’re my soulmate!” He cries. It’s not a happy cry. It’s not the kind of tone of someone who just found their soulmate should be like. “Let’s talk this out, please. Like－Like adults. Like old friends.”

You still at the word. Friends. What is a friend? Do you even have friends? The League aren’t your friends. They’re just people who has the same hatred you have for the heroes.

You consider his proposal, hands clutching your cloak tight around your body. You nod curtly and Deku visibly exhales, dropping the defensive hands that were in the air earlier.

“You’re. . . You’re with the League?” He asks, and his expression is unreadable. You nod again. Deku looks down briefly. “I heard your parents died. Why didn’t you tell Kacchan and I?”

You can’t tell him how your hurt turned to anger. You can’t tell him how you didn’t use your head and let your emotions rule you.

“It’s the Pro-Heroes that killed my family. They’re the reason why I was left alone. They took everything from me!” You reply, voice gradually getting louder as the pain blossoms on your chest again. “And you! Both of you! You wanted to be a hero so bad, Bakugou always bragged about how he’s going to be the number one. You were both dreaming of becoming the people that killed my family! And you expect me to come to you?”

Deku is panicking as you throw those words at him, eyes widening again.

“It was just an accident, Y/N!” He counters your shouts. “It was an accident. It was years ago. Can’t you let it go?”

Your eyes are stinging and your hands are hot, the familiar heat of your laser beams moments away from spilling again. “How fucking insensitive,” you bark out. “Is that what becoming the Number One made you? You weren’t the one who lost your family. You weren’t in my place so stop talking like it’s that easy.”

Deku flinches. There’s remorse in his eyes as he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“If you’re sorry, let me go.”

His eyes widen, palms facing you again as he takes in your words. “N-No! We’re not done talking!”

“There’s nothing else to talk about, Deku,” you scowl, crossing your arms. “If you’re sorry, let me go,” you repeat.

He’s conflicted as his eyes darts from yours to everything else on the rooftop. “Come with me,” he says, desperate. “We’ll－ We’ll start over, and you－ you can become better! You won’t be tied with the League anymore.”

“But I want all the ties I have with the League.” You break his heart right then and there.

Hurt flashes in his eyes, a frown settling on his face. You can’t help but study his features. He’s grown so much. The remnants of the boy Bakugou used to make fun of isn’t here anymore. Standing before you is a determined hero and a brokenhearted man who just wants his soulmate.

“But I need you,” he says, and the words stab at your chest.

“You don’t need me,” you remark, “what you need is that man I may have killed.” You shift on your feet and the pain prickles again. Deku’s eyes falls down on your ankle when you grimace. “If I don’t get killed by you right now, Bakugou definitely will.”

He’s quick to find solutions to your problems. “I’ll protect you!”

That pulls a dry laugh out of you. “I don’t need protection, hero. I fucking need to get away.”

He’s distraught. Running a hand through his hair, his eyes are glassy as he stares you down. “Stay,” he pleads. “I need you more than you think.”

You’re a villain, but being one does not rid you of basic, human feelings. Your chest contracts when his voice shakes. You see the little boy you used to help patch up back then. You see the little boy gazing at you and Bakugou with awe. You see your old friend hurting, and you’re the reason why.

It’s enough to shake any villain awake.

And you’re standing there, eyes locked on your soulmate. Your soulmate. The person you’re destined to love, to live with, to grow old with. Deku is your soulmate, and it settles in your heart right that moment.

“If. . . If I stay, then what?”

There’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes, shining brighter than the scorching sun in this hell of a day. A smile is slowly growing on his face and his freckles are dancing with the way he’s talking so fast. His physical appearance may have changed, but somehow, he’s still the same old Deku who mutters too much.

A gloved hand reaches out towards you. “So. . ?”

The act is intimidating. Your hands twitch on your sides, weighing out your options again. But it’s been years since you felt warmth and love, safety and peace. The League could never give you that.

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you take the first step toward him. A lone sweat trickles down your temple down to your left cheek and that’s when a furious shout thunders through the air, coming with a blast that has you skidding backward. There are rubbles and smoke and a cry from Deku before you realize you’re falling.

Bakugou came crashing on that door with his gauntlets ready to fire, you the target. There’s a high-pitched, steady ringing in your ears and your vision is blurry, the brunt of the explosion too much for you. You weren’t even able to do anything. You didn’t even notice nor hear he was there.

Even if Deku comes to save you, you know it’ll be too late. Maybe Bakugou’s soulmate did die, and you’re going to pay for his life with your own. You’ll never know. You didn’t even know what Deku looked like before you’re falling. But that’s okay, at least before you’re gone in this world, you know someone was ready to take you as you are.

And maybe － maybe heroes aren’t so bad, after all. You just hope Dabi gets what he deserves when Shigaraki finds out you’re dead. And you hope the universe will give Deku another soulmate better than you, since it seems you were a wrong match, because you didn’t even have the chance to feel what it’s like having one.

