#fun fact she’s the one who got me my ao3 to begin with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfjackle-creates · 4 months

Text

The Two Ghost Motel Chapter 4 (Final)

Finally finished the editing on this one!

Story Summary:

Danny is tired. Endless ghost fights with too many responsibilities and too little time; he barely passed sophomore year. When Ember visits town for a bit of fun, she mentions the Two Ghost Motel, a place of peace and refuge for restless ghosts who aren't ready to cross over. “I’m fine, Ember.” Danny’s got a home and friends. He’s fine, really. But when his parents begin experimenting with electricity to destabilize ghosts, it’s too much for Danny. Unfortunately, neither Sam nor Tucker can host him for the night and he’s left wandering in the night, alone. Then he sees it: The Two Ghost Motel. He checks in. “Welcome.”

AO3 Link

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Minor Original Character Death

-----

Danny ran, hand tight around Jay’s, ignoring his friend’s attempts to stop him.

He didn’t even slow when Jay yelled, “What happened? What was that ball that fell when Matt disappeared?”

All Danny knew was that they had to get away. So he kept going, dragging Jay with him. Within moments, they were at the sign. Only… Amity didn’t wait for them across the sidewalk.

Nothing waited for them at the edge of the parking lot. Just a thick fog that blocked sight of everything past the boundary of the motel property. His head spun, looking in all directions for some sort of break in the barrier, but there was none. Desperate, he shot an ectoblast at the fog, hoping the light would help him see what was past it, only for it to fizzle upon making contact.

His core thrummed in fear and he shot a more powerful blast, but the same thing happened.

“Phantom!” shouted Jay. “Answer me!”

“We’re trapped,” said Danny. Carefully, he reached out a hand. An invisible barrier stopped him from pushing into the fog. He could no more cross the boundary out of the motel than he could’ve walked through walls before his accident.

“What happened to Matt?”

“He— He was Ended, Jay.” Danny turned so he was facing his friend. He was glad the goggles hid the fact that he was tearing up, but they also prevented him from wiping them away. The world blurred around him. “This place, it’s sucking away the life force of ghosts. That’s probably why I’ve been so tired lately. It’s stealing my strength. Trying to wipe us out until there’s nothing left and we fade. Like Matt. And most likely Alan and Tom before him.”

Jay took a step back and glared at him. “Then what are we doing out here?”

“Getting out, of course! This place will kill us!”

“We’ve both been there, done that. And we can’t just leave everyone else here while we run off to save ourselves. We’ve got to save them all.”

Danny opened his mouth to protest. He wanted to go home. Jazz and his parents and Sam and Tucker would be worried sick. Jay needed to get out, too. He could come back with weapons, better prepared.

But if they got out, would he even be able to find his way back? Would escaping mean leaving all the ghosts he’d seen to their fate? His shoulders slumped. “You’re right. Of course you are. Sorry, seeing Matt’s core shatter like that… No. I won’t let it happen to anyone else if I can stop it.”

Jay’s eyes widened. “That was his core? The thing you told me about before?”

“Yeah…” Danny sighed and looked back towards the motel. He didn’t want to get a single step closer to the building, but it couldn’t be helped.

“How do you think it’s eating people?” asked Jay.

Danny held his hands out. “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of something like this before.”

Jay grinned at him. “Then I guess we’ll just have to figure that out. And we’ll stop it. Then we’ll free everyone. And then we can go home to the people who are waiting for us.”

Danny huffed out a laugh and slipped his hand into his pocket where he gripped the bouncy ball. “You make it sound so easy.”

Jay grabbed his wrist and pulled him back in the direction of the hotel. “Not easy, but it is simple. Now, let’s go check out the roof like we’d planned. Just, instead of looking for records, we’ll be looking for what makes this place tick. Once— Once we’ve got everyone out, then we can grieve for Alan and Matt and Tom.”

“You’re right. I’ll be okay. We have to get out first.”

Jay nodded, and the rest of the journey to the roof was made in silence. By unspoken agreement, they avoided the passage where Matt and Alan once played jacks and flew to the roof.

Once in position, Jay pointed to a vent. “This is what I used to crawl in. I can show you the passage that leads to the main office. I didn’t explore much beyond that, though.”

“Then we’ll start with the office before branching off to see where else they lead.”

Jay grinned at him and removed the grate. He was much more efficient and quiet at it than Danny would’ve been.

Without waiting, he dove in, leaving Danny to scrabble after him. He grit his teeth and bit back the scolding he wanted to give. Jay did know the way, so having him lead made sense. Mostly the vents looked like what he’d expect from movies, however thin, ectoplasm-green tendrils wound their way through the metal. Jay didn’t waste time, so Danny couldn’t examine them too closely, but it looked like they were almost part of the metal rather than something added to it.

In the end, they arrived at the grate near the ceiling of the main office in less than two minutes. The path had only branched twice and both times, they took the right passage.

Jay pushed himself to the side and Danny took advantage of his intangibility to squeeze in next to him. From the grate, they could see the receptionist frozen in her default position. Only one ghost was sitting on the couch, and another was standing by the vending machine.

The door would be set below them in the same wall to the left. It wouldn’t take more than a handful of steps to reach, but the receptionist would have to be incapacitated or distracted if they were to make it.

Danny caught Jay’s eyes and jerked his thumb back to indicate they should back up. This time, Danny took the lead. It gave him the chance to examine the green tendrils, but they seemed to be flush with the vent. With his gloves on, he could detect no difference in texture or temperature between the regular metal of the vent and the tendrils.

When they reached the point where the vents branched, Danny led them down the way they hadn’t gone before. However it was disappointing. It led along the the length of the motel and branched into the guest rooms. First floor rooms had outputs near the ceiling; second floor rooms had them near the floor.

They reached the end of the path without finding anything useful. Jay led them back, and the remaining branch of ventilation was a mirror of the first. By the time they had explored everything and returned to the roof, night had fully set in.

“We have to get past the receptionist, don’t we?” asked Jay.

“I can’t think of anything else to do,” admitted Danny.

Jay nodded. “So how do we do this?”

“I’ll go through the front door, you go through the vent.”

“Ugh, I never get to do the fun things.”

Danny bumped their shoulders. “If you had the proper training, I’d totally take you in guns blazing. But you don’t and we don’t have the weaponry available for you to make up for it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Jay pouted, but continued, “So what next?”

“I’ll fight the receptionist. As soon as you get an opening, I want you to jump down from the vent and get through the door. Do not go further than you have to until I can join you, though.”

“Wish I could use powers like yours. Do you have any backup weapons for yourself?”

Danny waved him off. “I’ll be fine. And you need them more than I do.”

“You know, it’s a bad idea to rely on powers so much. What if something happens and you can’t use them?”

Danny shrugged. “I’ve always figured it out.”

“So far,” retorted Jay.

He sighed. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, let’s split. Don’t do anything until I have the receptionist’s attention entirely on me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Worrywart.” Jay turned and retreated back into the vent.

Danny shook his head and flew off the side of the building to enter the office. This time, he didn’t pay any attention to the ghosts in the room. He stalked right up to the front desk and slammed his hand down with his key.

“I’m checking out.”

The receptionist didn’t respond. A glance up at the vent assured him Jay was in position.

“I said—” Danny picked up the key and slammed it down on top of the ledger “—that I’m checking out.”

Sure enough, touching her precious book was enough to wake the receptionist. Her from transformed once more: hair transforming into flames, eyes going red, and hands changing into claws.

“I told you before: You do. Not. Touch. My book!” The last words rose to an inhuman screech.

“Then let me leave!” yelled Danny back.

Smoke came out of her nose as her eyes narrowed. She leaned down, getting her face close to his. Her teeth were pointed and green not-ectoplasm dripped from them. “You will never leave,” she growled.

Danny rose into the air to even out their height difference. “Oh, you will regret trying to hold me captive. I’ve fought scarier things than you.” He shot a blast of ice at her and dove out of the way of her return fire.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jay phase through the vent grate and land in a silent crouch on the floor. For a moment, it looked like he had a yellow cape and a black mask over his eyes. Danny blinked and he was once again in jeans and a t-shirt and gripping the knife.

He couldn’t let himself get distracted. He took several running steps in the opposite direction to keep her attention on him.

“You might be on fire, but your aim sure isn’t!” he quipped as he ducked another attack. Danny shot an ectoblast at her face and immediately followed it up with a sharp spike of ice.

She dodged the ectoblast, but the ice pierced her chest. The receptionist let out a cry of pain as Danny laughed in celebration.

The door behind the receptionist banged shut as Jay succeeded in running past her. The noise caught the receptionist’s attention. “Who’s there?” she demanded.

The distraction was just enough. Danny pulled out his thermos and aimed. She was sucked in and Danny ran after his friend.

“You made it!” exclaimed Jay, lowering the knife as soon as he recognized Danny.

Danny grinned and spun the thermos. “Yep. She’s in soup time.”

Jay groaned. “That’s terrible. Is that really what you call it?”

“Damn right it is!” said Danny. He clipped it back on his hip. “So where are we now?” They were in at the top of a set of old, wooden stairs. A single bare light bulb illuminated the landing they were on, but the bottom of the stairs was cloaked in darkness. “Ready to see what’s down there?”

Jay bumped shoulders with him. “Let’s do this and then we can get home.”

Danny lit up his hand with ectoplasm just as he had earlier that day and took the first step. The wood groaned under him. He immediately rose up a few inches. “Fly. I don’t know if it’ll hold our weight,” said Danny.

The stairs went down farther and farther. A hand on the walls confirmed these were also warded against ghosts so they had no option but to continue on the path.

“How far down do you think these go?” asked Jay.

Danny shrugged. “We’ll find out, I suppose.”

Finally they reached the end. The floor was uneven cement and more not-ectoplasm dripped down the walls. A few feet in front of them stood a metal door.

“Do you think this one will open?” asked Danny quietly.

“Won’t know until we try it,” Jay whispered back.

“Get your knife out. And listen to me if it comes to a fight. I’m the one with experience in ghost fights.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

Danny wanted to glare at him, but he knew from experience it was pointless with his suit. Only Sam, Tucker, and Jazz could reliably read his expressions as Phantom. Pure willpower was the only thing that kept his hand steady as he reached for the handle.

To his surprise, it turned easily under his hand. The door squeaked loudly as it opened.

A large basement room sat behind the door. In the middle, possibly growing from the floor or else sunk into it, sat a giant ectoplasm-green, pulsating mass. From it sprouted what looked like roots that were sunk into the very foundation of the motel. Some were thin, barely thicker than a pencil, but others were as thick as a tree trunk.

“This is what those things in the vents were,” breathed Danny. Something about the mass drew him closer and he took a step forward.

Jay grabbed his arm to hold him back. “We don’t know what it is,” he hissed.

“This is only the second time one of my victims has learned about me,” a voice echoed through the room.

The sound reverberated through Danny’s bones and his core thrummed with it. He didn’t know if he wanted to run towards it or far, far away. “What are you?” demanded Danny. He rose into the air and took a fighting stance. Jay remained on the ground, but had the knife in his hand, blade out.

Discordant laughter rang through the room. “I am the motel. It’s buildings and grounds but an extension of me, just like the bit of me that you tried to contain in that device you carry.”

“The receptionist?” asked Jay. “Is that why she’s so creepy?”

“There is no ‘she’; there is only me. I chose this form to entice ghosts to come visit. And it has worked better than I could have ever dreamed.”

The reminder had Danny tensing. “I won’t let you end any more ghosts!”

The thing laughed again, louder this time; the entire room shook with it. Danny wanted to slam his hands over his ears but held his position. It spoke again, “I’ve been here since before you were born, let alone died. Do you really think you can stop me? No. The last ghost to figure out what I was made a deal with me and I let him go. If you can think of a good enough trade, perhaps I’ll let you go, too. But the rest are mine.”

Jay, just loud enough for Danny to hear, said, “I don’t think it can move from that spot.”

Danny turned his attention to the ground. It was true, the being bulged around the floor where it was positioned. And the tendrils had obviously not changed position since the floor and walls had been built.

“What are you?” asked Danny again.

“I am what happens when creatures are born between life and death.”

“Oooh-kay. Got it, dude. But, like, do you have a name?” Danny ignored the way Jay snickered at his question.

The creature spoke with a boy’s voice, “I’m Matt!” Then, in a different voice, said, “I’m Alan.” Its voice got deeper and older said, “I’m also Tom.” Then the names and voices came faster and faster. Too fast to understand with some male, some female, and in many different languages.

As the voices overlapped, they also became louder. Before Danny could think of anything to do, Jay slapped his hands over his ears and shouted, “Enough!”

The creature stopped. “You asked,” it said in its original inhuman voice.

“Something I regret, not gonna lie,” said Danny.

“You can make me a deal or you can join the ones you’re searching for now. It makes no difference to me.”

“What deal did you make last time?”

The thing laughed again and next to him Jay tensed. “Had he not also been born between worlds like me—like you—I would not have listened to him at all.”

“I’m nothing like you!” protested Danny.

“We were both created between Death and Life. We are more alike than you know.”

Jay growled next to him. “Yeah, but he gives a shit about people and you eat them. I think that matters more than whatever similarities you think you have.”

“Tiny ghost. You’re already more than half mine. Soon you will join the rest of them. I’ve taken so much from you already, so much you don’t remember.”

“The deal!” shouted Danny to bring its attention away from Jay. “What was it?”

“Yes, the deal. Plasmius has been a very good help to me. He promised to send other ghosts my way. I’ve never fed so well in my life. So many of my rooms are occupied now. I had to add on more just for all those that have found me thanks to him.”

Danny flew back a foot involuntarily. Vlad had helped this thing? Was Vlad the entire reason the motel had made it’s way to Amity in the first place?

He shook himself. It didn’t matter. He could deal with Vlad later. Right now, he had to get everyone away from this monster.

“If that’s what you’re after, we will never have a deal.”

“Then I’ll take your power. How much greater will I be if I gorged on a prince, I wonder?”

Before Danny could even question the statement, one of the creatures tentacles tore out of the floor under them, sending cement flying.

“Jay!” Danny called as he saw his friend get tossed up; but Jay caught himself mid-air and gave Danny a grin and a thumbs up.

Danny nodded back and shaped an ectoblast into a blade that he shot at the tentacle even as it raced towards him. The appendage was torn in two, spraying him with more of the not-ectoplasm. He was grateful his suit kept it from actually touching him. His mask even filtered out most of the smell, though not quite all.

Jay was far enough away that he avoided being splashed. “Dude, you reek. Can’t you get a shower down here or something?”

Danny laughed. “If the sprinkler system reached down here, would it release water or more of that rotten ectoplasm or whatever it is?”

With a wordless yell, another tentacle yanked free of its confines, sending concrete falling from the ceiling.

Danny dove at Jay, pushing them both just out of the way. He sent another ectoblade at it and this time they were both sprayed with its blood. Jay cried out in pain as it hit him.

“Shit, sorry!” Danny set Jay down. “Are you okay?”

Jay grit his teeth and nodded. “I’ll be fine. But I don’t think this knife is going to do much.”

Danny winced and threw up a shield as another tentacle pulled loose and a chunk of the ceiling nearly hit them. He formed an icicle and pinned the attacking appendage to the wall. Already he could feel himself getting tired and the fight had only just started.

“Can you make me a weapon out of ice?” asked Jay as he watched to make sure the pinned tentacle stayed trapped.

“Good idea!” Still maintaining the shield with one hand, Danny used the other to make an ice sword. He put extra focus into making the edge as sharp as he possibly could. “Will this do?”

Jay grinned at him and took it. “Fuck yeah!”

“Careful, blade’s sharp!”

The monster was clearly done letting them fool around. The floor shook as it pulled free two more large tentacles and hit the shield hard from both sides. Danny threw out his other hand and poured as much power as he could into maintaining the shield.

“I can’t keep this up for long,” he warned Jay through gritted teeth. “Hold onto me and I’ll drop the shield and fly us away.”

“Got it.” Jay wrapped his left arm around Danny’s stomach so they were facing opposite directions and held on tight. With his right hand, he held the sword out, ready to attack.

Another roar echoed, followed by a blast of flames.

Danny cursed and the double onslaught of flames and tentacles shattered his shield. He sent blasts of ice to block as much of the fire as he could, but he and Jay both screamed when they were burned by what he couldn’t stop.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he shot another ectoblade at a tentacle. This time, it only sliced halfway through before dissipating.

Jay had better luck and managed to cut the other one with his sword. Only to let out another yell when its blood splattered both of them.

Some landed on an area where the fire had burned through his suit and it felt like acid on the wound. Danny turned them both invisible and dragged Jay away, sending a wave of healing ice over both of their bodies to soothe the injuries.

“Thanks,” said Jay.

“We need to come up with a strategy,” said Danny.

“I think it’s sitting in something. A crack in the ground, looks like it’s filled with more of that green stuff.”

“What?” Danny turned to look, only to trip over one of the small tendrils.

“Found you!” yelled the creature as it pulled free another three larger tentacles.

Danny dropped the invisibility and focused on keeping the any debris from hitting them while Jay hacked at the tentacles with the sword. Danny used shields to block as much of the blood splatter as he could, though a few bursts of pain on areas where his suit was damaged and curses from Jay proved he wasn’t entirely successful.

The movement of the monster did allow Danny to see what Jay meant, however. The floor surrounding it was being torn up as much as everywhere else and, through the destruction, he could see the tell-tale swirling green of a portal.

“It’s sitting in a portal,” breathed Danny. “Half in this world, half in the zone.”

The moment’s distraction was all it needed, however. Danny yelled in surprise as a tentacle wrapped around him and lifted him high into the air.

“Phantom!” yelled Jay who rushed forward, sword raised, oblivious to the tentacle behind him.

“Behind you!” Danny shouted back.

Jay spun, slashing with his sword, but it was too late. He was captured, too. The weapon fell from his grasp as his arms were bound tight to his sides.

“Jay!” called Danny again. But the tentacle holding him rotated so he could no longer see his friend. Instead, he faced the giant mass that took up the center of the room.

In it opened a crack. Flames escaped the gap which widened as Danny was dragged closer. As it shifted, however, the ground cracked around it, making the portal more visible. Danny watched as it sunk a few inches.

“I’ve got you now, young prince! And a nice little bird for desert after.” The creature’s echoing laugh was going to feature in Danny’s nightmares, he just knew it.

Danny twisted and squirmed, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake loose. Not even his intangibility let him phase through the appendage holding him captive. He closed his eyes and reached for his core. His power levels were low, much lower than they should’ve been, but he pulled anyway and aimed through his feet.

The ectoblast hit the ground at the edge of the portal, sending chunks of cement and dirt falling into the Zone.

It laughed again. “How did you manage to win your position with aim that poor?”

Danny laughed. “Oh, you wish I’d missed.” He yanked on his core again and shot another ectoblast at the ground. More crumbled away and the creature sank a few feet into the portal.

The monster roared and every tentacle not holding onto it’s prisoners jammed into the walls and ceiling to hold itself steady. Chunks of the already damaged building fell all around them. Danny cried out as he was hit hard on the head with a slab of cement.

Cries that were echoed by Jay.

“You okay, birdie?” shouted Danny. His transformation threatened to wash over him, but he grit his teeth and pushed it back. He could do this. He needed to do this.

“Just peachy,” was the terse reply.

Danny didn’t bother replying, just closed his eyes, gathered as much power as he could, and let out one more ectoblast. This time, several feet of flooring broke apart and fell through the portal, destabilizing enough that the creature was relying on his anchors to the building to keep from falling through.

The tentacle holding Danny loosened its grip just enough to allow him to pull free. He turned to Jay only to find he’d also escaped.

“What have you done?” screamed the monster as the building shook above them. The tentacles that had been holding Jay and Danny also shot forth to dig into the ceiling, but that only succeeded in it destabilizing further.

Now the holes were big enough to see through and so much of the building was crumbling that the creature was clearly struggling to keep its grip. Every movement just pulled down more of the building around them.

“Come on!” called Jay. “There’s a door over there!”

Danny grabbed his hand and turned them both intangible to avoid as much of the collapsing building as possible. It didn’t entirely work—some of the pieces hit them despite their intangibility—but it kept them from being completely buried.

Jay reached for the handle and it didn’t turn. “Fuck,” he cried.

Without letting go of his hand, Danny pushed him behind him and thought back to the martial arts lessons his mom had given him when he was younger. He kicked the door.

It shook in its frame, but held solid.

He grit his teeth and tried again. He felt a pull coming from behind him and looked over his shoulder. What the creature wasn’t knocking into the portal with it’s struggles was being sucked in.

“Shit!” cried Danny. He kicked the door again. On the fourth try, it finally gave. Though that could’ve been because half the wall next to it also collapsed. Danny didn’t care and flew through, dragging Jay behind him.

Instantly, he recognized the hallway. It was the one he and Jay had explored earlier, and the door he’d broken down, the one they couldn’t get through. He pushed forward, though it was getting harder to fly against the pull of the portal.

“Hurry up!” cried Jay.

Danny didn’t turn to look, just kept going. They were at the stairs and he was going up. He didn’t slow as they approached the door, just flew right through it. Luckily it let them.

He veered right, making his way to the parking lot and the entrance to the motel property. They had to make it through this time. From the corner of his eye, he could see the motel collapsing into the portal, sucking everything in.

“What about the others?” yelled Jay.

“They’re being dragged into the Zone! They’ll be fine. Better’n here at least. But we want to go back to Earth. We can’t afford to be lost in the Zone if we’re going to return to our families!”

“Promise?”

The pull was getting harder to fight, but they were almost to the boundary of the parking lot. “Promise!”

And he hit the fog. This time, it didn’t feel like hitting a wall. Instead it felt like flying into water. It was heavy and slowed him down. So, so hard to fight through. But he thought about Jazz and Sam and Tucker. He remembered the good times with his parents and school and evenings at the Nasty Burger.

“You’re going the wrong way!” called Jay.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Trust me, birdie. This’ll get us home!”

Jay tugged on his hand, trying to pull him off course. Danny refused to budge and kept pushing forward.

And Jay let go.

Before Danny could cry out, before he could decide whether to go back or keep pushing forward, he was dropping out of the sky and landing hard on pavement. Completely drained, his transformation washed over him before he could even try and stop it.

“Jay? Birdie!” he called and looked around. He pushed himself up, only for his arms to give out. From what he could tell, he was in some alley between two buildings. Before he could figure out more than that, his vision spun and the world went black.

---

He heard voices. “…readings… nearby…”

Danny groaned. Whatever he was sleeping on was hard and his everything hurt. But he couldn’t muster up the strength to move.

“I think I heard something!” called a voice. A familiar voice.

“Mom?” moaned Danny. He forced his eyes opened and winced when a bright light shone in his face.

“Danny! Jack, Jack, come quick. It’s Danny!”

The light came closer and he pulled back. It turned off, and Danny could see him mom there, running towards him then kneeling in front of him. She peeled off a glove and ran her hands through his hair.

“Oh, sweetie. Your father and I have been worried sick. Where’ve you been? What happened?”

“Dan-o!” His dad sprinted around the corner and half collapsed to the ground right next to Danny. “You’re all bruised up! Was it a ghost? Where is it? It’ll regret the day it ever laid a hand on Jack Fenton’s boy!”

Danny huffed a laugh and pushed himself up until he was sitting. His dad immediately pulled him into a tight hug and Danny relaxed into it.

“I fought it off, dad. It’s not gonna come back.”

“That’s my boy!”

“Oh, but Danny,” said his mom. “You’re absolutely covered in bruises! And is that a burn? Let’s get you to a doctor, hun.”

“No!” Danny winced when his mom pulled back at his vehemence. “I mean… I just want to go home. Can’t I go home?”

“I don’t know, honey. I want to make sure you’re all right.”

