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themand0lorian · 3 years

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Frankie’s Barber Shop

Summary: After his time in service, Frankie relies on routine--but you arrive to shake things up.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: PG (minor language and suggestive thoughts)

Tags: FLUFF, reader washes/cuts Frankie's hair and beard, meet-cute, Frankie is an anxious boi but he's trying, this is pure tooth rotting fluff and an ode to Frankie's hair

Notes: Every day when I drive from work I pass 'Frankie's Barber Shop' and wish it was Frankie Morales' (but we all know he'd call his like, 'Catfish Cuts' or something)

I picture Frankie a bit younger here, done with the military but before the events of TF!

For my non-US readers, Great Clips is a chain of discount hairdressers!

Frankie Morales is a simple man; a man of routine. He puts his shoes on right-then-left, even when it means he has to teeter precariously on his bad knee. He brushes his teeth for exactly 2 minutes, as timed on the toothbrush. He wears the same grey t-shirt and jeans combo that has followed him since high school. So when he left Great Clips with a particularly bad $7.99 haircut, buzzed uneven and patchy to the point that the guys ribbed him for it for weeks, he dreadfully set to Google to find a new place.

He chose said place on name alone; Frankie’s Barber Shop. Not too far from work, a little hole in the wall. He figured his own namesake would be good enough. Since leaving active duty he had kept his hair much the same; buzzed with a #8 all over, clean up the neck—sometimes a #7 faded toward the bottom if he was feeling especially daring or if the weather turned humid. Never touch the beard. It usually came out a little short for his liking, but anything was better than the all-over buzz he had to sport in service; plus, it lasted longer until his next one. $25, in and out, and he was set for another 6 weeks.

He had his routine down pat; walk into the dingy, shadowy barber from the overcrowded parking lot in the strip mall. The place was sparse; a cash register, a rickety waiting seat, an old boxy CRT TV playing the barber’s selected sports game, and only one chair; Barber Frankie didn’t take appointments. He would grumble around his cigarette with a broad gesture when he was ready for him, tuck him into the cape almost too tight around his neck. Like himself, Barber Frankie was a man of few words—in fact, Frankie didn’t know if he had ever really said anything to him. He would grunt and nod when Frankie gave his request—“#8, all over, clean up the edges”—get to work with the shears, and be done within minutes. He even made time to yell expletives at the game while he worked. Barber Frankie only accepted cash, and Frankie always brought exact change; $25, $5 for tip, and he would be on his way, set for another six weeks until he had to do it all over again.

So, when his six weeks had passed, he dutifully made his way to the little shop. He parked in the overcrowded lot, he pushed open the faded glass door to the sound of the tinkle of a bell overhead, he looked to the TV to check for Barber Frankie—

Barber Frankie was not in his usual spot in front of the old TV; in fact, the TV was completely off. Frankie didn’t know it even still had a functioning off-switch. Instead, quiet music is playing; what Santi tends to call “Dad Rock.” His eyes search the one-room business; it seems brighter, somehow, since he was last here. The errant hair brushed in the corners of the room was cleaned, the tabletop containing Barber Frankie’s tools organized. He almost left, checking for some alternate universe where Barber Frankie had chosen to break the routine, when he heard a voice.

“Hi! Welcome to Frankie’s, can I help you?” You popped up from behind the counter, all smiles and easy customer service attitude, and Frankie took a physical step back in surprise.

“Uh—is Frankie here? I just wanted a cut—”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“He doesn’t take appointments?” Frankie asks almost in a question, and you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

“Of course. Typical Uncle Frank.” You move around the counter; Frankie now sees you’re in a hairdresser’s apron, pockets stuffed with scissors and towels. “Sorry, Uncle Frank—Frankie—fell and broke his hip last week. I’m watching over the shop for him. I have time, you want a cut?” you say enthusiastically, drawing your scissors and snipping them in the air.

Frankie is torn. He likes routine, likes structure. He doesn’t really even like how Barber Frankie cuts his hair but he still is weary of you, a new cog in his well-oiled machine. On the other hand, you’re undeniably beautiful, warm and friendly in a way he rarely sees, and Frankie is not one to turn down a beautiful woman, or one to create an awkward situation by walking out.

That’s how he ends up in the barber’s chair, cape draped around him; you tucked a towel between his neck and the fabric, and he has to admit, it feels much better than when Barber Frankie does it. You’re running your hands through his matted curls, fluffing them through expert fingers as you ask him what he’s looking for—he almost forgets to respond, he’s leaning so hard into your touch he feels more dog than human.

“Uh—I usually get a #8 all over,” you nod with his words, but your mouth twists like you’re thinking, so he continues, as if he has something to prove. “#7 toward the neck.”

“Are you sure? You have beautiful hair, it suits you long like this,” you fluff the ends again, then pull your fingers back through the strands.

“Uh, I mean that’s what I always get—” You mull his words over before responding; nails scratching his scalp forcing a chill up his spine.

“Hm. I’ll tell you what. How about I start with the scissors, and if you don’t like it we can switch to a #8,” you propose, and he immediately agrees—he thinks he would agree to walk off a bridge, if it caused that smile that lit up your face like this did.

You immediately drag him over like an excited child to a sink he has never noticed, and he’s sure Barber Frankie has never used, until he’s awkwardly seated in the chair attached like he doesn’t know what to with himself. You gently lean him back over the sink, then get to work—floral shampoo dispensed into your palms as you chat about Uncle Frank’s hairline fracture--“Isn’t that funny? Hairline?” you say with a big grin, and Frankie is inclined to agree if it means you’ll continue chatting. You deftly work it into his hair, rubbing and massaging at his scalp, and Frankie almost melts into your touch; smooth, strong hands scratching and rubbing in ways he wouldn’t be able to replicate himself.

Frankie almost feels perverted with the amount he’s enjoying this; even the warm water rinsing out the shampoo feels like heaven, and he stifles a moan that he knows would send him straight into creep territory. He doesn’t know where to look, his eyes darting to every crack and stain in the ceiling that he make out as he lays back in the chair—Should he close his eyes or is that weird?—and eventually they land on your face. You’re focused as you rub conditioner into his hair, working each strand and humming quietly along to the music you have playing.

Frankie thinks you look ethereal. You’re just working, doing what you probably do dozens of times a day, but he’s never had so much care put into himself. Showers with 4-in-1--shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and lotion, quick 6 minute in-and-out--can’t compete—not when he knows you and your magic hands can make hair washing feel like this. He knows he’s approaching creepy, the length of his staring stretching longer and longer, but he can’t look away—not even when you rinse the remaining conditioner. He only realizes he’s been staring too long when your eyes shift to his, kind and crinkled with a small grin as you tell him he’s all done, gently lift the back of his head until he’s sitting up again with pink-tinged ear tips—he didn’t even hear the sink turn off.

Once he’s back in the chair, you make quick work of combing through his mane, humming as you think of your approach until you pick up the scissors with a wicked grin.

“I’m gonna turn you around, so it’ll be a surprise and we can see if you really like it,” you smile, easily twisting him in the chair so he’s facing the wood paneling instead of the mirror. “You seem like the kind of guy who wouldn’t tell me the truth if he didn’t.”

Frankie can’t help but chuckle—you’ve known him 5 minutes and have seen right through him; he probably wouldn’t. Like the Great Clips Disaster, he would walk out with a smile and a tip and then bury it under his cap for weeks until it grew out.

You quickly begin snipping, the rasp of the scissors unfamiliar as hair starts to fall around him. He can’t see anything you’re doing, which makes him a little nervous, but he also can’t see you, which makes him only a little disappointed. He decides on the next best thing—sound.

“You, uh—you have good hands,” Frankie attempts small talk, immediately wincing at his own awkward conversation. He’s relieved when he hears you bellow a loud laugh, scissors pulled from his head to prevent errant cuts as you giggle.

“Thanks—oh, I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” you reply lightly.

“Uh, it’s Frankie.” Your scissors stop again, and if he was looking, he’d see your face scrunched in contemplation.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he chuckles, and you begin snipping again, chuckling along.

“Well then I guess you came to the right place, Frankie,” you joke, and he fights the urge to look to his hands shyly, not wanting to ruin your cutting.

After his abominable start, he lets you take the reins on the small talk topics-favorite sports teams, pets and children, if he’s from the area. Frankie tells you all of this readily, parroting the same questions back as he starts to fall into an easy rapport—you hate sports, no children but one scruffy street cat who you named Pudge has adopted you, you live in town but you’re mostly covering for Uncle Frank until his hip heals before you go back to your own job. Truthfully, he would tell you anything you wanted to know—blood type, social security number, mother’s maiden name. Usually, having someone behind him, close to his head with blades while he couldn’t see what they were doing would send his anxiety into overdrive—a take-home present from service that he couldn’t quite shake. But with you, it felt natural; nice even. When he would say something you particularly disagreed with or didn’t believe, you would lean comically around the barber chair, eyes narrowed in mock contemplation, but also—a gentle reminder that it was just you there. No monsters, no threats. Just a pretty girl who could shave his head bald and he’d still come back to her.

When you deem yourself complete, you round the chair completely, conversation in a natural lull as you squat in front of him until you’re face-to-face. You get in close to him, close enough that he thinks you’re about to kiss him, and his mouth hangs open, heart racing and eyes searching your face. You meet his eyes with a small smile, then start pulling strands at either side, testing to see if the cut is even, and Frankie fights a deep exhale that he knows would blow too obviously over your face. His eyes stay plastered to yours, watching as you move and pinch individual pieces; he’s completely enamored by you. It takes him a moment to realize you asked him a question.

“W-What?”

“I think I’m all set with the hair. You want a trim for your beard?” you ask with a subconscious bat of your eyelashes. Frankie’s never been proud of his facial hair, it was such a struggle to get it to the length and fullness it’s at, patches and all, that the idea of someone trimming it besides himself sends quiet dread through him, thinking of the pre-pubescent teenager look a fresh face gives him.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” His mouth feels unconnected to his brain, and when he looks almost surprised at himself, you flash that broad smile again, and he knows he made the right decision. He watches as you gather supplies; trimmers, a towel, a bowl of water—and then you get to work. You clean up the edges first, the familiar hum of the buzzers almost comforting, then proceed to his actual scruff, trimming it evenly.

He’s still faced away from the mirror, and the only thing in his entire field of vision is you. You bite your lip as you get the edges just straight, you blow a hair from your face when it falls in front of your eyes, close enough that Frankie can feel the breath escape. For the first time, he doesn’t feel like a creep or a perv for simply looking at you. Admiring you. If you’d let him, he’d worship you.

When you click the trimmers off, you catch him staring—his eyes in silent awe, going wide when you meet them, but you hold the contact there, ever so close to his face, finally releasing a bashful smile before standing again.

“Alright, Frankie—tell me what you think. And be honest, you won’t hurt my feelings,” you chuckle, spinning him around.

Frankie almost doesn’t recognize himself—his hair is that perfect length he likes, that he hits for maybe three days in his current hair care routine; curls lush and almost bouncy. Somehow, despite the trim, his beard looks fuller, and he runs a disbelieving hand over it, as if he's checking to see if its really him underneath. Frankie’s never been one to toot his own horn, but he’ll admit it—he looks good. A hundred times better than when he walks out from Barber Frankie and puts his ball cap on—he thinks the cap would be a crime with the art you’ve created. He suddenly realizes you’re waiting for a reply with an anxious smile as he glances to your face in the mirror, in awe of both himself and your skill.

“It—it looks really great. This is the length I like,” he says, running a hand over the ends. “I don’t know how you knew that.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m so happy,” you smile broadly, and Frankie’s heart sings. “Call it hairdresser’s intuition,” you giggle, finally pulling the cape from his neck—he almost feels naked without it, and Frankie wishes you were pulling the rest of the clothes off him too, but he shakes the thought out of his head as if he’s shaking out his hair.

You both meander slowly to the cash register, as slowly as possible in the 3-foot space, seeming to not want this to end—but Frankie thinks he’s reading too much into it. It’s literally your job to be friendly, to make small talk and have your clients feel comfortable. You can’t actually be interested in him, his too-short then too-long hair, his faded tee and dusty jeans, cap tucked in the back pocket. The sound of you punching in the total rings him from his thoughts, as you tell him the price.

“$20,” you smile.

“Twenty? It’s usually 25, and that’s without the beard—” Frankie starts, and you shake your head.

“A discount for my favorite customer.” Frankie’s ears redden again as he hands over the money, your tone clear that it wasn’t his place to argue. You cash him out easily, and Frankie grabs the second twenty in his wallet to stuff in the tip jar.

“Frankie, that’s a twenty—”

“I know. For my favorite hairdresser,” he smiles shyly, and it’s your turn for heat to rise to your cheeks. He walks slowly to the door, passing one last look back as the bell jingles overhead and you stand awestruck at the counter, giving him a shy wave.

Frankie barely makes it off the sidewalk before he pushes his way back in, standing in the entry of the little shop—you almost look shocked to see him back so soon.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t actually like—”

“Would you want to go on a date? With me?” he adds like the clarification is needed, then outwardly winces at his own stupidity. The silence seems to stretch for hours, and he’s about to head back out the door and start Googling a new barber shop when that same smile spreads across your features.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

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frostedfaves · 3 years

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Naive (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the humans Wanda has met, you’re suddenly her favorite.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️ (be warned that this shit will get much darker in the future), subtle hand kink (don’t @ me)

A/N: special shoutout to the anon that inspired this fic series, I hope you enjoy this weird combo of AOU x IW Wanda. also if you have any previous knowledge of demons, throw it out the window before you read this because I guarantee that things will not add up here lmao

Wanda’s favorite thing about interacting with humans is her effect on them.

Walking through a crowd is fine. She’ll brush a few shoulders and rattle a few unsuspecting adults, flash solid black eyes at kids that either stare or scream. It’s temporary and brings a bit of fun to an otherwise dull day.

The real joy comes from direct contact. Wanda travels miles away from her apartment building, choosing different stores, restaurants and cafés just to keep things interesting. A new cashier each time. She’ll have an air of friendliness about her that isn’t exactly fake; she finds most humans to be charming, despite their fragile minds.

“Will that be all?” Roy--according to his name tag--asks with a grin and Wanda nods in response. “Okay, your total is $21.14. You can just swipe or insert your card in the machine there.”