The pain was only for a split second, like a sprain on the ankle, but a million times worse. But then you’re out like a light, very much resembling the glint in the Number One hero’s eyes as he leans down to see your body lying lifelessly in your own blood.

more notes: big thanks to zee @pixxiesdust and zann @savagetrickster for betaing this! u guys are the best! 🥺 also, aha, the fact that it’s for deku’s birthday does not stop me from writing angst and break all of your hearts (and his too lol)

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

You Know How They Say I Only Have Eyes for You? (Taywhora) - Spiritualcramp33

summary: WOOOO!! this is my first time uploading a fic here, so i hope you like it! I've been super obsessed with Taywhora recently and i have so many ideas, so hopefully you'll hear from me again soon^^

A'whora didn't know what the fuck was going on, and she couldn't find it in herself to care, either.

They'd been on a night out, but most of their friends had called cabs and left, leaving her and Tayce alone. They seemed to do that a lot, and perhaps it was intentional - it seemed as much, if Bimini's knowing smirk and snarky comments as they said their goodbyes were anything to go off of.

They'd ended up outside, A'whora being sat on the old, slightly deteriorated wooden bench just next to the pub's door, and her flatmate stood nearby having a smoke. She'd offered A'whora one, too, but she was sure that a combination of nicotine and alcohol would prove unhelpful to the hangover she was going to feel tomorrow morning.

A sound akin to tv static rung in her ears, and she watched as Tayce took a drag from her cigarette, and found herself a little too enticed by the way the smoke dissolved into the cold night as it seeped from her lips. They were slightly parted, and A'whora felt a pang of shame course through her veins at how kissable they looked.

As the smoke curled into the air, she could feel it fogging her brain - crawling into every crevice of her mind, embedding itself in her memory though A'whora tried so hard not to let it phase her. There was something about her friend that just felt so different, so unfamiliar yet so safe.

The sky was painted a deep and lifeless blue with no sign of even a single star, but A'whora took one dive into Tayce's eyes and figured that maybe she'd stolen them. They were glacial galaxies, clouds of emotion swirling around in a way that made it all too easy to read her thoughts, and there was a certain twinkle scattered throughout that looked like accidental flicks of white paint.

She thought, though, that nothing about the way the darker woman was made was accidental - she was absolutely ethereal in a way that made A'whora believe that she'd been hand crafted by the finest, a simple heaven consisting of a faint vanilla scent and strawberry chapstick and everything good in the world.

She knew her adoration was smothered all over her face - in her eyes, her smile, the crimson tint dusted across her usually pale cheeks - but she was tipsy on rum and coke and giddy on dumb romance, and with the way her thumped in her chest, she didn't think she could hide it if she tried.

She had to admit it stung, though - the affection seemed painfully unrequited. Sure, Tayce would laugh at A'whora's jokes, and sometimes on nights out they'd share a kiss or two, and sometimes she'd get all touchy in a way that she didn't with anyone else. But she reckoned those were just platonic, friendly things.

right?

"what're you thinking about, boo?"

Tayce's voice shattered the fragile fantasy she'd (once again) found herself indulging in, and the cold air of reality hit for the first time in forever, though it'd probably been around 7 minutes. She blinked away the remaining fragments of the thoughts that plagued her mind and thought of an appropriate reply that wouldn't be a blatant confession of her feelings.

"it's not like it matters"

Well. If A'whora planned on keeping it cool then she'd just fucked it right up, hadn't she? Smashed a bloody gaping hole into her stoic armour, her own voice so rich in vulnerability that it caused her to repress a shiver.

"'course it matters, rory. what's up?"

She let out a jagged breath at the pure concern in the other girl's voice - the words sounded as if they were coated in golden honey, pronounced in a way that could have her a puddle on the floor within minutes, but they were laced with such unwavering affection that A'whora was sure her blush was visible from a mile away.

If Tayce noticed, though, she didn't say anything. She simply watched, her gentle gaze analysing the blonde infront of her in a way that made A'whora sink back into her coat with insecurity.

"i don't know...I'm just-" her breath hitched. There were thousands of words to choose from, and she wanted to say all of them, yet every one she tried to say seemed to die in her throat. It felt as if her blood had turned to stone.

Her mind trailed as she entertained the notion, and she wondered what it'd look like. An ants nest of veins, perhaps, grey and dull but in an almost poetic way - she thought that it would be the rawest form of vulnerability possible, and she thought that maybe her love for the brunette ran so deep that even just the way the veins connected and branched out like spiderwebs was telling enough.

"you're just..?"

"I'm just tired" the words escaped without a second thought, mingling with the air. She studied the other girl's expression with reluctant curiosity, anticipation dancing in her own eyes as she waited for her friend's response.

"of what?"

Sobriety hit like a brick to a glass house when Tayce's jaw tightened. A malicious dread pricked at her heart and she was rendered silent for a while, her eyelashes fluttering as she opted to look at the cold, wet ground instead.

Neither spoke, yet there seemed to be a mutual understanding that some things were better left unsaid.

"we should go home. will you book a cab?"

A'whora's head felt fuzzy as she stepped through the door into her apartment, tayce following suit shortly after. She tossed her bag to the side nonchalantly, the contents rattling as they hit the floor in a way that caused the blonde to flinch.