Danny’s stomach growled. “Please, mom? I just want something to eat then to crawl into bed and not move for twenty four hours.”

“Come on, Mads! Boy’s a Fenton and we Fentons are tough. We’ll fill you up with ham and fudge, Dan-o.”

His mom sighed. “Oh, if you’re sure. And Jazz would kill us if we didn’t let her see Danny immediately.” Before Danny could do more than grin at her, she was continuing, “But I’ll be looking over your injuries and if anything looks out of place, we are going straight to the hospital. Got it, young man?”

“Yes, mom.”

Before Danny could pull away from his dad to push himself to his feet, he was being picked up. He relaxed into his dad’s chest and closed his eyes. He drifted, vaguely aware of his parents talking, of getting into the GAV, and of driving off.

Then he was being carried inside and he heard Mom calling for Jazz. He shifted, trying to force himself to wake up.

Dad set him down on the couch. “Waking up there, Danny-boy?”

From upstairs, he heard running footsteps and Jazz shouting “Danny!”

He pushed himself up so he was standing just in time to see Jazz practically fly down the stairs and tackle him in a hug that sent them both back into the couch cushions.

“Hey, Jazz.”

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, do you hear me? Never, Danny!”

Danny hugged her back tightly and tried to ignore how her weight pressed on the small rubber ball in his pocket. “I’ll do my best, Jazz. Promise.”

More quietly, she asked, “You’ll tell me everything, right?”

Danny nodded his agreement. “Tomorrow. I’ll want your help with something.”

“Jazz, let Danny up,” ordered their mom. Jazz obliged and shifted until they were sitting side-by-side. Mom nodded her approval and shifted closer to put a hand on his chin so she could examine his face. “What on earth did you get up to? It’s not just bruising, you’re bleeding, too! Jack, get the first aid kit.”

“You’ve got it, snookums!” And he ran out of the room, shaking the walls as he did.

“Mom, mom. It’s okay. I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”

“Daniel James Fenton, stop downplaying your injuries. All of this will have to be disinfected.”

And Dad was back, holding the kit above his head like a trophy. “One first aid kit coming up!” he exclaimed as he handed it to Mom.

“Thank you, Jackiepoo.”

Dad winked at Danny. “Now for the fudge! Nothing helps chase away pain like a large piece of fudge.”

Before Danny could reply, he was running back out of the room. He met Jazz’s eyes and they both broke out in giggles which made him mom tut and order him to remain still.

Danny was still worried about Jay and the other residents of the motel. But he’d look for them tomorrow. Tonight, he let himself relax with Jazz pressed up against his side and his mom fussing over him and his dad forcing a piece of fudge the size of his head on him.

He was finally home.

---

Hundreds of miles away, a boy opened his eyes only to find himself trapped in dark box. He banged on the top, but it didn’t budge move. His hands explored the space, looking for a knife. Or even anything sharp.

All he could find was his belt buckle. He pulled it out and used it to tear apart the wood of the box above him. Dirt greeted him on the other side, but he kept digging through it. Inch by inch for six feet.

When he pulled himself out of the ground, it was to come face-to-face with a gravestone.

For the first time in months, Jason Todd breathed.

-----

The End

Hope you enjoy! It's been so much fun working in a new genre.

#dpxdc #the two ghost motel #danny fenton #jason todd #they finally escaped the motel #danny to safety #jason to...not #danny searches for jay in the zone #but cannot find him #he finds the other ghosts from the motel #they set up a little community for themselves #the artist is the leader #but jay isn't there #will they ever meet again?#(only if my sequel thoughts refuse to leave me alone)

60 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 6 months

Text

The Final Say

Emily wants to put the Christmas tree up in mid-November. Aaron does not.

It's a good thing Emily is an expert at getting her husband to see her point of view.

-x-

Hi friends!

This fic came from a conversation I was having with @cloudlessly-light, who after seeing my Christmas tree in the background of a photo of my cat, told me off for having it up so early haha

Naturally my brain went to 'imagine Aaron and Emily having differing views on when the tree should go up'...and that then turned into a smut fic.

I'm sure I say this every time I write smut, but I truly think this is the filthiest thing I've written so far.

Let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (oral sex, a smidge of dirty talk)

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily loved Christmas.

She always had, ever since she was a kid. It was something that had always been the same wherever she was in the world, a piece of home that followed her and her mother no matter where they lived. She knew it was for show, she’d known that even when she was young. The tree and the decorations weren’t for her, but for the parties her mother would host, for the dignitaries that would always seem to be in their house, but that never diminished her enjoyment of it. The sparkly lights and brightly coloured ornaments never failing to warm her from the inside out.

She’d always hoped that one day she’d decorate a tree with her own family. Pulling the same ornaments and decorations from a box they stored in the attic every year, not new ones in every city, and placing them on a tree they picked out together, not one that seemingly appeared one morning.

She loved Christmas, and that meant she felt the pull to put the decorations up as soon as the days ticked over into mid-November. She wanted to sit on the couch curled up with her children and her husband and look at the tree. She wanted to bathe in the warm light the string lights emitted, a hot chocolate with whiskey in her palms.

She was even more excited this year than usual. It was Issac’s first Christmas, and even though she knew the 3-month-old would have no clue what was going on, she couldn’t wait to include him in all of the traditions they’d come up with since she’d moved in with Aaron and Jack.

The only issue is, that no matter how much she loved Christmas, Aaron did not.

It’s not that he hated it, far from it. As it got closer to the actual date he got involved in the festivities. He’d walk alongside her at the Christmas markets, one hand in hers and the other in Jack’s, letting them drag him from stall to stall. The debate about the Christmas tree would always begin as soon as she started to think about it, making sure she dropped not-so-subtle hints that would make him raise an eyebrow at her.

It was during their first Christmas together, their relationship only a few months old at the time, when she realised she could use his inability to say no to her when she was naked for her own gain. She’d seduced him easily by walking into his bedroom with nothing more than his favourite lingerie on, and once he’d fucked her into the mattress he’d agreed to her putting the tree up whenever she wanted to.

It had become a tradition in itself. A game between the two of them that would always end with her winning, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun along the way. In fact, she’d just laid the evidence of last year's fun down for his afternoon nap in the nursery.

Issac was asleep, Jack was at a friend's for a sleepover, and she had Aaron all to herself.

She finds him in their bedroom, focused on putting away laundry, and she wraps her arms around him from behind. She kisses his shoulder through his shirt, and he stops what he’s doing to place his hands over hers on his stomach.

“Did he go down okay?”

She hums and nods, “He’s fast asleep,” she says, kissing his shoulder again before she encourages him to turn to face her, her hands on his hips, “Which means we have some time to ourselves,” she says, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Oh really?” He asks, his hands skating over her waist before they land on her lower back, “What were you thinking?”

She pretends to think about it, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, “We could…put up the tree?”

He groans, shaking his head at her as if he hadn’t known this was coming, “Em, it’s too early.”

She pulls him towards the loveseat they keep in the corner of their bedroom and she pushes him down onto it before she sits on top of him, placing her knees on either side of his hips. She pouts as she settles into his lap, purposely making a point of grinding against him as she does. She bites her lip when she feels his hands tighten on her hips almost involuntarily.

“But it’s Christmas,” she complains as she frowns at him.

“It’s mid-November,” he quips, raising his eyebrow at her. He knew how this would end, that he’d end up giving in like he did every year, but it didn’t mean he was going to give in easily. Especially when it usually ended well for him.

“The boys will be excited,” she says, cupping the back of his neck, making him shiver as she runs her fingers across his skin, “They love Christmas.”

“Jack is 8, he knows when Christmas actually is, and Issac is 12 weeks old, he isn’t even aware it’s Christmas. Or that he has feet.” He replies, watching as she attempts to suppress a smile, “The only things he’s aware of are your breasts and when it’s the most inconvenient time to wake up from his nap.”

She leans in to stamp her kiss against his, smirking when he chases her as she pulls back. She cups the back of his head. “Well,” she says, kissing him again, “Then we’d better hurry up and make sure we don’t give him a chance to interrupt us.”

Aaron groans when she rolls her hips against his again, and he grasps her waist, his thumbs pressing into the bottom of her ribcage.

“We’re not putting the tree up,” he says, the challenge weak even to his ears, and she leans in, her lips against his ear as she responds.

“We’ll see about that.”

She kisses him fiercely, her tongue sweeping through his mouth as she tightens her hold on his head, her nails scratching at his scalp. He groans and his hands slip to her hips, holding them tightly as he pulls her closer. He pushes his hips up into hers and she whimpers at the feeling of him half hard under her. She only pulls away when she needs to, sucking in a breath before she sinks her teeth into his lower lip, tugging at it before she lets it go.

“Let me convince you,” she says, kissing him quickly before she shifts back in his lap, her fingers reaching for his shirt. She unbuttons his shirt, kissing and nipping at his skin as she reveals it, paying close attention to his scars like she always did. It was something they’d done for each other since the beginning, lips and fingers delicately pressed against the raised skin. Neither of them ever forgetting to worship the other where they’d been stitched back together, proof of what they’d survived to make it to each other.

She gets out of his lap and kneels in front of the loveseat, her hands reaching for his belt buckle and she looks up at him as she undoes it and his pants. He lifts his hips just long enough for her to pull his pants and boxers. She kneels in between his legs and takes his cock in her hand and clenches her thighs together, desperate for some friction, at the punched out groan that escapes him the moment she touches his heated skin.

“Fuck, Em,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on her as she leans forward, maintaining eye contact with him as she licks the tip of him, a smile flashing across her face as his hips twitch towards her face.

“Impatient,” she teases, slowly pumping him up and down, her breath skipping over him, her smile turning into a smirk as he all but growls at her.

“Sweetheart-”

He’s cut off as she takes him in her mouth, his words lost to a moan as he feels himself hit the back of her throat, the sound of her gagging sparking a fire in his gut. He pushes his fingers through her hair, tightening them in the strands as she bobs up and down, using her mouth and hands in tandem.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, “You’re so fucking good at that.” He says, and the praise makes her stomach flip, forcing her to once again press her thighs together. She takes him as far down her throat as she can, only spurred on as she chokes around him and he thrusts up into her mouth. He feels a familiar tug in his gut, and he stops her, gently tugging at her hair, smiling as she lifts her head and looks at him with a dazed look in her eyes, a line of spit trailing from her lower lip to his tip.

He cups her chin and encourages her upwards, steadying her on her feet as he pulls her in to kiss him, groaning as he tastes himself on her lips. When he breaks the kiss he smiles at her.

“Take your clothes off and get on the bed,” he says, his voice low and raspy. She follows his instructions without really thinking about it, shedding her clothes with little fanfare as she watches him finish the job she’d started by taking off his clothes.

He’s on her the second she’s on the bed, pressing her into the mattress by laying on top of her, finding his place in the cradle of her hips. She groans as he kisses down her chest, his touch turning gentle as he skates over her breasts, well aware that was his youngest son’s domain for now. He licks along the length of the scar beneath her ribcage, mapping out each line of it from where he’d memorised it long ago. The topography of her body his favourite thing, each hill and valley of her skin somewhere he could happily get lost in. Since she’d had Issac he’d taken the opportunity to learn the ways her body had changed, every part of her infinitely more beautiful to him now she’d carried their son and kept him safe.

She’s squirming beneath him by the time he reaches her thighs, his hands surprisingly gentle as he pushes them apart. He feels pride swell in his chest at how wet she is already, how she glistens in the light of their bedroom, and he breathes her in.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart,” he says, nipping the top of her thigh with his teeth before soothing it with a kiss, smiling when she bucks her hips, “I’ve barely touched you,” he says, turning his head to her other thigh and giving it the same treatment, “You like being on your knees for me, don’t you?”

She whimpers at his words, her heels finding their place on his shoulders, digging in as a silent form of warning, “Please.”

As much as he enjoyed teasing her, he knew their time was limited. The baby would be up soon and he didn’t want this to finish before it had really got started.

Aaron leans in and licks through her, his groan at the taste of her matching the one that escapes her at the pleasure that rushes through her. He pushes two thick fingers inside of her, curling them upwards as he does so, smirking against her skin when she rolls her hips just as he hits the right spot.

“Oh god yes,” she says, trying to keep quiet, “Please don’t stop.”

She pushes herself up onto her elbows to look down, to see his face buried in her, the tension in his arm as he moves his fingers in and out of her. The burning in her belly starts to build, crackling through her nerves as it’s ready to ignite. He looks up at her, and as their eyes meet she falls over the edge, the intimacy of it giving her the final shove she needs.

He’s on her in a second, his lips against hers as he captures the moan that escapes her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, sharing the taste of herself with her. It’s only when she comes down from her high that she realises her legs are still over his shoulder. He’s bent in her half, something that a few short months ago she would have thought was a move that was now beyond her, and his cock notches over her sensitive and swollen clit.

“I didn’t know I could still bend that far,” she says breathlessly, smiling when he grins at her, his eyes blown black with desire, “Thought I’d lost that ability around the time my hips got wider.”

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he grunts, pushing forward so he enters her, both of them groaning at the familiar stretch, “You’re fucking perfect.”

She clenches around him, the angle, the fact she’d barely come down from her last orgasm, making everything seem more sensitive, closer than it usually did. He stills his hips, clearly trying to give her a moment, but she doesn’t need or want it.

All she needs is him.

“Move,” she insists, purposely clenching around him, the breath knocked out of her as he does so involuntarily, “Please move.”

He never could say no to her, not really, so he does as he’s asked, his rhythm unforgiving as he thrusts in and out of her. She grasps his back, her hips matching the rhythm he has set, one she was as familiar with as she was with every inch of his body. Even back when they did this for the first time there had been a sense of familiarity about it, something that felt like coming home.

She eventually feels the spark in her belly again, and she can tell he’s close too, his hips slowly becoming more sporadic.

“I’m going to come,” she says, clenching around him again, “I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too, baby,” he replies, burying his face in her shoulder, his hand drifting down to her clit to draw soft but concise circles over her, “Let me feel it.”

She comes, her teeth sinking into his neck to stop herself from screaming, and it triggers his orgasm, the feel of him coming deep inside of her making her sigh. They lay there for a moment before he pushes himself up on his hands, his palms on either side of her head before he leans down to kiss her. He sits up just enough that her legs slip off his shoulders, slumping against the bed in a way that made her feel as light as a feather and as if she was made of lead at the same time. She pats his chest as he lays back down next to her, still desperately trying to suck air back into her lungs. He kisses her cheek and then turns her head just enough to kiss him. She smiles as she pulls back, her hand on his cheek.

“Okay,” he says one of his hands trailing down her side, smiling as she shivers, “We can put the tree up.”

She chuckles as she kisses him softly, a gentle press of her lips against his, “I always win, why do you even fight it?”

He shrugs, “Why would I when we have so much fun along the way?” He says, and she shakes her head at him as he waggles his eyebrows at her, and she presses her thumb into his lower lip, feeling the familiar plushness.

“You better not have gotten me pregnant this year,” she jokes, well aware it wasn’t a possibility, that she was on her birth control and they weren’t actively trying like they had been last year, “We barely sleep as it is.”

Aaron laughs and shakes his head at her, “No one can ever know Issac is the product of last year's Christmas tree debate.”

She smiles as he kisses her thumb, but her response is cut off by a cry from down the hall, “Speaking of Santa’s little helper,” she quips, “He’s done with his nap.”

“I’ll get him,” Aaron says, stamping one last kiss to her lips before he stands up and walks over to his dresser to get a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Good,” she replies, resting on her elbows to look at him, throwing him a wink from where she was still lying on the bed, “Because my legs still aren’t working.”

___

They have the team over for Thanksgiving.

Everyone took turns hosting, even though Dave did most of the cooking every year, and this time it was decided it made the most sense for everyone to come to their house since they had the youngest kid.

Emily smiles as she glances over at Aaron, Issac in his arms and Jack excitedly talking to his father and Dave, before she walks over to join JJ, Derek and Spencer who are all standing around the tree. Derek smiles curiously at her as she stands next to him.

“How did you convince Hotch to put up the tree, Princess?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he looks back at it, “I thought he used to have a strict ‘not before December’ rule when it came to decorations.”

JJ chuckles, cutting Emily off before she can reply, “You don’t want to know, Derek,” she says, taking a sip of her wine, “Penelope made the mistake of asking last year and she still hasn’t recovered,” she leans in closer as if they are conspiring, “Plus, Hotch has a hell of a hickey on his neck. Do the math yourself.”

Emily feels her cheeks go red as everyone looks over at her husband, the bruise on his throat not quite covered by his shirt collar.

“Oh, gross,” Derek says, and Emily rolls her eyes.

“Oh come on, Aaron and I are married. We have a baby, it can’t be a surprise we have sex,” she shrugs, looking back over at her husband, smiling as he continues to talk to Dave whilst he bounces Issac in his arms, trying to soothe the slightly cranky baby, “Besides, I know how to get what I want. And what I want is the Christmas tree being put up on November 15th.”

“So this happens…every year?” Spencer asks, the question escaping him before he really thinks it through, and she looks over at him, her eyebrow raised.

“I’m sure I’ll regret asking this question,” she says, “But why do you want to know that?”

“If you always put the tree up on November 15th that means you put it up 53 weeks ago,” Spencer says, and Emily’s eyes go wide as she realises what he’s figuring out, the maths pulling together in his head before she can stop him, “And you were pregnant for 39 weeks and 3 days, and Issac is about to turn 14 weeks old-”

“Okay,” she says, cutting him off with a glare and a raised hand, “That’s enough.”

It’s too late, and she hears JJ laugh and Derek groan in disgust, “Oh God,” he says, scrunching his face up, “You’re telling me that Issac exists because you wanted the Christmas tree to go up in Nov-”

“Please don’t say anything to Aaron,” she says, almost begging. She knows JJ would never say anything, and that Spencer would be too afraid too, but Derek lived to wind her up, solidifying his place as the brother she never had or asked for, “He’ll never have sex with me again if he finds out you know.”

Derek raises an eyebrow at her, “Is that meant to deter me? If you never have sex again I never have to hear about it again.”

“How about if you tell him I’ll kill you and no one will ever know it was me,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him, “We all know I’d get away with it.”

Derek swallows thickly, clearly taking her seriously, and he nods, his silent agreement coming just in time as Aaron walks over and hands Issac to her.

“Someone wants Mommy,” he says, looking back and forth between his wife and their friends as they all go deathly silent as he arrives.

“Hi sweet boy,” Emily says, securing Issac to her chest and turning so he can see the tree, his face lighting up with a smile as he sees the lights. Aaron kisses her forehead and walks away as Dave calls for him, “You like the tree, huh?” She says to Issac, kissing the side of his head.

“Just like his Mom,” Derek adds, hiding his smirk behind his glass as he takes a sip. She looks up at him, her glare firmly back in place.

“Derek I swear to God.”

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfic #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss smut #emily prentiss smut #aaron hotchner smut

76 notes · View notes

sunsetcorvid · 2 years

Note

tell us about your agents

Anon you have unleashed the beast known as Autism (LONG POST I'M SERIOUS THE INFODUMP REALLY INFODUMPED)

Three Cuttlefish (Agent/Captain 3)

Repeating general info from the reference sheet for all of these! Also with some extra notes!

That's a They/Them right there.

Short squid haha 5'2" (157cm) ((they are only an inch shorter than me.))

Agender lesbian gayass who chose Three as their preferred name when Callie asked because they hadn't actually thought it out but thought "Hey, you know what they already call me Agent 3, why not just make it official." and they actually love the name now!

Hawaiian Bobtail Squid! Fun squid fact: Hawaiian Bobtails have a symbiotic relationship with bioluminescent bacteria which protects them from predators and also makes them sorta glow! Matches up with Three's scar a bit. (Look it up, the bioluminescence is pretty cool.)

Actually pretty nearsighted so they wear contacts most of the time. They found a pair that resemble Callie and Marie's pupil shape, so they got those to look more "Cuttlefish."

Not the best relationship with their bio family, pretty no-contact. I will most likely touch on this in my "Early Days of Agent 3" series on Ao3!

Sanitization scar fucked up their throat and vocal cords a bit, so it's pretty painful to talk. They could but they'd rather not anyways. Selective mute and uses sign to communicate!

Ambulatory cane user (Did some research, hope I used the first word right). Already had some body pains to begin with (One of them being the sanitization scar because that flares up sometimes.), but they messed up their back on a certain mission so they use a cane to walk sometimes.

Mains a Dynamo Roller. (They wield it like a Carbon....)

Banned from Turf Wars for "Using an illegally modified weapon." It wasn't illegal or modified they're just a beast with the Dynamo.

Legally got their name changed to "Three Cuttlefish" (Callie helped them.)

Four Cuttlefish (Agent 4)

looks at my icon. can you tell who my favorite agent is, lol.

Guys I think this is one of those She/They/Hes.... (real)

Grew a couple of inches from when he was 14 to now currently 19. 5'6" (167cm) to 5'8" (172cm)

Genderfluid panromantic gayass who chose Four as their name but not because it was a "Fuck it." moment, but because they genuinely liked being called Four at the time and they still do.

Never actually been in a relationship, but they're pretty sure they're polyamorous. (And might be on the aroace spectrum.)

A Clubhook Squid! So she has cool hooks on her tentacles. They are also a large species, so that's why Four's pretty tall. (For an inkling anyway.)

Also has a strained relationship with her bio family. Doesn't actually have Cuttlefish as her last name, but likes to introduce herself like that anyways because Marie is basically her mom now.

Always wears his Hero Jacket when he goes out. It's a comfort item to him. (Even if it's pretty torn up now and Marie has to force him to wash it every couple weeks.)

Started tying their back tentacles up when they were getting pretty long. Just did it one day because the hooks were bothering them and realized "Hey, I kind of look like Marie..." and kept doing it because it makes them feel better to share something with their mother-like figure.

Works part-time at Ammo Knights. Likes listening to Sheldon ramble about weapons.

She mains the Inkbrush! Very skilled, too. (Got some muscle from swinging it around.)

Looks at Three as an older sibling-like figure. (Technically, they could be cousins because Callie pretty much adopted Three and Marie pretty much adopted Four, sooo-)

The only one of the main four agents to have finished high school. Three dropped out to focus on agent work, Eight never really went, and Neo doesn't even know what the hell school is.

Absolutely terrified of salmonid. It's always just been a general phobia.

Eight Iida-Houzuki (Agent 8)

Yooo, one of those demigirl She/Theys, thats so poggers...

Tall... (5'11" 180cm, 6'1" 185cm in heels)

Down bad lesbian and in a relationship with Three!! (They hold hands!! Scandalous!!!)

Blue-Ringed Octopus! (And possibly something else because Blue-Rings are typically quite small.) Blue-Ringed Octopus are a highly venomous species (Though any recorded deaths are quite rare.). When they become agitated or defensive, their color will shift to a yellow and the blue rings appear. That's why the second ref is here, to show what the rings look like on Eight. While her ink color doesn't shift to a yellow, the rings are there and they have a slight yellow tint to them. Also blueish fingertips because funky fresh.

Doesn't remember much, if anything, from before Octo Expansion. Because of this, and being new to the surface, Marina pretty much put her under her name. So that's why she's "Eight Iida-Houzuki"! (The Houzuki is there because Pearlina canon source is me)

Leather jacket in their older design is a gift from Three! Though, it's a little torn up from some missions. They still wear it, though, because it's a huge comfort item now.

Has a bag in their older design as well for things! Weapon handling kit, first-aid kit, green towels for when Three's scar gets drippy while they're out, maybe a snack or two. Useful things!

Similar to Four, they started tying their back tentacles up because they were getting long.

Got a cool eyebrow nick to match Four's eyebrow scar. (The besties for real!!!)

Big scar on her back from being blown up a whole lot during Octo Expansion. Unlike Three's, however, it does not get drippy. Unfortunately, it is extra sensitive in place of that.