Wanda inserts her card carefully, complimenting the decor as she waits for the transaction to be completed. After returning it to her wallet, she flashes a soft smile at Roy as he hands her the receipt, purposefully brushing her fingers with his. As his skin makes contact with one of her rings, she notices the goosebumps rising along his arm and hears his breathing pattern change.

“Roy? Everything alright?”

She hears the concerned voice of a coworker as she makes her way to a table to wait for her meal, already seated by the time Roy coughs in an effort to collect himself.

“Yeah, just feeling off I guess. I’ll be fine.”

A chuckle falls from her lips as she watches the poor cashier attempt to return to his previous state of mind, finding the urge to smile and wave when his eyes cut over to her. His voice trembles when he calls her name and he stands as far away as possible when she approaches the counter to grab her order.

“Thanks for everything, Roy.”

Sensing that he’s startled enough without it, she keeps her other tricks hidden in her sleeves and simply walks away, holding her laughter until the doors close behind her. A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

The next day brings Wanda to a bookstore around lunchtime. She takes a minute to browse the aisles, taking an exceptionally long time lingering in the section harboring books on angels and demons. The stereotypes amuse more than upset her like they used to in the beginning.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda turns to make eye contact with the employee behind her, about to ask a question for the fun of it when a laugh catches her attention. Her gaze redirects to the café counter straight ahead, and a warm feeling washes over her when she hears the laugh again.

You’re genuinely entertained by the elderly woman purchasing a bagel with exact change, and Wanda manages to catch the end of the conversation as she draws near.

“Safe to say, I haven’t worn the blouse since that day.” She bids you farewell with her bagel and receipt in hand, eyes twinkling as she observes Wanda on her way past. “You have such bright and beautiful hair, dear.”

“Thank you,” Wanda responds with sincerity, attention locked on you while approaching the counter. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you greet her with a voice much calmer than the one you use with most of your other customers. “What can I get you today?”

You watch the orange haired woman turn her head to study the items behind the glass, taking the time to do your own inspection. You admire the dark red jacket that covers most of her torso, gaze lingering on the multiple rings hugging her fingers that seem to be smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, almost in a nervous fashion. It brought you a bit of comfort, assuming that she was affected in the same way.

“What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well…” You walk over to open the glass case from your side of the counter, naming each item as you grab it. “I usually have this pretzel that’s stuffed with spinach and cheese and this brownie. I can heat both of them for you, if you’d like.”

“I would love that,” Wanda responds in a grateful tone, placing a bottle of water on the counter after taking it from the fridge. “And I’ll also have one of these incredibly overpriced waters.”

You begin her order with a laugh, and she watches you ring everything up with the speed and expertise of a seasoned employee, wondering how she’d gone this long without running into you. The total price is brought to the digital screen just before her card is inserted, and she takes the time to quickly slip her rings into her pockets while you’re taking the pretzel and brownie over to the miniature oven. The last thing she wants to do is scramble your brain before she even gets the chance to explore it.

“Here’s your receipt,” you announce while giving Wanda the slip of paper, your eyes lingering on her hand for a moment before looking at her again. “Your food should be ready soon.”

“Okay, thank you…” Her sentence trails off as she searches for your name, the letters rolling off her tongue with ease when she finally locates it on the apron covering your chest.

“You’re welcome…” You trail off in the same fashion and she catches on quickly.

“Wanda.”

“You’re welcome, Wanda,” you repeat as you hand her the water bottle before she can walk away.

Less than two minutes later, you approach the table she’s taken over with two small ceramic plates and a sheepish grin.

“I should’ve asked if you were going to stay a while, but I can grab some bags if you need to go.”

Wanda shakes her head with a laugh as she takes them from you, startling you when she doesn’t react to the excessive heat radiating from the dishes.

“This is perfect.”

She takes her time with eating, and your attention is drawn to her between customers, grateful that she’s too busy with her phone to notice your stares. On the other hand, Wanda’s mind is filled with thoughts of you. What you look like when you think she can’t see you glancing over, what you smelled like when you were close. The nerves, the kindness, the desire to learn her name despite her being just another customer to you. She knows that you noticed her missing rings, but she’s already prepared with a cover story. A two minute conversation has her dying to pick your brain more, learn your habits and become more familiar with your body, beyond a simple brush of your fingertips. She already wants you to herself, just the way you came, without her interference for now; that’ll come later.

A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

Despite Wanda leaving an hour before your shift ended, she lingers in your thoughts on the bus ride and walk home. You find yourself recalling her kind smile, fidgeting fingers and the scent of her perfume when she passed you on her way out, and you’re so deep in your memories that you end up colliding with your apartment door.

“That’s not going to get you inside any faster, dear.”

Your cheeks burn as you face Ruth for the second time today, the first time being earlier when you sold her a bagel.

“I know, Ruthie,” you respond sheepishly as you pull your keys from your pocket. “Is everything okay? You’re usually in bed watching a cowboy show by now.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could talk to you.” She checks to see if the hallway is empty before opening her door and waving you over. “Come on, quickly.”

You scurry into the apartment behind her, taking in the scene before you while she locks the door. Having visited her before, you know she keeps the television at a higher volume, but it seems louder than normal.

“I know I might seem like I’ve lost my marbles, but I wanted to warn you about that woman you saw today....The one with the bright hair.”

“You mean Wanda?” you question, eyes widening when she nods. “Warn me about what?”

“There’s something off about that Wanda, if that even is her real name.” She snatches her arm out of her robe and brings it closer for you to see. “I’ve had these chills since I brushed against her earlier. Something’s not right with her. How do you even know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assure her as you help her slip her arm back in the sleeve. “I only know her name because we were having a friendly conversation and she used mine. I was just being polite to someone I’ll probably never even see again.”

“Just be careful,” she pleads as you head toward her door again, and you offer your best attempt at a relaxed smile.

“I’ll be fine, Ruthie. Get some rest, okay?”

You hear her lock the door behind you as you make your way back to your own apartment, rushing through the process of unlocking the door and securing it once you’re inside. As much as you don’t want to let Ruth get you worked up over a stranger, you can’t help thinking about the odd little things you noticed earlier.

It isn’t unusual for someone to linger after buying food or drinks from your counter, whether they have homework or even just a phone to keep them busy. Wanda seemed to be waiting for someone the entire time, and you remember hoping that she wasn’t on a date, despite not wanting her to be stood up. But she simply slid her phone in her pocket and departed with a friendly wave as if nothing had happened.

You especially remember her waving at you with those ringless fingers, and wondering silently where the intricate jewelry had disappeared to. Obviously you just assumed that the rings were tucked away on her person and not dumped in the trash, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on her accessories in the middle of the day. Part of you--a part that you didn’t dare to address--wondered if she’d emptied her hands to send you a subtle sign. No, that can’t possibly be it.

Sleeping proves to be difficult with so many unanswered questions floating about, but you eventually give into the act. A few hours later, you peel open your eyes when you think you hear something in the room. The digital clock that sits on your bedside and serves as an alarm and occasional radio reads 3:34am, and you’re just about to close your eyes again when you hear another sound. You raise your head to turn toward your closet, and a scream is trapped in your throat as you catch sight of a figure in the shadows.

The next time you wake, the sun is out and your alarm is blaring on the nightstand beside you. Your gaze flickers over to the closet as you reach out to silence it, your heartbeat dropping slightly when you don’t see anything other than clothes. Deciding that you must’ve been dreaming, you shake away the fearful thoughts and head to the bathroom to start getting ready for another day of work.

The only thing you haven’t decided on yet is whether you want to see Wanda again.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #frosty's dark!fics

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

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Stupid Game...But They’re All in High School This Time AU (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister Imagine)

Trigger warning for very graphic attempted sexual assault

"What are the rules?" Jay asked you as you double-checked your backpack to make sure you had everything for the first day of your freshman year of high school.

You sighed and zipped up your backpack. Your two older brothers, Jay a junior, and Will a senior, had already gone over and over this with you. "No spaghetti straps, no backpacks in class--"

"Not written school rules," Jay told you, abruptly cutting you off. "Unwritten school rules."

"Oh," you said as Will entered the living room, holding his car keys in his hand. "Walk on the right side of the hallways, always remember your locker combination or write it somewhere so you will remember it after long breaks, and no talking to the varsity football players unless it's Adam, Kevin, or Kelly because all the rest of them are absolute douchebags."

"There it is," Jay said and grabbed onto the handle of your backpack. "And if someone does this?" He tugged hard and you flew backward.

"Turn around and swing," you told him and quickly regained your balance once he let go.

"Jesus, Jay," Will said and smacked Jay upside the head, resulting in Jay letting out an ow in response. "Don't scare the poor girl. No one's gonna do that. It only happens in the movies." He turned back to you. "Don't listen to him."

"So, all that unwritten rules stuff I can just forget?" you asked.

"No, that was all legit. Just the backpack tug thing was a lie. Now let's go before--"

"Will, Jay, Y/N!" The three of you groaned when you heard your mom's voice calling you and then stepping into the living room. "Take off your backpacks and go on the front porch."

The three of you groaned again.

"Mom," Jay whined. "Do you we have to take a first day of school picture every single year?"

"Yes. And it's your brother's first day of senior year and your sister's first day of high school in general. So, get out on the porch and quit complaining. The faster I take this picture, the faster the three of you can leave."

You all grumbled and then went out on the porch to take a picture. Even though it was early September in Chicago, it was sweltering hot out. You thanked your lucky stars that Will's car had working AC because you knew that some of your friend's older siblings didn't have working AC in their cars and they always complained about how hot it was on the ride to and from school. But, it was better than taking the bus.

Once you had finished taking the pictures (and Jay pulled your hair in one of them so Will told Jay he has to sit in the backseat on the way to school and you got the passenger seat), you got in Will's car.

***

"So, meet you right here after school?" you asked Will when you entered the high school through the double doors of the main entrance.

"Yup. Jay, you got a ride home from soccer practice?" Will asked.

"Yeah. Adam's dropping me off at home. But I swear to God if I have to sit in the backseat one more time--"

"Give it a rest. I could've stepped on your foot, but I figured you'd need it for soccer. So, I let you off easy."

"Whatever," Jay mumbled.

You started to walk towards the freshman hallway and wondered why Jay and Will were still walking with you when you passed the junior and senior lockers. But, then you saw a huge group of varsity football players in the long hallway between the sophomore and freshman hallways, pointing at girls they thought got prettier or skinnier over the summer or new freshman girls for them to hit on or have a one night fling with.

"I'm gonna need to tell Kelly to keep his boys in line," Jay said to Will.

"No shit," Will replied.

"Don't you creeps have anything better to do?" Jay yelled at them. "And, I see at least three of you who are eighteen, so I'd recommend you stop ogling at minors and get back to watching tapes or something so we can actually make it to the playoffs this year."

"And what are you--" a football player who was obviously new on varsity stepped forward and started to say, but another one pulled him back.

"Dude, he's stronger than he looks and they're both best friends with Severide. So, shut the fuck up," he told the new varsity player.

"Yeah, listen to your friend," Will said. "C'mon, Y/N, just keep walking."

You did as he told you and shook off the weird encounter.

"They stop after homecoming," Will told you as he took a piece of paper from you and looked at what locker number you had.

"What do you mean after homecoming?" you asked.

Jay and Will shared a look. They had never told you about the game the football players had from late September/early October until homecoming which was usually mid-October/late October.

"We'll explain later," Will said. You walked a few more steps until you found your locker.

Next to you, there was a girl with blond hair who was wearing a flannel and jeans and brown combat boots who was helping a freshman with their locker as well.

"Alright," Will said. "So, this is your combination. Don't feel bad if you forget it after Christmas or spring break. Everyone goes to the office to ask for their combo when they get back, so don't feel embarrassed about it."

Will showed you how to unlock your locker, but it didn't budge. He tried it again. Nothing. Then, he let Jay have a go at it. Again, nothing.

"Need help?" the blond next to you asked. She was now done helping the other freshman with their locker.

Jay opened his mouth to tell her no, but you said yes faster than he could answer.

Will handed her the paper with the combination and she tried it. Nothing.

She looked down at another paper she was holding. "Ah, I know why this one isn't working. It's on the flagged list."

"The flagged list?" you asked.

"Yeah. They didn't have time to fix some of the lockers during the summer, but they'll be getting to them this weekend, so you should only have to deal with it being crappy like this the first week," she answered.

She tried your combination again, pushed up on the lock, and then kicked the bottom of the locker.

It opened.

"Upton!" A teacher yelled. "No kicking lockers!"

"This one was flagged!" she yelled back. "Only way to get it to open!"

"Fine. I guess it's okay for this week." The teacher narrowed his eyes. "Halstead."

"Mr. Williams," Jay said and then turned back and rolled his eyes.

"What's up with him?" you asked Will.

"Yeah, Jay may or not have fired spitballs at Mr. Williams freshman year," Will answered.

"That was you?" the girl asked. "I remembered hearing that a soccer player did it, but I never got the name. Guess now I know it was you, Jay."

"Yes, it was me, Hailey." So, this girl's name was Hailey.

"Wait, you two know each other?" you asked.

"We had what, an English class together last year?" Jay asked.

"Yeah, first semester because then I got put in the honors class," Hailey said.

"That class always seemed so much more for than the normal class," Jay mused.

"Too bad you can't write papers for shit," Will told his little brother.

"Shut up," Jay groaned.

Will looked up at one of the digital clocks in the hallway. "We should get going," he said. "We've only got fifteen minutes until we have to be in homeroom."

"Good luck, fresh meat," Jay joked and you rolled your eyes as your two older brothers walked off to their wing of the school that housed their lockers.

"Want some help putting your things in here?" Hailey asked. "I have a pass to get to class half an hour late since I'm on student council and helping you guys out."

"Uh, sure, since you're here. Mind if I close my locker and then try opening it myself?" you asked.

"Go for it."

You closed your locker and then did the exact same thing she did to get your locker open, including the kick. It opened on your first try.

"Perfect!" Hailey said. You unzipped your backpack and you and Hailey stooped down to grab folders, binders, and notebooks out of it. "I'm sorry, I never actually introduced myself. I'm Hailey Upton."

"Y/N Halstead," you replied. "Those two doofuses who just left are my brothers, Jay and Will, seems like you already knew Jay, though."