She had rushed upstairs before Tayce could even comprehend what was happening, quickly removing her makeup and falling onto her bed with a defeated sigh. She felt like shit - it was as if ants were crawling around beneath her skin.

Her brain was putty, no, liquid thoughts, and they swirled around in her head in a way that was deafening but also so, so inexplicably quiet - so much so that they began to lose their sense, an amalgamation of incoherent thoughts that screamed only one thing - Tayce.

It was then that she heard a faint knock at the door. Speak of the devil.

"come in"

The door creaked open gradually, a slither of light from the landing slicing into the dimly lit room, proving to be a stark contrast that A'whora had never really seemed to notice before.

Tayce looked vulnerable, worn down - she had removed her makeup and thrown on an oversized hoodie and some shorts, and the image was so innocuous that the pale girl could feel her heart jump.

she tiptoed towards the bed, her movements so gentle and delicate that they made A'whora feel (and probably look) like a bull in a china shop. She took a seat next to the blonde, their arms brushing against eachother gently, and A'whora's brain short-circuited, shooting sparks throughout her body that made her feel electric.

"what's wrong, babe? you're being all weird on me. i can't have that"

The paler girl's eyes flickered shut as she words left Tayce's lips, lingering the air and clinging to A'whora's lungs as she breathed it in slowly. She shuffled on the bed so that she was facing her friend now and, despite her sobriety (or maybe because of it, she didn't really know), she found herself willing to confess the one thing that'd been eating at her for months, festering under her skin and wearing down her bones until they felt like they were made of glass.

"Tayce" the word came out almost inaudible, barely above a whisper if at all, and Tayce's hands soon found themselves clung to A'whora's, sending a small shiver down her spine at how cold they were.

"rory, you can tell me anything" the words were laced with sincerity - strung together with golden threats of intimacy, one that they shared often but didn't dare to vocalize until now.

It'd always loitered in the atmosphere, sometimes making itself known in form of a needy hug or peck on the cheek or maybe even a drunken kiss, but it never seemed to come up in conversation - well, Lawrence had pointed their - as she'd say - 'seckshul tenshun' out a fistful of times, but it'd always been brushed off as playful.

well, it was now or never. A'whora's breaths were ragged and her brows furrowed together as her mind scrambled frantically to get her words together until-

"Tayce, i think I'm in love with you"

fuck.

Hot tears pricked at her eyes the second it'd been said - it felt like a weight had been lifted, a secret that'd been pushing against her chest for months, slowly but surely asphyxiating her until, on some days, she found it hard to breathe when Tayce was on her mind.

When the brunette didn't reply, A'whora's conscience was immediately obscured by paranoia, completely deactivating her ability to think clearly for just a split second, until she felt a warm hand rest on her jaw, and she slowly blinked away the blurry tears to see Tayce leaning in ever so slowly, lips parted in a way that A'whora couldn't refuse (it's not like she ever would, anyway).

She wasted no time in closing the gap between them, and it was like the world around her had went up in flames. Her head was getting swimmy as she melted into the kiss which, in turn, deepened it.

Tayce tilted her head to the side slightly, opening her lips in a silent plead and A'whora obliged, their tongues finally meeting, dancing to a silent melody only they could hear, and the blonde thought she didn't want to taste anything else for the rest of her life. She tasted like sugar and caramel and all of A'whora's favourite things, excluding the faint traces of alcohol on their breaths.

When they finally broke apart, a dumb smile was plastered on Tayce's face as she pressed her forehead against her housemate's. A'whora couldn't help but return the smile - she'd yearned for so long, wanted and wanted until she finally felt it. Warmth engulfed her body, and her housemate's touch felt like fire as the brunette's fingers held a firm grip on her arm.

A'whora thought she might've burned her, but she wouldnt have minded - the feeling lingered seconds after Tayce's fingers had departed, but when the blonde looked down, she saw no trace of the contact on her arm, and a content sigh escaped her kiss-swollen lips.

Tayce thought it was obvious, that vocalizing such a thing was painfully unnecessary, but she couldn't stop herself when she spoke, the words breathy and quiet and brimming with affection;

"i think I'm in love with you, too"

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #fluff #angst #(if you squint)#friends to lovers #roommate au #lesbian au #spiritualcramp33

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corpse--diem · 3 years

Text

Tell That Devil | Josephine & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @corpse–diem & a special guest (npc) SUMMARY: Erin’s past comes back to haunt her and tries to make a deal. CONTENT WARNINGS: none

Painted concrete brick walls jutted upward, connecting at the top to create a building as uninteresting and identical as the rest that lined this road. This one was different though. While the street outside murmured quietly, chaos and violence rattled the interior, alive and thriving. Erin hadn’t wanted to believe the rumors or even the flyer that had somehow made its way to her door--a small ‘fuck you’ from someone inside that building, no doubt. She had to know, had to see these walls for herself to believe it. Showing her face in this area was as stupid as it was dangerous, so she’d risked the trip down Amity Road on her own.