Also works part-time at Ammo Knights! Helps repair broken weapons and manages the shop when Sheldon is away somewhere for something.

Mains the E-Liter 4K or just any chargers in general! Watch out if you see her in Turf...

Worked at GrizzCo for like a week and noped the fuck outta there because man what is happening over there.

Neo/Junior (Cuttlefish) ((New Agent 3))

Another She/They that's so cool...

Still figuring herself out, but she's pretty sure she's bisexual and genderqueer.

5'4" (162cm) so like two inches taller than the Captain. (Everyone is taller than the Captain.)

You're probably wondering "Why are they 13 and not 14? They're not allowed to Turf and stuff until they're 14!" And my answer is: They lie about their age. They wander around the Splatlands, they've been doing it almost their whole life. Because of this, they look a little older than they are (They got out of their squish form pretty early.). Which is the main reason why Cuttlefish decided they were the New Agent 3. (He thought they were like 16-17 💀 He, and also Marie, already got a talk from Three about recruiting fresh squids/octos.)

Doesn't actually remember her name. Not because of amnesia or anything but because she just hasn't used it in years. Never really had a reason to. Soon, that memory faded because she never really saw it as important. The rest of the Splatoon either call her "Neo" or "Junior." (It started as a joke after Neo accidentally called Three her parent, but then it kind of caught on and even Three finds themself using it on her sometimes.)

Found Little Buddy as an egg a few years before Splat3 Story Mode happens. They have their own little language due to how long they've known each other and the fact that Buddy never grew up around other salmonid so he doesn't actually know whatever language salmonid use. He's also much more tame than you're usual Smallfry from being raised by Neo. Best friends forever, yo!

Magister Armhook Squid! Similar to Four with the hooks but she's a bit smaller.

They don't really main any weapon, they just kind of go with the flow. Hand them something and they'll figure it out pretty quickly. That doesn't mean they're good at everything, though. They do struggle with some weapons.

Looks at Three and Eight as parental figures and sees Four as a auncle (Aunt/Uncle) figure! Callie and Marie are like those cool aunts you have. (Got damn, Callie is grandma by 26! /hj)

Still learning sign, so this is why the Squid Sisters tell them what the Captain is saying. (And the Captain is still pretty shy.)

General Info on All!

They all share an apartment. Four originally wanted to stay with Three and Eight for a bit until she got a different apartment in Splatsville, and then Neo moved in because Three realized "Oh shit this kid is traumatized and homeless can't let them turn out like me lol" and so Four stays to help out with Neo.

All of them on the same team is a guaranteed loss for you. Sorry, you're not making it out alive. Three is a beast, Four is strategic and fast, Eight has terrifyingly good aim, and Neo can adapt to pretty much anything. You're fucked, lol.

Three is banned from playing Uno on Squidbeak Splatoon Game Night. They always win.

Group cuddle if any of them have nightmares.

Eight waking up in the middle of the night because her partner left the bed and finds the Threes in the dark kitchen munching on raw pasta for the crunch and it's like cats in the dark their eyes fuckin' glow and it scares the shit out of Eight before she turns the lights on and sees them clearly.

Four is both the number one hater and supporter of Eight and Three. (He will go on about how gross they are but he's the one who helped conspire the plan to get them together. He likes seeing his friends happy.)

Agent 24 headcanon thrown in here, teehee. Some nights, if Eight has a really bad nightmare, Three will hum or even sing Calamari Inkantation. It's off-pitch and rough because of their fucked up vocal cords, but it's enough to help Eight calm down. Three never regrets it, even when their throat feels like its been mauled the next morning. Eight appreciates this.

In order of most cuddly to least cuddly: Four, Three, Neo, and you may or may not find surprising Eight in last! Four is known to just lean against anyone in the Splatoon. Marie's there? Fuck yeah, let me get a hug. Three's on the couch? Just gonna lay on top of them if that's alright. Lovely platonic cuddles from Four! While Three is not very affectionate with the rest of the Splatoon, how clingy they are to Eight puts them in the number two spot. And they won't say no to a surprise cuddle from Four or Neo.

I think that's about it! Thank you for unleashing my autism demons I've been keeping this in since I got this ask because I need to draw their refs. I have a special interest in cephalopods now because of this. Thank you, I guess.

450 notes · View notes

clatoera · 25 days

Text

Picket Fence is Sharp as Knives Chapter 8: You Knew What You Wanted, and Boy You Got Her

Heeey besties sorry for yet another middle of the night fic drop. We are back and better than ever with some Clato content. This one and the next two are just all about them so! Live laugh clato era!. The next one..is in fact the one you have all been waiting for and I think this one gives the hint as to what that will be. Fun fact about this chapter, is this is the chapter i've been scheming for over a year. It is the reason I made the twins identical. All for this chapter to happen.

Masterpost

AO3

Title from Taylor Swift So High School, because this is like..referencing the uh..we'll just say readiness of her LOL. IDK it'll make sense when you read it.

As always let me tag my beloved @kentwells and @bodyelectric77 who literally listen to me do nothing but talk about this fic. I love u thank you for sticking around.

The first thing Clove does, every time she comes home, is kicks her shoes off without untying them. In the back of her mind she can hear her grandmother, telling her that's how she ruined them, by stepping on the feel with the opposite toe and yanking her foot out by the ankle. Later, she can hear Enobaria telling her at least she’s efficient and in all areas of her life she’s a quick girl. Now, she’s twenty three and even still, it is just so much simpler to slip her foot out of her shoes than take the time to untie them.

She can always buy more.

It’s one of the many things that, after the war that upended her life, has become part of new routine. It should shock noone that the kids who were raised in the strictest, highest level of training academy of District Two, grew into adults who craved some sort of order. Ones who especially craved it once every other aspect of the world around them changed.

It was so simple, really. Clove goes on her little– little, being anywhere from four to twenty miles depending on how much her body could take– run. She comes home. She enters through the back door into the kitchen, because if she came in the front and Enobaria was home Cashmere would catch her on her way and talk to her for fifteen minutes. She took off her shoes, left then right, losing about an inch of height once the running shoes were off her feet. She takes approximately five steps to the island in the center of her kitchen, where she would take off her jacket if it were a cool day. On summer days like today, she pulls the elastic out of her hair and lets it tumble past her shoulders and to the middle of her back where it covers the exposed skin between the elastic bands of her workout clothes. Because it is the beginning of September and summer is threatening to close in on them anyday, she sometimes treats herself to the last of whatever seasonal fruit she has on hand.

Today, though, she bypasses the snack as she glances at the clock above the stove. Six thirty. Something about the time brings her pause, as she cocks her head and strums her nails along the marble countertop. Six thirty. Early September. She just has this sense that she’s missing something. Were they supposed to be somewhere today?

“Babe?” Clove calls out, distracted as she counts out something on her fingers. No. That wasn’t today. Nope, not that either. Nope, the trip to Four is next weekend. Enough seconds pass with no response that Cato either did not hear her or is not home, and at least if it’s the latter she can assume he remembered whatever she didn’t. She tries again, “Cato? Babe, are you home?”

As she calls out she makes her way from the kitchen over towards her living room, still perplexed by whatever it is she apparently forgot to write down. She’s missing something. “Cato, I think we’re supposed to be doing something?” She tries again, but as she rounds the corner she is aggressively reminded of what she was supposed to be doing today.

“Oh look, there’s your Aunt Clovey.”

Clove stops short in the doorway, taken back by Cato standing not too far from the center of the room holding not one but two little blonde babies in either arm. Six months old, almost, and yet compared to the size of him they may as well have been six weeks.

God he’s fucking huge.

Focus, Clove, Focus.

Clove pauses, leaning her head on the doorframe for just the slightest of a second before she crosses the couple of steps to stand directly in front of Cato and the girls, who even still are all significantly above her eye level. “Cato..” Clove starts, an artificially sweet tone filling her voice as she reaches up to grab the hand of one of the twins, not entirely sure which is which yet. “Where did these babies come from?”

“Uh, Glimmer? I mean technically I guess they came from Marvel first but–” Cato shrugs, in doing so making both of the twins giggle as they’re lightly bounced in his arms.

Early September. Six thirty. Three months after her wedding anniversary which is..Glimmer’s.

“No shit, I know they came from Glimmer, Cato. I mean where is their dear mother?” Clove rolls her eyes at him, but holds her hands out to the baby he holds on his left, allowing her to lean her upper body into her hands and transfer into Clove’s awaiting arms.

“She just left, literally minutes before you got home, you probably would have run into her if you came in the front.” Cato explains, though he doesn’t even spare a look in Clove’s direction. Instead he directs all of his words in the direction of the little blonde he still holds, gasping desperately for the baby’s attention. His efforts are rewarded as the baby reaches her little hand up to his face, grasping her little fingers at any part of his face she can find a grip in.

“I can’t believe she actually left them. I don’t think she can even sleep without holding them. I thought they’d be eighteen before she could step away.” Clove mumbles, running her own spare hand through the soft baby curls of whichever girl she holds. “Which one is this?”

“Oh, she didn’t want to leave them. She looked like she was going to cry so I just shut the door on her. I told her she needed to go have dinner or mediocre sex or something.” Cato waves off, peeling the baby’s hand off of his face before he flips her around to face Clove. In the same motion he settles her on his shoulders, little baby hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair in the meantime. He’s been built for a lifetime of discomfort, and so the grasp of a six month old was absolutely nothing on him. The silly smile does in fact start to fall from his face at Clove’s follow up question, and he narrows his eyes at the baby absolutely pulling at Clove’s free flowing hair. “You know, I didn’t get a chance to ask. She was grabbing their hands and I could see the tears and I just pushed her out.”

Clove raises a disbelieving eyebrow, taking the minute to narrow her eyes at her husband. “...you didn’t think to clarify which of the identical twins was which?”

“Well I would have, but I thought she was going to change her mind so. No. How about we’ll call this one Glimmer Two,” Cato holds up the baby’s arm and makes her wave at Clove, which earns an excited little babble in Clove’s direction. “And yours can be Glimmer Three.”

“She’s going to actually kill us if we mix them up. What happens when we switch them and then Stella spends her entire life thinking she’s her sister” Clove teases, but glances down at her own assigned baby who is fascinated by shoving fistfulls of dark hair into her mouth.

“Stella?” She tries, looking between the two for a reaction. Both are too fascinated with the adult who holds them to notice, so she tries the alternative. “...Aurelia?” Again, neither grace her with any sort of attention or acknowledgement, and Clove huffs in impatience. “Now I know they know their damn names.”

“Yeah, and the superior twin likes me better, but they seem pretty unimpressed right now. Do you think there's a secret third?” Cato questions, trying to turn his head to glance up at his designated twin resting around his neck. “Are you Glimmer Two or Glimmer Four?”

“...I’m color coding them.” Clove determines, glancing around the room for the bag full of outfit changes Glimmer brings everywhere she goes. “Glimmer Two is in Pink, i’m putting this one in purple or something. Also you know if Glimmer hears you call one the superior twin she’s going to lose it.”

“Oh we all know you like Stella better, Clove.” Cato flips his baby back around, quite literally, and she lands in his arms with a squeal of delight. A smug smirk finds his face as he glances Clove over from her head to her toes. “I just like to bet on the littlest ones, you would know about that. Sometimes the runt can surprise you.”

“I don’t like Stella better, Stella just likes me better. Aurelia likes you, anyway.” Clove waves off, holding back her eye roll as she gently unravels the baby’s hand from her hair. She offers him a coy smirk, looking him up and down. “Maybe I just take pity on the big ones. Especially the big dumb boys.”

“She’s just saying that, she’s obsessed with me, kid.” He directs towards the baby (who, for what it’s worth is in fact Aurelia), managing to drape the entirety of her little body over the length of his forearm. “It can’t be that bad, they can’t be gone long anyway. I give ‘em two hours max.”

“Lucky for us they actually need their mother so they don’t starve, she’ll come back soon.” Clove assures herself more than anyone else. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the girls, quite the opposite actually. She’d even go as far as to say she adores them, but only to certain people who asked. Still, it wasn’t like she had any experience with being alone and responsible for entirely dependent human beings. Unless, of course, you count preteen Cato. At that thought she glanced around, her attention honing in on the haphazard collections of knives and other weapons around the general vicinity. “...watch her. I need a minute.”

Clove slides Stella down to the floor, and once she is sitting independently on the carpet, Clove goes to step away and collect the literal weapons out of their grasp. Almost instantly a high pitched whining comes from the baby, who immediately has her hands up in the air towards Clove, baby hands clenching into clingy little grasps for attention. Clove pauses, turning in place when she feels the little hands grabbing at her sock. “Seriously?”

The whining intensifies, turning desperate and higher in pitch as Clove glances down at the baby by her leg. She notices the pouty lower lip and almost immediately freezes. “No, no no no, no crying. Please. No crying.” Clove’s eyes immediately flit up to Cato, who’s still standing by her with the smuggest grin on his face. “A little help would be nice, Cato.”

“Fuck it, Clove. They can’t move anyway.” Cato points out, nodding his head towards the whining baby at her feet. “She’s probably literally never been put down in her life, just hold her.”

Clove audibly sighs, and exchanges the handful of metal for a handful of baby. It’s like she’s hit the metaphorical off switch, and the baby immediately stops her threat of tears. Stella settles right against Clove’s hip , laying her head down on her shoulder with not a threat of shedding a single tear. “Is this a joke? Are we going to have to hold them all night?”

“That has to be Stella. She liiikes you.” Cato decides, before he decides to kick back onto the couch with the twin he has deemed Aurelia. “Don’t act like the world’s ending, there’s worst things to be doing than holding cute babies, Clove.”

“They are cute.” Clove muses, resting her cheek on top of the little blonde head on her shoulder. “It’s fucking weird, they really do look just like Glimmer. It’s weird to be holding little versions of Glimmer.”

“They’re just lucky they don’t look like Marvel.” Without much warning Cato reaches out and grabs Clove by the band of her sports bra, jerking her back towards the couch. As soon as her knees hit the edge he pulls her down and to his side, looping his free arm around her waist.

It’s instinctive, the way she pulls her feet up and tucks them over his knee, angling her body towards him like the second nature that it is. “Isn’t it like..a weird thing to you? That our friends made these. Like..literally made them. Glimmer grew these hands.” She holds up Stella’s hand for emphasis, before it once again embeds in the lengths of her hair.

“I feel like they should probably thank us for existing, I mean it was our wedding. It’s not typical that you need to ask your friends to watch your six month olds on your first anniversary.” Cato teases, before he pinches at Clove’s exposed skin.

“Glimmer doesn’t appreciate the reminder of her shotgun wedding, you know that.” Clove flinches out of his grasp, letting out a yelp that startles one of the twins out of whatever little trance they seemed to be in. “She’s a good mom though. They’re lucky girls, to have ended up with her. I think she was born to be a mother.”

She misses the way Cato seems to be staring at her with something on his mind, as she has to once again pry her hair out of the death grip of a child. This time she has to also pull her strands of hair from Stella’s fist and mouth, only barely containing her disgust at moisture in her hair. “Do you think they’re hungry?”

“Huh?” He is only half paying attention, pulled from a daydream or something as Clove brings him back to their current reality. “What did you say?” “I said do you think they’re hungry, space cadet.” Clove teases, pushing herself back off of him so she could settle the baby in her lap. “She’s trying to eat my hair.”

“..can we even feed them anything in this house? Can babies…eat? I’m sure their parents fed them, Clove. Do they even have teeth?”

“Oh they have teeth, haven’t you heard Glimmer complain about it? Besides, babe, we go to their house three days a week so I can fill their fridge with baby and Marvel safe snacks. We’ve been doing it for two months.” She points out, before she’s off the couch and heading back towards the kitchen with one of the twins still tightly situated on her hip.

Cato wastes no time following behind, albeit a little annoyed to be off the couch already after he had just started to get comfortable with her. “Are they even hungry?”

“I don’t know Cato, I just know I feel this urge to feed them, okay? Like it’s my job.” Clove waves off, flittering over to her usual side of the kitchen as Cato settles in across the island.

“Hmm..is it you who likes strawberries or are you the kiwi baby?” Clove asks the baby in her left arm, grabbing a handful of both out of the fruit bowl in the middle of the table.

“I don’t think she’ll answer you.” Cato teases, sitting his twin on the island and holding her up against his chest. “I actually don’t know when babies talk.”

“I”m surprised these ones don’t already, considering their dad never shuts up.” She comments, holding her left hand firmly down on her twin’s arms and hands, so she cannot lunge for the knife in her right hand. “They like..babble at each other though. They’re probably telling each other we’re incompetent.” As if it’s nothing, Clove easily uses the knife to start cutting perfect heart shaped slices out of a strawberry with only one hand, the other still holding Stella (she thinks) back. She lets go of her hand to give her a single sliced heart, and immediately has to grab at her little baby hand once again. “No, baby, please don’t maim yourself. You have parents who could actually try to kill me.” She tilts her head when Stella crinkles her little nose, looking at Clove in confusion before resuming her babbling at her. “...are you the kiwi baby then?”

She slides Cato the plate of strawberries for the other baby, before she resumes her one handed slicing and shaping. “How about we do Kiwi stars, since we have strawberry hearts?” Clove asks the babies, who simply continue their normal baby babbles at her and each other.

She’s distracted by her knife work, handing pieces of fruit back and forth to both of the twins, each time emphasizing the fruit and the shape before she’d hand them a new slice. She feels the sticky kiwi covered hand on her collarbone and lets out an audible groan, “That's not very nice, baby blondie.”

Clove glances up to see if Aurelia (maybe) is also covering Cato in the sugary handprints, and is instead met with Cato just staring at her with an adoring depth to his blue eyes. There's half a smile on his face, and he just looks lovestruck. Clove narrows her eyes back at him, shaking her head just a little. “What are you looking at?”

“Just you.” Cato muses, not even phased when a sticky piece of strawberry is shoved towards his mouth as he ducks out of the way. “I’m thinking, that's all. You just look really really good right now. With her.”

Clove hesitates, watching as Aurelia succeeds in shoving a now mushed strawberry into his unsuspecting mouth. Clove truly cannot help but laugh, nose scrunching up as she does so, and it must be infectious as little miss Stella laughs at Clove laughing at Cato.

He clearly decides not to push his luck with whatever he’s thinking about (and Clove, for what it’s worth can connect the dots). “Can you make some big people food, too? I don’t think I can survive on star shaped strawberries.”

“Um Educate yourself, Cato, the strawberries are hearts and the kiwis are the stars.”

“My mistake, how about some triangle shaped steak?”

Clove does make the two of them adult dinner, too. Albeit it all ends up cut into finger foods, consisting of half moon shaped sweet potato slices, perfectly square carrot chips, and yes, even triangular shaped overcooked (“Intentionally Overcooked, you can’t give a baby rare steak, Cato”) slices of steak.

Later, Clove pawns both twins off on Cato so she can rinse the traces of smushed sweet potato and carrot, along with the sweat from her much earlier run, out of her hair and off of her skin. She wins the race to the shower with the simple reminder that she fed them so she gets to have ten minutes to wash handprints off of her skin.

She comes back downstairs more than just ten minutes later, an oversized shirt she borrowed from Cato serving as a dress, wet hair wrapped in a towel atop her head and safely out of the grip of curious little babies. She’s halfway back down the staircase, when she is brought to a stop by the sound of Cato and his one sided conversation.

No, not one sided, but met with avid, nonsensical baby babbles in response.

“See, you roll the ball and it comes back and you have to get it when it comes back, you have to catch it Glimmer Two..Three..Two…Whichever Mini Glimmer.”

Clove peaks her head around the corner, to see Cato sitting less than the length of his legs away from the wall, the twins situated side by side in front of him. He’s rolling a weighted ball into the wall, letting it slowly return and land at the feet of either twin. Once the ball hits one of their feet they squeal in delight, before they both turn back to look at him sets of wide green eyes waiting for him to push it back.

“You can use your legs! Come on, kick it.” Cato tries again, this time grabbing one of their little feet and nudging at the ball, earning delighted giggles from both of them.

“Where did you learn how to do that?” Clove interrupts, breaking into a bemused smile as she settles down on the floor beside them. Almost instantly his hand comes up to rest on her knee, squeezing gently before he nudges the ball away.

“This? I used to do this when Cora was little. I didn’t know how to play with her.” He explains, using his other hand to send the ball rolling back towards the baseboard again. “I still don’t know how, apparently.”

“They clearly love it.” She assures him, raising her eyebrows into a playful smile as the girls both lock in their gaze on her instead of the ball. One reaches little grabby hands towards her again, and she offers the baby her finger to hold to tie her over with Cato for just a little bit longer. “You’re good with them. Like…really really really good. You should probably do it more often.”

“I don’t think they’re going to be very athletic, which is kind of shocking considering who they came from..” Cato muses, nodding towards the baby that is so enamored with Clove. “I think they like you, Clovey.”

“They’re six months old, give them time to grow some coordination.” Her smile softens as she leans in and scoops up whoever it is, letting the baby snuggle directly into her arms. “Baby, which one of them is this?”

“I have to be honest Clove, I have no fucking idea.”

“Glimmer will be back for them soon, anyway.” Clove shrugs, taking the opportunity to lay her head on Cato’s shoulder, stifling her own yawn as she watches one of the twins do the same. “This is weirdly exhausting. Not in a bad way. Just..I’m really fucking tired.”

“It’s probably easier if there's only one.” Cato shrugs, gently pushing the ball out of reach and settling the remaining twin in his own arm. “You’re right though. I don’t know how Glimmer is literally always bouncing off of a wall with them.”

“It’s ‘cause they’re all she’s ever wanted.” Clove slurs, stifling another yawn into his shoulder, leaving her forehead pressed into him for just a minute. “It’s like she’s living a dream.”

“I mean…I get it.” He admits, keeping his eyes focused on the baby who was rubbing adamantly at her little tired eyes.

“Yeah?” Clove mumbles in response, resting more and more of her weight against Cato’s arm.

“Yeah.” He reiterates, subconsciously moving his right arm containing the baby, lulling her closer to the sleep she clearly craved. “I think we should talk about-”

Before he can finish his sentence, he feels the bulk of weight sink into his left arm. He glances over to Clove, who has fully slipped to sleep against him, as has the baby who clings to her neck.

“I guess we’ll talk about it later, huh Kiddo?” He whispers to the baby he holds, who is quickly falling asleep herself. Cato surveys between the three of them, and the tired smile he wears falls when he realizes he has more sleeping girls on his hands than he has arms.

It’s..God only knows..how long later when Clove is startled awake by a hand on her shoulder shaking her gently. “Clove..Clove, we’re back.”

She’s jolted awake, really, disoriented and confused. Somehow (Cato) she ended up in the recliner, covered in a thick furry blanket with the baby sprawled out on top of her. Her hand almost instinctively comes to the baby’s head as she’s startled awake, just naturally trying to keep her calm and sleeping in her arms. “Huh, what, what time is it?”

“It’s nine thirty one.” Comes an amused, whispering tone from her left, where Marvel’s hand still rests on her shoulder from where he just shook her awake. “The lights were all off, we knew you had to be asleep. How were they?”

“Fuck, I thought it had to be like three in the morning, what do you mean it’s only nine thirty?” Cato mumbles from across the room, where he’s fully sprawled out on the couch with the other twin asleep on top of his chest.

“We told you we’d only be a few hours..” Glimmer chimes in, the noise of sequins rustling against each other mixed with heels on hardwood announcing her entrance. “Where are my girls, I miss them!”

“Can you whisper, we just got to sleep.” Clove whines, forcing her eyes open as she feels the baby she holds beginning to move and wake at the sound of her parents. She peaks an eye open up at Marvel where he stands over her and can’t help but smirk at the ruffled hair and pink lipstick at the collar of his shirt and dipping underneath. “Looks like you had a good night.”