"I mean, I don't really know him. I guess I know of him if that makes sense."

"Makes total sense."

The two of you continued to put stuff in your locker until everything was in there, just in time for the five-minute bell to ring.

You looked at your schedule. "You don't happen to know where Mr. V's room is, do you? My brothers told me it's not in the freshman or sophomore halls."

"Oh, yeah. You just go down the connecting hallway and past the junior and senior lockers and then you'll see-- you know what, I'll walk you there. It's kind of hard to find."

"Thank you."

"No problem. We've all been freshmen before."

***

Hailey entered her AP biology class just as the late bell rang. She took the first empty seat she saw...which ended up being next to none other than Will Halstead.

"Hey," Hailey said. "This seat wasn't saved, was it?"

"No," Will replied. "It's yours now." He looked at Hailey. "You were the one who helped my sister with her locker this morning, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I'm Hailey."

"Will," he told her.

"So," their teacher, Mr. Davis began, "since this is an AP class, there will be a lot more homework than a typical biology class. I also know some of you are juniors, so I hope that you take AP anatomy and physiology next year with me if you do well in this class. As for you seniors who are taking this AP class and AP A and P--which stands for anatomy and physiology by the way--I know that the first three chapters of this class overlap a lot, so I'm sorry if you get bored.

"But, the person you have chosen to sit next to, will be your partner for any projects we have this semester. And, they aren't typical projects like presentations and the like. They're mostly practice AP tests that I want you to take with another person so that you can talk over the answers and make sure you don't make the same mistake twice. Obviously, around February, I'll ask you to take the practice tests by yourself so that you can practice for the real tests.

"Every chapter there will be presentations. I will give each pair a sub-topic of the chapter and I want you to do a five to ten minute presentation on it for the class. I also want you to put together a Kahoot for your subsection after the presentation because I found that that makes students pay way more attention than when there isn't one because everyone wants to win."

Hailey raised her hand. "Yes, remind me of your name," he said when he pointed to Hailey.

"Hailey," she told him.

"Hailey," he repeated and scribbled her name on the piece of paper with the seating chart on his desk. "Oh, and after I go over all this, I would like all of you to come and write your name on the seating chart. Hailey of course won't have to write her name because she doesn't need to be on there twice. Anyway, what was your question?"

"I was just wondering how many practice tests we'll have to take and how often you were should meet up with our partner outside of school?" Hailey asked.

"Both great questions. For the practice tests, we'll start taking them in November because that gives us time to go over the format and content. Don't worry, I won't put any new content on the practice tests. I'm not that mean. You'll take one in November, one in December, and one in January. These will all be done with your seat partner. Then, from February on, you'll have one every month, but these will be taken by yourselves so that you get used to it before the actual test.

"As for meeting up with your partner, I'd recommend every two weeks. That way you won't fall behind on the presentations."

Hailey nodded and scribbled this information down in her notebook. But, she was also nervous. She couldn't let Will come to her house. She just had to hope that Will would have all the meetings at his house.

***

"How was your first day?" Will asked when you met him at the main doors after school.

"It was good. Not as scary as you guys made it seem. Still need to make sure I get to my classes on time, though," you replied as the two of you walked out of the building and through the parking lot towards his car.

"They'll give you a grace period to get to class on time," Will told you. "It's usually a week, week and a half until they start handing out tardies."

You were about to ask how his day was, when someone yelling stopped you.

"Nice ass, Halstead!"

Your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head as you and Will both turned around. Of course, it was a varsity football player who yelled that, of course, it was.

Will put his hand in front of you. "Y/N, I'm gonna give you my keys and you're going to unlock my car and get inside."

"Will, he's not worth it," you argued.

"Y/N, take my damn keys. I don't want you anywhere near this."

You relented and took his keys and then went and got in the passenger seat of his car. But, you watched as everything unfolded.

Will stalked up to the football player, who he knew was Derek Evans, the school fuck boy who every girl liked because he was a shoo-in to get drafted by the NFL right after high school and had really good looks even though he was a total sexist asshole.

"What the fuck did you just say to my sister?" Will roared.

"Said she had a nice ass," he replied while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"You son of a--" Will lunged at him but Kevin and Kelly ran in to hold him back. Turns out they were walking out of school and saw the entire exchange.

"Will! calm the fuck down!" Kelly shouted as he pushed Will back.

"Did you not hear what he said?" Will yelled as he kept reaching out to Derek.

Kevin was pushing Derek back, too.

"We did. But you can't be fighting on the first day. If you're gonna do it, do it somewhere else not on school grounds."

"Both you, take a damn breath and walk away," Kevin told them.

Kelly pushed Will back and then grabbed his arm and walked him towards his car while Kevin walked Derek towards the football field.

"You better fucking do something about that, Severide," Will told him.

"Believe me, I'll make sure he runs lap for the entirety of practice."

"I meant punch his face in."

"Can't do that, man. I got scholarships on the line."

"At least let me bring my baseball bat to school and bash his face in. If my batting average is any indication, I could knock him out and kill him in one swing."

"That would be murder and then you'd be in prison instead of going to med school." Kelly paused and took a deep breath. "I guess now's not a great time to tell you, but freshmen are up for grabs in the game this year. The players all said they weren't going to do it because the coaches banned it, but they're going to try and be sneaky. Only writing the points down on paper and burning it, no texting about it or putting it on social media, you can only talk about it on the phone or in person, and it can't be talked about at school."

"Fuck. So the girls won't really know what's going on until it starts."

"Exactly. Just, let Y/N know, okay? And have her pass it on to some of the other freshmen...because we both know if they go to Principal White he won't do shit."

"Yeah, he's as much of a son of a bitch as Evans. But, I'll tell her. Thanks, Kelly."

***

"Jay!" Will yelled when Jay walked inside all sweaty after his soccer practice.

"What? Dude, I need a shower," he said as he threw his soccer bag and his backpack down by the door.

"Better pick that up before Mom gets home. She'll be pissed if she comes home at 3 am and trips over it."

Your mom was a nurse and worked from 2:30 pm-2:30 am, which meant she only saw you in the morning for four days a week...even though she's only supposed to work three days a week, so 36 hours, but she always picked up an extra day so that she could put some money in all of your guys' college funds. Sometimes, she'd even work five days a week and she'd be exhausted once her week was over. But, she was the hardest worker you knew and inspired you to work as hard as you possibly could at everything you did; you never did anything half-assed because you never saw your mom do that. She always gave it her all.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But I want to shower," Jay said.

"Wait five minutes. This is important," Will told him.

Jay sat down on the couch next to him. "Fine. What is it?"

So, Will explained what happened when he and you walked out of school today and how Kelly had to hold him back so that he wouldn't beat Derek Evans to a pulp. He also told him that the game was still on...and this time freshmen are fair game.

"Fucking hell," Jay muttered.

"Yeah," Will agreed.

"Should we tell her?"

"Probably. The sooner the better, too."

"Okay. Let me jump in the shower and then we can tell her and tell her how to protect herself."

Ten minutes later, Jay was out of the shower and he knocked on your bedroom door, Will right behind him. When he didn't get an answer after a few rounds of knocking, he opened your door.

"She's sleeping. Guess we'll have to tell her when she wakes up," Jay said.

"As long as we tell her tonight," Will said. "The more time she has to prepare for what's to come, the better."

***

"Jesus. Fuck," you muttered as you rolled over and looked at the time on your phone. After stretching and jumping out of bed, you walked from your bedroom into the kitchen, to see your brothers both eating pasta. "Neither of you two bothered to wake me up? It's 6:30."

"Figured you needed the sleep," Will shrugged. "Dinner's in the fridge. Mom made lasagna."

You grabbed yourself a plate and then put some lasagna on it and put it in the microwave. Then you sat down across from Jay and Will who were both sitting on the same side of the kitchen table.

"How was your first day?" Jay asked.

"Good...other than Wiliams making me sit in the front right in front of his desk. I don't mind the front because then I can see the board easier, but his desk, really? This one's all your fault." You pointed your fork at Jay.

Jay held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, really wasn't thinking about you when I fired those spitballs."

"What were you thinking about?" Will asked.

"That I needed to aim for his head."

"My god, you're a child," you laughed. "And, Will about ripped a football player's head off today. I think his name was Derek? He would've, too if Kelly didn't hold him back."

"But he said you had a nice ass," Will quoted. "Pretty sure that warrants me ripping his head off."

"Will's right," Jay agreed. "I would've pushed past Kelly and beat Evans to a pulp."

"Good to know you guys have my back. But, I'm in high school now. You can't keep fighting my battles for me."

"Too bad," Will said. "You're stuck with us."

"Ugh," you groaned and took a bite of your lasagna. "How was your day, Will?" you asked once you had finished the bite. "Any talk of what the senior prank will be?"

"We didn't actually talk about that. But, the girl who helped you with your locker, Hailey, she's my partner in my AP bio class," Will answered. Jay coughed. "You alright there, Jay?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine."

"Anyway," Will began, "she'll be coming round here a bit because we have to do these presentations. She said her brothers are usually home, so she'll probably come here most of the time. Oh, Y/N, she also told me to tell you that if there's ever a day where you can't find anyone to sit with at lunch, that you can always sit with her."

"Really? That's so nice of her. I wish I had classes with her," you said.

"Okay, since it's obvious neither of you is going to ask about my day because I'm the forgotten middle child," Jay started, causing both you and Will to roll your eyes, "I'm just gonna tell you. Nothing important happened. They just drilled that we have to take the SAT into our heads. Oh, and we have read like this 16th century crap in English 11, so that sucks."

"English 11 is the worst," Will agreed. "Good luck."

The three of you continued to eat and the Will started talking again when he and Jay were finished and you were almost done.

"So, Y/N, there's this sick and twisted tradition at school," Will began with a worried look on his face. "And it ends after homecoming."

"So that's what you were implying earlier," you said.

"Yeah, so what happens is that the football players kinda sorta get dares to do, but they aren't specifically dares. It's like there's a list of things they do with a girl and there's points attached to them. Like, apparently if a guy grabs a girl's ass in the hallway or anywhere else on the school's campus or at a school event, it's 50 points. But, since that's pretty tame, that's the only one that actually has to be done on campus. The rest of them can be off or on-campus...but they'd probably be off-campus," Will explained.

"I'm confused. So they get points for assaulting us?" you asked.

"Technically, it's just harassment...but some of the other ones could be classified as assault. But, those ones are supposed to be consensual, so the only risk you really run is having your butt grabbed in the hallway. Jay, you wanna take it from here?"

"Uh, yeah," Jay answered. "Usually freshmen are off-limits, but this year they changed the rules, so they're allowed. But, Kelly, Kevin, and Adam opted out because they're decent human beings, so if you see them in the hallway, you're safe; you don't have to be scared of them."

"But the rest...?" you trailed off.

"The rest of the varsity football team you need to be aware of."

"So, when does this game start and what do I do?"

"It starts in two weeks and goes on for a month, so until homecoming. As for what to do, well most girls just wear long shirts to cover their butts and not wear super tight pants," Jay told you.

"And if me or Jay have a class close to one of yours, we can walk you to your locker or to your next class. That should help a bit," Will offered.

"Thanks. That might help. But, why hasn't Mr. White stopped it?" you asked.

"Because he's as much of a sexist asshole as the football players. But, it's only a month. You can get through it," Will promised.

"God I hope so."

***

It had been two weeks since you started high school and in two days that stupid game of grab ass would begin. Hailey and Will were currently working on their presentation in the kitchen and Jay was playing at an away soccer game...which is where your mom was, too. You were sitting in your room working on your planner for next week.

You looked at your planner and saw Monday was circled and said The Game in black ink. God, why did guys have to be such sexist pigs? Just because they were the football players didn't mean they got on pass on all the school rules and hell, even all the general rules of society.

You shook your head and turned up your music and started writing in your classes for that week in your planner.

A few songs later, you thought you heard a knock on your door, so you took out one of your headphones. "Yeah?" you asked.

"Y/N, it's Hailey. Can I come in?" she asked from the other side of your door.

"Yeah," you told her as you took out the other headphone and paused your music. "What's up?" you asked when she entered.

"Will told me you're really nervous for the game starting this week?" she motioned to the spot next to you on your bed. "Can I sit?" You nodded and she sat down. "Honestly, you just have to be on high alert for a whole month. Try to walk by other people whenever you can and, I think Will said they already told you this, but don't wear tight-fitting clothing."

"They did. I just don't know what to wear."

"Well, I can help you with that. Let's go through your clothes and we'll take out what you can't wear during this and put it in another drawer, okay?"

"That sounds good." You closed your planner and you and Hailey began going through your dresser and closet.

"Another tip," she started, "if you have the chance to knee one of them in the balls, then do it. Why do you think they stopped coming after me halfway through the game last year?"

"You kneed a football player in the balls?" you asked as your eyes went wide.

"Mhm. Did it to the captain of the football team last year. He was a senior, so he's not here anymore, but now all the football boys know not to mess with me."

"I will most definitely keep that one in mind."

***

Jay met up with you that Thursday after one of his classes because it was in the same hall as yours. "Day going good?" he asked as his eyes darted side to side, clearly in overprotective big brother mode.

"Yeah, and no one's tried anything yet, so I guess that's a good thing," you told him.

You were focused on dodging people in the hallway so you had time to stop by your locker and change out your books, go to the bathroom, and then get to your next class all within the span of five minutes (your school really needed to make passing time at least seven to eight minutes instead of five), so you didn't hear the booming laughter of a few varsity football players behind you...but Jay did.

"Back the fuck off," Jay growled as none other than Derek Evans reached out to grab your ass. But, Jay stopped him by turning around and walking backward to shield your backside and then grabbing Derek's outstretched hand.

"Aww, look guys, the little freshman needs her big brother to protect her," Derek mocked.

"From you, yeah she does. You're a sick fuck, Evans...and that goes for your posse, too."

"Let go of my hand, Halstead."

Jay narrowed his eyes, but he let go. "Next time you try to grab my sister, that arm will be twisted so far back behind you that you can kiss your senior season goodbye."

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes and then turned around to go back the other way, towards his actual class.

"Thanks," you said as you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Don't mention it."

***

Jay made his way out of a classroom later that day and saw Hailey, so he made his way over to her.