The moment she turned the corner, dread swarmed every part of her as she realized the rumors were true. The Ring had been rebuilt. An old anger filled her as she watched from across the street, watching the paying audience discreetly slip in and out. “Motherfuckers,” she murmured on a humorless laugh, shaking her head slowly. The blood, rubble and fire were long gone. Just another mess that had been wiped clean and rebuilt with ease. No real, permanent change was possible in this world, was it? Not when one Roy fell, three more popped up to take the reign. Her naivety stung harsher the longer she stood there, hood drawn to hide her features. She’d taken down her Roy and fought the good fight but this wasn’t her fight anymore. Eyes were starting to burn through her, suspicious and sharp and likely not far from making an unfortunate recognition. Time to get the hell out of there.

She was halfway down the street when her eyes turned up at the sound of another pair of feet coming towards her. She almost missed it but a second glance nearly knocked her onto the sidewalk, eyes wide and horrified. “You,” she hissed, feet planted firmly in place as she tried to ground the rest of her. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Josephine wore a smug smile. She’d felt it long before she’d seen the other woman. The anger that had festered deep inside of Erin had grown now, and it was calling to Josephine louder than the roar of the crowd inside. Hands in pockets, striding with ease, she had followed the taste of it all the way down here and wondered what it was Erin could have possibly seen in this place to evoke such anger. She’d almost wished she’d stayed in White Crest long enough to have watched it happen in real time, but another pull had dragged her away from the town. Being back didn’t feel so different, really-- the town was nearly the same, it was as if she’d never left. She held her arms out in a fake curtsy and bent to greet Erin before sticking her hands back into her pockets and pulling out a cigarette and lighter. “It’s me,” she said simply before flicking the lighter. “Oh, so sorry,” she held out the box, “did you want one?”

How long had it been since Josephine had left Erin on that curb or since she had come home to find her decomposing father tearing apart her office and office assistant? She didn’t know how but she’d nearly forgotten the events of last year in light of everything that had followed. Erin’s jaw set tightly and she shook her head, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. This wasn’t happening. She was supposed to be done with all of the nonsense that last year had brought, including Josephine. “No,” she answered curtly, only just noticing the way her body stiffened, boiling over with a long forgotten rage. “What are you doing here?” She asked, skipping right to the point, eyes narrowed sharply in her direction. “Usually when you fuck someone’s life over and skip town, you don’t come back.”

Josephine just shrugged and patted out the box before sliding it back into her jacket pocket. “Suit yourself,” she said, winking. Lit up her own and gave it a puff as she contemplated how to answer Erin. Held it in her hand as she looked back over at her. “Is that what you think I did?” she asked, then, flicking some of the ash away before taking another swig. “Interesting.” She looked at the building behind them, leaning over to glance at it, before looking back at Erin. “Can you believe it? I heard this place blew up. Must make you pretty…” she paused, for effect. Josephine liked to add a little drama to her appearances, “angry.” She reached out with her free hand and tapped Erin’s chest. “Wanna fill me in on why? Whatever happened with your father wasn’t my fault. I was just doing what you asked for. I just wanted to show you that that anger inside of you could be used for something better.”

There was something about the way Josephine seemed so unbothered right now. Did she truly not understand the trauma she had inflicted on her way out of town? That unearthing her recently deceased father to roam the streets like a George A. Romero movie wouldn’t leave an impact on her? “Really? Because it feels like that was one-hundred percent your fault,” she spat back. Fuck. Erin was angry. And she hated that Josephine knew that. How did she know that? “It did,” Erin confirmed, her jaw set tightly after she answered, but gave her nothing more than that. She didn’t deserve it. “Something better? Something better?” She almost laughed, not because anything that Josephine was saying was at all funny, but because it was almost unbelievable. Again. “Get out of my way,” she shook her head, scoffing as she tried to brush by her, walking through the cigarette smoke.

“What’s that saying?” Josephine mused, resting her hand on her hip as she drew in another puff. “Don’t shoot the messenger?” She watched Erin with an interested eye, feeling the anger flowing through her as if it were in her own blood, her own veins. She chewed her lip, shrugged. “If I recall, correctly,” she started out slowly, turning to watch Erin brush past her and head towards the door, “you were the one who made the wish.” She flicked her cigarette and let some of the cinders fall to the ground. “You’ve gotta admit, though, don’t you? That just for a moment-- a tiny moment-- it felt good, didn’t it? Yelling at him, getting your frustrations out. It’s what you wanted, after all, isn’t it?” She let her head tilt to the side, as if contemplating her next words. “Why are you so afraid of your own anger?”

“That’s not what happened, that’s not what I wanted and you know it. You set me up and then you just--” Erin shouted back, her frustrations getting the best of her. A few heads turned their way and she felt their eyes falling onto the two of them. Her face burned and she was probably flushed and she hated the way this woman could rile her up only moments after a year of absolutely nothing. She huffed out a breath, trying to contain herself. Her voice leveled with some effort. “You just fucking left.” Skipped town and left Erin to deal with the aftermath of dear old decaying dad. She could still hear the sound of his head thumping to the ground after Alain’s sword sliced through his neck. The blood dripping from his chin onto her mother’s antique rugs. Josephine’s last question left her more unsettled than she was prepared for. Erin cast another glare in her direction. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” was all she could manage.