“Good for you, we didn’t watch them for nothing then. I’m proud of you, Marvel.” Cato mocks, though he doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to make fun of them.

Glimmer’s eye roll may as well have been audible, as she is heard tossing her shoes to the side with an audible thunk as they hit the wall. “You two are the actual worst, now give me Stella. I need her first. We’re just staying here, by the way, it’s too late to take them on the train.”

“It’s nine fucking thirty? Too late, what happened to nights starting at nine thirty” Cato questions, finally forcing himself to a half sitting position so he can fully (playfully) berate their friends.

“It’s fine, you can stay, that's..fine. Whatever.” Clove half heartedly waves a hand off in defeat. “Stella? Do you have a favorite? Is that why you need her first?”

“Don’t be silly, Clove. It’s the schedule. I feed Stella while Marvel gives Aurelia her little bath and gets her ready for bed, and then we switch before they go to sleep. It’s a little routine.” Glimmer explains, kneeling beside Clove with a tired smile. “Which one do you have?”

Cato and Clove freeze, eyes flitting towards the other just momentarily.

“Uh..yeah..I have one of them.” Clove starts, before Cato cuts her off.

“I have no idea, they’re literally identical. You didn’t color code them, how were we supposed to know?”

Marvel’s eyebrows scrunch together in real confusion, looking between their overly-tired friends. “What do you mean, they’re not identical?”

“The fuck do you mean-”

Marvel laughs, not even bothering to stay quiet for the sake of not waking the girls. It doesn’t hurt, though, because as soon as the baby in Clove’s arms hears him she is woken from her dead sleep. She lifts her little head, whipping it as fast as she can to find the source. As soon as she sees him, despite how tired she is, the widest smile breaks out on her baby face. It’s as if Clove is a stranger as soon as the baby sees her dad, when one baby hand comes up to reach for him.

He wastes absolutely no time taking his girl, and if the baby seemed to snuggle into Clove before, she practically melts against Marvel as soon as she is in his arms. If a baby could hold stress she would have just released all of it, snuggling her face into the fabric of his shirt. She absolutely clings to him, babbling softly until she’s effectively nestled into him. “Hi angel baby,” He whispers to her, kissing the top of her curl covered head as she clings to her dad. “Did you miss us too?”

“He’s kidding. But, also, I didn’t think I needed to color code them. Their earrings are their initials.” Glimmer teases, reaching down to just scoop the still sleeping Stella off of Cato. “Stella also likes to talk more, and Aurelia likes to bite on her hands more. I think she’s getting another tooth. Can’t wait for that.” She deadpans, instantly pulling her little blonde baby to eye level and kissing all over her face. Stella giggles, wrapping her little hands around the top of Glimmer’s. “God I missed you, sunshine.”

“I swear they liked us!” Clove defends, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I thought they did.” They had initialed earrings. Of course they did.

“Of course they do, we’re just their parents.” Glimmer promises, before curling up at the end of the couch nearest Clove with Stella absolutely curled up against her. “They’ve never been away from us. They probably thought we were gone forever-”

“Glimmer not this again, please don’t cry-” Marvel pleads, subconsciously swaying back and forth with Aurelia in his arms.

“I’m not crying. I’m just saying. They’ve never stayed with someone else before. Ever.”

“Not that we minded, but, wasn’t it a little freaky to leave them a District away? I thought you would have asked Cashmere, she’s right there?” Clove asks through a yawn, head resting in the palm of her hand as she rests her elbow on the armrest. “Like I said, not that we care but…”

Glimmer gives a tired smile herself, looking away from her daughter and up at Clove. She even spares a glance at Cato before letting out a little sigh. “We could have asked Cash or Gloss, sure. I dunno. They’re great. They would do everything for me. They would have said yes but…”

“We talked about it a lot,” Marvel interjects, giving a little shrug. “We barely wanted to leave them at all.”

“We just…thought they’d be better with you two. We’ve never left them, but if something had happened to us and we never came home…we knew they’d be safe here. You’d take care of them. I dunno, it just felt right. We trust you, we felt the best leaving them with you two. You aren’t like..parents. But you could be.”

“And Cato was going to force us out the door, we knew that too.”

“You’re welcome for that, you clearly benefited, Marvel.” Cato scoffs, but sits forward and digs his hands into his eyes to allow himself to stay awake. Not even ten and he’s fighting sleep, how the hell did he get here from the kid who won the Hunger Games?

“Oh. That's..oh.” Clove whispers, the gravity of their trust in her leaving her borderline speechless. They’ve seen what she was capable of and they still chose her, they still trusted her with the most important part of their lives. “..thank you…”

“At the end of the day, we love Cash and Enobaria but..when it comes to who’s going to do a better job at playing house with our babies..it’s an easy choice. It’s not even a question. You aren’t parents but you could be. Good ones, too.” Glimmer smiles, offering the words with genuine love for her friends. “And Clove knows how to cook, which is a plus too. Speaking of, honey, can you get me a snack?”

“Damn, you got Glimmer asking for food, good for you, you did something right today.” Cato practically jumps off the couch to grab Marvel by the shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. And I’d say thank you, Glimmer, but you’re right. We’ve actually never been less than perfect at anything we’ve ever done ever in our lives. We’re kind of flawless, if you didn’t know!”

“You’re the fucking worst, man.” Marvel mumbles, but does follow Cato’s guidance into the kitchen.

“He is the worst.” Glimmer tells Clove once the boys are gone, tucking her feet up into the couch with her before she shifts Stella in her arms. “Not entirely. I meant what I said. We trust you. And you would be good at it. I know you don’t want to, and I respect that. But you’d be good at it. The girls adore you.”

“...yeah, I know.” Clove admits, curling up on her side, pulling her blanket back up over her shoulder as she turns in her chair to face Glimmer. Before she thinks too long about the fluttery feeling she has in her chest, at the compliments but also just the idea of her own little blondes, she abruptly changes the conversation. “ You’re a good mom, Glimmer. The best, really. But I gotta say,I feel like it’s not the most romantic anniversary in the world, to sleep at your friends’ house with your babies.”

“Clove. I don’t know if we ever would have gotten back together if it weren’t for the girls. We would not be even having an anniversary, let alone married, if it were not for them. They are, quite literally, to thank for that.” Glimmer brushes her perfectly manicured nails over Stella’s curls, keeping her calm and comforted in the safety of her arms. “And you know, I gotta give it to them. You think you can’t love someone any more than you do, right? Like you think you’re living a dream but, Clove, it doesn’t even come close to how much I love him when I see him with the girls. There is nothing, in the entire world, better than waking up next to him with the girls between us. Nothing. It’s quite literally a dream come true. It’s better than a dream, Clove. You think you love someone..but then you make new people to love with them and it’s just…I can’t even describe it, Clove. I can’t describe it. I can only imagine that the reason I survived all of that…nightmare...was to be able to have this life, Clove. I know, it’s not my business, but I hope you get to feel it one day. There is nothing in the world like it. It is so so so worth all of it. They are worth it.”

Clove pauses for a few seconds that to her feels like hours. She could hesitate, she could start listing off all the reasons she absolutely should not (could not), she could list off the million and one unknowns that she and her routines could not account for. Maybe it’s her exhaustion, or maybe it’s the permanent look of Cato giving her that lovestruck look burned into her brain, but she doesn’t offer a refute.

“I believe you,” is all she offers instead.

#arwbfb tag #the hunger games #clato #cato and clove #arwbfb au #always remember we're burned for better tag #glimmer tag #marvel tag #glimmer and marvel tag #clato tag #the twins are the real star of this show #pfsk tag #picket fence is sharp as knives tag

15 notes · View notes

sohemotional · 2 months

Text

That Don't Impress Me Much - A Brittana Fic

Summary: The blonde dancer totally knew the effect she had on her. It was so easy to rile the dark-haired woman up and as she beckoned her closer with a finger, Santana kept gazing at her lips, making it so obvious what she wanted.

She leaned closer, knowing that Santana would feel her breathing against her neck and as she expected, there was a sharp, aroused intake of breath from the Latina.

She even closed her eyes, puckering her lips as if Brittany was going to kiss her.

As if.

“My name is no. My sign is no. My number is no. You need to let it go.”

Brittany is tired of being taken advantage of by selfish, egotistical jerks, so she makes a plan with her friend Tina that she can make some idiot fall for her and then ditch them after she has had her fun. Her plans backfire when she’s swept off her feet by arrogant yet surprisingly sweet celebrity Santana Lopez.

Rating: M

Read More on AO3

***This is a companion piece to my other Brittana AU fic, "My Name Is No (You Need To Let It Go),” which you can find here on tumblr or on AO3

Brittany had just about had enough of fuckboys and fuckgirls.

There she was, sitting alone in a crummy little diner, all by her lonesome on Saturday night, her date nowhere to be found. Being the only hot, young blonde in fishnets, heels so high she was close to God, and a skirt so short it was probably illegal while surrounded by desperate bikers and hicks who licked their lips as they leered at her should have made her feel like she was walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Or maybe she should have felt the way those fish in her dad’s aquarium felt that time Lord Tubbington took up scuba diving as his new hobby.

Instead, Brittany was unfazed. As she water-skied down the highway of life, she had seen it all.

That one old Dolly Parton song her mother and Grandma Rose from St. Olaf used to like so much was playing in the background now. It made her pretty nostalgic for the good old days in the Pierce house. Sometimes Brittany felt this one should have been the soundtrack to her life, if she ever had to choose a replacement for “Candy” by Cameo.

Don't try to cry your way out of this

Don't try to lie or I'll catch you in it

Don't try to make me feel sorry for you

Just because I'm blonde

Don't think I'm dumb

Cause this dumb blonde ain't nobody's fool

When you left you thought I'd sit

An' you thought I'd wait

An' you thought I'd cry

You called me a dumb blonde

Ah, but somehow I lived through it

And you know if there's one thing this blonde has learned

Blondes have more fun

There was nothing Brittany loved more than sex and she knew she was the best. Hoeing was her hobby. If there were competitions for this, she would have won the Olympic Gold medal. In fact, she had won the kissing competition in Lima five years in a row easily, if that meant anything.

Sure fuckboys and fuckgirls were kinda fun, especially when she got them in bed for the fucking part of things but a girl needed some romance in her life too.

After the first few times, she was over them. No one could hold her interest and it seemed like she never held theirs. To them, she was always just stupid bimbo slut Brittany. Good for an easy lay but not for a relationship.

Sure she knew she was hot but Brittany was beginning to wonder why she was never the girl who got flowers or love confessions and marriage proposals made to her. She was never the girl who got her happily ever after.

All she wanted was a cowboy to ride her off into the sunset.

“Tina, he just left me,” She sobbed into the phone as she heard Mike muttering something to his girlfriend in the background that vaguely sounded like him asking where Brittany was. “I’m at the Little Alien Inn!”

So now she was crying because she got ditched again.

“Bad bitches don’t cry.”

At least, that was what Tina told her when she and Mike stopped by to take her home but Brittany wasn’t so sure she was a bad bitch at that moment.

Mike and Tina each grabbed one of her arms, all about dragging her out of the diner in her bra and skirt when she had started to take off her clothes and perform a strip show on top of a table as she often did.

“You must think I’m such a mess.” Brittany sobbed, mascara running down her cheeks. Tina and Mike who were accustomed to picking up Brittany from sleazy bars and motels weren’t particularly surprised by any of this.

“Oh Britt, it’s not you. It’s that vile idiot. You don’t need any of them! Just be your hot girl self. You’re an independent woman who don’t need no man or woman! Hot girl summer and all that.”

Brittany wasn’t so sure about that at the moment. She felt like a codependent woman who was very much in need of a man or woman.

“Maybe Room Temperature Girl Summer?”

Tina shook her head, a long-suffering expression on her face, snorting out an incredulous, unladylike laugh as she passed another tissue to the blonde. She was so accustomed to Brittany’s oddball personality that she had come to expect comments like that from her. Apparently noticing that her tall, blonde friend was moping the night away on their couch with a pout on her face, she took pity on her.

“Here’s an idea: make a game out of it. Make some fuckboy go all crazy for you next time and then you ditch them when you’ve had your fun and laugh in their face.”

“Oh this, I’d pay to see.” Mike chimed in from across the room.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Brittany’s lips as she thought her friends were making a good point.

That night, something hardened inside of her and changed for her.

Tina was right, it was time she had some more self-respect and Brittany began to realize how much more she was worth than just a quick lay in the backseat of someone’s car until they moved on to the next girl.

——

She got her confidence back pretty quickly because if there was one thing about Brittany it was that she didn’t stay depressed for long.

So the next week she was slinking around The Pussy Cat with feline-like confidence and agility, ignoring the men who gawked at her, hissing and cat-calling as she passed by. She didn’t have a care in the world.

Who cared about girlfriends and boyfriends? She was just there to have fun with her friends. So that’s what she was going to do.

She was having such a great time that she really did forget about her troubles.

Then she felt her burning gaze on her from across the room. The stranger in question was a Latina with black hair, equally dark eyes, glowing dark skin, and a very slim but toned build. Her long hair fell in perfectly tousled dark waves.

She didn’t take her eyes off of Brittany once and had her jaw dropped as she took in the sight of the blonde. The blonde had never seen such a clear demonstration of “undressing someone with your eyes” in action.

Brittany couldn’t deny that the woman had this powerful, commanding aura about her.

She paid absolutely no mind to it, humming to herself as she twirled around and rolled her body perfectly in time with the beat. Then she sauntered back to her friends, giggling to herself as she thought of something her cat had done the night before.

Sugar tapped her on the shoulder.

“Oh Britt, you’ve got another admirer. That one is checking you out so hard. She looks like she’s drooling. I can see her boner from over here… ”

Brittany’s friends began to snicker obnoxiously. The blonde smirked and shrugged. It was super obvious that the painfully horny brunette was checking her out the entire time, muttering “Humina, humina,” but Brittany wasn’t bothered one way or another.

“Oh, okay. I just want to dance.”

Tina, Sugar, Marley, and the others were gawking at her. Sugar eventually piped up.

“Don’t you know who that is?! It’s Santana Lopez.”

“Who?”

“Brittany! How do you not know? She’s a celebrity! She was on Bad Girls Club.”

“Oh.”

“She’s openly lesbian too.”

“No duh. I could tell,” Brittany stated dryly, remembering how that woman had stared at her legs and ass. Come to think of it, Santana was still doing that. Brittany shook her head, rolling her eyes fondly at her friend. Sugar was always trying to matchmake her with someone and that girl knew everything about celebrities. She looked down at her nails, inspecting the pale pink polish on them while she knew Santana was checking her out again. “Uh, whatever. So not interested.”

She definitely wasn’t looking for anyone that night but if she managed to torment them, then that was a bonus. Men and some women always seemed to assume that if Brittany was dancing, it meant she was looking for a partner.

“What’s all that noise?” Brittany spoke up, hearing a bit of a commotion. “It’s kind of annoying.”

It turned out that the woman who had been checking her out was being totally loud and obnoxious now. She laughed really loudly, banging her fist on the table and being a total show-off. She threw back drinks until she was visibly red in the face. Then she started to sing as she got up on the table, drawing a crowd until some short woman with a serious expression pulled her back down before she embarrassed herself. She clearly thought she was so desirable and hot.

She probably thought that Brittany didn’t notice how she kept sneaking glances in her direction. A sly smirk came to Brittany’s lips. This woman was such a goofy dork and she was extremely obvious. Brittany had never seen someone who tried so, so hard and was so painfully lacking in self-awareness.

It was almost cute.

Brittany knew this woman’s type just from looking at her. She was also a little psychic.

She could tell this stranger was such a stereotypical arrogant womanizer with an ego the size of a small planet and thought of women as nothing more than warm bodies. She was so vain, she probably looked at herself in every reflective surface she passed. She was so selfish and spoiled that she thought the world revolved around her.

She was totally Brittany’s type.

She didn’t need her though. She was done with playboys forever.

At least that’s what she told herself when she followed her friends over to the bar. She taken a few sips from the strawberry daiquiri in her hand when she began to blink in confusion as a margarita was placed in front of her.

“It’s from that lady over there. She sent this and she asked me to tell you that you’re stunning.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Tell her I’m so not interested.” Brittany quipped with a sassy flip of her long wavy hair.

Brittany glanced over her shoulder to see Santana waving and giving her this smug smile that made these stupid, cute dimples deepen on both of her cheeks.

Tina and her other friends were just watching her with amusement as Brittany continued to ignore Santana. All of her friends clearly found this so hilarious, though they were supporting her in her decision to completely ignore all the perverts and fuckboys who were trying to get her.

“Wow, Santana’s really going for it. Looks like someone’s dying for your attention.” Mike chuckled.

“Ugh, here we go. I so don’t care. She’s just horny. Why do they always see a woman sitting alone and assume she wants a companion?” The sass was dripping from Brittany’s voice as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder and curled her lip, ignoring the drink Santana sent her. “Newsflash, no thanks.”

Santana kept giving her the eye no matter how much Brittany made it clear that she wasn’t going to fall into her arms. Ugh, Brittany rolled her eyes with exasperation and amusement, couldn’t Ms. Egotistical take a hint?

Apparently not.

“Oh don’t look now, here she comes. She got it bad.” Sugar snorted as everyone began to chuckle at the sight of Santana Lopez swaggering over with her shoulders thrown back.

Brittany had to hand it to her, the woman was the only one who had been brave enough to approach her like this all night.

Too bad the blonde was so not in the mood.

Brittany was feeling bitchy. She knew the routine by now. They all wanted to know her name, her number, her sign… Brittany was curious about whatever sleazy pick-up line Ms. Arrogant was going to give her and she didn’t disappoint.

Santana had this stupid, cute cheesy smirk on her face and her teeth were gleaming white.

She was so typical Hollywood sleaze.

“Hi. You’re gorgeous,” Okay, she was starting off being a little charming with that opening line, Brittany had to admit but she just knew the sleaze would be coming next. “Dayum, Girl. Where’d you learn to dance like that? Who you dancing like that for looking all hot like that?”

Not for you, Jerk :) That’s for sure.

“What I want to know is, what time them legs open?”

Like I haven’t heard that one a million times before…

It was so lame. Even though she was in stunned disbelief, Brittany couldn’t help but notice Santana now and she gave it back to her with a sassy comeback of her own.

“Oh, is that supposed to be a pick up line?”

Brittany was beginning to wonder if Santana had ever actually flirted with a woman before, far less managed to pick up one. There was a flash of lust in her dark eyes when Brittany said that and she looked as if she was about to combust on the spot.

“So, you know, I’m on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?”

Brittany could barely hold back her laugh, cupping a hand over her mouth as she rolled her eyes. Santana continued to puff up her chest and peacock around her, as if she expected Brittany to be totally impressed.

“Ooo, is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

She could not be for real. This was the great, powerful celebrity Santana Lopez her friends were in awe of? She really thought she was charming the dress off of Brittany with those corny lines.

Brittany couldn’t wait to tell Tina about this later. She knew her friend would be laughing about it forever.

“Ooo, I’m in trouble.”

Santana as always, was unfazed by Brittany’s ice cold, dismissive attitude. The preppy blonde decided to tease her even more, getting close and poking her finger into Santana’s chest confidently. Brittany couldn’t deny that the way Santana’s eyebrows rose and her lips parted as if she was flustered by the blonde invading her personal space amused her to no end.

“Oh that’s how it is, huh? What’s your name, Pretty Girl?”

Anytime Brittany was snippy towards her, the woman looked at her with obvious arousal written all over her face. She was pushing back her dark hair, trying so, so hard to look all cool and suave but she had this stupid, goofy look of excitement on her face that made it difficult for Brittany not to start giggling. She had to cover her hand over her mouth as she laughed in her face.

The more Brittany acted all aloof and mysterious, the more she turned on Ms. Egomaniac. She swore she saw the woman clenching her thighs together when Brittany gave another sassy response to her.

Brittany had been one of the most popular cheerleaders at school and homecoming queen. She knew how to handle vain, uncouth Santana Lopez types.

Except she had never met anyone quite as hot as Santana before.

Now that she was so physically close to Santana, she couldn’t stop herself from checking the girl out, noticing that she was slightly shorter than her with a toned, slim build that the simple black dress she was wearing displayed so well. Brittany couldn’t help but notice the slight muscle tone in her arms and how radiant her brown skin was.

Santana gave her another smug look, as if she could tell that Brittany liked what she saw. Whatever. If she thought Brittany was just going to give in to her, she had another thing coming.

If there was one thing Brittany knew, it was flirting.

She learned it straight from her blonde, buxom mother, the original harlot and heartbreaker of Lima in her day before she had settled down. If she wanted to, she could get this girl into bed, easy as ABC.

Brittany didn’t even have to try and that’s exactly why she wasn’t gonna let her get what she wanted so easily.

The blonde dancer totally knew the effect she had on her. It was so easy to rile the dark-haired woman up and as she beckoned her closer with a finger, Santana kept gazing at her lips, making it so obvious what she wanted.

She leaned closer, knowing that Santana would feel her breathing against her neck and as she expected, there was a sharp, aroused intake of breath from the Latina.

She even closed her eyes, puckering her lips as if Brittany was going to kiss her.

As if.

“My name is no. My sign is no. My number is no. You need to let it go.”

She couldn’t stop giggling at the sight of Santana frozen in place with her lips sticking out, clearly not expecting this turn of events as Brittany just sang that song to her.

No kisses for you, Hot Shot, She smiled to herself.

Talk about embarrassing. How was Ms. Big Shot Movie Star ever gonna recover from that one?

Brittany was a professional dancer and she could easily outdo everyone in the club but that didn’t seem to stop Santana from trying to keep up with her. She began to dance beside her energetically as Temperature by Sean Paul played.

“You’re cocky. That’s how you dance?” Brittany was in stunned disbelief yet again, amused by the way Santana was being so ridiculous. She was clearly trying so hard to impress her and it was having the opposite effect. Santana was being such a clown and people around them were starting to give them strange looks.

“You like that, huh, Babe?” The woman was all up on her, her arm settling around her waist as she husked into her ear. “You want all up on this, don’t you? I’ll make you feel so good, Princess. Trust me. I’ll make you scream my name.”

Santana’s voice was so hazy and raspy. Brittany felt heat rush to her face, right up her neck to her ears, shocked by what she heard… and kind of intrigued. Santana couldn’t really think Brittany would give in just from that locker room talk. She didn’t want Santana to see how affected she was by her comment but of course, Santana saw everything.

Apparently the woman noticed the blush on Brittany’s face too and she was amused.

“Is that so?” She challenged, making sure to flutter her eyelashes.

“You bet. I think we should get to know each other better. Preferably with way less clothes on.”

Was that the best Santana had?

“Hmm, oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? What else?”

“Roses are red, violets are fine. You be a six and I’ll be a nine.”

Santana might have been the funniest person to ever exist. She couldn’t be for real.

“Mm hm. Is that all?”

The celebrity began to tell her all about what she wanted to do with her when she got her in bed, making her appreciation for Brittany’s ass obvious. She wasn’t expecting her to grind up on her like that. The feeling of Santana’s hips moving against hers and her husky voice against her ear made it kind of hard for her to remember that she wasn’t supposed to give in to her.

She was such a horny jerk and Brittany’s jaw dropped in disbelief at how crude she was being as the blush in her cheeks intensified.

Santana was just a little too excited, acting as if she was entitled to getting into Brittany’s pants and that just wouldn’t do. At least not until Brittany was ready for that. If she decided she wanted her. Brittany was gonna have to remind her to back off a little until she wined and dined her enough - if Brittany deigned to allow her to.

She wagged a finger.

“Nuh uh. I don’t think so.”

She needed to extract herself from Santana’s arms. So she raised her knee the way she saw on a TV show about women defending themselves from muggers and got her right up in the area between her legs.