"I don't need protecting, Jay," she told him.

"I know," Jay replied. "Everyone knows about you kneeing the captain last year. Great job on that by the way. I know I'm a year late, but that was a good move on your part."

"Thanks. It was just a reflex, honestly."

"And thanks for helping Y/N with the clothes thing. She was really nervous."

Hailey waved a hand flippantly. "That was nothing, just a girl helping another girl out."

"As the world should be," Jay agreed. Hey, his mother taught him to look at women as equals and he was going to treat Hailey as such...now that he knew she could protect herself from all these assholes. Because if she hadn't kneed that captain where the sun don't shine last year, you best believe he'd be on high alert for the varsity football players just like he was with you a few classes ago. "So, our practice got canceled because of the rain and the football game got canceled, too. So, me, Adam, and Kelly were gonna go out for tacos at that place across the street, but Adam's bringing his girlfriend, Kim, and Kelly's bringing his girlfriend, Stella, and I don't want to third-wheel, so do you maybe want to go with me? That is if you don't have to be home right after school."

Her dad didn't get home until 5:30. "Sure," she told him. "I just have to be home by 4:30. But, I normally take the bus, so unless one of you can bring me home, I can't come." She figured getting home an hour early would work well so that she wasn't rushing.

"Adam's bringing me home, so I'm sure he can stop by your house, too. Where do you live?" Jay asked. She told him her address. "That's only a block away from me. I'm sure he can bring you home. I'll text him and then text you." He held out his phone. "Put your number in."

So, Hailey put her number in his phone. Then, she handed it back to him and they hurried to get to their respective classes before the late bell rang.

But, she was wondering why she was blushing so much as she turned away and why all these butterflies had erupted in her stomach when their fingers brushed against each other's when she handed his phone back to him. She wasn't falling for Jay Halstead. There was no way, right?

***

"So, party this weekend. Everyone in?" Adam asked as the six of them ate tacos.

"Whose house?" Kelly asked.

Adam said a name of a football player and told them it was Saturday night, and they all agreed to go...except for Hailey, who spouted off some excuse about how she had to be up early on Sunday, so she couldn't go. Jay was disappointed that he wouldn't have an excuse to dance with her, but he figured there'd be other parties.

"Mom's working that night," Jay said. "So, as long as I'm home by like 2:45, I should be good. Will will probably be down, too. Then Natalie will probably come."

"Great. I'll text him so he knows how much beer to have his older brother buy...but I'm sure they'll buy extra because more people usually show up anyway."

They talked and ate for another hour before they had to leave so Hailey could get home on time.

Jay and Hailey sat in the backseat of Adam's car while Adam and Kim sat in the front.

When they pulled up to Hailey's house, Jay offered to walk her to the door, but she told him no, that he didn't have to. He insisted, but she still said no, so he let it go and she got out of the car and went inside her house.

"Dude, you so like her," Adam said as they drove another block to his house.

"I do not. I don't know what you're talking about. She's just a friend," he argued.

Adam snorted. "Yeah right. And I'm the fucking king of England."

"You should ask her to homecoming," Kim suggested.

"Kim! Not you, too!"

"It's obvious. You should ask her. She might just surprise you."

***

You woke up Saturday night to your phone ringing and breaking you out of a peaceful sleep. You rubbed your eyes and looked at the time and the caller. Why the hell was Jay calling you when it was past one in the morning?

"Hello?" you asked sleepily.

"Y/N, me and Will need your help," Jay said.

You immediately sat up. "What do you mean? I thought you were home. Where the hell are you?"

"We went to a party and we couldn't risk you telling Mom, so we snuck out around 11 when we knew you were sleeping. But, Kelly's the DD and he had two drinks, so he can't drive us home. He's not drunk off his ass, but if we get pulled over and they pull out a breathalyzer, we're all shit outta luck."

"Why can't you do it?" you asked. "You sound pretty sober to me."

"I'm two and a half beers deep and it'll probably be four by the time you get here."

"Fucking hell, Jay. And me? You seem to forget that I don't have my license yet, just my permit. I can't come get you. You're just gonna have to wait until Mom gets home and call her."

"No! No way is Mom finding out!"

"What's in it for me? I'm not breaking the law and coming to get your dumbasses for free. And I need something from both you and Will."

"Fine," Jay huffed. "Name your price."

"You do my laundry for a month and Will does my algebra homework for a month."

"Two weeks. We'll do those for two weeks," Jay said.

"No. Three weeks or I'm not coming and you get to suffer the wrath of Mom."

"Fine," he relented. "I'll text you the address."

***

You drove Will's car like an old grandma on the way to the house party, sometimes going ten miles under the speed limit. There was no way you were getting busted for your brothers.

You turned off your car and parked in the closest spot you could find to the house where the party was at. Then, you pulled out your phone and texted both Jay and Will that you were there.

Five minutes passed...then ten and still no answer from either of them.

"Fucking hell," you muttered as you unbuckled and then grabbed the keys and got out of Will's car and locked it, safely zipping the keys in one of your sweatshirt pockets. "I swear to God if both of them are three sheets to the wind and I have to drag their asses out of there, I will not be fucking happy."

You started to walk towards the party, looking at your phone every couple of seconds to see if either of your brothers had texted you back.

You gasped when you felt someone grab your ass.

"Fifty points," he whispered in your ear and then grabbed your wrist.

Derek Evans.

"Let me go!" you told him as you tried to pull away from him.

"No can do, freshman. It's 500 points for fucking a freshman and there's no way I'm passing up that opportunity."

"Let me go!" you screamed. You even dropped your phone to the ground to try to use your other hand to pry his hand off your wrist. But, he just laughed and kept holding you. Then, he stomped on your phone, breaking it into pieces.

You kept screaming, but the music was so loud that no one could hear you. And, you tried to dig your heels into the ground to stop him, but it was no use; he was too strong.

Eventually, he got tired of dragging you and just picked you up. You punched and kicked him, but it didn't seem to work. It was like this senior was immune to pain.

He got to a shed near the side of the house and quite literally threw you against it. You groaned and took a few deep breaths. In that time, Derek had ripped his shirt off and grabbed your wrists with one hand. You dug your nails into his hands. You weren't going down without a fight.

"That's cute," he laughed. "You think some nails are going to stop me."

He dragged you over a few inches and then used some of his shirt to secure your wrists to the fence that separated this house from the one next to it.

"Help! Help!" you yelled. "Somebody help me!"

Your head flew to the right as he slapped you across the face. "Shut the fuck up!"

You whimpered and then started kicking your feet. But, he just walked away and watched you struggle as he removed his pants. Then, he sat on your legs. You couldn't kick anymore, so you started screaming even louder. He slapped you a few more times across the face until you finally shut up because, fuck, that hurt. That just left you whimpering at his mercy as he fumbled with the string on your pajama pants. (You hadn't bothered changing your pants when you came to get your brothers, only threw on a bra on under your t-shirt.) You didn't know what to do. No one was going to save you and you were completely and utterly helpless.

***

Kelly Severide knew you were coming to pick them up as Jay had told him that when he was on his way to grab his fourth beer. He hadn't heard anything from Jay or Will yet but figured they were both shit-faced. So, he tried to text you. No reply. He tried to call. No answer.

So, Kelly walked out onto the back porch and started around the side of the house to see if you had parked. But then, he heard whimpering and what sounded like a slap and then a yelp. He started running.

When he saw what was happening, he saw red.

You were lying on the grass whimpering while Derek was just in his boxers. You wanted him to stop smacking your thighs and face because god, you were fucking hurting and you were also fucking terrified about what was going to happen next.

"Please," you whimpered. "Please, st--"

"You son of a bitch!"

Before you could even register who yelled that, Derek was thrown off of you and to the ground.

You caught your breath and just laid there panting and crying while Kelly did a number on Derek's face. He sent more punches to his stomach until he finally doubled over and groaned in pain. Then, he kicked him in the back and he fell to the ground. Kelly placed his foot on Derek's back. "Stay the fuck down you fucking bastard."

He pulled out his phone and called 911. "Hello, I'd like to report a sexual assault."

***

Will felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "Kelly, where the hell are you, man?" he asked as he dirty danced with Natalie on the dance floor.

"Will, you need to come out by the shed now," he said, still with his foot on Derek's back, keeping him down. Kelly felt terrible that he couldn't untie you, but he couldn't risk Derek getting up and trying to finish what he started.

"Why? You snorting coke out there? Because count me out. I don't do that."

"No. It's Y/N. She was- she-- It's that stupid fucking game some of the bastards I call teammates are playing. An ambulance and the cops are on their way."

Will's mouth went dry. It went dry when he heard the game part, but now it was as if it was sandpaper.

"Jay's by me. We'll be there in a second."

Will pocketed his phone and let go of Natalie. "Baby, what's wrong?" she asked.

"It's Y/N. I think one of those football players got to her."

"Fuck a freshman." Adam's eyes went wide as he let go of Kim.

"What? What about fucking?" Jay asked as he went to take another sip of his beer, but Will swatted it out of his hand.

"We need to go. Now." He grabbed Jay's arm. "Adam, explain."

The three of them started running, Jay barely being able to run in a straight line and Natalie and Kim hot on their heels, and Adam explained how he heard about one part of the game that was called fuck a freshman. But, he thought it was a joke because he didn't know for sure because he didn't sign up for the game.

"Well, obviously it's not a joke!"

Will saw Kelly with his foot on Derek's back before he saw you.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" he yelled.

"Will!" you cried.

"Y/N, hold on. We're here, we're here." He knelt down next to you and untied the t-shirt that kept your wrists tied to the fence.

It took Jay a minute, but then he realized what happened...it also took Kim shaking him and telling him she was going to slap him across the face and then actually doing it. Now that sobered him up.

You could hear sirens in the distance.

"Me and Natalie will go get them," Will said. "You three good here?"

"We're good. Now go get help," Kelly said.

***

The ride to the hospital was a blur. You were still freaking out, so the paramedics had to give you a light sedative to calm down. You remembered your brothers being in the back of the ambulance with you and you remembered Jay puking in a bucket from all the beer he drank.

You vaguely remembered the doctors asking you questions and taking pictures of your bruises. You also remembered them telling the three police officers that they couldn't question you yet. And then, you fell asleep.

***

You slowly opened your eyes and squinted against the bright hospital lights.

Damn, it must've taken me a helluva long time to get the boys out of that party if I'm waking up when the sun is this bright, you thought to yourself.

But, then you looked at your surroundings and it all came flooding back to you.

"Mama, Mama," you cried.

"I'm here, honey, I'm here," she said as she gently grabbed your hand.

You tried to sit up, but your thighs and stomach hurt so bad from Derek hitting you that you couldn't.

"I want a hug but I can't sit up," you cried as tears started to stream down your face.

She stood up and bent over the bed and wrapped her arms around you. It was an uncomfortable position for her because she was bending over to hug you, but she didn't care. You were her little girl and she'd do anything to make you feel safe and loved.

Will and Jay sat in the chairs on the other side of your bed. You hadn't even realized they were there. Will had tears in his eyes and Jay had a hand over his mouth trying to stop a sob from coming out. God, if he wouldn't have called you to pick them up, then this wouldn't have happened. It was all his fault this happened to you.

A knock on the door sounded and your mom let go of you and the two of you looked towards the door.

It was Hailey.

Jay looked to you to see if it was okay that she came in and you nodded.

"Hey," she said as she entered. "I brought donuts. Figured you might be hungry."

You were glad she didn't ask if you were okay because it was apparent that you most definitely were not okay.

You nodded and she walked over to you and opened the box. "You get first pick."

You picked a raspberry-filled one and then proceeded to take tiny bites of your donut. It hurt too much to open your mouth a lot because your cheeks and chin were heavily bruised.

You almost finished your donut, when there was another knock on the door. This time it was three police officers. Then, they opened the door.

"Y/N, I'm Trudy Platt and this is Detective Alvin Olinsky and Detective Hank Voight. We're here to take a few statements about what happened," the officer told you.

"Am I in trouble?" you asked. You did drive without a license.

"No, not at all. We just need to know what happened. We can give you a minute to finish eating if you would like?"

"Can I do it now?"

"Of course." She turned to your mom. "Mom, you want to stay in the room?"

"If I can--"

"I don't want you to know the details, Mom. Please," you pleaded as more tears fell.

"Are you sure? I'll love you no matter what, honey. Good or bad, you're still my little girl."

"I know. But I just- I want to be alone."

"Okay, me and the boys and Hailey will be right outside."

The four of them left and the two detectives left as well, leaving only you and this officer known as Trudy Platt.

"Am I in trouble?" you asked when the door shut.

"Oh, honey, no," Trudy said as she sat down in the seat your mom was previously sitting in.

"But, I drove without my license be- because they asked me to pick them up and then- and then--"

"Y/N, you are not in any trouble. Kelly Severide told us most of the story about what happened, but we need to hear it in your own words. And you can take as long as you want. Take as much time as you need."

So you told her what happened.

"It's all my fault. If I would've never agreed to go pick up Will and Jay--"

"This is not your fault. None of this is your fault," she told you.

"But why does it feel like it is? If I could've just fought him off, maybe this wouldn't have happened." You wiped your eyes with the heels of your hands and let out a strangled sob which was more like a yell. "Why do boys get away with everything?"

She pulled the chair closer to your bed. "Y/N, you have my word that he won't be getting away with what he did to you. I promise you he won't get away with it."

"But how do you know that? You can't possibly know that!"

"Because I have two of the best detectives working with me and I just know that he won't get away with what he did to you."

After a few more minutes and explaining that you really didn't want to go through a trial, Trudy left the room. She also handed you her card in case you changed your mind about the trial.

Then, Trudy Platt went to the bathroom where she saw the other girl who was in the room with you while she was washing her hands. As the girl was scrubbing her hands, Trudy noticed a bruise on her arm, a little above her wrist. It was low enough that it could be hidden by long sleeves, but that it could also ride up when the girl was washing her hands.

"You're one of Y/N's friends?" Trudy asked.

"Yeah. Me and her brother got paired up for a project and I was supposed to meet him this morning, but he texted saying family emergency. So, I thought I'd bring them breakfast," Hailey answered.

"That's very kind of you. Were you at the party last night?"

"No, I was at home."