“Oh, yikes,” Josephine said, frowning. She took one last long puff of her cigarette before dropping it and putting it out with her heel. “Is that what you think happened? Listen, sweetheart,” she shoved her hands deep into her pockets, before pulling out a little business card with her name on it. “You’re not my responsibility. You sought me out, you made a wish, and you got to deal with whatever consequences your own actions gave you. I don’t control the wishes, Erin, the people who make them do. All my magic does is take what’s in here,” she pointed at Erin’s chest while simultaneously pressing the business card to her with her finger, “and makes it real. So you can deny all that anger all you want, honey, but you can’t hide it from me.” She let go and backed up. “So...do you wanna start again or would you rather go watch a pointless fight that ends in death? I heard they’ve got a bugbear on the docket tonight.”

“I asked you out for drinks, not a midlife crisis.” The longer Erin stood there, the hotter the blood coursing through her burned. This woman had some fucking nerve. “Not your responsibility? You tricked me into making a wish and used your fucking magic to unearth my dead dad without my consent but it’s not your responsibility?” She grabbed the card pressed against her without thinking, wide eyes staring incredulously in Josephine’s direction. Was there something she wasn’t understanding here that was apparently allowing the other woman to absolve herself of all blame? She didn’t want to go anywhere with her but she couldn’t pretend her curiosity hadn't peaked. Briefly, her eyes flitted around them. Whatever minor scene they may have caused had settled, attendees focused on the match that was starting inside the building. She tried not to think about it. Wasn’t anything she could do. She shook her head, glancing at the words on the business card. “What even are you?”

“Is that not a midlife crisis? If I remember correctly, you cried after I kissed you,” Josephine pointed out. She couldn’t help it-- egging people on was part of herself. Part of what she was. “Tricked you?” It was her turn to balk, suddenly. “Oh no. No, no, no. I did not trick you, Erin Nichols. I used your words against you. What’s that famous saying? Careful what you wish for? If you hadn’t known the word wish was dangerous, you do now. How did you learn about fae? Or magic? Or undead? Did anyone hold your hand through that? You and I both know you’re not actually angry at me,” she explained, “you’re angry at your helplessness. That, I can feel clearly.” She tapped the card in her hand. “I’m the solution to all your problems. What I am is more than magic. Spellcasters have nothing on me.”

Josephine kept pushing and pushing. Why was she doing this? Did she get a kick out of it? Was it feeding into whatever mysterious thing she kept alluding herself to be? A fury, she recalled suddenly. Whatever magic she was, it had taken three witches to remove her father from this world, she remembered. Erin could feel how close she was, and it was getting harder to force the anger that came with her familiar presence. When she was close enough to tap the card in Erin’s hand, something snapped. Something that had been there for a long time now, something that Josephine already knew, somehow, was boiling under the surface. Something that Roy’s destruction hadn’t been able to destroy within herself. Her fist flew through the air, connecting with Josephine’s jaw. Her knuckles pounded, aching with the impact but her anger struck too hot for her to notice. “You don’t know anything about me.” She shook out her hand but kept coming towards Josephine, her anger and bravado overshadowing her legitimate fear of the woman. “I am not some helpless human you can fuck around with and I sure as hell don’t need you anywhere in my life.” They were standing in front of the proof of that. “Stay away from me. Do you understand?”

The act was not really a surprise, but Josephine still couldn’t help but recoil with it. That was what happened when you got punched, after all. Kinetic energy and all that. Her head had whipped to the side and a small trickle of blood came from her now split lip. Wiping her chin, she licked the remainder of it off as she turned back to face Erin. The wound was already stitching itself up. She smiled. “Nice right hook,” she said, rolling her neck to stretch out the kink. “Obviously,” she said, wiping her hand on her jacket, “I know more about you than you’re comfortable with. But, fine.” There was a sense of relinquishing in her voice as she shrugged again, shaking her head. “I’ll be leaving town soon, anyway. But think about what I said. If you want power, real power, to stop things like this--” she gestured to the new Ring, brimming with fans swarming in and out-- “then you know how to reach me.” With that said, she deposited her hands back into her coat pockets and started heading towards the building. “Oh, and-- maybe ice that hand. Otherwise, it’ll hurt in the morning.”

Real power. Her hand throbbed and all she could see was red, but those words kept echoing in Erin’s mind. The pain in her hand wasn’t even worth it. She didn’t feel any better and it was healing right before her eyes. There was a metaphor there between that and the newly reconstructed Ring, she was sure, but she was too annoyed to find it. Real power. What did that mean? Josephine’s words were as enticing as they were infuriating--much like who she seemed to be as a person--and she knew she should have crumpled the business card. Tossed it away and forget this whole interaction ever happened. But she couldn’t. And she didn’t. “Don’t hold your breath,” she murmured darkly. She didn’t want anything to do with her. She didn’t need whatever power she was offering. She’d taken down a supernatural crime lord. Being human didn’t have to mean weak. She didn’t need whatever Josephine was offering. Her eyes fell onto the Ring again, then to the man who brushed by her on his way inside. Like it’d never happened. Fuck this. She turned on her heels, not willing to give Josephine even another moment of her time and headed back up the sidewalk. She didn’t need this right now and she sure as hell didn’t need her.