Not in a fun way either.

Santana’s eyes went comically wide in stunned disbelief and she took a tumble on her ass.

“Did I do that? Oops! My Bad!” She giggled with faux-innocence, not meaning a word of it.

Brittany walked back over to her friends victoriously as they clapped and cheered for her. In fact, almost the entire club had stopped to watch the whole spectacle as Santana struggled to regain her dignity.

“Brittany, I am so proud of you. You are the ultimate boss, oh my God!” Tina congratulated her then turned back to her phone. “Santana Lopez getting clamslammed and kneed right in the vagina by a mystery woman is already trending on Twitter.”

“You’re not leaving with her?” Sugar looked shocked when the blonde waltzed over, making her exit. Brittany not going home with someone, especially someone like Santana, was about as rare as a blue moon. “This never happens. She’s just your type. She’s rich, super famous, good-looking, shallow, dumb…”

“Not really. She’s gonna have to try harder if she wants all of this.” Brittany flipped her hair over her shoulder with complete confidence and sass, gesturing to the curves of her body. She knew Santana could hear her. Santana blinked at her stupidly a few times, apparently disoriented by her hotness.

She turned just in time to see Santana limping over to her pathetically.

Brittany was confused. Why was Santana gazing at her in fascination, as if Brittany was the most gorgeous, entrancing being she had ever encountered even though her groin and ego were in a world of hurt?

“What’s your name?”

Maybe it was because Santana was so cute but Brittany couldn’t help but flirt a little despite herself. Maybe she didn’t want their game to be over just yet. They were both sweaty and flushed, somewhat breathless from all the dancing.

“You need to let it go,” She teased, watching Santana closely as the woman attempted to regain her composure and act like she was unaffected. “It’s Brittany.”

____

That would be far from the last she saw of Ms. Can't Take No For An Answer, even if she had humiliated her.

She had never met anyone quite as determined and persistent as Santana Lopez.

Apparently, when the Empress of the Universe wanted something, she always got her way and she wasn’t accustomed to being told “No.”

Apparently Santana was really into the whole prissy mean girl side of Brittany.

She was also the most obvious person on the face of the planet. Brittany snorted when Tina sent her a link to a new article. The headline was pretty interesting.

Santana Lopez Dedicates New Hit Single to Mystery Blonde - Who is “Brittany from The Pussy Cat?”

A video of her giving Santana a swift knee upward to the vaginal area had gone viral as well.

Even Santana’s hardcore fans were amused by it all.

Brittany noticed that Santana had left a bunch of comments on her thirst traps, making it extremely clear what she thought of them. The internet was going crazy making fun of how lusty and obsessed Santana was being but that hadn’t seemed to deter the woman either, despite Brittany ignoring all of her attempts to hit on her.

That Brittany S. Pierce must have some Grade A Prime Pussy for Santana to be simping this hard for her…

“Jesus Christ, the thirst,” Tina chuckled as Mike, Marley and Sugar couldn’t stop giggling beside her on the couch in the blonde’s apartment when she showed them her phone screen. They read yet another private message the woman sent to Brittany that was strongly suggesting what she wanted to do with her. “Goddamn. She really wants you.”

“She’s just horny for me. She’ll get over it.”

I’m just another conquest for her…

“Be honest, do you think she’s attractive?” Sugar asked, raising an eyebrow. “At all?”

She had watched all of Santana’s scenes on Bad Girls Club several times, looked at a bunch of her magazine photoshoots - she figured she needed to do her research, after all - and she even loved her songs that flopped. That didn’t mean anything though. Santana Lopez was just a silly pompous rich girl just like the rest of them.

“I mean, if you’re into the whole disgruntled, awkward cat aesthetic maybe. Her upper lip kinda reminds me of a duck.” She deflected.

Everyone laughed as she said this.

“You definitely should stay away from her. I know Santana well and she’s a total arrogant jerk. She thinks of women as disposable objects.”

“Oh, is she?” Brittany snorted sarcastically. “That’s a shocker. Don’t worry, Tina, believe me you don’t have to worry about me falling for her.”

Brittany’s apartment was so very pink and decorated in such an eccentric way that most people were a little taken aback when they walked in for the first time.

Eventually, her entire living space became crowded with bouquets of pink flowers Santana had sent to her address. She sent ridiculously expensive jewellery, chocolates, and dresses. Brittany didn’t even know how she figured out all of Brittany’s favourite colours and things like that but she wasn’t about to get rid of them… she liked expensive gifts.

She never responded to any of Santana’s gifts, knowing it would drive her insane. Santana got her number from Tina and Mike, who were their mutual friends. Truth be told, Tina had always found Santana annoying anyway and they were more like frenemies as that feeling was mutual, so she was happy to assist Brittany in her plan to troll Santana.

Brittany answered Santana’s calls just enough to toy with her and keep her guessing, then ignored her whenever she felt like it.

It was all part of her plan.

“What am I supposed to do with all of this stuff?” The blonde whined halfheartedly as Lord Tubbington knocked over the growing pile of chocolate boxes.

“You could send it back if you really don’t want it.” Mike suggested with a shrug.

“I would… but pink diamonds are really nice,” Brittany pouted. “I might need another dress too.”

“This almost sounds like one of those sugar daddy type of situations,” The man shook his head at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m not surprised, since it’s you after all.”

“Except, she won’t be getting any sugar.” Britt winked. Tina smirked at her in agreement, giving her a high five.

“You are the queen of manipulation. You’re really gonna get this woman to spend herself bankrupt, aren’t you? Yes, Girl. I say, use all the power you have to your advantage. Stress that fuckgirl out. Make her work for it, Britt. Make her suffer!”

Sugar, Marley and Jake fell silent, taken aback by the short, gothic woman. Mike glanced over with a nervous expression as he heard Tina’s words, followed by her evil cackle.

“You’re torturing the shit out of her! I love it. Get it, Girl.”

Brittany felt proud.

“Hey, if she wants all this she’s gonna have to work for it.”

“Hey, Britt, I think there’s someone at your door. Must be another delivery from Ms. Egomaniac.” Sugar chimed in.

The tall blonde just shrugged, traipsing over and eventually returning with a new parcel. Brittany blushed reddish pink up to her ears, gasping at a new, skimpy lingerie set that she unwrapped. She held up the light blue, lacy lingerie as her friends began to wolf whistle jokingly and some of them made gagging noises.

Against her better judgment, she answered Santana’s call when that familiar number flashed on her phone a few minutes later.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve sending this,” She sniffed, trying to sound bitchy and cold as she told her off. “Do you really think that’s appropriate? You horny bastard.”

Santana was laughing down the line. She was actually laughing, that cheeky bitch.

“You like it, Babe? Gonna put it on and model it just for me, Querida?”

“I am not your Querida.”

She did like the lingerie a lot but Santana didn’t need to know that. If her ego got any bigger it would probably explode.

She hung up before Santana could answer. Deep down, she knew Santana would love that response even more.

****Read the rest of this story on AO3

#brittana #brittany s. pierce #santana lopez #Brittany Pierce #Glee #Brittana Fanfiction #Santana and Brittany #my fics #My Name is No series #Brittana AU

17 notes · View notes

hyperfixatedonstuff · 10 months

Text

Short Fic about Trans Fem Scout for @jaymi-and-their-shit

also on my AO3 -> Call your mother!! (1098 words) by hyperfixated_on_dumb_shit Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Scout & Spy (Team Fortress 2), Scout & Scout's Mother (Team Fortress 2) Characters: Scout (Team Fortress 2), Scout's Mother (Team Fortress 2), Spy (Team Fortress 2) Additional Tags: Trans Female Character, Trans Scout (Team Fortress 2), Trans Female Scout (Team Fortress 2), scout's name is Jamie Summary: Scout comes out to her mom with the help of Spy

Scout was nervous, her pacing around the phones revealed that. Today was Sunday, the weekly ceasefire and also the day she always called her Ma. Well, not always. Lately she had been neglecting calling home because she was terrified to talk to her mother. A few months ago she came out to her team as trans, it was a little scary but due to how open they were about being queer or accepting those who were she had managed it. But now she had an entirely new challenge, coming out to her mother. Her mother always said she would love her no matter what. But what if this was the exception? What if she got mad? Or was disappointed?

“Scout!” She nearly jumped out of her skin when a gloved hand materialized out of thin air and landed on her shoulder.

“What are you pacing about for? It’s distracting to those of us trying to use the phone.” Spy had removed his hand from her shoulder and crossed his arms to relay annoyance.

“N-nothing! I’ll get outta your way or whatever.” Scout begins to away from the phones but before she can even get a few steps in Spy sighs and speaks up.

“This is about your mother, isn’t it?” Her shoulders go stiff and she turns back, expecting to see a smug grin. Instead she sees Spy leaning against the wall with a cigarette, brows furrowed and staring at the ground.

“…How did you know?” Spy lets out a little chuckle but quickly explains himself when Scout glares at him.

“It’s my job to know things. You have obviously been stressed. It wasn’t a hard conclusion to reach.” At first she scrunches up her face in anger but then she sighs and takes a place against the wall next to him. After a few moments, she sinks to the floor and pulls her knees to her chest.

“You haven’t told her yet.”

“No.” Spy tries to speak again but is interrupted by Scout’s voiced overthinking. “What if she gets mad? And yells at me? And never lets me go home? What if my brothers make fun of me? Or if Ma ain’t angry but sad?”

“Scout.”

“What if she don’t want me as her kid anymore?”

“Scout!”

“I don’t know what I’ll do. I just shouldn’t tell her. She don’t need to deal with all of that. O’ course I’ll have to tell the guys not to-”

“Jamie!” Spy’s shouting finally reaches her ears and she looks up, slightly teary eyed.

“Your mother loves you. That won’t change no matter what you tell her.” There’s another pause before Spy kneels down and awkwardly pats her shoulder.

“But… how do you know?” She sniffles a bit and Spy sighs while drawing a handkerchief from his pocket.

“It’s my job to know things. And I know your mother is a good woman.” Jamie stares at him for a minute, despite the fact that Spy was an asshole, he was still convincing when he wanted to be. She sniffled again and he handed her the handkerchief. Spy watched as his expensive silk pocket square was coated in snot and tears, he grimaced in an exaggerated manner.

“I want that back by Monday. Cleaned.” She laughed as he stood up.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it old man.” Spy rolled his eyes and helped his daughter to her feet. He patted her shoulder one last time and turned to head back inside.

“Eh- thank you Spy.” He simply nodded before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Jamie sighed. She knew that Spy was right, as much as she hated even thinking that. She had to call her mother. So she dusted herself off, wiped the last of her tears away, and stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket.

She had called home every Sunday for years until the last few weeks. It was clear from the faded numbers that her mother’s number had been dialed most. Muscle memory moved her fingers over the buttons quickly as she fiddled with the cord with her free hand. She traced circles in the dirt with her foot while the phone rang.

‘ringggggg… ringggggg… ringggggg…rin-’

“Hello? Jeremy is that you? Where have you been? You haven’t called in three weeks!” Jamie instantly regrets her decision and nearly hangs up.

“Uh- yeah it’s me… l-look Ma I’m real sorry I haven’t called- but there’s something important I’ve been meaning to tell you!” The words came out of her mouth at an inhuman speed and she aggressively tapped her foot while waiting.

“Well? What is it? What’s so important you can’t call your mother!” Jamie swallows and takes a deep breath. This is it. The moment she’s been dreading for weeks.

“Ma… I’m transgender. Iknowitshardtohearbutitswhoiamandimnotgonnahideitanylongerivealwaysbeenagirlandijustneedtogetitoffmychest!” There’s a pause. Dread seeps into Jamie’s gut. Did she make a mistake? Did she just ruin her own life?

“So you’re a girl?” Scout lets out a breath she had been holding. She couldn’t read her mother’s tone very well but… she wasn’t yelling.

“Yes…is that okay?” Jamie asks meekly.

“Okay? Are you kidding me?” Here it comes. She thought, closing her eyes and getting ready to be chewed out. But instead of yelling or sobbing or anything of the sort, a laugh came through the phone. Not an angry laugh or a bitter one, but a genuinely happy laugh.

“I’ve always wanted a daughter! I mean- I never told you or your brothers that because I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t proud of you because I am! But it has been such a pain not having another woman around the house!” Jamie slowly opened her eyes, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You mean… you ain’t mad?” Again, more laughter plays through the phone.

“Why would I be mad? I thought you were gonna say you were in trouble or dying! You finding yourself is the least of my concerns!” There’s more laughter but this time half of it is Jamie’s.

“I’m so glad! I was so worried to tell ya’ that I hadn’t been callin’!”

“Well not so fast, you ain’t off the hook for not callin’ your own mother for 3 weeks! But before I chew you out for that. Do you have a new name yet? Oh- and who else have you told? D your brothers know? Your teammates? What about that doctor of yours? Has anyone given you trouble for it? You just tell me and I’ll deal with it!” Jamie smiled as her mother rambled on, things were back to normal again.

#tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 fic #trans scout #trans fem scout

26 notes · View notes

ollieofthebeholder · 2 months

Text

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website There's a soundtrack to this one if you're interested

Chapter 105: March 2001

Gerry gets back into town with exactly two hours to spare. It isn’t exactly optimal, but at least he’s able to grab a shower before rushing off. He has to double back when he almost forgets something important, and his mother tries to waylay him, but he manages to get away from her and catch the train just before it closes its doors.

Still, he’s a bit later than he’d like, and he just hopes Melanie is being optimistic.

The auditorium is crowded with families, from babes in arms to elderly folks, and it takes Gerry a good bit of scanning before he spots who he’s looking for. He distractedly thanks the student usher who hands him the folded bits of paper that constitutes a program and makes his way down the aisle to some seats on the left side of the theater, about three rows back. He’s in luck—there’s a seat next to Melanie that’s empty except for a bouquet of roses. From the fact that they’re mixed red and yellow, he guesses she’s the one that brought them.

“Does this mean you’re saving a seat for me?” he asks.

“Gerry!” Melanie’s face lights up, and she leaps to her feet and hugs him tightly. “Jesus, I thought you were still in Switzerland!”

“Luxembourg. Got back a couple hours ago.” Gerry leans over to shake Uncle Roger’s hand, then picks up the bouquet. “So, can I sit with you?”

“Duh.” Melanie plops back down into her seat and bends over to retrieve her program. Gerry notices she’s wearing the stole Alastair gave her for her ninth birthday, thrown over her jumper and jeans, but doesn’t say anything about it.

Instead, he opens his own program and skims it. There are two choirs that are more or less open—the Junior Choir and the Senior Choir—plus a Young Men’s Chorus and Women’s Ensemble, both by audition only, made up of students eligible for the Senior Choir but with a better grasp of things like pitch, musicality, and not bobbing your head violently along with the beat. This is Martin’s last year in the Junior Choir, and Gerry knows he’s planning to try out for the Young Men’s Chorus when they open up again…or has he already?

“Did Martin ever do that audition?” he asks Melanie, who would be the first to know.

“It’s not until next term, I don’t think,” Melanie answers. “It starts in the fall, after all. Anyway, he hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

Gerry hums as he skims the list of songs the Junior Choir will be singing. Unsurprisingly for the Easter term, there are a couple of songs that look to be religious, or at least trending in that direction—he knows “Because He Lives” is definitely an Easter song, and “One Song (A Song of Peace)” is probably similar—plus a couple generic spring songs, some songs that seem to just be for fun, and a single song in a foreign language, French this term. Gerry mentally braces himself for the typical childish hacking through the language.

“I haven’t heard Martin practicing any of these,” Melanie murmurs, also looking over the list.

“Well, you know, your mother isn’t well,” Uncle Roger says absently. “Martin doesn’t practice in the house so much, so he doesn’t disturb her.”

“There is that,” Melanie admits. She glances at the opposite page. “Ooh, the Young Men’s Chorus is doing ‘Diu Diu Deng’!”

Gerry is about to ask her what that means when the lights in the auditorium dim and everybody—for the most part—quiets down. It’s not like a professional performance where people understand what they’re supposed to do; it’s an amateur production, quality notwithstanding, and some people don’t seem to care how loud the crowd noise is as long as it’s not their child on the stage.

The Junior Choir, all neatly dressed in black slacks or skirts and white tops, file onto the stage in ordered rows, filling the risers as they do so, to enthusiastic applause and a few good-natured cheers. Gerry scans the group coming in; Martin, as both one of the older and one of the taller boys in the choir, is usually one of the first ones out so he can climb up and get to his spot, and he wants to get a good look at him before all he can see is eyes and hair over the row of faces going from plump to angular as they begin to change from child to teen.

But there’s no sign of him.

Gerry blinks, and looks harder—like Martin would be difficult to miss. But no, it’s only girls filing out now and climbing the risers. Martin is nowhere to be found. As the last child takes her position, the director, a man Gerry knows well by now, comes out and bows to the audience, then turns to the choir, waiting for the applause to die down so they can begin.

For his part, Gerry is having something akin to a mental breakdown. Could Martin have dropped out of chorus without telling them…or worse, been removed against his will? It’s likely he wouldn’t say anything; he wouldn’t want them to worry. But would he let it get this far—let them think he was going to be in the concert, knowing he’ll be found out? That’s not Martin’s style at all. He’s not the kind of person to put people out, and for them to show up expecting to cheer him on would be (at least in Martin’s mind) a huge inconvenience. He surely knows by now that they will come to all his concerts; Gerry might go out of town more often than he likes, but Melanie and Uncle Roger never miss.

So it must be something else. Something must have happened to him…but what? Surely he rode in with Uncle Roger and Melanie rather than walking himself, so something must have happened to him since they arrived, but—

Melanie slaps his arm urgently, not hard, just a frantic patting to silently get his attention. Gerry turns to face her as the choir begins a slightly clumsy but overall decent (to his ear at least, not that he’s paying a whole lot of attention) rendition of their first spring song. The question dies on his lips as she stabs her finger repeatedly at the back of the program. With the lights down, Gerry can’t read it from there, so he picks up his own program and turns it to the back, then holds it closer to his face. The back of the program is where all the members of the various choruses are listed, and his first reaction is to breathe a silent sigh of relief when he sees MARTIN BLACKWOOD right there on the page, immediately above ANDREW CARTWRIGHT.

It’s awfully low down on the page, though. The Junior Choir is usually right at the top…

Gerry’s eyes flick up, just a little, and he sees the word TENOR, which is also unusual, since the Junior Choir is only two parts as far as he knows—he remembers Martin saying once they don’t start really breaking them up until Senior Choir. Then his eyes widen as he realizes that Martin’s name is on the far right of the page…and the column is actually headed TENOR 1.

He looks again, and there it is—Martin’s name listed under the Young Men’s Chorus.

Gerry—there’s no other word for it—goggles. He knows you’re supposed to be thirteen to get into that group; Martin won’t be thirteen until August. Then there’s the fact that, according to Melanie, he’s not supposed to start in it until the fall. But yet…here he is.

During the applause for the latest song, Gerry leans over and whispers to Melanie, “He wasn’t in the Young Men’s Chorus at Christmas, was he?”

“No!” Melanie hisses back. “The most complicated piece they did was ‘Dona Nobis Pacem’, remember?”

Gerry does, but he’s been wondering if he misremembered. Still, Melanie wouldn’t have said Martin was still planning to audition if he had already been in.

He can hardly concentrate through the first half of the concert, barely manages to applaud at the appropriate times, but when the Senior Choir sits down and the director announces the Young Men’s Chorus, he leans forward, anxious and eager.

Bit odd to call them ‘men’ when they’re thirteen to sixteen, isn’t it? whispers a voice in the back of his mind, sounding amused, and Gerry has to admit that it is a bit odd even if they did append young to the front, but he supposes that if they’re referring to the Women’s Ensemble they can’t very well call it a Boys’ Chorus. His eyes flick back and forth along the line of boys, young men, whatever, as they file in. There are only about a dozen of them all together, and—ah, there he is. Third from the end, he’s the taller of the two Tenor Ones on the front row. Even from where he sits, Gerry can see that he’s visibly pale and nervous, only not fidgeting in his tuxedo jacket and bow tie because he’s too much the professional to do so. But as soon as Martin’s eyes lock on the director, a whole new demeanor takes its place. He’s still pale, but he’s calm and focused. Nothing will exist for him from here on out but the music.

And what music it is! Even Gerry, who really knows very little about music overall, is impressed. For such a small group—now that they’re all out, he can count sixteen, four to each part—they fill the space, and they sound wonderful. Maybe he’s a little biased because Martin is part of it, but he never felt this way about the Junior Choir, only that Martin was one of the few good parts of it, so they must actually be good.

They sing a classic song with a lot of “hallelujahs” in it, another song that invokes the stars, and a song that has Melanie sitting bolt upright and smiling from the very beginning. Gerry surmises this is the one she mentioned before the concert. It’s obviously a Chinese song, and just as obviously about a train—Gerry doesn’t speak it, but he gets that much—and from the bright look on all the boys’ faces, not just Martin’s, they’re obviously enjoying it. It gets the loudest round of applause of the evening so far.

Once the auditorium is quiet again, there’s a single note on the piano that dies away quickly. The director waves a few beats, and then the boys begin singing a slow, sonorous song that thrums in Gerry’s chest. “Brightly beams our Father’s mercy…from His lighthouse evermore…”

Gerry lets his eyes drift shut as he listens. The song is poignant and solemn, but somehow feels…important. It’s almost as though the song itself is a beacon calling to them; in fact, it gives him almost the same sensation as that song Melanie sang a couple years back to find Martin in the park, an incident he still shies away from thinking about too hard or often. It’s a song of hope, of steadfast faith, of assuring someone that you’ll be there for them, no matter what.

And then a single clear, pure voice rings out over the room. “Throw out the lifeline, throw out the lifeline, someone is drifting away…”

At that, Gerry’s eyes pop open wide, because he knows that voice. His lips part in shock as he stares at the stage. Martin, his eyes shining green all the way from out here as they fix on the director’s baton, sings the verses to the second half of what’s obviously a medley, alone and unaccompanied and unafraid. Martin, who is always nervous and afraid of putting himself out there, who stammers any time he’s put on the spot, sings with a confidence that’s no different than when it’s just the three of them in a park or on the river bank or on top of a hill, with the unfettered pleasure of someone doing what he’s always meant to do.

And Gerry, who has heard Martin sing a thousand times, who knows his voice is like this, is utterly entranced.

There’s a beat of silence when the whole choir finishes a reprise of the chorus of the first song, and then the audience nearly takes the roof off the auditorium with their applause. Martin’s cheeks turn faintly pink as the director gestures to him, but he doesn’t duck his head or back away, which is…honestly progress.

The boys do a fast, peppy song about putting bones together and taking them apart again, and then they end with an absolutely gorgeous song Gerry’s never heard before, but he recognizes the lyrics as being one of Martin’s favorite Byron poems, “She Walks In Beauty”. Gerry’s pretty sure he’s not the only one that tears up a little.

The Women’s Ensemble goes next, and in Gerry’s totally unbiased opinion, they should have gone before the Young Men’s Chorus, because they can’t hold up. The director calls everyone out for the final song, which they do at virtually every single concert, and then it’s over.

Melanie is beaming ear to ear as she turns to Gerry. “That’s the best one ever.”

Gerry can’t help but laugh at her. “You’re just saying that because Martin got a solo.”

“No, I’m saying it because it was amazing.” Melanie shifts the bouquet to one hand and punches Gerry with the other. “Come on. Let’s go find him so we can yell at him for not telling us.”

The lobby and halls are crowded with people finding and congratulating their respective students. Melanie greets and congratulates a couple of girls she evidently knows at least in passing—as usual, they act polite but not particularly enthusiastic—but it takes Gerry a bit before he spots Martin trying to edge his way around the crowd. He nudges Melanie and points. “Look, there he is!”