"Is that where you hurt your arm?"

Hailey quickly pulled on her sweatshirt sleeve "No, I uh, I hit it on my locker a few days ago."

Trudy knew this girl was lying. She had worked enough domestic and child abuse cases to know the usual excuses. So, she pulled out her business card and handed it to Hailey. "This is my business card. My cell phone number is on there as well. Call me if you need help getting out."

***

Trudy, Hank, and Al entered the district and then went into the basement where there were no cameras.

"I think we can all agree on not putting that the girl was driving without a license in the reports," Trudy started.

"Agreed," Al said. "What about the boys?"

"We leave out that they were drinking, too," Hank said. "The only people who know that they were drinking are us three and them since they obviously can't take a breathalyzer now, there's no use in putting it in the reports. They were just kids being kids."

"Yeah, except for the asshole who assaulted her," Al stated.

"Yeah, except for him. We're throwing the book at that bastard," Hank agreed.

"She said she didn't want to go through a trial," Trudy said.

"What? Why not?" Hank asked.

"She said that she didn't think that anyone would believe her. He's a senior who everyone likes, hell, this whole town knows he's going to be drafted. So, she thinks he wouldn't get in trouble if he does actually go to trial."

Hank sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Well, we have 48 hours to hold him, and then me and Al will figure out how to take care of this."

***

"Are you hungry?" your mom asked when you got home later that day. The hospital had discharged you since all your injuries were superficial, such as the bruises on your face, wrist stomach, and thighs.

"No," you muttered. "I'm gonna go to my room."

"Okay, well if you want to be alone, that's fine, but I took FMLA leave, so I'll be home for a while. Take all the time you need, honey."

You nodded and then walked into your room and cuddled under your blankets. Since it was the afternoon, there was still a bit of sunlight coming in from beneath your blinds, which you were thankful for. You turned on your fan and allowed it to blow lightly on you. You were glad that you always used your fan for white noise so that you could sleep, but it also helped to muffle your quiet sobs as you cried into your pillow.

Meanwhile, Hailey, Will, Jay, and your mom were in the kitchen. Hailey had come home with you and your family so that she and Will could work on their presentation. She said it was fine, that she could go home, but Will said working on the presentation would be a welcome distraction.

"What's FMLA leave?" Jay asked.

"It's the Family Medical Leave Act," she answered as she sat down at the kitchen table. "It means I can have up to twelve weeks unpaid leave at work and still be guaranteed a job when I get back. But, I'll probably just take half of that, because uh, I won't be making any money during that time."

"I can see if I can get my summer job back," Will immediately offered. "I know I said I can only work during the summer, but I can work on the weekends even if it's only ten hours a week and I've only been off for a month, so they should probably be able to rehire me--"

"Honey," your mom said, cutting him off. "I really appreciate you thinking of that. But it's your senior year and you're taking four AP classes. School comes first. We'll get through it. This is only temporary and I do have a savings account in case of emergencies and we should be fine."

"Okay, well, you can always tell me to talk to my boss if I need to," Will said. Then, he turned to Hailey. "I'll go grab my stuff and then we can work on the project."

Will walked away to his room, leaving Jay, your mom, and Hailey. "Can I get you anything, Hailey?" your mom asked. "Water, coffee?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine," Hailey said. This wasn't about her. She knew that you needed your mom and that your mom needed time to feel what happened as well. "Thank you, though."

"I'm gonna go check on Y/N and then go for a drive. If anything happens with her, Jay, I need either you or Will to call me right away."

"We will, Mom, don't worry."

Your mom pulled Jay into a hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Mom." Normally, Jay wouldn't have hugged his mom when his friends were around--or whatever he considered Hailey--, but he knew his mom needed it, so he returned her hug.

"Be back soon."

Then, she checked on you and seeing that you were asleep, grabbed her keys, and left.

"I'm gonna put on a pot of coffee," Jay said. "I know you said you were good, but you can have some if you want." He made his way to the cupboard and grabbed the container of ground-up coffee beans and started putting them into a filer.

"Thanks. Might take you up on that when me and Will are working. A little liquid focus never hurt anyone," she replied.

"No doubt."

Hailey paused, she wanted to keep talking with Jay but didn't know what to say. She didn't want to mention last night either. "So, are you taking any AP classes?" she asked. "You know, since Will's apparently taking four."

"Will's a psychopath and no, I'm not. Too much work if you ask me. If I was planning on going to college, I might take a few, but I'm not."

"Oh. Then what are you planning to do?"

"Maybe the army. My mom doesn't like the thought of me fighting in wars, but she supports my decision. I just don't feel like studying is for me."

"What branch?" Hailey asked.

He raised his eyebrows at how interested she was. "I was thinking the Army Rangers. They're the first ones on the ground in war zones."

"Sounds dangerous. You're practically flying blind."

"Oh, but that's what makes it fun."

Hailey laughed. "You're an adrenaline junkie, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah. I love rollercoasters...and anything else that gets my heart racing."

"Hear about that new coaster at Cedar Point?"

"Yeah!" Jay exclaimed. And, before he even had time to process what he was about to say, he blurted it out anyway. "Maybe we could go together sometime."

Did he just ask me out? Hailey thought to herself. "I'd like that." She smiled.

"Am I invited?" Will asked as he walked down the hallway, overhearing their conversation.

"Uh," Jay blanched.

"Dude, chill. I know you were trying to ask her out--"

Jay's phone rang before he could yell at Will to knock it off and Hailey just took a seat at the table blushing really badly while she did so.

"It's Kev," Jay said while glaring at his older brother. "I gotta take this." He accepted the call and started to walk down the hall to the bedroom that he shared with Will. "Hey, man."

Jay closed his bedroom door and sat on his bed. "Adam just told me that Evans tried to rape your sister?"

Jay ran a hand down his face. "Uh, yeah, if Kelly wouldn't have gotten there when he did, who knows what would've happened."

"Is she okay? Is he in jail? Is she in the hospital?"

Jay knew that Kevin would react protectively since he had a younger sister, Vanessa, who was in seventh grade, just two years younger than you.

"I mean, physically her injuries are just bruising." He took a deep, shaky breath to stop himself from crying. "I think they're holding Evans and we just got home from the hospital. Y/N's sleeping now."

"Evans is so fucking lucky I wasn't there. Adam said that Kelly beat his face in pretty bad, but I'd do worse. I probably would've killed him, at least given him brain damage from a concussion."

"You and me both."

"And, uh, Adam said the cops are gonna talk to all the football players?" Kevin asked.

"Yeah. The detective did mention that. He also told me and Will not to go after Evans, but--"

"You're not gonna listen?" Kevin asked.

"I'll probably wait two weeks so he thinks he's safe and then go after him. You're more than welcome to help."

"I'll cover for you that night."

"Thanks, man. So, the cops talk to you yet?" Jay asked.

"Not yet. But I really don't have anything to say. I didn't participate and I would never participate. Might mention that White never tried to stop it and Coach Davis said it was off-limits, though."

"You think Davis knew what was going on?" Jay asked.

"There's no way. If he knew, he would've kicked all of them off the team. He doesn't fuck with stuff like that. White, on the other hand, well, we both know how that cat rolls."

"I should've mentioned that when they were talking to me earlier this morning. I was just, I was so worried about Y/N."

"I get it. I'd be the same way if this happened with Vanessa. I'll tell them about it. You just make sure she's okay. And, if you, her, Will, or your mom need anything, gimme a call. I'd be happy to help."

"Thanks, Kev."

"Good luck planning your revenge. Tell me what the cover is."

"Oh don't worry, I will."

***

Two weeks later

Jay popped the screen out of his window. "You can put this back in, right?" he asked Will.

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Go give Evans hell for what he did to Y/N," he replied as he got out of bed and stood by the window.

"You know, still time for you to come with me."

"I got accepted to college already. I'm not about to jeopardize that. Cover still that Kev called and needed help babysitting Vanessa and Jordan?"

"That's the one. I'll crash at his house after this is done just so it seems believable. See you tomorrow."

"See you. Don't get beat up too badly."

Jay scoffed. "Yeah right."

Then, he started the three-mile walk to Derek Evan's house.

So, Jay had decided not to actually beat him up because his parents were home and he didn't want to have to deal with the parents. Derek and the cops he could handle, but having his parents yell that they want to press charges and scream at him, yeah no. He had stashed a can of black spray paint in a bush in his front yard and grabbed it when he was leaving. He planned on spray painting rapist on Derek's white car. Even though he didn't technically rape you, he tried to, so the word still stands.

Jay got there and pulled his hat down over his face. Then, he walked up the driveway and to Derek's car. He shook the can of spray paint and took the cap off. His finger was down on the button--

"Chicago PD!"

Fuck.

***

"Your last name's Halstead?" the cop who picked him up asked when they entered the 21st District.

"Yes, sir," he answered, his head hanging low and the can of spray paint still in his hand.

"Well, I need you to take a seat right there while I make a phone call. Do not move."

"Yes, sir."

Jay sat down on the bench across from the front desk and pulled out his phone. He sent texts to both Kevin and Will.

Cops caught me. At a police station right now. Will, don't you fucking dare tell Mom.

They replied that they were shocked, but Kevin said he could always come pick Jay up if he needed it. He figured Jordan and Vanessa would be okay by themselves for half an hour. And Will promised he wouldn't tell Mom...unless Jay needed bail money, then he'd have to tell her.

"Halstead," a gruff voice barked from the side of him.

Jay looked up to be met with one of the detectives who had worked your case. But, instead of being in his uniform, he was in normal clothes. The only thing that could tell anyone that he was a cop was the badge pinned to his jeans and the gun in its holster at his side.

Jay stood up.

"I had a feeling something like this might happen," Hank Voight stated. "So, I put a patrol car in front of the Evans' house."

"Am I under arrest?" Jay asked.

"You're not. But follow me."

Hank opened the door to the office next to where the bench was and Jay followed him in.

"Have a seat." Jay sat down in the chair in front of the desk and Hank sat in the chair behind the desk. If Jay didn't know any better, he'd say he was in the principal's office. "Jay, listen."

"Wait, how do you know I'm not Will?" Jay asked.

"I know that Will had red hair. And, you told the responding officer your full name, remember?"

"Yes, sorry."

"It's okay. A little questioning never hurt anybody. But, Jay, listen. You can't go and beat this kid up or destroy or vandalize his property." Jay opened his mouth to protest, but Hank put a hand up to stop him. "I understand that you're angry and want to get revenge for your sister. But, that's not going to make it like it didn't happen. And, you'd be the one getting in trouble, not him. Severide already did a number on him."

"But, Y/N doesn't want a trial because she doesn't want to relive it!" Jay argued. "I just have to let him get away with it?"

"He's not going to get away with it, I can promise you that. I just don't want you to be the one getting in trouble for bringing a little justice to the world. I can promise you justice will be served, though."

"How? If there's no trial and I can't go after him, how will justice be served?"

"Jay, just let it run its course. Now, I'm assuming your mom doesn't know you're here?"

"No, she doesn't. I planned on going to a friend's house after."

"I'll drive you there. All this vandalism stuff will stay between me, you, and the patrolman."

Jay's jaw dropped. "Wow, thank you so much."

"Hey, I would've done the same thing if I was in your shoes. Now, c'mon, let's get you to that friend's house."

***

One month later

It was your mom's first day back to work. She said she would stay home longer if you wanted her to, but you told her you were fine. And, she thought that as well because you had been coming out of your room more these past two weeks.

You walked to the kitchen to go get some water which was normal for you. All you had been doing since you were almost raped was sleeping. You'd occasionally have dinner with your family, but that was it. You also started seeing a therapist a week after the attempted rape, which helped immensely. But, when she saw your symptoms, she had suggested anti-depressants after you had talked to her for a couple weeks. So, you were on them.

After a week, you started to gain some energy back. It wasn't back to normal yet, but it was enough that you would watch movies and tv shows, read, and journal in your room instead of lying in bed staring at the ceiling and sleeping all day.

You were on your way back to your room with your glass of water when you heard a familiar opening line to one of your favorite Disney Channel movies: Lemonade Mouth.

You poked your head into the living room. "Are you guys watching Lemonade Mouth?" you asked your brothers.

"We were gonna change it to watch some hockey," Jay said. Then, he saw Will's pointed look. "But, if you want to watch Lemonade Mouth, then we can."

Will paused the tv. "Are you sure?" you asked.

"We're sure," Will replied. "I'll go make us some popcorn while you get comfortable."

And thus started the plan of watching a movie every night to get you out of your room. Sometimes, Will would have too much homework, so you'd watch a movie with Jay. Sometimes Jay would have a soccer game, so you'd watch a movie with Will. Sometimes, Will would have a ton of homework and Jay would have a soccer game, so you'd watch a movie with your mom. Either way, it was nice to know that they were there for you and that you didn't have to talk about anything with them.

"Hey, like my new shirt?" Jay asked.

"When did you go shopping?" Will asked as he looked up from his textbook.

"Practice got canceled because Coach is sick and Hailey wanted to get some food and go to Goodwill, so we got food and went to Goodwill."

"Jesus, man, you are so whipped. Didn't you just become boyfriend and girlfriend last week?"

"Yes. Y/N you-- what's wrong?"

Your breath was caught in your throat and you felt like you couldn't breathe. If you could see yourself right now, you knew you'd look like a ghost.

"Nothing. I- I just need to get some water and then I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Okay," Will started, "you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, but you also grabbed your bottle of antidepressants and put them in the pocket of your sweatshirt. Then, you made your way to your bedroom and locked the door.

How the hell did Jay manage to find the exact same shirt at a thrift store? It was a navy blue shirt with the Abercrombie and Fitch logo on it...the same exact shirt Derek was wearing on the night of the party.

It all came flooding back to you. You screaming...him slapping you...you crying...

You couldn't breathe.

"Ahhh!" you sobbed and dropped to your knees and curled up into a ball, taking the pills out of your pocket.

You continued sobbing and then you heard a knock on your door and heard the doorknob rattle.

"Y/N, Y/N, I need you to open this door," Will told you.

"No! Leave me alone!" you yelled.

"Can't do that. Mom left us in charge since she went back to work. If you don't open this door in three seconds, we're coming in somehow."

He got to two and you relented and opened the door.