#chatzy #chatzy: josephine #wickedswriting #tell that devil

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coreastories · 4 years

Text

A Drive Around the Coast

Well, several drives.

They go on a trip.

Like normal people, they get to know--and love--more about each other.

The King: Eternal Monarch RPF (Real People Fiction) Yep, this is LMH/KGE. Don’t worry. No cringe. Never. :)

Inspired by July 13 - My Love By My Side

Extended MEGA version of Twitter thread fic I posted on July 13

With thanks to Joyce @singersleeps on Twitter and RCL. On July 16, she shared her translation of the Weibo speculative posts that in turn inspired how I could extend the thread fic I originally posted July 13 on Twitter.

For @collectsfallenstars and Patty @pateetsie again, because RPF shenanigans, and just because.

Companion to A Ride Along the River, but can standalone.

ON AO3 for kudos and download :)

July 9

He was such a tall tree man that when she got into the driver’s seat, she fully stretched her legs and her feet just thumped uselessly on the car floor. She couldn’t reach the pedals at all.

He laughed his weird laugh while he adjusted the seat for her.

Once he had put on his seatbelt and the van passed them, she started the car and followed.

They were on a coastal road now and everyone’s business was to drive along it, so both of them felt safe enough to open their windows. They grinned at each other at the delicious wind that buffeted their hair and faces.

It was so good. She felt so good.

She handed him her phone and she pursed her lips and tried not to smile when he expertly navigated it, and in another second, the speakers played exactly the song she had in mind for a drive like this, with someone like this, on a trip like this, in a life like theirs.

She realized he was looking at her to see if he’d done right, and she scrunched her nose and smiled. Without taking her eyes off the windshield, she reached for his hand, and it was already there waiting to catch hers.

Sometimes their sync scared her. Or was it how he was so attuned to what she wanted? She had never felt so carefully... observed. He observed her. Out of the corner of his eye or with both those beautiful eyes, he saw and catalogued everything.

And when all this began it had made her feel conscious of what he saw and whether he liked it.

And apparently he did. Everything about her. Her truest self. She hadn’t hidden anything, to test him, to test herself, and he’d passed every test.

So now she was well beyond the point of being conscious and well into the territory of getting used to it and loving it.

He flipped the visor for her just as the angle of the afternoon sun started poking her in the eyes.

He offered her a sip of water just when she felt a little parched.

He reached across her waist to shut all the windows just when she felt the wind start to bite and sting.

This time, she turned to him with an eyeroll. “I could have done that.”

“You didn’t have to. I can do all the buttons for you.”

It took three seconds. Then he realized the ridiculousness of what he said. The lip bite came first. Then the grin. Then the laughter.

She kept both hands on the wheel, trying to keep her eyes open as she shook with her own giggling. His hand was on her shoulder, keeping her upright because her body was curving over toward the dashboard.

She ended up pulling over because her fit of giggles refused to stop.

He was still chuckling, probably more at her laughter now. She felt him put her ball cap on her head, put his on, and then she saw him climb out and round the car to her door. She opened it herself but she was still too far gone to do much else.

She had both hands over her cheeks now, alternately covering and fanning her face as she tried to calm down. He gently grabbed both wrists and pulled her up and out of the car.

The wind helped. The change in temperature helped. His closeness helped. She took a deep breath and she was done.

The visors of their ball caps collided and dovetailed as he peered down at her face. “It wasn’t that funny.”

This just triggered another giggling fit and she pretty much collapsed against him with her hands sliding from his chest to his waist so she could hold on to his hoodie and not fall to her knees.

He held her and laughed a little again, rubbing her back a bit. “What?”

She took deep breaths. When she was sure that answering wouldn’t make her giggle again, she said, “I… I remember the… the... button scene. You know…”

“Ahh.” And he grinned.

“Yeah.” She ducked her head because he was looking at her intently and-- just when she thought she was getting used to it, he always managed to show her she was still not used to it. Would she ever be? His gaze was so intense, so unbelievable, because it made her feel like all he saw was her.

He twisted her ball cap on her head, and once she was visible to that gaze, he said, “Our first kiss.”

Almost on instinct as a defense, she said, “That wasn’t us.”

He blinked. “Oh. Right. So when was it us then?”

She looked up at him and realized, after all their text messages and phone calls, that they’d never talked about this yet.

Instead of pressing in that direction, he pushed her gently in another-- toward the car. “Let’s get you back in the car. It’s getting a bit cold. I’ll drive now.”

“But I only drove for an hour.” He had already driven the two hours from Seoul to their meeting point.

“You drove a bit more than that.” He gestured for her to get into the passenger side. “I think we’re less than thirty minutes away now.” He adjusted the seat before getting in.

Only when he was seated did she drop back in. She took off her ball cap and tossed it to the back seat, where it joined his. The caps sat bill to bill like they were having their own dialogue.

She faced him just as he started the car. “It was me when we kissed by the window.”

And she was glad the sun was going down, because she felt her cheeks burning.