Melanie shoves the bouquet at Uncle Roger and immediately starts threading her way through the crowd. She’s always had a talent for this sort of thing, and she slides through the gaps like water sliding through cupped hands. Gerry glances over his shoulder at Uncle Roger, unable to hide his amusement. “Well, she’s going to get there first. Shall we?”

Uncle Roger gestures. “Lead the way.”

Gerry is not particularly large or intimidating, so he can’t exactly shove people out of his way, and he’s not as agile as Melanie. He squeezes through whatever gaps he can, Uncle Roger’s polite “excuse me”s following him, and makes it to Martin’s side well after Melanie has attacked him in a tight hug.

“You’re an absolute ass,” she says, the delight in her voice belying her words. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d got into the Young Men’s Chorus already?”

“It—it was a last-minute thing,” Martin says, his cheeks turning bright pink. The blush gets even deeper when he notices Gerry. “When—wh-when did you get back?”

“Just in time.” Gerry comes over and hugs Martin, too. “What do you mean, last-minute thing? That’s not something you can just learn at the last minute.”

“No, I—I mean, not—” Martin swallows nervously. “It, um, over the break at half-term, Joseph White had to have his tonsils taken out, and something went wrong, so he couldn’t sing anymore. He told Dr. Clayton to run the auditions early and pick someone to replace him, and…well, I-I guess I was the only person to audition who could hit Tenor One parts who did well enough to start now?”

Gerry doubts that, actually, but he’s not going to say as much. Instead, he says, “But then you got the solo?”

“Not originally. It was supposed to be Kent Phillips, but he missed his cue one day and I just, I kind of jumped in out of habit, and Dr. Clayton asked me to take over.” Martin ducks his head, obviously embarrassed. “I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Yeah, well, obviously Dr. Clayton doesn’t think so,” Melanie points out.

Uncle Roger finally makes it over to them, smiling broadly. He presents Martin with the bouquet. “Well done, son. It’s a shame your mother couldn’t make it, but if you’d told us you had a solo, I know she would have been here.”

Yeah, right, whispers that voice in Gerry’s head. Gerry grunts his agreement without thinking. Melanie scowls momentarily, but says nothing. Martin, for his part, manages a tentative smile that at least looks convincing as he accepts the bouquet, even though he doesn’t actually agree with his stepfather’s assessment. “Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you could make it, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Uncle Roger rumples Martin’s hair affectionately. “Come on. After that, I think you deserve ice cream. Gerard, care to join us?”

“I’d love to. Thanks, Uncle Roger.” Gerry smiles up at the man and throws an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “He’s right. Let’s go celebrate, yeah? Even if you think it was an accident, that was a damned good performance and you deserve to celebrate.”

Melanie slides her arm around Martin’s waist from the other side. Obviously unable to protest, he lets them drag him outside, Uncle Roger leading the way.

Okay, the voice in the back of Gerry’s head whispers. Why this? Why tonight?

Why not? Gerry asks the voice.

Sorry, Ger. Not talking to you right now, just trying to work some stuff out. We’ll talk later.

Gerry feels something inside him warm, for reasons he can’t explain. But since his brain has just informed him they’re not going to be on speaking terms for the rest of the night, apparently—he swears he can hear someone laughing at him all of a sudden—he decides that’s a problem for later. For now, he’s going to concentrate on his siblings, and on his Uncle Roger, and on ice cream.

He can worry later.

#ollie writes fanfic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#gerard keay #melanie king #martin blackwood #the implication of timothy stoker

4 notes · View notes

chenfordspiral · 2 months

Note

4, 6, 9, 26, 30, 35, 49 (for the [insert fic] ones, go with Little Bit of Love!) 😊

4. What detail in [Little bit of Love] are you really proud of? Mh, good question. Oh, omg. The fact that they found and agreed on a name for their baby in a car of all places. I didn’t intend for it to happen that way, but it did and now I can’t let go of the thought that, not only did they technically fall in love riding in the same car (*ahem* shop *ahem*) for hours every day, but they also named their first child riding side by side in a car. Maybe it’s just me who thinks that’s kind of cool and fitting lol

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [Little bit of Love] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself? Um, again, good question... maybe the fact that Lucy did actually officially keep Chen as part of her name (like a middle name), and that people at work call her both Chen and Bradford now.

9. How do you find new fic to read? I usually scroll through the Chenford tag on AO3. If I’m not in the mood for that, or have little time to do it (like the last couple of weeks), then I just read the stories from the authors I’ve subscribed to (my inbox is glaring at me as we speak because I've got some serious catching up to do. I’m so behind… and thanks to a certain new blog, I now have even more reading to do.)

26. Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue? I think I’m gonna have to say no dialogue because without dialogue, there’s still ways to convey whatever message you wanna convey, but with only dialogue, some pieces are just going to be missing in the context. How are they actually feeling? Did they say it with a smile, or a frown? Where are they? Who’s actually talking? Are they sleepy, excited, sad? Etc, etc, etc…

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter? Um, writing that first piece of smut back in July for ChenfordWeek. I’ve written more since then, so I guess after getting that first one out of the way, so to speak, it made it a little less terrifying? I’m still nervous as all hell every time I’m about to hit that post button, but it’s getting better.

35. What aspects of your writing are completely unlike your real life? Huh, ha. Most of it? If not all of it lol. But I guess that’s why it’s so much fun (as you said yourself as well!)

49. What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it! I’m always working on Little bit of Love (shocker, I know). So here’s a snippet of the beginning of the next chapter, which is proving to be more difficult to write than I anticipated...

He hums in agreement and closes the few feet of space between them to pull her into a loose hug. Her back is to his chest since she was looking around the room again, and she lets herself sink into his arms with a smile. He lets his hands wander over the sides of her belly and then down until he can clasp them together underneath and gently lift the weight of their baby. “Oh my god,” Lucy sobs in relief, tears welling up in her eyes because up until right this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she needed that. Her head falls back against Tim’s shoulder and her eyes flutter closed in pleasure. She can feel his little chuckle against her hair and sighs when he nuzzles his face into her neck and brushes his lips over the skin just below her ear. “This is how much weight you carry around every day in your belly alone?”

Thank youuu 🫶🏻

#asked and answered #ask games #this was fun #as always #i need to start tagging who asked #so #queseraone

4 notes · View notes

forabeatofadrum · 11 days

Text

Just Some Guy (9/9) - COMPLETE

AO3

–

Epilogue

MATT

My mum is loaded, so I can afford to take a gap year to travel. I’m going to America with John and Leslie for a cross-country road trip for a couple of weeks. I will visit the Cordero family, of course. John bemoans that the city of Samwell doesn’t exist in this universe, or something, so we’re making a stop at Providence since that’s ‘the next best thing’ or whatever. Leslie really wants to see Ohio for some reason. Apart from that, we have no concrete plans.

What will I do afterwards? I don’t know. I can go to university, like Luis, Scott and Sam. I can try to find a place where I can enrol in February. Or I could look for a job, like Ryan and Arnold.

We’ve graduated. Our entire life is in front of us.

John tells me not to worry, since my story will be over anyway. That’s so weird, because I feel like I am only just at the beginning.

I tell him that.

“No, really, man, this fic will be over in a couple of paragraphs,” he says back, “Around 300 words left!”

As usual, I don’t know what he means. The two of us are walking up a flight of stairs. We’re visiting my mum. She moved to a new flat in Camberwell and there’s an extra room. I will move in here after I come back from my road trip, because I like the idea of living in London and I miss my mum.

We leave the stairwell and go through the door that leads to my mum’s floor when I see someone in front of one of the flat’s doors.

This guy is on his phone, leaning against the wall. He’s wearing a floral top and jeans. A large bag is slung over his shoulder and he’s holding a huge water bottle in his other hand.

I didn’t recognise him for a second, with his hair loose like that and with a casual look, but it’s Baz Pitch.

What the fuck? What is Baz Pitch doing in my mum’s hallway?

He hasn’t noticed us yet, too engrossed in whatever’s on his phone. We pass him without a word and quickly enter my mum’s flat before he can notice us.

“Mum?” I yell out.

My mum emerges from the kitchen. Her hands are covered in flour.

“Yes, dear?” she asks.

“Why is- I mean, there’s a guy loitering around at number 61!” I say. Does my mum even know that’s Baz Pitch, the Pitch Heir? Even I had troubles recognising him and I just spent 8 years in the same class as him.

“Oh, that handsome young man?” my mum laughs, “The neighbours joke that he haunts that door day and night! They should just give him a key already.”

“… They?” I ask, but I can already feel the dread building up.

“His boyfriend lives there,” my mum says lightly, “I haven’t actually seen him yet, since I am often at work, but I know that he lives there with a friend.”

Baz Pitch’s boyfriend.

That means…

Simon Snow.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

End notes:

Hey yo it's John Johnson here. The author told me I have the privilege to write the last author's note but also who are we kidding? We all know it's still the author putting the words in my metaphorical mouth. ANYWAY supes thanks for reading. Watching Matty grow up from a strapping young lad to a full-blown adult has been a real treat and I hope you liked seeing his story unfold as much as I did. Or maybe not. I mean, brah, I was part of it lol. (Can I make Matty meet Jack and Bitty? How does this work? I mean, I also already met Kurt Hummel in another fic of the author, so everything is possible.) But yeah thanks a lot for reading. I can tell you the author absolutely loved writing it and sharing it with you.

It's so funny, cause chapter 8 was the last one, but then Annie letraspal made some gorgeous fanart (which is linked in this chapter) and the author realised it'd be really fucking funny if Matt hadn't entirely gotten rid of Simon and Baz yet.

MCD's story is definitely over. I told him so myself. Yet, there are some small snippet of his future you might like to know. Like, don't spoil this for Matt yet, but he and Leslie won't last. Boo. Or fun fact, did you know I actually spoke to Baz regularly? LOL. Lmao even. Matt never knew, so neither did y'all, since it wasn't relevant to the plot. I did mention in a blog post on the author's blog that I think he's fit, but bet y'all didn't see coming I was friendly with him. And yeah, Simon and Matt (and Penny) are neighbours now, but no worries, Matt will continue his uneventful life in ignorance. The dude won't know Simon's moved out to Hackney Wick till idk a year after??? I might tell him sooner, but as I mentioned before, gaslighting my bestie for the narrative is a treat.

All this to say that the world of Carry On.... carries on, even without Matty giving you a glimpse into it. Apart from what I mentioned above, I have no fucking clue what's next for him and therefore neither does the author. Or is it the other way around??? Do I only not know because she doesn't know??? I should ask her. But even so, feel free to keep Matty Chris D. (thanks Dre for the name, I was gonna do a shout-out to you in the fic itself but it never fit oop) in your hearts. I definitely will. Stay 'swasome everyone and have a good day. - J.J.

#carry on #snowbaz #story: just some guy #holy fuck I wrote #2024 #multichaptered

5 notes · View notes

writingwife-83 · 1 year

Text

Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Day 7: Space AU

I’ve never had a huge interest in doing a Star Wars AU for the BBC Sherlock characters, but when I saw that Day 7 had “space AU” as an option, I figured this was my opportunity to give it a go! This is such a tiny little snapshot into an AU that could be incredibly complex, but I hope that any who enjoy SW like what little I did with it. ❤️ and happy last day of SAW!!

Balance (👈AO3)

Sherlock let go of the ledge, allowing himself to fall through the hatch in the top of John’s ship. He hit the floor and lay there, shaking and still clutching the throbbing stump at the end of his arm as he felt the ship take off. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, so the pain was minimal, compared to what he knew it would be soon. He shut his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that even as he escaped she was still calling out to him through the Force…

“Sherlock? Maker, what happened to you?!” John exclaimed, rushing out of the cockpit to check on his friend.

“It… didn’t go as planned,” Sherlock groaned.

“You can say that again,” HUDD-3RS commented, having come to inspect the situation as well. “I knew this was a terrible idea. But nobody listens to me.”

“Not now, Hudders!” Sherlock bit back at the protocol droid.

“Well!” she huffed, beginning to shuffle away. “I shall just go and rest my circuits if I’m not wanted.”

John crouched down, making a cursory examination of his friend’s injuries. “She’s not wrong, Sherlock. This was a terrible idea and I think you rushed into it. Regardless, we’ve got to get you medical attention.”

Sherlock sat up with some difficulty. “We have bacta on the ship.”

“Bacta won’t grow a new hand!” John yelled. He shook his head, thinking for a moment. “Look, I know where we need to go, and no arguments.”

“Oh? And where is that?”

“The one person who always manages to see through your Bantha crap… I’m taking you to Molly.”

“You are no sister of mine!”

“But I am. I am your sister. Search your feelings, brother. You know it to be true!”

“No… no.”

“Join me, Sherlock. Just think of how powerful we could be together! The entire galaxy would bow before us! You don’t know the power of the Dark Side… but I can teach you.”

“There is nothing I wish to learn from you!”

“But don’t you remember, Sherlock? Remember when we were small, how much fun we used to have, playing together. We could be that happy and free again. Oh, how I used to love making you laugh…”

Sherlock jolted awake to find lights shining down above him, and he could hear the soft whirring of machinery, prompting him to turn his head on the table where he lay.

Molly.

She was working with her back to him; that comfortingly familiar dark hair braided down her back against the backdrop of the gray jumpsuit she always wore at her shop. He was never sorry to see her, but he was sorry it was under these circumstances.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Molly commented as she turned around and crossed the room to him. “How are you feeling? I’ve already given you something for the pain.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.” She paused. “John will be back soon. He just went to get some supplies for the ship. And I’m just finishing up on your hand. Well, I mean your new hand.”

Sherlock turned his gaze back to the ceiling, feeling like more of a fool than he ever had in his life. How had he not felt it before? How had he missed it?

“I’m glad you’re safe.”

Sherlock shifted his gaze to look at her again. Her eyes were glistening ever so slightly, and she turned quickly away to retrieve what she’d been working on, returning to the table with the mechanical hand.

Molly Hooper was the best engineer he knew. Medical engineer, more specifically. She could find the problem in anything with working parts, including humans, and could usually fix it too. But she was more than that to him. She was a safe place, a hiding place, a place where he felt truly seen. Many times over the years he’d questioned whether she was in fact Force sensitive, but she truly wasn’t. It wasn’t about that and perhaps that’s what made her special. Everything about her that had always been so impressive to him came straight from her own heart, without the need to harness some outside Force.

Molly cleared her throat, holding up the mechanical hand as he sat up on the table. “I had this already, so it didn’t take long to make a few adjustments so it would work for you. It’s nothing special, but it’ll do until I can make one that includes artificial flesh and skin.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock replied flatly. “Best get this done so I can get back to work.”

“Tell me if it hurts, ok?” She placed the machinery against his wrist and began the process of fusing it with his existing nerves and muscles. “So… John said you’ve abandoned the Jedi.”

“Becoming a Jedi Master was the path my family wanted for me,” Sherlock explained, seeing his home planet explode and splinter into a billion tiny pieces all over again in his mind’s eye. “I was never meant to be a Jedi. Especially not now. You see, a Jedi does not seek revenge.”

Molly was quiet for a moment. “Revenge will not bring them back, Sherlock.”

“Darth Eurus doesn’t deserve to live!” Sherlock snapped. “She has taken too many lives and she must be stopped. If not, the galaxy will never be at peace... I will never be at peace. Besides, I know she will keep searching for me as well. She won’t stop.”

“Searching for you? Why?”

Sherlock looked at her innocently quizzical expression with sorrowful eyes. “She is… my sister.”

Molly’s jaw dropped. “Sister? Are you sure?”

Sherlock nodded. “She wanted me to join her, Molly. The worst part of it is, I considered it,” he admitted sadly. “That evil, that darkness, it’s in me too. I can feel it… and I have to destroy it.”

Molly continued working on his hand as she glanced back at him. “There’s darkness in all of us, Sherlock. Killing your sister won’t take that away.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I suppose you think I should have stayed with the Jedi.”

“No, I don’t,” she replied, more firmly. “If you don’t want to be a Jedi, then you shouldn’t be. But you still have to find balance in the Force. Killing your sister seems to me to be giving into that darkness.”

“Pff, when did you become an expert?”

Molly shrugged, and he saw her cheeks flushing a bit. “I’ve… done a bit of research, that’s all. You were a Jedi, after all, so I just wanted to know more about some things.”

A smirk bloomed on Sherlock’s lips. “And what exactly did you learn?”

She chewed at her lip. “Well… attachment is forbidden.”

Yes it was. And unbeknownst to her, Sherlock had many times been warned about his repeated visits to Molly’s shop. His brother Mycroft, who had chosen to be a senator despite his own Force sensitivity, had cautioned him, advising that romantic attachment could even be a path to the Dark Side.

Advice which John quite vocally disagreed with.

“Yes, that is part of the Jedi code,” Sherlock confirmed softly, watching her as she continued working.

“There,” Molly finally said a couple minutes later. “Try it out.”

Sherlock lifted his arm, turning his new hand this way and that, and bending his fingers up and down. He reached out, using the Force to pull one of the tools on Molly’s workbench toward him until he caught it in his hand.

“I think this will do nicely,” he said, hopping off the table.

“Here,” Molly added, handing him a glove. “You can wear this, so as not to draw attention to it. I’ll send word when the other one is ready.”

Sherlock tugged the glove over his mechanical fingers, then smiled at her. “Thank you, Molly.”

She nodded, smiling up at him. “It’s no problem. And, Sherlock, think about what I said, please.”

He agreed, and he meant it. He was full of anger and the desire for revenge, but was that truly the path he wanted to take? Perhaps not. Perhaps the right path involved more thought, more caution. Perhaps before confronting his sister again he must learn more about her and the strange connection they share. Could something good come from that? Could balance be found for them both? He couldn't yet say for certain.

He began to turn away, but then Sherlock stopped himself, facing her again. “Molly?”

“Hm?”

“One more thing.”

Sherlock leaned down while taking gentle hold of her chin and tilting it upward, allowing his lips to easily find hers and mold perfectly together. If ever a perfect balance was to be found in the galaxy, this was the closest he’d come to experiencing it himself. When he pulled away, gazing into her half lidded eyes, he gave her a small smile.

“I am no longer bound to the Jedi code.”

#sherlolly #sherlollyweek2023 #space au #Star Wars au #this came out ok #I’m not in love with it #but I definitely had fun plotting with Lexie and darthsydious lol

20 notes · View notes

fruifruit · 1 month

Note

Sir-ma’am I just read the Pokémon fanfic you put on ao3 and I am here to ask you to info dump about it because I am starved for pokemon stuff as it is my current hyperfixtation.

(you don’t have too if you don’t want to but I’m very intrigued)

OMG IM SO HONORED FJDKLSJFDLSK i dont know where to start tho hmm,,

i guess ill start off w the fact that i created rudy because i felt like a lot of the fandom characterized juliana/florian as too soft/forgiving of kieran's actions?? like dont get me wrong their interpretations of their characters are still valid absolutely but i felt like i needed someone more abrasive and more challenging towards kieran's bs. i really think he needed someone to challenge him and snap back against his more angry/angsty actions especially when he blames the mc for ogerpon making her own choice, and not to just roll over and take it like i see a lot of the time. thats not really exemplified in the fanfic ofc because its more of a softer post-terapagos piece but in the future that's a lot of what rudy does!!

to add to that i originally planned for the fanfic to be much longer, it would have probably pushed at least 7000 words if i had actually finished it, but that was kind of the problem JLKFDJSLK i could feel my motivation slipping with a lot of it so i just decided to focus on just them getting out of area zero. if i had stuck with my original plan it would have probably taken far longer to come out but would have covered their descent into area zero, the terapagos fight, and little bits in between where rudy is Fucking Panicked about being in area zero again after the lab incident (which she is incredibly traumatized by and i hadnt thought of this prior to posting the fic but ive decided she becomes hard of hearing in one ear bc of it) and kieran picking up on that but not knowing how to deal with it because they have not reconciled at this point. it would have had a lot of tension and a lot of fighting until they got to terapagos which is where the real fun would begin. im actually considering finishing those segments and then publishing them in their own work sometime in the future :3c

annnddd to end off i could tell you about rudy's team since i didn't show them during the fic!! she's got dance and sound based pokemon because shes a dancer first and a battler second, and her pokemon are quaquaval, oricorio, lilligant, noivern, volcarona (unovan), and toxtricity! notable early mentions are krikitune, zorua, and luvdisc who are now happily living around her dorm room JLKFDJSL

#god this is . so much im sorry JKLFDJSLK #ive just been thinking of her for so long #my baby girl #and also kieran i love him hes so funny JKLFDJSLD #thank u again so much for asking i hope the infodump is good LOL #pokemon #my fics #asks #anon #oc: rudy #rival kieran

2 notes · View notes

gothcsz · 1 month

Text

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter IV.

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: The beginning of the end...

WORD COUNT: 7.5k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: The start of a very wicked love triangle, slowburn slowburn slowburnnnn, mentions of religion (Catholicism), porn WITH plot !!!, some characterization, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: this took me longer than i anticipated solely bc i hate rereading my writing </3 i'm tryin suuuuper hard to get javi's characterization down so i hope i'm doing him justice fr 🙏🏽 the plot is slowly getting started and i'm just rly hype for it bc i love the whole southern gothic vibe like it EATS!!! anyways i'm always open to feedback and all that other fun stuff so feel free to interact with this post or blog! thanks to everyone who has kept up with this so far!! y'all are real asf <3

♰ read on ao3. ♰

♰ playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

“ You know, most guys woulda thrown in the towel by now. ” Paloma tells him, legs steadily peddling her bicycle as Javier drives in his cruiser alongside her.

“ Most guys are idiots, querida . ” He replies cooly, one arm dangling lazily out of the driver’s side window and his aviators sitting pretty on the bridge of his nose.

Paloma’s laugh rings out beautifully and he can’t keep himself from smiling. “ S’no wonder they quit on you. You’re stubborn as hell. ” He grumbles, thinking of the various times that she’s rejected his offer to drive her wherever she needed.

Initially, Javier's behavior bordered on being a downright nuisance, deliberately encroaching on her personal space with excessive proximity. It wasn't entirely due to his duties; rather, he found amusement in witnessing her vexation and irritation. The combination of her sharp retorts and accompanying eye rolls became an addictive response he couldn't resist provoking.

It was entertaining, to say the least.

Amidst his constant patrolling, Javier got to learn more about her little by little. Details like what her routine consists of and how she interacts with others.

It's abundantly evident that Paloma is adored by nearly everyone she encounters. Her kindness, wit, talent… beauty. It’s thoughts like these that had him second guessing how he was approaching the Sheriff’s orders.

It was making him feel like a stalker, honestly, so he decided to pull back. She is grown, after all, and she’s reminded him of that fact almost daily.

So, Javier gave her the space they both need. Not following her around everywhere or posting up outside her job. During his downtime, he is able to put more analytical attention on the current homicide case. Starting with the guy that had lingered at Nina’s funeral.

He asked around, trying to get any information about a potential boyfriend or anything of that nature but came up empty handed.

Paloma grins proudly at his words. “ You say stubborn I say strong-willed . I do appreciate you easing off, though. ” She looks over at him and he admires her beauty beneath the summer sun.

Brown hair clipped up into a messy updo and a soft, yellow sundress adorning her body. A hidden gem in this vast and obscure town.

“ ‘Least I could do. Helps me think, too, drivin’ around. ” Javier keeps himself from reminiscing on his days in Colombia and the endless amount of stakeouts he’d been apart of. Sure, his ass would get numb and most of the time they acquired nothing but it helped him analyze any and every detail he could examine; often the copious amount of time he spent trying to piece everything together lead to a bigger break in the investigation.

He’s just applying the same technique here. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to make anything out of it all.