"Y/N...what--"

You thrust the bottle of pills in his hand. "Take them! Take them, please!"

"Were you...?"

"I don't know! I don't know, Will! Just get them away from me!"

He pocketed them. "Okay, what's going on? What happened?"

Jay came around the corner.

"It's the same- the same--"

"Y/N, I need you to take a deep breath for me and then we can talk about this."

After five minutes of Will calming you down, you were finally able to catch your breath enough to talk.

"Jay's got the same shirt!" you wailed.

"The same shirt as who?" Will asked gently, careful not to touch you for fear that it would send you into another anxiety attack.

"Derek!"

Will turned around. "Jay, go rip that fucking shirt off and fucking burn it!" Jay just stood there, shellshocked. "Jay!"

He turned around and went to his room to take it off and get rid of it.

"Now, can I give you a hug?" Will asked. You nodded and allowed him to embrace you. When he pulled away, he asked, "Were you really going to do that? With the pills?"

"I- I don't think so," you told him. "I just saw them when I was getting water and grabbed them. I don't want to die."

"That's good. That's really good. But, you know we have to talk to Mom about this, right?"

"Yeah. And, I know I'm supposed to go back to school next week, but I- I don't think I can handle it, Will."

"Then we'll talk to her about that, too."

Jay ran out of his room--in a different shirt--holding his phone in his hand and looking frantic. "We have to go now!" he yelled.

"Why?" Will asked. "Where?"

"Mom just called and said she had to check out Hailey in the hospital."

***

"Hailey!" Jay yelled as he entered her room. He saw her bruised face and her arm in a sling. "Baby, what happened?"

"He- he--" And then she erupted into sobs and reached her good arm over to Jay.

You noticed that one of the officers who worked your case was also in the room.

"Hailey, honey, do you want to press charges?" Trudy Platt asked.

"I can't!" she wailed as she lifted her head off of Jay's chest. "I know I called you, but he's my dad!"

Jay let go of her. "Your dad did this? That son of a--"

"Jay!" your mom yelled.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Hailey reached for her water, but you noticed it was slightly out of her reach so you handed it to her. You hated seeing the girl who you considered your best friend in this much pain, at the hands of her father of all people.

Since you were only in school for less than a month before everything happened and didn't have time to form real, long-lasting friendships you didn't really have any close friends besides Hailey. And now, you knew how she felt when she saw you in that hospital bed six weeks ago.

"Hailey, I can't let you go back to that house," Trudy said.

"But I don't want to press charges! Can't you just pretend you didn't see that? That I didn't call you?" Hailey argued.

"Honey, since you're a minor, I'm supposed to press charges no matter what."

"But he's my dad!" she cried. "I know he's horrible, but I don't want him to rot in prison."

"Hailey, listen to me," Trudy began. "I am giving you an out here. I won't press charges, but for me not to press charges, I need you to be in a safe home."

"You're saying I need to find to find someplace else to live?" she asked.

Trudy nodded.

"Mom, can she...?" Jay asked as he looked up at his mom.

In that moment, your mom saw in Hailey what she had seen in you six weeks ago: a scared little girl who needed the comfort and love of a parent. And, your mom knew she wasn't her actual parent, but she had been over so much recently that it was hard for her to see Hailey as just one of Will's classmates...especially now since she was your best friend and Jay's girlfriend.

"She can stay. As long as she doesn't mind sharing a room with Y/N," your mom agreed.

And, it was that day that Hailey Upton decided that she wanted to become a cop.

***

Hank Voight pulled over Derek on his way home from school.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Derek asked as he rolled down his window.

"First of all, it's detective. And second of all, there is a problem. The problem is that you almost raped a girl," he stated.

"And she didn't file charges, so until she does, I didn't do that."

Hank reached over and grabbed Derek Evans by the collar. "Listen here. In two weeks, you are going to write a letter to your parents saying that you're running away because of all the ridicule you've faced because of this. And then, you're going to meet me at this address." He thrust a piece of paper into his hand. "Oh, and if you think I'm not serious, let me know if your principal shows up to school tomorrow because I can promise you he won't be there. He'll be in prison...or dead. I'll let you think over which one it is." He let go of his collar. "If I were you, I'd show up or it will be a whole lot worse for you."

Derek swallowed. "Okay."

***

Two weeks later

Hailey was settling in at your house, but you still weren't ready to go back to school.

"Y/N," your mom called from the kitchen. You walked out there. "I talked to one of your counselors. They said that they think online school would be helpful. Is that something you might be interested in?"

You never thought your mom would cave to this, but you were on cloud nine. "Yes, please."

"Okay, but can you try to go back at the beginning of next year?"

"I don't know, Mom."

"That's okay. I shouldn't have asked you that. You'll know when you're ready." She paused. "But, one of the things I'm worried about is you not getting any social interaction."

Will walked out of his room. "What if I do it with her?" he asked. "I could go to school for my AP classes and then take the other ones online. The AP ones are really the only ones that matter."

"Will, it's your senior year," your mom argued.

"I know. I can still do all the fun senior stuff, but I wouldn't have to be at school all day."

"Can I do it, too?" Jay asked. "And, I can still go to school for math and English because we know how I am in those subjects. I can even ask Hailey and text some friends if they want to do online school, too," he suggested.

Tears formed in your eyes. Your brothers were giving up their high school experiences for you.

"Boys, I don't know--"

"Mom, you said the issue was social interaction," Will began, "if we're there and other people are there, she wouldn't be missing out on social interaction."

Your mom sighed. "Are you two sure about this? This isn't a decision you can take lightly." They both said they were sure. "Okay, I'll call the school."

"I'll ask Hailey and make some phone calls," Jay said.

And so, three days later, you, your brothers, Hailey, Kim, Adam, Kevin, Natalie, Stella, and Kelly were all sitting in a coffee shop working on online school.

***

Derek Evans walked a block before he got in Hank Voight's car.

"You have everything?" Hank asked, referring to Derek's backpack filled with clothes, toiletries, and other necessities.

"Yes, sir," Derek answered. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," was all Hank said and then he started driving.

They pulled up to a dirt area on the water with four huge silos. "What are we doing here?" Derek asked.

"Get out of the car."

Derek listened and then Hank followed him around the car. He pulled his gun out of his holster and pressed the cool, black metal against Derek's temple. Derek froze.

"Walk," Hank commanded.

Derek listened and he walked with Hank still holding a gun to his head.

Hank told him to stop and then he drew a line in the dirt with his foot.

"You see this line?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Derek answered while visibly shaking.

"If you ever cross this line again, there will be a bullet in your head. Walk and don't come back." Hank lowered his gun and Derek started walking, not looking back, doing exactly as Hank had told him to do. "Nobody fucks with my city, Evans," Hank said to his retreating back. "Nobody. Not even you."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this rewrite! Thank you for reading! Please remember to reblog/like and comment because I always love when those notifications pop up and I love reading your comments!And, if you like my writing, you can support me at buy me coffee here. It's only a dollar and it's through Paypal and any currency can be used, no subscription required! (I write these fics for free, so I figured I'd try this out!) As always, if you want ti be added to my taglist, just comment that and I’ll add you

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e @i-like-sparkly-things @herecomesthewriterwitch @liampayne88

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reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Note

hi i saw that your requests are open for the night for that list and i feel like 15&35 with spencer might be all i need to survive

anyways i’m on anon bc i’m scared you’ll hate this request but just know your writing is my favorite i would read your grocery lists at this point

excuse me i love this request please do not disparage yourself ever again <3 that’s the loveliest thing anybody has ever said to me and i will now think of you and this compliment whenever i write a grocery list

Ship: GN! (wears a bra, no mention of gender other than this) Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: Mentions of canon-typical case things, pining, mild thievery.

Word count: 2.4k

Prompts: #15 - "You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

#35 - “Well fuck, didn’t expect to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

A/N: This got so ungodly long I’m so sorry I don’t even know if I can call this a blurb at this point it’s a full fic but I loved this idea so much and it ran away from me.

PLEASE let me know what you think because I bashed this out in the span of an hour and I’m not sure if I love or hate it.

Rossi’s spitballing theories behind you. Your head lolls on the desk, feeling far too heavy to attempt lifting up at this time of night. The case was hard, you were sleeping in shifts, and somehow you, Rossi, and Reid had drawn the short straw. Your eyes are blearing a little too much to make out the exact time on the clock, it’s on the opposite side of the room and your eyes burn when you squint to look at the time; you’re fairly certain you’re somewhere on the wrong side of 3am.

23 hours awake.

Sighing, you push yourself up, looking around and only now noting that Spencer isn’t in the room. He must have made his exit while you were flicking through the files making notes, it was often easier to do that with your headphones in.

Thankfully, you'd set up shop in a conference room at the hotel, given the local PD was tiny and barely equipped to handle its own officers.

“What about the meat packing district?” Rossi muses.

It’s a rhetorical question but one you actually have an answer to, “I don’t think so. The busiest part of the city is between the meat packing district and where he’s dumping the bodies. Cops do random stop-and-searches sometimes, I don’t know if he’d risk it.”

“He could drive around.”

You frown, thinking, “He’d be crossing state lines. Hey, wait,” You stand up from your chair, walking to the board and starting drawing circles that illustrate your point, “Spencer thought there must be a pattern, right? But it died off here and we didn’t know about any more victims. If we expanded the search to outside of state lines it might connect here, here, and here,” You circle each here with a point, tapping the pen against the board triumphantly.

Rossi smiles, “Good thinking kid. I’ll call Garcia.”

Exhausted from your breakthrough, you flop back down into the chair. The clothes you’ve been wearing are icky, uncomfortable with sweat and flying and you’re strongly regretting your choice in underwear now too.

You hear the door swing open, looking up to see Spencer entering the room. Holding your go-bag. The one you’d left on the jet this morning. The jet that was a two hour drive from your current location.

“Where did you? When did you?” Your incoherency is related to both your tiredness, and his thoughtfulness.

He smiles, “It took some calling around but I found a cab driver willing to go and pick it up. It just got here.”

“Spencer I-,” You start, scrambling to your feet to accept the bag he’s offering to you, “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you. How much was the cab?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He says, handing it to you and heading over to the board, “What are these?”

Rossi - who was watching the exchange with some amusement - starts explaining the eureka moment you’d had. Spencer nods along, turning to smile at you when Rossi credits the thought to you. It’s something he does a lot, Rossi’s noticed. Not in a condescending way, Spencer knows more than anyone just how capable you are at your job. It’s as if he needs to channel his love for you somewhere, and chooses pride. It’s the easiest one to explain, after all, because who isn’t happy for their colleague making breakthroughs?

That’s how Spencer justifies it anyhow.

You leave the room, heading to the bathroom to change. You’re incredibly grateful to slip out of your dirty clothes and the bra that’s cutting into you, so much so that you decide to pop on a t-shirt under your blazer. The sports bra and t-shirt combo revitalises you more than you thought possible for this hour.

Digging through, you find an item that you didn’t pack. A pair of brown fluffy slippers. Attached to them, a note, ‘I thought the heels on your boots looked uncomfortable, and I didn’t want your feet to hurt. - Spencer.

He signed the note. Something about that, alongside the gift itself, sends a flush of warmth through you.

He gave you his slippers

So?

Is that something friends do?

Wracking your brain, you try to think up if he’d do this for anyone else. Hotch? The thought makes you laugh. Emily? Maybe, actually. If she didn’t make it so hard for others to take care of her. Penelope? Almost definitely.

Your heart sinks a little, and you distract yourself by fumbling to get your work boots off and the slippers on.

It doesn’t matter it isn’t romantic, it matters that he did it.

It matters to every other person you date

He sets an impossibly high bar

Thankfully, the late hour means that there aren’t many local PD still hanging around to see your interesting choice of shoe. You slip through to the conference room, where Spencer and Rossi are huddled over the phone talking to Garcia.

Spencer does a double-take. He knew the gift he’d given you, but he hadn’t expected to see you...wearing them? You look beautiful: hair mussed from fiddling with it, an old college t-shirt under your blazer, brown fluffy slippers on your feet. The mix of professional and homely attire does something to him that he can’t quite explain, and he has to clear his throat before making his next point to Garcia.

Did he just blush?

You try not to stare at him, try not to see if that’s a tinge of red creeping up under his turtleneck.

It is.

“Thanks Garcia,” Rossi clips, hanging up the phone, “I’m going to go and find some coffee. You two,” He points, looking knowingly between you, “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

No sooner has Rossi left the room, you both try speaking at once.

“You look-” He starts.

“Thank you so-” You start.

You both tinge with warmth.

“You go first,” He says, gnawing at his plump lower lip, finger turning oer the pen in his hand.

You laugh, a little breathless, “Well fuck, I wasn’t expecting to be announcing my undying love for you this early in the morning.”

His eyebrows quirk, is that...hope?

No. Wishful thinking

It’s probably confusion, and you’re a little embarassed, so you quickly clarify, “I mean Spencer Reid this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. I’m endebted to you forever, really.”

A look washes over him: disappointment? You can’t trust your eyes to see the clock, so you feel you can’t entrust them to analyse his micro-expressions right now either. Especially when you’re biased by personal desire.

“It’s no problem,” He says, voice cracking a little, “You look...” He trails off.

“Unprofessional?” You suggest, teasing.

He shakes his head, swallowing, “You look really nice.”

It’s your turn to swallow. You drop your gaze to the pen, feeling too flustered to continue looking your colleague in the eyes at this moment in time, “Thank you. Where did you get slippers at this time of night?”

He shifts, one hand settling over the wrist of the other and fingers nervously rubbing over the back of his hand, “They were uhm. They were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” It comes out pitchy, a squeak, “I’m sorry, that’s probably weird I just thought-”

“No, Spence,” You say, looking up at him and giving him a genuine smile, “No, it’s really sweet. I’m really lucky to have you.”

He gives his signature tiny tight-lipped smile, the one he gives when he’s feeling awkward or suppressing something he wants to say but can’t.

Please let it be the latter.

You relinquish him of the obligation of responding, instead standing to join him at the board, “You think you’ve got enough to make a geographical profile out of this?”

He nods, tapping the board with his pen, “Your idea about crossing interstate lines was really smart.”

“I have my moments.”

He wants to tell you that everything you have is a moment. You want to step closer, to cup his face in your hands, to press a kiss to the lips that you swear are pouting, begging to be kissed. You don’t.