He maneuvered the car back onto the road. As soon as they were cruising again, he turned to her for a bit and reached for her hand. And she loved it that whenever he did that, his eyes always sought hers first. For permission. Or maybe he just really enjoyed turning her to mush by making contact with his eyes before making contact with his hand. Or with his lips.

She really was thankful it was getting dark, especially when he said what he said next.

“It was me when we kissed by the bed.”

He squeezed her hand.

July 10

She was sitting in the passenger seat on her side, clutching her middle. The lights from the street lamps showed him she was grimacing a little.

“I think I ate too much.”

He grinned. “They served too much.” He cursed when he hit a random pothole. “Sorry about that. You okay?”

Her expression and position hadn’t changed. He was afraid that would unsettle her currently full stomach. Apparently not. She really was made of sterner stuff. All she said was, “Let’s not have bibimbap again while on this trip. Not like that anyway. How many side dishes was it? I lost count.”

He laughed. He remembered how well she ate. He loved that she loved food and had no compunction about eating with enthusiasm, wherever she happened to be. They’d booked a dining room at the restaurant so it was just them and their teams, so she probably felt at home. But he had seen her eat with everyone else before. She was consistent with everyone, everywhere.

Her unchanging character was what intrigued and charmed him when he finally met the person behind those magnificent and diverse roles.

“I’ll grill meat tomorrow. The guys got fresh fish and ojing-eo and saeu, too.”

“That sounds awesome,” she said, carefully sitting up and adjusting her seatbelt across her body. “Is it weird to fantasize about food when I’m still about to burst from food?”

He laughed again. She could always make him laugh. “No.”

“You lost weight during the shoot too, right?”

He nodded. “About eight pounds, I think. You?”

“About the same. Do you want ice cream?”

She was smiling as the light of the convenience store fluorescent lamps filled the car. He pulled over, shaking his head and grinning. She flitted out of the car fast-- for someone with a heavy stomach-- and he wondered if she should have put her ball cap on. But sometimes being in plain sight helped better than any attempt to hide. People didn’t expect you to be bare-faced if you really were a celebrity.

And it was a godsend that everyone wore masks right now.

She came back to the car and he didn’t need to ask her if anything happened. She was usually blushing and a little unsettled when she was recognized. She was shy. Eight years in the industry and she still blushed when she was at the center of attention off-camera.

But now she neither blushing nor rattled. Just excited with her loot.

He started the car and they ate ice cream. She fed him as he drove, and he pretended nonchalance that he was sharing her plastic spoon.

That was new.

Another new thing to add to the list so far.

Sharing a blanket when they were all hanging out together.

Good night kisses before they went to their separate rooms with the team-- girls and boys together. (No funny business on this trip-- he took care of his people).

Her hand playing with his hair and ear when he laid his head on her lap.

The cute way she nodded when he agreed with what he or anyone else said.

The silken softness of the skin where her back met her nape, when he lost thought one time she sat by his leg while he was on the couch, and he didn’t realize where his hand had gone and stayed.

She must have felt him freeze, because before he could casually remove his hand, hers was there on his wrist, stroking and patting his arm, before letting go and going back to strumming the guitar on her lap.

He moved his hand to her shoulder, but his thumb was stubborn and stayed glued to that new delicious place.

July 11

He leaned back on the passenger seat and closed his eyes, but he was grinning. She took her hand off the wheel for a second to poke him at his side. He dodged the second poke and caught her hand.

“What?” he asked, eyes still closed.

“Did you really not plan that? They just also happened to be here?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t believe you.” But she was smiling. It was so good to see the girls. The three of them hadn’t really gotten the chance to spend more time together during filming, but both women had become close friends. One she shared an agency with, and the other was such a nice and warm unnie.

He had driven them to the bay today, with their staff staying behind at the villa, completely off the hook for their own plans. The bay was a perfect, secluded place for a sunset walk, and her heart recognized the romance of it and was thrilled at it.

And then she saw two people approaching them, crossing the sandbar, waving and calling out annyeong.

They had dinner right there, on a blanket on the sand, wrapping meat and sides in sangchu as fast as they talked, catching up with each other as the sun set before them.

And throughout all that, he had sat slightly behind her, his back perpendicular to hers, so that whenever she leaned back she had something to lean on, and whenever her hand rested on the blanket, it was beside his, their fingers touching or overlapping.

He let the women talk. He asked and answered questions, but for the most part, he let them talk. At some point he even leaned on her, so her instinct had been to lean back on him, and they stayed like that, until it got too dark and they packed up everything with the light of their phones.

She and the girls had promised to meet again in Seoul. Her mind was already buzzing on how exactly to get that done.

But she was also completely, entirely in awe of the man napping--or pretending to nap-- beside her as she drove his car. She hadn’t expected this sunset to turn out like this, with new friends she’d sorely missed.

But then he always did surprise her. Not always in big ways like this one. But in quiet, small ways.

Like how he always got embarrassed when their teams teased them.

And how he intently listened to her all the time and looked surprised sometimes, even with his uncanny ability to intuit what was on her mind and what she needed or wanted.

Or how he never assumed she would give him anything-- whether it was her hand, a kiss, or her head on his shoulder.