“ Ah , so the car is your go to spot? Mine is the abandoned tracks over by Montrose. For some reason, I think better there… if that makes any sense. ” The conversation continues easily and naturally. That is another thing he’s come to learn about her, Paloma is very amiable.

“ It makes sense, muñeca . You shouldn’t go by yourself, though. Don’t know who could be followin’ you all the way out there… ”

“ I think it’s an officer that goes by Peña and I’m pretty sure he’s stalking me. ” She teases him and he rolls his eyes, letting out a dry chuckle.

Javier really wants to urge her to let him take her to work but he knows she’ll challenge him.

Thinner strands of her hair stick to her neck and other damp areas of her face; the sweat on her thighs which he can see gleam beneath the hot sun each time she pedals. That leather seat she’s sitting on must be uncomfortable.

“ I’m sure he’s just trying to make sure that you don’t run into any trouble. Which is why I think you should let me give you a ride to the library before you pass out and die of heat exhaustion tryin’ to bike there. ” Javier tilts his head to the side to look at her and she stays quiet, thinking over his words before letting out a defeated sigh.

“ Fine, but only because it’s hot as shit and I may or may not be jealous of the A/C in your cruiser. ” He can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips as she caves in, rolling the vehicle to a smooth stop and putting it into park so that he could mount her bicycle to the back of it.

Javier’s eyes trail over her form as her back is turned to him, grabbing her things out of the small basket on her bike. If her father knew the scandalous thoughts he had about her he’d have him quartered and drawn. That does have a wave of guiltiness wash over him since the man is trusting him fully to look out for her and her wellbeing.

Which he is, in that regard Romeo has nothing to worry over, it’s Javier’s attraction to her that’s messing with his conscience.

It doesn’t help that Paloma plays into it, feigning innocence when she gets a reaction out of him. Maybe he shouldn't be so reactive.

“ I got it. ” Javier insists, taking ahold of the metal handle and brushing up against her as he does so. Feels her body stiffen at the sudden touch yet he keeps a satisfied simper at bay.

“ Thank you, officer . ” She recovers smoothly with that intriguing timbre she uses when they banter flirtatiously.

It is so wrong yet so right of them to continue whatever this is. Seeing just how far they can take it before the inevitable happens. Javier will hold off as much as he can, really he will, for the sake of his job and budding friendship with Romeo… if she ever decides to be explicit in her demands, however, it’s going to take a lot of willpower to not give in.

Once the bike is secured and she’s in the cruiser, he hops back into the driver’s seat and begins the drive into town.

The ride is silent at first, Paloma shoving her face in front of the small vents on the passenger side and letting the gust of air cool her down. He catches glimpses from his peripheral as she digs through her bag to pull out a satin handkerchief, wiping her face and neck, then her thighs.

He can’t help as his stare follows the motion of her dragging the fabric along her smooth and sweaty skin. Almost jealous of the damn thing, imagining it to be his touch instead.

“ Y’know, I wouldn’t be in this predicament had my car been fixed… ” she breaks their silence, peeking over at him as she fixes up her hair. It's clear he understands the implication behind her words.

“ I did volunteer myself to take a look at it, didn’t I? ” Javier responds as she sprits some perfume onto her wrists and behind her ear, rolling on some deodorant and just like that Paloma’s freshened up. Now the cab of his cruiser smells like her and it’s going to drive him fucking insane.

“ If I remember correctly, yes. ” He stops at an intersection, finally being able to look at her properly.

“ You free Saturday? ”

“ You askin’ me out on a date? ” Paloma’s eyes twinkle in pure mischief.

“ Your dad would kill me if I did that. ”

“ In front of the whole town, too. Make an example outta you. ”

“ I’m tryin’ to steer very clear of that, so no, baby, unfortunately I’m not askin’ you out on a date. I’ve got time to stop by and take a look at it before I go in for my shift. ”

Paloma purses her lips in thought as Javier trudges forward, the terrain changing from dirt road to asphalt as they near the library.

“ Yeah, you can come by at lunch. Daddy’s out all weekend on some huntin’ trip with his friends so… I’ll be home alone . ” It’s tantalizing, the way she drops that tidbit of information at the end. Javier is well aware of Romeo’s absence but he hadn’t stopped to think what that meant for him and Paloma.

As if there is a him and Paloma.

She flirts and eyes him like she would let him have his way with her but she is also strong-willed and and clever enough to be leading him on.

He’s just now built some rapport with her and he doesn’t want to jeopardize it. They can continue flirting without crossing the physical threshold.

“ Alright, nena , I’ll see you at lunch Saturday. ” He’s in front of the main entrance to the building now.

“ It’s a date, officer . ”

“ You must want me dead. ” He huffs.

“ Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. ” She pauses, biting down on her lower lip, “ It’ll be our little secret. ” Paloma whispers before opening the door.

He begins to swell in his pants as her voice drops into a whisper, words coated in seductive suggestion at the idea of them fooling around inconspicuously.

“ Wait, your bike–– ” He’s already reaching down to unbuckle himself when she stops him, leaning in through the open window of the now closed door.

“ Don’t worry about it. You can take me home later. I get off at 6. ” She winks at him, pulling back and turning on her heels to walk inside.

Javier slumps in his seat, head falling back against the headrest as he reminds himself how fucked he is.

–––––––––––––––––––

When Saturday afternoon rolls around, Javier’s heart is racing in anticipation of his alone time with Paloma at the Leighton residence.

All week he’s been plagued with profane scenarios of what could potentially unfold. Partially because he hasn’t gotten laid since returning to the States but also for his unwavering carnal desire for her.

The fact that she is irrevocably off limits only intensifies his yearning. He wants Paloma so bad because he can’t have her.

That’s lead to him finishing into his fist in the shower, images of her kneeled before him with her mouth wrapped around his cock at the forefront of his mind.

The first time it had happened, he felt like a damn teenager getting off to a crush. But then it continued to happen and at that point he just let his fantasies run amuck.

It’s not like he’d ever tell her or anyone for that matter, so his illicit imagination will continue to be just that: fleeting thoughts. Guilty pleasures only he can indulge in.

He pulls onto the property with ease, cutting the engine and sitting there for a minute to collect himself. It’s embarrassing for Javier to give himself a pep talk at his grown age, ‘keep your shit together’ his new mantra.

With his metallic toolbox in hand, he’s ready to knock against the screen door when he hears music playing faintly nearby. He follows the tune, rounding the corner of the wraparound porch to the backyard.

The music is recognizable now, Fleetwood Mac and his eyes fall on the girl lounging peacefully.

Paloma’s in a hammock, her long legs crossed over one another and hanging from the side. She’s reading a romance novel, he notes, from the incredibly cliché cover of a buff man with a half dressed woman in his grasp. He can faintly hear her humming along to the song, fingers tapping in rhythm against the hardcover of the book.

“ Hola muñequita . ” Javier greets suavely which has her peeking over her book then smiling wildly when she sees him.

“ You made it! ” Paloma excitedly stands from her spot, allowing him get a better look at her. She’s got on a red bikini top and a jean mini skirt. He wasn’t prepared to see this much of her bare skin and it throws him off entirely. So much for that pep talk.

It is a magnificent sight, though. Thankfully his sunglasses shield her from his wandering gaze, but with the intensity of his stare, she can probably feel it.

Javier knows her figure is divine, all the different outfits she wears both around town and on stage showcased her assets tastefully. However, seeing her in a top that’s almost too small and a skirt that’s definitely too short has those carnal desires ramping up viciously.

It doesn’t help that she’s got a dainty, golden cross necklace hanging from her neck. It rests tantalizingly against the smooth skin right above the swell of her breats. So many things he fantasizes about doing to her and none of them holy. The piece of jewelry reminds him that he needs to back off.

Amidst his leering, Javier notices a faint scar running from the left side of her hip up to below her breast and he’s curious to know how it got there.

“ You had an inclination that I wouldn’t make it? ” He returns to the conversation before it’s painfully obvious that he’s checking her out.

Paloma smirks, meeting him halfway as he descends the steps of the porch to approach her. Her hands cross behind her back and she stares up at him through her mascara coated lashes. “ Figured you’d probably wanna spend your Saturday afternoon at home instead of playin’ mechanic. ” She sways lightly and he narrows his eyes at her.

He can see right through her act, not that she’s being very subtle.

“ I’m a man of my word. Already been puttin’ off this visit longer than I should have. ” He can't help himself from bringing his finger up to twirl a strand of her hair, enjoying the silkiness of it against his touch before letting it fall softly against her.

If they hold their gaze a second longer, one of them will break and while Javier is certain that it’d be blissful, it would also be a mistake.

“ Here, I’ll take you to her. She’s in the shed. ” It’s like she can read his mind, nudging her head in the direction of the small structure and she turns to begin leading him there, in which he follows wordlessly, not being elusive at all as he gets a better look at her from this angle. The skirt is just barely covering the curve of her ass, and a flash of red is revealed each time she takes a step.

He bites down on his tongue harshly, adverting his gaze and thinking of literally anything else to keep his erection away.

He surveys the area of the backyard, not seeing a pool or any body of water nearby and he wonders why she has the bathing suit on.

Not that it should matter to him. She’s probably just tanning, you pervert. It’s hotter than hell out today.

Paloma’s humming again as she goes to remove the wooden plank that keeps the door of the shed closed, grunting as she struggles to pull it free. The soft sounds she emits do nothing but make it harder for him to show some fucking resilience.

“ Do you need help–– ” Javier’s cut off as she successfully slides the thick piece off, resting it against the metal wall and dusting her hands off on her skirt.

“ Appreciate it, though. ” She flashes him a toothy grin, the wide doors creak as she pulls them open; revealing a beautiful vintage car.

Javier lets out a low whistle, perching his sunglasses on the top of his head and placing his toolbox on the ground as he walks around the vehicle to get a better look at it.

His hands fall to his hips, circling the area slowly and shaking his head in disbelief. “ You’re tellin’ me the mechanic didn’t jump at the chance to fix this thing? ”

“ Like you said, most men are idiots. ” He can’t help but laugh, exhaling from his nose.

“ S’always interestin’ to see it in practice. ” He returns to the front of the car, propping open the hood and getting a better look inside. “ You got the keys? ”

“ In the visor. ” She replies, “ Good luck tryin’ to get her to start. All she does is stutter before given’ out entirely. ”

Javi makes a note of that, acknowledging her with a hum, already seeing a few things out of place and he’s eager to get to working on it. Before turning to law enforcement, Javi had the inkling to become a mechanic. Plenty of his uncles worked in auto shops and he has vivid memories of spending hours there with them learning everything he could under their supervision.

Experiences he holds near and dear to his heart, part of the reason why he’s so clever and dexterous.

“ I’ve got some stuff I gotta get done. Try not to miss me… ” Paloma’s voice rings out and Javier hadn’t noticed that he zoned out.

He glances at her over his shoulder, “ I’m more interested in gettin’ to know Darla, if I’m bein’ honest with you, hermosa . ”

–––––––––––––––––––

Paloma had to excuse herself before she quite literally jumped on Javier and had him take her against the hood of her car. The way he looked with his hands on his hips, eyes focused on admiring the vehicle had left her in a trance that she was sure if she stared any longer, she would have started drooling.

Something about the promise of seeing him sweaty and greased up had her mind spiraling with different erotic fantasies that would surely send her to straight to hell.

So she properly let him be, busying herself with a few chores she had to get done before leaving for the creek with Sloane later. It is the first time Paloma will be meeting August and she’s nervous even though she doesn’t look it.

She’d finished the book Slo had passed on to her in a matter of days, intrigued to learn more about August’s ideas and the concepts he’s clearly very passionate about. When she relayed this over to Slo, the middleman between the two, she wasted no time in conjuring up a plan for them to meet. Originally, it was going to be more intimate with just the two of them but Paloma stressed that she was not ready for that so Sloane was quick to make it a group affair by suggesting they hang out by the creek.

It’s why she is currently clad in a bathing suit, with the summer at full send; being down by the water seemed like the best way to spend the latter half of her afternoon.

Right now, though, she’s more focused on not trying to fuck her dad’s friend slash deputy sheriff.

Some time passes, and when Paloma takes a look out in the direction of the shed, she sees that he’s ditched his flannel, leaving him in a white undershirt and his broad shoulders are now on full display as he leans over the hood.

That’s when she sees it. It glistens beneath the sunlight, a silver pistol tucked between his jeans at his lower back. She knows officers carry a weapon on them at all times, but the unorthodox placing of Javier’s further adds to the appeal of this alluring man. God damn him and his desirability.

Paloma’s mind now wanders to the repeated wet dream she keeps having, the one where Javier takes her on the wooden railing of the porch. Specifically, the variation where he’s kneeled in front of her, her dress covering his face as he devours her entirely.

She’ll interlock her fingers in his hair and tug at it, in which he’d respond by wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking on it harshly. That leaves her wailing and panting his name over and over and over again…

The force in which her thighs clench together is enough to snap her out of her delusions. She’s no better than a man, really, and she huffs to herself as she reenters the house to grab the six pack of beers, her guitar and notebook before sauntering over to him.

She’s more than capable of handling just being around Javier without thinking sinfully. It’s why she’s walking like a woman with a purpose, trying to prove to herself that she can be totally normal about this… budding friendship she has with the older man.

“ How’s it goin’ in here? ” Her voice cuts through the sound of the radio that continues to play softly. Paloma had brought it in here for him to have some entertainment before she hurried off to the house.

Javier pulls back, lips twitching up into a smirk as he eyes the beers in her hand. “ Goin’ fine. Whoever you took her to really fucked it up. No wonder he couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It’s everythin’. ” Back of his hand wipes sweat from his brow, some of his hair matted against his damp skin. “ I thought you didn’t drink. ”

“ Never said that. I just said on occasion . ” She reminds him, popping the cap off of two beers then handing him one. He thanks her softly, wiping his hand on the already stained rag and tucking it into his back pocket.

Her knees almost go weak at the action, but she’s a woman on a mission, remember?

“ So what’s the occasion today? ”

“ It’s hot as fuck outside. ” They share a laugh and tap their bottles together before taking a long sip.

“ And the guitar? ”

Paloma sits on the wooden chair nearby, her spot whenever she comes in here to keep her dad company while he’s in the middle of construction something. Most recently, some planter boxes she’d requested for their garden.

“ I figured since I had some new company, I could play something for you. It helps move the writing process along. ” Kicks her sandals off, tucking her legs beneath her and laying the guitar across her lap.

" I'm getting a peek behind the curtain of Paloma Leighton's illustrious writing process? Well, I'm truly honored, " he remarks, dripping with sarcasm. She rolls her eyes at his jest but can't help but chuckle, taking another sip of her refreshing beverage and downing it in one gulp.

She catches the intensity of his gaze lingering on her throat, tracing the subtle movements with each swallow. Paloma can't help but entertain the thought: does he fantasize about her as she does about him?

“ Don’t feel too special. I’m almost always playin’ somethin’ for someone. ” She sets the finished bottle aside, thumbing through her notebook until she finds the adequate page and folds the tattered front so that it lays flat on the thick arm of the chair.

As she does this, Javier lights a cigarette and puffs out a cloud of gray smoke. “ You do it all yourself? ” She can hear the curiosity in his tone and for some reason, it makes her blush.

“ For the most part. The band just helps bring it all together. They add the umph to it… s’not always the case, though. Sometimes I oversee the entirety of it. From the lyrics to the melody and everything in between. It’s real fun. ” She begins to tune her guitar, brows pulling in concentration as her ears perk up to catch any inconsistencies until she’s thoroughly pleased with how it sounds.

–––––––––––––––––––

Javier remains silent, his fond gaze lingering on Paloma as he takes a drag from his cigarette. With practiced ease, he lifts the beer bottle to his lips, alternating between the two vices at a leisurely pace. As he delves deeper into understanding Paloma, the allure intensifies, dangerously blurring the lines between flirtation and something more profound.

Something more , and he’s trying real hard not to see it like that.

He's never been inclined to seek deeper connections with his partners. Emotions and commitments tend to complicate matters, a burden he's well-acquainted with in his already convoluted life. Javier sees no need to add unnecessary strain by entering into half-hearted relationships.

This is why he exclusively pursues physical connections, seeking gratification without the complications of emotional entanglements. His experiences in Colombia, where he didn't mind paying for intimacy, epitomize this mindset. There, a mutual understanding prevailed: their encounters were solely about shared pleasure, with no expectation of anything beyond.

In the short months that he’s been here, Javi has finally began finding some kind of peace in Seminary, all things considered, and while fucking the sheriff’s daughter would be a bad move–– catching feelings for her would be a hundred times worse.

“ It’s a little morbid, m’still workin’ on it and it’s fairly short. S’just the chorus. ” Javier nods, letting her know that he’s listening as she begins to sing.

“ If I die young, bury me in satin Lay me down on a bed of roses, Sink me in the river at dawn Send me away with the words of a love song. The sharp knife of a short life, Now I know there's no such thing as enough time. ”

Her voice is softer, southern accent complimenting her strums on the guitar and while he enjoys the electrifying performances she puts on stage; he loves hearing her like this.

Rich and smooth. Like miel (honey).

“ You’re right, it is morbid. ” He comments, truthfully, and Paloma lets out a breath.

“ I tried not lettin’ what happened to Nina get into my writing. No need to keep dwellin’ on it but damn is it hard to keep it away. Figured I’d just get it out of my system and get back to workin’ on my other stuff. ”

“ There’s nothin’ wrong with dwelling on it… ” He begins tentatively, already sensing a pang of regret for broaching the subject. Once more, he finds himself grappling with the challenge of articulating his thoughts effectively.

“ I know, but for my peace of mind it’s best I just get on with it. ” Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, fingers plucking at the guitar strings again.

For the next hour or so, they immerse themselves in conversation, delving into a wide array of topics. While Javier meticulously tends to the car's engine, Paloma remains by his side, offering her company. Amidst their discussions, they explore trivial details about each other's lives: favorite movies, culinary preferences, and other basic facts. Through these exchanges, Javier learns of Paloma's irrational fear of reptiles, her affinity for sleeping with her windows open, and her distinct preference for waffles over pancakes.

Javier indulges in the easy flow of their conversation, sharing with her his fondness for spy novels, his penchant for card games, and reminiscing about his favorite arepa spot in Bogotá.

The latter captivates her, drawing her focus entirely. “ I can't wrap my head around the fact that you lived there for such a long time. It's just unimaginable to me... A completely different country... it's absolutely fascinating. ” She muses, her tone tinged with wistfulness.

He's eager to shift away from this subject, recognizing her genuine curiosity and good intentions. However, he's apprehensive about delving into discussions about his past work and experiences, topics he's not ready to broach. With a brief, dismissive response, he seeks to subtly steer the conversation in a different direction.

“ Yup, lotta crazy shit… ” He returns his attention to the engine and Paloma catches the hint and doesn’t say much else after.

“ Paloma! ” The sudden call of her name has them both turning their heads to the opened doors of the shed where he sees a girl her age standing on the porch, searching the area until her eyes fall on the two of them and she beelines in their direction.

“ I’ve been knockin’ on your front door like a crazed woman for the past five minutes! There’s a random truck parked out there, what’re you doin’–– ” When the girl’s gaze lands on Javier, her entire body language switches and he raises his brows at the change. “ I didn’t know you had company. Who’s this handsome fella? ”

Javier is accustomed to captivating the attention of women, especially the striking ones. They consistently cast him that same flirtatious glance, their gestures taking on an added allure. This encounter proves to be no exception. With her bottom lip captured between her teeth, she appraises his form, her gaze lingering on his toned arms before returning to meet his gaze, a playful spark dancing in her eyes.

Maybe this is exactly what he requires: a diversion to divert his attention from Paloma. Despite his intense desire for her, he knows it would only lead to complications in the future. Pursuing women younger than himself is not the path he wishes to tread, especially since he left his playboy days behind in Colombia in pursuit of a fresh start.

Yet, amidst his longing for Paloma and the current lack of romantic encounters, Javier finds it difficult to view things with a new perspective.

Always thinking with the wrong head. It’s his achilles heel.

“ Javi. What’s your name, gorgeous? ” He smirks flirtatiously, wiping his hands clean on the rag again and reaching out to take her hand in his in a handshake.

“ Sloane. ” She squeezes his hand gently before letting go, sultry smile still present on her countenance.

“ Sloane , pleasure to meet you sweetheart. ”

–––––––––––––––––––

Paloma doesn’t like the nasty feeling she gets as she watches the interaction. It’s clear as day that they’re flirting, and honestly what did she expect out of her best friend, and now, charming acquaintance?

She’s well aware of his rapport in Colombia and the daily flirtatious behavior towards her. Paloma’s also aware of how willing Slo is to fuck anything in her line of vision. Yet, not being on the receiving end of the former is odd and has her feeling things she doesn’t want to feel.

What really has Paloma’s skin crawling is the way he calls her sweetheart and introduces himself as Javi. He’s never told her to call him that.

Honestly, she probably would have felt more green if he had called her hermosa or any of the other Spanish names of endearment he’s reserved for her.

Reserved for her? She sounds so possessive.

Sloane giggles, “ You’re the one who’s been followin’ her around all over town on daddy’s orders, huh? Paloma, you didn’t tell me he was this hot. I woulda told you to count your blessings had I known. ” They exchange a look that Paloma really can’t stand catch sight of, so she interjects.

“ Sorry I lost track of time. Javier’s been lookin’ at Darla tryna fix her. ” His name rolls of her tongue smoothly and this has a smug smile sprouting on his face.

No cowboy or officer or Mr. Peña . Just Javier .

Paloma gets up from her seat, sliding her sandals back on and leaving her belongings where they lay.

“ There’s a part or two that’s missin’ but it shouldn’t be hard to get ‘em. Other than that, my work here is done. ” He turns his back to the two women and Sloane mouths over to her.

Oh my god?!

Paloma shoots her a look as Javier slams the hood of the car closed.

“ Thank you, Javier, I really appreciate you doin’ this for me. ” Her tone is genuine, despite the jealousy that had consumed her just then.

“ No problem, cariño , I’ll let you know when I get my hands on those missin’ parts. ”

“ That sounds great! How much do I owe you for–– ” He cuts her off with a wave of his hand, collecting his things.

“ Don’t worry about it. M’doin’ this out of the kindness of my heart. S’what you do for a friend, right? ” Speaking of hearts, hers skips a beat at being considered a friend and she feels her cheeks getting hot. Get a grip!

“ Yeah, I guess so. ” Paloma refrains from saying thank you again, not wanting to overdo it but she really is appreciative of his hard work.

Maybe she could find another way to show just how much she appreciates him doing this for her…

“ Gabriel’s waitin’ for us out front, baby. We’re already runnin’ late. ” Slo’s voice snaps Paloma back to reality and she nods. Javier clears his throat and side steps her.

“ Hope y’all have fun. Be safe, hermosa . Call me if you need anythin’. ” Warmth spreads within her chest at his words, which would have annoyed her had they been coming from anyone else.

There has definitely been a shift in their dynamic, but Paloma can’t quite place what it is. The bitterness she felt just then definitely a factor.

“ Sloane , darling, hopefully I’ll see you ‘round town soon. ” And just like that, the warmth is gone as he addresses her best friend, a wink thrown in her direction before he’s leaving the two girls in the shed.

“ Okay, you have a lot to catch me up on. Frankly, I’m pissed you haven’t sent him in my direction. I mean, look at him. That’s a whole man right there, dear lord I was about to cum just by shakin’ his hand! ” Paloma cringes but she doesn’t let it show, instead pulling excitement from their afternoon plans to uplift her mood.

“ How about we get goin’ before Gabriel ditches our asses and we’re left walkin’ all the way down there. ”

–––––––––––––––––––

It’s not much longer after that that they make it to their destination and Paloma rejoices in the feeling of the cool water against her hot skin. She ditched her mini skirt along the way, currently sitting in a more shallow end, head falling back against her shoulders as she soaks in the sun.