Namely, because Rossi chooses this moment to re-enter the room, clutching three cups of coffee, “A little help here?”

From the way you spring apart, despite not even being that close, he wishes he’d taken a little longer. Damn kids and their inability to express their feelings for one another.

***

It’s 4:30am when the alarm on your phone goes off. With the work of the four of you - Garcia sporadically included when she had genius updates - you’ve managed to uncover a pattern that arches across states. You’d called Hotch, who’d commended the good work and advised that you should head to bed at 4:30. The others would get up then, and start to head out to the different potential crime scenes. Local PD was already on it.

You’d been told under no uncertain terms that you were to rest until at least 10am. Unless there was a call from Hotch. You prayed there wouldn’t be.

Rossi’s off the minute the alarm rings, bustling out the door with a “See you later kids.”

You wait behind while Spencer packs his things into his satchel. Or rather, unpacks his things from his satchel, frantically tearing it apart.

“What are you looking for?” You ask.

“My key card,” He murmurs, “I swear it was in my wallet.”

“You were rooming with Morgan, right? Want me to call him?”

“Yes please,” He says, continuing to unearth the contents of his bag onto the desk, with an increasing degree of agitation every second that goes by.

You dial Morgan’s number, and he answers after two rings, “Hey kid.”

You put the phone on loudspeaker.

“Hey. I’m with Spencer, we’re about to head up to our rooms for the night, are you still here? He can’t find his keycard.”

He lets out a breath of air through his teeth, “Sorry, I’m already on my way to one of the crime scenes. Local PD found a body over the state line. Nobody’s at the hotel but you guys and Rossi.”

Spencer outwardly sighs.

“No problem, we’ll figure something out.”

“Alright, good work kid, get some rest.”

The phone line clicks. Spencer’s brow is pinched with frustration, and your heart breaks for him. You’ve all been awake well over 24 hours, and he looks exhausted. He’s more eyebag than man at this point.

“Do you want me to go to the front desk?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “Reception doesn’t open until 6am. I’ll just wait here until then.”

He starts packing the belongings back into his bag, a resigned look on his face. And you have an idea.

“Actually,” You say, pulling the keycard out of your pocket and sliding it across the table to him, “You’ve just won one free pass to my bedroom.”

He picks the card up, squinting in confusion.

“Me and Rossi both got put in single rooms. I mean, it might not be the most comfortable thing in the world, both of us in a single bed, but it’s better than nothing right?”

He opens his mouth to object, and you shake your head.

“Spence you look like you’re about to drop unconscious on the floor and I don’t want to be responsible for yet another injureid.”

You’re so tired that the pun seems hilarious to you, and it does elicit a small laugh from him.

“Come on, it’s either share a bed with me, share a bed with Rossi, or try to sleep in one of these chairs. And I’ll be honest, I’d be kind of offended if you’d rather either of the other two options.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” He says, obviously warming up to the offer but not wanting to push his luck. You can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

“You can. But you won’t,” You tell him, settling your go-bag on your shoulder, “And might I remind you that all this time you’re spending objecting are minutes we could be spending sleeping.”

That seems to win him over. He tucks everything back into his bag, zipping it up, “After you.”

“You have the keycard,” You smile, “After you.”

***

The bed is a single bed. It prompts another round of ‘No really, I can sleep on the floor’ from Spencer, your enquiries about if it’s too much for his germaphobia or issues with touching, and his blushy embarassed reassurance that he doesn’t mind if it’s you.

He doesn’t mind if it’s you.

Not as if you’ll spend the next year mulling over those words or anything.

When you get out of the bathroom from changing, Spencer is tucked up in bed. Well, you say tucked up, but he’s practically lay right on the edge. How he’s actually physically still being supported by the mattress at this point must be his physics magic.

“I thought I said I didn’t want you getting injured,” You say, crossing the room to him.

He opens his eyes, “I didn’t want to-”

“It’s okay Spence,” You tell him, huddling down into bed.

There’s about enough room for you both to fit in, with an inch between you, so you pull gently at his arms, urging him closer.

“There’s enough room for us both without you going flying in the night,” You tell him.

He nods, obviously still a little nervous. It’s odd, lying face to face with him, illuminated only by lamplight. He looks soft. He always does, but there’s something intimate about this. You can feel his breath fan across your cheek, can feel how heat radiates off his arms.

“Do you want me to turn the lamp off?” He asks.

It’s not your staring that implores him to ask, because he’s been staring at you too. The both of you, trapped in a perfect bubble of a moment. Lamplight a spotlight, highlighting all the features of the person you love most.

“Sure,” You whisper, breath catching in your throat.

He flicks it off, settling back down.

His breath brushes against your face when he asks, “Do you want me to turn around?”

“Do you want to?”

He hesitates for a moment, voice even softer when he answers, “No.”

It’s dark. You can hardly make out his outline. Yet somehow, you both just know. Shifting, infitismally closer. Breaching the tiniest gap between you somehow feels like crossing the Grand Canyon. Your heart thumps in your chest, and you can feel it in your fingers, the fingers that trace cautiously along his jaw.

His mouth finally, finally, slotting against yours in the most gentle of kisses. A blink and you’d miss it.

And yet, in the same blink, your life changes forever.

When Rossi makes a speech at your wedding, he admits to being the thief of the missing keycard, and intentional orchestrator of the greatest love story he’s ever known. His words.

---

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boognish-worshipper · 3 years

Text

ok so like i had this idea for a while n it took me MONTHS to finish bc i was nvr content w/ my writing n whatnot yadda yadda yadda anyway,, this is basically a what if thing about the triads shooting trevor in ludendorff n michael realizing how dumb he is

(my apologies that it’s so fuckin looooooong but I didn’t wanna leave it on a short note that felt incomplete. hope y’all like it !!!!! sorry for any grammatical errors or if the formatting’s funky)

Why didn’t he realize it sooner? Was he stupid? No, no. He was just blind. Blind for the past 10 years. Who knows. Maybe even longer than that. Fucking Michael. It always came back to that venomous shithead, constantly ruining everything for him. Did he just... forget? Was he so focused on that bloodsucker when he was “dying” in front of him he completely forgot Brad got shot first? That Brad died first? He didn’t even really think about him when shit went down. Or care much about Brad in general for that matter. The guy was a dick who just worked with other dicks back in the day, eventually joining their motley crew. A fading memory more than anything. His primary focus had always been Michael, who he thought was his right hand man. Trevor always knew that there was something different about him. As frustrating as Michael could be, it still didn’t change how he felt deep down. Michael wasn’t like the others. Or at least, that’s what he had thought. The night he found out that Michael’s lie ran deeper than he led on was one he wouldn’t forget.

He arrived at Michael’s house in a short amount of time. Hopping up the steps he made his presence known, standing in the entrance of the living room. He plopped down next to Michael, who scooted away from him slightly, still not ready for close contact from Trevor.

“Family ain’t back yet, huh?”

“Nope.”

“She’s a Goddamn fool, man.”

Trevor was never one to hide his jealousy towards Amanda. The two had been going at it for years, and it was always regarding Michael. Catty behavior between two people who had complicated relationships with the man, in their own unique ways. Amanda was scared of Trevor, but was never afraid of talking shit to his face. It was never any serious threats whenever they shot petty quips at one another anyway. She knew Trevor would never kill or harm her, all thanks to Michael, who spoke up again.

“Despite all the chaos of these last few weeks, I think I finally figured it out… I know, it sounds ridiculous-“

To Trevor, the thought wasn’t ridiculous. He knew Michael would never change. He would always be a killer, a man of action through and through. He was wasting away on a couch, rewatching classic Vinewood every night. To him, it only seemed right for Michael to keep taking scores.

“You’re back man!” He proclaimed, emphasizing his next line, “We are back!”

With excitement in his eyes, Trevor went on to boast about the little clique they had formed, and how they only needed to bust Brad out to fully reunite. Michael looked solemn, shaking his head slightly.

“That’s not it. I got money, it just makes you miserable-“ Now it was his turn to have excitement shine in his eyes.

“I wanna make movies.”

“Great. That’s great… and uh, so where exactly does this leave me in the second act of your life?”

He felt his stomach sink somewhat, regretting having asked that question. Michael would always tiptoe around it, avoiding the inevitable. But he couldn’t run from the past anymore. It would always catch up to him.

“This is not a game to me! Alright? This is a fuckin’ way of life.”

“I got a fuckin’ family!”

“Yeah, well, I got nothin’! No one gives a fuck about me!”

There was a pause. A hesitation. Amber eyes looked sorrowfully yet savagely into pale blue ones.

“I do.”

Something in Trevor snapped hearing those words. He couldn’t stand the audacity of Michael saying that to him. Because to him, Michael didn’t seem to give a fuck about what happened to Trevor. No matter how many times he lamented to him about everything he went through.

“Oh… Fuck you.”

Trevor rose from his seat, beginning to pace around the room, stabbing a finger in Michael’s direction. He did nothing but stare between his feet, not bothering to look up at Trevor.

“I saw your grave. I mourned you. And then it turns out that everything I fucking thought about you was wrong. Everything! You’re not dead, and you’re not a man.”

Michael shot up from his seat, cool demeanor abandoned in a fit of anger.

“Well, what the fuck are you?”

“I’m your fucking nightmare!”

“Yeah, enough with your Goddamn threats!”

Trevor did nothing but scoff at him, backing away like he was about to leave the room. Instead, some kind of alarm went off in his head, urging him to stay and ask the question he pushed far into the back of his mind. The inevitable was happening, and he couldn’t ignore the need to ask anymore. If Michael himself stood before him alive as ever, then who the fuck was in Michael Townley’s grave? Then suddenly, and ultimately, it clicked for him. Fucking Brad.

“You treacherous piece of shit! You’re fuckin’ dead! You’re fucking dead!”

As it clicked for Trevor, it clicked for Michael.

“Oh, fuck! Trevor! Hey, T!”

He peeled out of the driveway in Michael’s car. God, it smelled just like that fucking prick. It made him want to cry.

“Fuck!” He screamed out to no one in particular.

He slammed on the gas and wiped away any forming tears. His phone began to ring and he saw an all too familiar photo appear. Michael. What the fuck could he possibly say or want right now?

“Fuck you.” He spat out.

“Hey, come on. Where you going?”

“You know where I’m going, fuck you!”

The fucking nerve of him to ask that. What was wrong with him? The rest of the conversation wasn’t any better. It sounded like some stupid break up between two teens, as if Michael had cheated on him with some hooker instead of lying about the past decade or so.

“Trevor, come on!”

“Fuck you Michael! Soon enough, I will.”

He was on his way to the air field, and dialed up Ron as soon as he could. He needed to get out of here before Michael could stop him.

“Trevor? It’s great to uh..”

“Is there a plane I can use? Get me across country?”

“Sure! Sure. We got one fueled up for a trip south of the border.”

“I’m taking it.”

“Is everything okay, man?”

“Everything is not okay. Nothing has ever been okay but I’m going up there to see it for myself. I’m going to see an old friend alright? If you’re where I think you are buddy...”

Trevor gripped the steering wheel harder until his knuckles turned white. Tears stung his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to let it out.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it. I guess.. I guess I didn’t want to. Fuck!”

He clutched his phone tightly as he spoke, cracking the already shattered screen more. His voice was faltering, and it became harder to speak clearly.

“Maybe I knew all along. I’m gonna find out for sure and I’m gonna... do something about it! God there was always something wrong with that job, what went down after I guess I-“

The tears made their way down his face. His voice trembled and threatened to crack.

“I guess I wanted to believe- Fucking.. Fucking flea circus!”

He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Too many things began to resurface. Seeing red, he just cried out to Ron, still on the phone patiently listening to him rant.

“Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”

“I’m sorry Trevor...”

He slammed on the gas as he approached the airfield. Running over to the plane, he hopped in and began his journey to Ludendorff. As he left, storm clouds poured in and darkened the sky. A thick rain accompanied by the thunder and lighting combo shook the small plane he was in. He braced himself for the rest of the trip there and kept going.

Ludendorff was just like he remembered. Cold, empty, and super fucking depressing. Why was the midwest like this all the time? Sure, living it up in Sandy Shores wasn’t the most ideal but for fucks sake, at least it was warm. He pulled up to the cemetery shortly after landing, and hurried off to find that God forsaken grave. After glancing at each passing gravestone, there it was. The late great Michael Townley’s place of burial.

“Who you got in here..?”

He scoffed, knowing his answer.

“As if I need to ask...”

It took forever to reach the coffin. The wood was brittle, which meant it would be easy enough to pry open and see who was actually in Michael’s place. He had been so caught up in his digging he didn’t notice a set of steps coming at him.

“You’re wasting your time.”

Trevor was wasting his time? No, he was making perfectly good use of it. Michael was wasting his if anything. Flying all the way out here for what? No, don’t say it... Was it finally gonna happen? Was Michael waiting for the opportunity to finally take a pop at him and leave his carcass for good? To toss him right into the grave with Brad? He didn’t want to believe so but hey, it’s Michael. Who knows what he’ll do. He couldn’t bear to listen to another word that came out of his mouth, and knew he needed to get the jump on him.

“You reptilian motherfucker!”

How did it end up here? Why was he pointing a gun at Michael? What the fuck was he doing? He didn’t want to kill him. He never did, even if he had a million justifiable reasons to.

“I didn’t want it to have to come to this.”

There it was again. The fucking lying. That same exact fucking lying that got them here to begin with.

“Yes you did! You just don’t have the fucking balls to do it! But I do!”

But Trevor was also a hypocrite. He didn’t have it in him to ever go through with killing Michael. No matter what the son of a bitch did to him, he meant too much to Trevor for him to ever consider killing the man himself. He didn’t want to think about being the cause of him dying for good.

“I’ve got more to lose than you!”

“Never a truer word has been spoken, brother.”

He said that with as much malice as he could muster. Michael was the farthest fucking thing from being a brother. This was a man he had loved. Hell, still loved, despite it feeling more and more like a stranger before him with each encounter they had.

“Now.. pull the fucking trigger.”

The air was too still. It was choking him, making him feel frozen. Sure, weather played a part in the feeling but this... was different. His blood felt like ice. He couldn’t do it.