Earlier on the blanket was the same. He had offered to be there for her to lean on, but he hadn’t pushed. He had this ability to get close to her without invading her space.

Or was that her? Was he simply welcome now, his touch and presence beside her something she now wanted that it was never an intrusion in the first place?

She leaned back on her seat, extended and locked her left elbow as she held the wheel with one hand, and looked at him again.

She was almost startled when his eyes opened and looked at her. Almost.

Because over the last few days, she had gotten used to him meeting her gaze. And holding it.

Of course she couldn’t lock eyes with him just now because she was driving but she felt her lips turning up in a smile.

She glanced at him again, and when he saw her smile, he grinned that boyish grin, reached out and took her free hand in his.

“Did you have fun today?”

She nodded.

“And my grilling is five-star, right?”

He laughed.

Just to mess with him even though he did grill so well, she wrinkled her nose. “You’re pushing it.”

She was in danger of loving that silly laugh too much.

July 12

They’d fallen asleep on the living room couch.

Every single one of them was a little or a lot drunk. And judging from the blanketed lumps scattered around the living area, every single one of them hadn’t made it to the bedrooms either.

He was on his back on the long white couch, his arm around her, securing her against him as she lay half on the sofa and half on him, her head fitting perfectly against his shoulder and neck. Her arm was around his waist, her leg thrown over his thigh.

She sang last night. And he could still hear her singing voice in his head.

She was an angel. And he couldn’t believe his good luck in meeting her, knowing her, and now holding her like this.

With just a small movement, his lips reached her forehead, and he kissed her there.

He closed his eyes again.

She felt that kiss and smiled to herself, tightening her arm around him and relishing how warm and solid he was. She could feel nothing but space behind her back and beyond his hold, but she felt safe in his arms. He wouldn’t let her fall off the couch.

After all, he had kept her secure while they were both on a horse. He hadn’t allowed her to be forced into anything she wasn’t comfortable with, even a tiny thing like calling him “oppa” in public. He had always… always made her feel safe. He was her sunbae and now he was…

He was an angel. He was kind and he was funny and he was a dork and he made her heart race and made her feel at peace at the same time.

With just a small movement, her lips reached his jaw, and she kissed him there.

She closed her eyes again.

This was their last day here. Maybe they could prolong it by sleeping.

July 13

She was asleep, her legs tucked under her, both feet at her hip, the shape of her toes discernible through her yellow socks.

Her cheek was slightly squished where it rested on her shrimp neck pillow.

And he catalogued these details, these mundane details, because he was driving.

But when the lights turned red, he stopped the car and looked his fill of the details that stole his breath away, no matter how many times he'd already seen them before.

Those lips, slightly open, pink, and unadorned with any artificial color.

Their script had never called for him to touch those lips, he just did. And he had clung to the thought that it was because he was dedicated to his craft, and Lee Gon couldn't possibly NOT touch those lips when he kissed her.

But HE couldn't either.

It was-- he was fascinated that she never had any artifice, especially on those lips, which in all the time he'd known her had never uttered a single word he couldn't like or adore.

If she wasn't saying respectful, thoughtful, or generous things, she was laughing or smiling.

Laughter that always made him laugh. Smiles that stuck to the back of his eyelids so that he saw them even when he was away from her. Just the thought of it made him smile right now.

He pursed his lips, but his grin was too persistent, unstoppable, not when she was right there.

She stirred and scratched her nose. His eyes followed her hand as it went back to join the other on her lap.

He loved those hands, too.

Soft, and brave, because those hands never shied away from handling anything she thought worth the effort.

Including him. Apparently, she thought he was worthy, because here she was beside him.

And nothing else mattered.

Everything else could be finessed.

But in the meantime, she was on a furlough before the mad rush of winter.

They had months, or realistically, weeks together.

Or practically, perhaps days and nights scattered here and there.

They'd be busy. So busy.

But they’d just spent four blissful days together. He had seen so much of her to fill his mind on their days apart.

And in the meantime, she was right there beside him, sleeping and slightly...

...slightly snoring.

He grinned. He'd tease her about that later. And she'd probably punch him.

He loved those hits and punches.

Like the image of her smiles, those punches gave him solid ground, made him think, anchored him to wisdom.

He wasn't going to make mistakes this time.

He took her hand and waited for the light to change.

And then they were at the park, and her car was pulling up beside his. He squeezed her hand to wake her up.

She saw her car the same moment she opened her eyes.

“Oh.”

She looked at him. He didn’t know what she saw. He hoped he didn’t look pathetic and woebegone. He tried to smile, but she had already taken off her seatbelt, already crossed the console, and already gently taking his cheeks in her hands.

And then she was kissing him, and his arms were going around her, pulling her tight against him. She melted against his embrace and he loved the way her cheeks stroked his when she hid her face against his shoulder.

He turned his head and pressed his lips against her neck. “I’ll talk to you later?”

She nodded against him.

She kissed his cheek. He kissed hers. And then they were smiling at each other. “I’ll talk to you later,” she repeated.

He hugged her again and it was her turn to nod against her hair.

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#CoreaNews #CoreaFiction #tkem RPF #mingo #mineun

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