She can hear Gabriel and Sloane splashing around nearby, and she contemplates joining them when the sound of her name gets her attention.

“ Paloma, yeah? ”

She head snaps in the direction of the voice and her breath gets stuck in her throat once she sees the source.

He stands tall, his figure slightly lanky but gracefully lean, his golden locks tousled from his time in the water. His eyes, light and captivating, hold a magnetic charm. With a quick glance, she takes in the intricate tapestry of tattoos adorning his skin, each one adding to his allure. They seem to complement him perfectly, she muses, adding an extra layer of intrigue to his already handsome appearance.

And for the second time in such a short period of time–– Paloma finds herself subtly squirming in her spot, a familiar sensation stirring within her thighs.

This man, though, much more age appropriate and everything about him screams intriguing .

“ Depends who’s askin’. ” She can’t help but tease, one eye closed and her right hand coming up to block the sun from hitting her face directly. She’d forgotten her sunglasses at home and that annoyed the shit out of her once she realized.

“ A friend of a friend. May I? ” Gestures to the empty spot in the shallow water besides her and she nods, “ You’re much prettier than I remember. ”

Eyes follow him as she lowers himself besides her, their bodies softly brushing up against one another and she shivers slightly despite the blazing temperature, “ We’ve met before? No way, I definitely would have remembered you… ”

“ Technically–– no we haven’t met but… I was with Slo that day at the library. M’August. ” He introduces himself and her stomach knots.

That’s when it hits her, a very vague recollection but a recollection of him nevertheless.

“ Right, wow, that feels like forever ago. ” She shakes her head, gently swaying her hand beneath the water. Suddenly, she feels much more nervous. She’d spent a good part of her week obsessing over his book and now he’s sitting right next to her while they’re both half naked.

His explicit poem comes to mind and she shakes that thought away quickly before her whole body turns into a bright shade of red.

“ Time is a very tricky concept. You want these? ” He conjures up a pair of shades and her brows raise at the action. “ Noticed you’ve been scowlin’ ‘cause of the sunlight. ”

A small smile spreads on her lips and she nods, he passes the accessory over to her and their fingers touch briefly against each other and she swears she feels electricity .

Paloma really has to stop being such a helpless romantic. That never ends good for anyone involved.

“ Thank you, August. You’re so observant. ” She slips them on and lets out a small sigh, her head falling back between her shoulders.

She can feel his eyes all over her, but she doesn’t mind it. “ Slo tells me you’re a fan of my work? ”

Paloma can’t help the laugh that slips from her lips and her eye widen once she realizes that that wasn't the most appropriate reaction for her to have. “ That… came out really wrong. I’m so sorry. ” She shakes her head at herself, “ I did enjoy the Paragons of the Sacrificed book. ” Is honest in her opinion, looking straight ahead at the glistening body of water to avoid further embarrassment by looking at him.

“ Don’t apologize, I know Slo has a tendency to… over-exaggerate. ” They shared an amused laugh at the expense of their friend but it’s all in good fun. She feels some of her nerves lessen.

“ I am happy to hear that you enjoyed the book, though. S’the whole point why I wrote it. Sharin’ new things to new people. ” He explains.

“ New things, indeed. You cited a lot of notable publishings. Got me lookin’ more into the history of Catholicism…. I can’t help but feel a little ignorant, y’know? So much knowledge out there and I’m so… uneducated. ” Paloma scoffs at herself, self depreciation at its finest.

“ Oh, that just isn’t true, little dove. ” The nickname has Paloma looking over at him; he’s gives her such a warm and charming look that sends the butterflies in her stomach into a flurry. “ Is it alright if I call you that? Seems very fitting… paloma is dove in Spanish. ” A fact she’s very well aware of, since her mother reminded her about it all the time growing up.

“ Yeah, I quite like that. No one’s ever really called me it before. ” She replies almost sheepishly and he brings his large hand down to rest on her knee which has her breath hitching in her throat.

“ Doves represent peace, love and purity … your parents sure did somethin’ namin’ you that. ” His squeezes his grip on her knee briefly before pulling his hand back.

Pure? That’s possibly the last word she’d ever used to describe herself.

" As I was sayin'... throughout your life, your perspective has been shaped by the opinions of others. However, there comes a moment when you decide it's time to view the world through your own eyes, rather than through the lens of others. It may take some of us longer to reach this realization, but what truly matters is your willingness to embrace learning and to challenge conventional beliefs and morals. As you rightly pointed out, there is a vast amount of knowledge out there, and we have only just begun to explore its depths. "

Unbeknownst to Paloma, she finds herself captivated by every word that escapes his lips, hanging on to each syllable as if they were precious gems. His voice carries an irresistible allure, his words akin to twinkling stars scattered across the vast expanse of a darkened sky.

He’s leading her to him … towards something and like a moth to a flame; Paloma begins to follow.

They spend the rest of the day just… talking. He delves deeper into the intricacies of a group he belongs to—individuals adrift in the world, much like himself. Together, they traverse the landscapes of Texas, exchanging stories and delving into philosophical musings, united in their quest for deeper meaning and connection to something greater than themselves.

That leads Paloma to learn that he’s from Fayette which is a few towns south and that he, Sloane and Gabriel all grew up in the same trailer park together. They’re the closest thing I have to a family is what August tells her and she feels sentimental as the statement tugs at her heartstrings.

She also learns that all three of them have a criminal past, which surprises her entirely and he explains to her that it was during their adolescence and it wasn’t anything major. Just stupid shit to pass the time.

She believes him without asking any further questions.

It’s not until they’re both getting bitten up by mosquitos that they decide it’s time to head back.

“ It’s finally nice to put a face to the name, August. I hope I get to see you again… maybe read another one of your books? ” Paloma bites her lip as they walk side by side.

“ Likewise. Next time I’ll make sure to bring it to you personally. Don’t need Slo playin’ messenger and misconstruing our words. ”

They make it back to Gabriel’s truck, he and Slo leaning against it and sharing a joint as they eye the duo. Paloma slips her skirt back on.

“ ‘Bout fuckin’ time. I need a shower, bad. ” Sloane huffs, passing the joint to Paloma whom rejects it which gets an eye roll out of her friend and then handing it over to August who accepts it with no hesitation.

Paloma sees a motorcycle nearby and her curiosity gets the best of her, “ S’that your ride, August? ” Flips her hair over her shoulder, looking at him. He lustfully eyes the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders before nodding.

“ Sure is. You ever been on one before? ” Thick smoke emits from his lips and nose as he passes the joint back over to Gabriel who finishes it off wordlessly.

He’s so quiet, Paloma observes, but her attention returns to August.

“ No. They look real cool, though. ”

“ You should let me take you home. Give you your first ride on one, little dove. ” The offer is rather suggestive and she doesn’t mind it. She’s very interested in getting to know him better.

Paloma would have taken him up on it had she not been wearing the outfit that currently adorns her body. “ Maybe next time. ” She smiles at him softly and he nods, she looks away sheepishly as she blushes.

They share their goodbyes then she’s piling in to Gabriel’s truck after Sloane and on her way back home.

The day's events echo through her thoughts as she gazes out of the window, Javier's presence now intertwined with that of August's. A sense of excitement bubbles within her, unfamiliar yet exhilarating—the attention she's receiving is unlike anything she's experienced before.

Two distinctly attractive and intriguing men have unexpectedly entered her life, each leaving an indelible mark on her world. Rather than overcomplicating matters, Paloma resolves to embrace the moment and allow things to unfold naturally. It's a thrilling prospect, injecting a sense of excitement into her life that she hasn't felt in quite some time.

“ Oh fuck . ” Paloma curses as she sees her father’s vehicle parked by the front yard and him sitting out on the porch.

Looks like he’s gotten back from his hunting trip early. It is nearing ten o’clock and she just knows she’s about to be interrogated on her whereabouts.

She's relieved that she hadn’t taken August up on his offer to bring her home on his motorcycle. Now that would have sent poor Romeo over the edge.

“ Oh, baby, I feel for you. ” Slo pats her thigh compassionately and Paloma groans. Dread creeps up her spine making her wither uncomfortably.

“ He wasn’t supposed to be back ‘til tomorrow mornin’. Ugh, he’so so not goin’ to let this go. ” The truck stops and both Gabriel and Slo flash her an understanding yet somber look.

“ Thanks for the ride. I’ll call you tomorrow, ‘kay Slo? ” The girl nods and they both hug before she’s exiting the vehicle and preparing herself for what’s to come. Paloma tugs her skirt down, noticing that it had ridden up much higher than what was appropriate.

“ Where the hell have you been, girl? ” He asks once she’s close enough to survey him. He’s drinking, that’s never a good sign.

“ We went out by the creek and–– ”

“ The creek? With who? At this time of night? Paloma, how can you be so reckless. Especially with what the hell has been goin’ around here. ”

Anger contorts her features, her expression tightening with indignation as he addresses her as though she were a wayward teenager, rather than a mature woman out in the company of her friends.

“ And dressed like that . ” The tone in his voice makes something within her snap and she crosses her arm with attitude, getting defensive.

“ Like what ? I was by the water and I’m wearin’ a bathin’ suit. S’that illegal now? ” Paloma is so ready to go inside, shower, and get in her bed.

“ Is this what you do when I’m not around? Sneakin’ off lookin’ for trouble in the dead of night? ”

“ It’s only ten and I really didn’t expect to stay out this long. I got preoccupied. Why are you makin’ such a big deal outta this? ” She defends herself and it’s ridiculous, really that she even has to.

He doesn’t say anything else and she just rolls her eyes. “ I’m going inside. ” And that’s exactly what she does, walks right past her dad and indoors where she intends to take a very long, hot shower to help her forget about this spat of theirs.

Their arguments follow a familiar pattern: he erupts with emotion, then retreats into silence. Occasionally, he offers apologies, while other times, they linger unspoken. Paloma, however, is well-versed in navigating her father's dramatic outbursts, having grown accustomed to them over time. It's not the theatrics that trouble her; rather, it's enduring the intensity of his emotions that proves challenging.

The shower runs while she takes a good, long look at herself in the mirror.

Paloma finds herself approaching a crucial juncture, feeling increasingly prepared to confront her father in a heart-to-heart conversation. This discussion, she knows, will culminate in her revealing her decision to leave town and prioritize her own needs for once. While the thought of causing her father pain weighs heavily on her heart, she recognizes the necessity of taking this step in order to forge her own path in life.

The steam rises from the hot water, gradually filling the room with its thick, swirling embrace. Paloma's reflection blurs and fades amidst the steam, prompting her to shed her clothes. With each layer discarded, she feels a sense of liberation, a moment of vulnerability before she finally steps into the welcoming cascade of the shower.

#pedro pascal fanfic #javier peña fanfic #javier pena fanfic #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier peña x ofc #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier peña narcos #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic

5 notes · View notes

tragicclownwrites · 1 year

Note

im curious, when did you first get interested in squidbob?

Ooh, my first ask 🤗 and what a great question to start with!

It's honestly such a weird story lmao but the short version is that I didn't find SquidBob. SquidBob found me. 🧽🐙

As for the long version, answering/rambling below the cut!

I think it happened just under a year ago or so? It was definitely sometime in late 2022/early 2023. Before then, I wasn't even remotely in the fandom and was more or less part of the group who had seen SBSP but wasn't involved beyond that.

When we were younger, my sister and I played Battle for Bikini Bottom on the PS2. So when the "Rehydrated" version came out, she hit me up and was like "omg they made a remake! we have to play it!" and I was all "hell yeah! nostalgia ftw!" (def worth it - it's a good time and everyone looks so damn adorable 🥹).

If you've played that game and you're in the fandom, you're probably pretty familiar with this moment (clip actually starts at :12). 😉😂 HOWEVER, this wasn't even the moment that initially caught my attention. In fact, it was actually THIS one between Robot Plankton and Robot Spongebob (who is terrifying btw). My sister and I got to this part in the game and were just...👀👀. Like, why was Robot Plankton (who is essentially a clone of real Plankton) thinking of Robot Spongebob like that? Kinda gay if you ask me. Long story short, I shipped PlankBob (ironically) for a hot minute lmao.

I started looking online to see if anyone else was crack-shipping it up like I was and I think that's when I came across SquidBob in earnest. I had remembered seeing some rather interesting moments between them in the past, but strangely never thought anything of it until I started looking below the surface. A few YouTube clips later, my memory was beginning to refresh - and those clips weren't even close to exhaustive! I just couldn't believe how unsubtle these two were! Like, HOW COULD I BE SO BLIND!?

For shits and giggles, I then decided to check AO3 to see if there were any fics about them. One of the fics I came across was none other than NBYF - the very fic that inspired my first work in this fandom! After reading it like four times, I was HOOKED. I needed more. So, I ended up on Tumblr and have been here ever since. 🥰

For added backstory, I've been in and out of fandoms over the years, but never felt the need to be active in any of them. Whether it was fandom discourse, fleeting interest, etc., I didn't want to get involved in any of that and, oftentimes, the canon just didn't inspire me to create my own works.

Needless to say, I'm so thankful to have found this small corner of the internet. Everyone has been so cool thus far and it's been really fun to write fics for SquidBob. I've always been a bit of a sucker for the grump x sunshine ship dynamic, so this pair is just perfection. 🌧️❤️☀️✨ One of these days I'll do an entire post about why I ship them. Someday lol. And given how episodic the SBSP show is, that actually helps a ton for writing - it's great to be able to stay true to the canon while not committing to any solid timelines or anything like that. I mean, even the actual show has continuity issues, so no one can fault me if I decide to switch things up a bit. 😜 I tend to prefer canon divergence vs. AUs when it comes to fanfiction as well because I really enjoy the challenge of working with an existing world/characters and creating a unique story for it all.

So, that's my fandom origin story. Not the most cut-and-dry (and probably not what you were asking) lmao but that's essentially where it all started! I'd be interested in hearing when/how you got into SquidBob hell, if you haven't already posted about it. 😊

#tragic clown answers #thank you for the question!#sorry this was long lmao #squidbob

17 notes · View notes

justrandomfanfictionskh · 1 year

Text

Mary Todd pt 10

ao3 Beginning Previous

Marinette landed on her balcony silent and frustrated. Not at Jason, but at herself. Why had she done that? Why had she told him about Hawkmoth? No one knew about that. Not even Adrien? Only Natalie and the kwami knew the truth and they had worked hard to keep it that way, and yet here she was blabbing her darkest secret to a complete stranger.

“Except, he’s not a stranger,” she thought, “He’s my brother.” She glanced behind her as Red Hood landed. Her brother, a notorious crime boss of Gotham, on the top of the at least three governments’ most wanted list, whose only protection was the slim and tenuous connection he had to Batman, and the fact that this was Gotham. She sighed, as she dropped her transformation and led him into the darkened apartment. “What am I going to do with him?”

“Make yourself at home,” Marinette said as she moved to the kitchen. As he moved silently to the couch, Marinette could feel the tension thickening like folding fabric. If it got any thicker, she was afraid that it would be too thick to cut, even with a chainsaw. So, she quickly pulled out the macrons she had stress baked that morning and brought them out into the living space. They each took one, but they only nibbled it in growing silence.

Finally, Jason said, “These are good.”

“Thanks,” Marinette said, although she felt as if hers tasted like chalk, but she reckoned that was just the nerves. Still, she forced her spine to relax, her feet not to tap, and her hands not to fidget. She had been on the edge of several melt downs and panic attacks all night, but if Jason noticed he never acknowledged it. The fact was that she was good at hiding her emotions and disguising them as something else. At this point hiding the sheer flood of anxiety under a calm and casual exterior, was just as natural as breathing these days. It served her well when dealing with the league, but with her brother...

He was just so open. All of his emotions were telegraphed so plainly to her. The anger hid sadness. The rage hid guilt. The gruffness hid protectiveness. If she had doubted his affection, then the last half hour on the roof tops of Gotham had done away with any of that. No this was not about establishing feelings for each other. This was about establishing a relationship, and that started with getting on the same page.

But she couldn’t read his mind. He had to tell her what he was thinking if they were going to move forward. So, she nibbled her macaroon and waited, until he said softly, “Do you want to tell me what happened with Hawkmoth?”

Marinette sighed and set down her cookie. Tikki flew up, landing on her shoulder and nuzzled her cheek. This was hard for both of them, but she knew all of his dirty laundry, (it wasn’t exactly hidden) he might as well know hers.

“I got the Miraculous when I was fourteen,” she began, “It was a normal day just like any other. Except one of my classmates decided to randomly turn into a rock monster. Only, it wasn’t random, sudden, or exceptional. Or well…it wasn’t going to stay that way. I ran to hide in my room, and Tikki’s miraculous was waiting for me…

“I didn’t want to be a hero. Not at first anyway. But then I learned that…I wasn’t normal, and a normal life went out the window long before I ever got the miraculous. Turns out I’m something called an Arbiter. There’s a fancy ancient Mandarin word for it, but I forget it, but anyway…being an Arbiter means a lot of things. It means that I am literally the perfect person to guard the Miraculous. It means I can wear all of them without dying, which can be fun if I’m being honest. But perhaps most importantly, it means that I can…I’m meant…I have to pass judgment on people who disrupt the balance of the universe.

“It’s not something I can control or stop. It’s just…something that I do. Something that happens to me. Like that first day as Ladybug. During that first battle, Hawkmoth challenged me. Told me that I was in the wrong and that for the sake of Paris I needed to give him the Miraculous. I doubt he knew what he was doing, I definitely didn’t, but he was basically calling me to pass judgment on Paris, myself, and him.

“Something just…came over me after that. I couldn’t explain it even if I tried. I was in control, but also…not? I don’t know, but I passed judgment. I declared that he would lose his miraculous and that I would save Paris. Then the Universe began to act, even if I was no longer acting as Arbiter. It pushed and pulled events, not necessarily to my favor, but definitely towards my ultimate victory. For example! The Justice League, whether it was them ignoring my calls, or the government’s media blackouts, the Universe would not let them into Paris, or even acknowledge what was happening, because if it had, then someone---and let’s be honest it would have been Superman, would have been akumatized and the world would have ended. But! Just after I became Guardian, and was way over my head and needed help, Wonder Woman got wise.

“She came to Paris and understood better than anyone what had to happen. So, she helped me. She kept the League out, and she, Wonder Girl, and some other Amazons, popped in on the weekends to oversee the training of me and my team…I owe all of them so much, and it was only because of them that we succeeded.”

“So,” Jason said, still hunched over his knees, eyes fixed on the distant wall, “When you confronted Hawkmoth, you what? Passed judgment?”

Marinette sighed and leaned back. Her exhaustion was getting to her, and the energy of the city was not helping. It had her coiling like a spring, as if something was constantly just about to happen, without anything actually happening. It was frustrating and made it impossible to relax. She just couldn’t understand how anyone could live like this!

“I already had passed judgment,” she said, “That first day with Stoneheart. I passed judgment and declared him the villain. Everything after that was just increasing the severity of his eventual fate until…Mayura, was dying. The broken Miraculous was killing her slowly, but that didn’t stop Hawkmoth from forcing her to use it. Eventually she realized what a toxic relationship was and betrayed him. She came to me and told me everything. So, Chat Noir and I went to confront him with her help. During the fight Hawkmoth got a hold of Tikki and knocked Chat unconscious. But even that was the Universe, directing events so that judgment could be fulfilled, and balance restored.

“I took, Chat’s ring and transformed. And then…it was like that first day again. I was in control. But I wasn’t. I knew what I had to do. But I didn’t want to do it. But I couldn’t stop myself from doing it. But I never fought against…whatever it was. It was like…instinct…you know like how, when someone scares you, so you randomly start punching. Not because you want to punch people, but because everything in your body is screaming at you…telling you that that is the right thing to do. That’s the only thing to do. That’s what you should do. What you need to do. In the end, killing Hawkmoth, Gabriel Agreste, was what I needed to do.”

She met Jason’s eyes, and they were somber. But she could see through the careful stoic façade. He was raging, confused, guilty, and scared. Not of her, but for her. He was beginning to comprehend that she was something…other. Something that was clearly and completely human, but with something else just on the edge of her subconscious directing her to do what was best for the universe. He might not like it. It might tear her, and everyone close to her apart. But it was a part of her. And she couldn’t stop it. She wouldn’t stop it. It was a part of her, and she had chosen it with eyes wide oopen. There was nothing either of them could do about it anymore. And that…was that.

She tried to convey all of this in her posture and expression, and he seemed to get the message, because he finally leaned back and asked, “Who else knows?”

“Me,” she said calmly, “You, Diana, the kwami, and Mayura. Although I don’t know how much longer she has so…so, I doubt she really counts.”

“Where is she?”

“Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, a famed fashion designer. He also had a son…Adrien is a very dear friend of mine, and while he knows I’m Ladybug, he doesn’t know what I did. Natalie, Mayura, said she wants to spend her last days setting everything to right. Making sure the company doesn’t fall. Making sure Mmes. Argeste gets proper medical attention---long story don’t ask and ensuring that Adrien doesn’t become like his father. Although that last one is probably the easiest out of the three if you ask me.”

“Why?”

Marinette debated with herself for a moment before saying, “Adrien hated his father long before he learned the truth. The man was neglectful on a good day. And after everything else…well let’s just say Adrien has been fighting for his freedom long before his father ever dreamed of becoming a supervillain. This…this was just the final nail in the coffin.”

“You shouldn’t have had to kill him,” Jason muttered, and Marinette had to take a deep breath to stop herself from getting angry. Maybe he didn’t understand as much as she thought he had.

“And who should have killed him?” she asked as calmly as she could, “You?”

“I don’t know!” Jason snapped and he began to pace. “It’s just…I’m just…I’m supposed to protect you!”

Marinette froze. He kept saying that. He had always said that. Even when they were kids, it was one of the few clear things that she could remember. And now the Universe was drawing them together, after so many years, after she had fully accepted her role as Arbiter…She shook the thoughts to the back of her mind. She needed to speak to Hippolyta and Shu-Han before she could go down that rabbit hole. For now, she needed to calm her brother down.

“Jason,” she said softly, laying a hand on his arm. He froze and looked at her with such desperate anguish that it broke her heart. She spoke saying, “It’s ok. I forgive you. Can…can you forgive me?”

And there it was. The thing she kept turning over and over in her head. As he swirled and twisted over not being able to protect her. She swirled and twisted on not being there for him. It was getting hard to breathe. And it was all she could do to focus on anything but the fact that she had abandoned him. That she had had a normal, happy, safe childhood, and he had suffered. He had died without the benefit of a Miraculous to bring him back, and they were all just…

Jason must have seen her spiraling thoughts because he immediately wrapped her up in his arms, and just held her. He held her and whispered in his softest voice yet, “It’s ok Pixie. I forgive you. I’ll always forgive you and…and I’m so, so proud of you. You…you are more amazing than I ever thought you could be. And every time I think you’ve exceeded all of my expectations; you go and do it again! I…I…”

“I love you, Jay-Jay,” Marinette whispered as silent tears stained his jacket.

Jason nodded, “I love you too, Pixie.”

Mari chocked on a chuckle and said, “Fairy.”

“What?”

She pulled back and smiled mischievously, “I’m a fairy, Jay-Jay.”

Recognition filled his eyes, and he threw back his head and laughed, loud and full. It made Marinette beam, and she knew, she just knew. That it was going to be ok. She had her brother back. And he was happy. Everything else could wait. For now, this was enough.

Taglist: @laurcad123 @craftgremlin @toodaloo-kangaroo @blackroserelina @maanae @kitsun369 @idkamt @aksartisticlife @its-maemain @iglowinggemma28 @officiallydarkgeek @meira-3919 @crazylittlemunchkin @read-fantasy-to-escape-reality @raven-ette

50 notes · View notes