“You ain’t got the guts.”

Neither of them could do it. Even if he fired he knew he’d miss. Michael had the upper hand here.

“Take the fucking shot!”

Wait. Was Michael... crying? No. No way the great Michael fucking Townley was actually crying over this. That motherfucker. He’s such a fucking fraud. A coward. Always running. Running from Trevor, his past, his problems, his family and his fucking emotions.

His train of thought had been interrupted when he heard snow faintly crunching not too far from them.

“What was that?-“

A noise shot through the tense air that surrounded them. Woosh. Fuck. No. It couldn’t be- Ow. No. No fucking way. He looked down in awe and there it was, a distinct bullet hole, pierced through his torso. It nearly missed his heart, but was most certainly in a spot to do enough damage to him. He looked back up at Michael, mouth slightly agape leaking with the blood that began to pool in his mouth. Peaking behind him, he saw two figures lingering far behind. The fucking Triads. Of course, how could he forget? It’s not everyday you slam the head of a Chinese mobster’s son into a post. Fucking shit. If only he hadn’t messed with Tao…

He was fucked, and he didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he felt himself wanting to collapse on the ground. Michael looked at him in pure disbelief, eyes wide enough to pop from his head. Normally Trevor would giggle at the sight, but any noise from him would be a gurgle of blood in place of it.

“…Trevor?”

That was enough to knock him to the ground.

“Mr. Phillips! Mr. Cheng wants a word with you!”

Michael whipped his head back, and began dragging the two of them to cover. Was that supposed to be a fucking warning shot?? The one who shot Trevor spoke in Chinese to the other gunman, then spoke in English to the duo.

“Phillips! You and your boyfriend cannot hide from us!”

Michael grabbed his gun and started firing back, clipping the two in the front instantly.

“Trevor… what the fuck did you get into?! What are they on about? I… I’m not…”

Trevor couldn’t speak. He could only murmur at the man beside him.

“Trevor, seriously, you better answer me because I’m pretty fucking lost here-“

He angrily turned his head back to find Trevor on the verge of slipping out of consciousness, his face dropping at what was before him.

“Ah, Trevor! Shit!”

Before Michael could help him out, a van burst through the gate to the left, and more yelling ensued.

“Get out the van! Go find them!”

Michael panicked, pushing his gun into Trevor’s limp hands so he could grab the dead Triad henchman’s sturdier gun. He fired and clipped a few more men, trying his best to keep an eye on Trevor. His breathing was shallow, and he attempted to prop himself up so he could fire at them too.

“Trevor, what the fuck is going on? Who are these guys?”

“It’s the fucking,” He winced, pushing himself onto his knees so he could grab the side of the grave they hid behind. He spit out some blood that leaked from his mouth, staining the snow beneath them.

“The God damn Chinese, sugar tits.”

“Why are they-“

“Ask questions later, I’m fucking bleeding out here.”

Trevor forced himself to fully stand, his legs wobbling slightly. He fired a few more rounds, face contorted in pain. Another bullet flew by him, grazing his side.

“Fuck! Ow!” He growled.

“T, what in the hell are you doing?! Get down!”

“Fuck off you fucking leech! I can-“ He spit out more blood.

“I can handle this myself!”

He groaned, keeping his aim as still as he possibly could, which wasn’t very still at all. Stubborn as ever, Trevor went in guns blazing. He used not only the gun Michael had forced into his hands, but also the one he had brought with him. Several more shots fired at him until he felt a hand yank him back to the ground. He fell with a slight thump, and pain jolted through him again.

“You crazy bastard! We’re getting the fuck out of here, but that can’t exactly be accomplished if you’re dead!”

“Oh please! You already want me dead you fat fucking snake!” He wheezed out.

“Jesus Christ- Trevor. I already told you-“

“Shit, Mikey-”

Before either one could do anything about it, a Triad that had snuck up on them pistol whipped Michael in the back of the head. Trevor scrambled backwards and attempted to get on his feet, but to no avail. In a last minute effort, he lifted Michael’s gun and fired. For someone who was labeled a lousy shot by his partner, he felt that Michael would’ve been proud of his aim at that moment in time. A clean shot, right between the fucker’s eyes. He grinned slightly, adrenaline still coursing through him. He barked out a laugh, forgetting how much of a chore it was to allow any noise to escape him. It caused him to break into a coughing fit, spitting up more blood onto the snow. He looked from the small circle of blood that formed in front of him, back to Michael’s limp body. He shoved him slightly, trying to nudge him back into consciousness.

“Mikey. Michael. Get up. We gotta go like you said-“

He heard another van pull up. Then another. Fuck.

“You gotta be shitting me..”

Trevor, disregarding his wounds weakening him to the point his vision grew spotty, swapped his handgun for the gun Michael grabbed. He tried his best to prop the other man up against a grave, well out of the Triad’s line of sight. He pushed through any pain he felt, still riding his adrenaline high, wiping the rest of them out one by one. He rushed back over to Michael, who was stirring awake.

“Michael, for fucks sake get up already! Jesus I’m still fucking bleeding and I have to save your ass right now? Come on!”

He was finally able to stand, and Trevor slung Michael’s arm around his shoulder, helping him regain his balance. They helped one another walk through the mess of snow, blood, and bodies to get to the rental car, which surprisingly was still in alright shape. Across the train tracks, one more van started to pull up, right before the nightly train passed through town.

“Haha! Thank you train for being useful this time!”

He forgot how much it hurt to laugh, clutching his side and muttering curses under his breath as the two raced over to the car. Michael hopped in the driver’s seat after placing Trevor in the passenger’s side. Trevor’s adrenaline rush began to die down along with the rest of him. Michael raced out of the cemetery, narrowly escaping the left over henchmen. Glancing over at Trevor, he realized how shit of a shape he was in. Despite not living in North Yankton in close to 10 years, he still remembered where all the nearby hospitals were. It wasn’t ideal, considering what they were doing up there and who they were and what not, but it was better than having Trevor die on the spot.

“Hey, don’t you fucking die on me right now buddy. There’s no way you ain’t surviving the shit show we just went through, which only happened thanks to you.”

Trevor asked himself why Michael was still giving him snide remarks about his unruliness. He figured now wasn’t the time to really argue, but still tried nonetheless.

“You… fuckin’ snake.. you think you’re so..”

“I’m so what Trevor? No you know what- Don’t speak right now, but try to stay awake, please?”

“Mmph..”

The ride out of Ludendorff was quiet. The radio was off, and neither one chose to speak. Michael of course was driven mad by the silence.

“…Look. Trevor I- I fucked up. There’s nothing I can do now to fix it, no matter how many times I apologize. But you do- You do know that I cared about you then, and I care about you now…”

Trevor did nothing but grunt in response, eyelids heavy. Michael sighed.

“We’re almost to a hospital. They’ll fix you up good, and- and you’re gonna be fine. You ain’t dying on me yet. I mean- you’ve survived worse? You.. I…”

He huffed out a breath, gripping the steering wheel tight. The rest of the ride was silent, save for Michael making sure Trevor was still alive and conscious. They made it to the hospital, with Michael carrying him fireman style, seeing as Trevor was very lanky compared to him. He called out for someone to help, using his gift of lying to say that Trevor was just shot by a random mugger, so the report back wouldn’t seem too suspicious. He patiently waited for word back from a doctor, eventually seeing someone come to him with a clip board.

“Are you… Franklin?”

Michael had been smart enough to give them both fake names, but he just blurted out the first two names that came to mind. Right now, he went by Franklin, and for all they knew Trevor was Lamar.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Your friend is in critical condition, but you got him here just in time. Any later and he wouldn’t have made it.”

The last sentence caused Michael’s ears to ring.

“He’s going to be out of surgery soon, the bullet wound was pretty deep.” The doctor narrowed their eyes slightly, getting ready to write the report down.

“You said that he was mugged?”

“Yeah. The guy fired at him and ran off. Didn’t get a good look at his face.”

“Hmm… well alright. I’ll let you know when your friend is ready for visitors.”

The rest of the night was painfully slow. By the time Trevor was out of surgery, he was still hopped up on morphine, allowing him to rest properly for the first time in forever. Michael sheepishly walked in, careful not to be too loud. He made his way over to Trevor’s side, sitting in the seat next to his bed. He hadn’t seen Trevor look so content like that in so long. Not since... those days. He spoke to himself, seeing as Trevor was fast asleep.

“You worry me so much you dumbfuck… why do you pull the shit you pull? I mean.. shit. I… I love you, man. I do. But what if you died without ever hearing that from me again? Is that the reason why you get like this? Shit. Right. I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Besides everything about Ludendorff, it angered Trevor to his core that Michael could never admit he loved Trevor unless he was drunk or alone. In this instance, he technically was. Trevor was peacefully dreaming, while Michael felt restless. He proceeded to fumble around for his cellphone to reach out to Franklin, who had been wondering what happened to them. He knew Franklin would probably be up anyway.

Yo Mike, where u at? Trevor too, Lamar n I gotta do one last job wit him.

Currently in North Yankton kid. Trev found out about Brad. Some Chinese gangsters rolled on us, T got shot. Be home soon hopefully.

Oh shit. Stay safe out there homie. See u soon ig.

Michael let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, looking back up at Trevor. He tried to think about what he would do next. Knowing that visiting hours were limited, he felt a twinge of guilt knowing he’d have to leave Trevor alone for a night after what happened. But it was late, and he couldn’t stay there overnight. He figured he’d have to bunk in some cheap motel for the time being. Just until Trevor and him were ready to leave North Yankton. He spoke to the doctor from before to let them know he would come back the next morning. When he arrived at the nearest shit motel, he still couldn’t find it in him to sleep. He was tired, sure, but his mind wouldn’t allow him to drift off. Even if he did, he would find himself jolting awake, the scene of Trevor getting shot playing over and over in his head. He’d almost been responsible for Trevor’s death once, he couldn’t let it happen for real. What would he do anyway if he did die? He quickly brushed the thought off, not wanting to consider the possibilities.

He returned to the hospital the next morning, half awake from the lack of sleep. Visiting hours were early, and he wanted to get them both out of here as fast as he could. Walking to Trevor’s room, he saw the man sitting upright looking out the window. North Yankton may have been cold as a bitch, but from time to time it had real pretty sunrises. He knocked lightly on the door, and Trevor turned to face him.

“Hey, T…”

He couldn’t read the expression on his face.

“I thought you left.”

“Visiting hours are limited, T. You should know that by now.”

He didn’t say anything in response, facing back towards the window instead. Michael sat down in one of the chairs across from him.

“You.. you worried me. I thought-“

“You thought what, cupcake? That I’d just die on the spot, and you could just leave my dead body there-“

“Trevor! For the last time that wasn’t my fucking plan!”

Their voices steadily increased above the normal level it should’ve been for a hospital setting.

“Then why did you have a fucking gun, huh Mikey?”

“I could ask the same for you!”

“Oh of course, turn the situation onto me again-“

“You brought a gun for what, Trevor?!”

“That’s not the issue at hand here!”

“Yes it is!”

A voice chimed into their argument.

“Excuse me. You,” A nurse who walked in pointed at Trevor.

“You need to rest. And sir, I’m not sure who you are, but if you want to stay as a visitor I suggest you lower your voice and behave.”

The two men looked at each other angrily before sitting back down. The nurse exited, most likely wanting to return later so Michael could discuss discharging him. Silence filled the room briefly.

“T… I meant what I said.” His voice had dropped to a whisper.

Trevor didn’t look him in the eye. His arms were crossed, and he just looked out the window.

“I could’ve lost you.”

The other man still said nothing.

“I could’ve lost you and you would’ve died not knowing I..” He trailed off.

Trevor turned back to look at Michael while speaking.

“Knowing what? You hiding something else from me, porkchop?”

“I…”

“Spit it the fuck out Mikey or I swear to God-“

“I love you.”

His felt his stomach twist uncomfortably, and his hands became clammy. He finally forced the words out, sober.

“I love you.” He repeated, shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Trevor while saying it. He chose to look at his feet instead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. And I just.. kept thinking that you could’ve died not hearing that from me ever again.”

He didn’t notice it at first, but tears brimmed his eyes. Trevor’s scowl fell and his face softened.

“What?” Was all he could choke out.

“Don’t.. don’t make me say it again.” He said, face flushing red.

“You..” Trevor didn’t finish his sentence. He shuddered in his seat, ready to cry himself. He buried his face in his hands, muffling something incoherent.

“What?”

He lifted his head up, tears streaking his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Michael.”

“Sorry for what?”

“For.. being like this.”

Trevor was a lot of things. You couldn’t just describe him in only one word. Michael tried sifting through the options of what he meant.

“I pushed you so hard back then I.. I thought I was losing you. I didn’t want to. All it did was make you want to leave even more.” Trevor kept sniffling.

“Trev…”

“Why Michael? Why do you do this to me?”

He wanted to ask him “Do what?”, but they both knew the answer. Michael never let his feelings be more than surface level. He was repressed and Trevor hated it. Trevor continued to cry, and the tears that Michael held in spilled.

“Hey.. don’t… don’t apologize, T. Please.”

“I..” He hiccuped.

“I’ve loved you for so long. Why couldn’t you have done the same?”

Michael kept his head down. He didn’t want to see the heartbroken expression on Trevor’s face. It only made him feel worse.

“You left me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“But you still did. Telling me that doesn’t change anything. You became another person in my life that I loved and then you left. Same as always for me.”

Everything Trevor loved was always out of his reach. Flying, his mother, Michael, Patricia… He could go on. Nothing was ever gonna be permanent for him.

“But I’m here for you now, T. I’m not going anywhere.”

He finally looked up to see Trevor’s sad eyes burning a hole right through him. His silence told him it’d be a long while before he could believe his words.

“Now.. uh. Let’s get the fuck outta this place.”

It didn’t take long for Trevor to be discharged. The doctors had told him he should stay for another day or so, but only got an irritated response from Trevor. Figuring the duo wouldn’t budge on wanting to leave, he was signed off for clearance. They eventually found the plane Trevor flew in on, and made their way out of the state. Neither one knew if this would change anything between them, but Trevor felt more at ease around him. It would still take time and effort for any left over wounds to heal, but for right now, Trevor was content.

#gta v #michael/trevor #trikey #fanfic #this is my first fic #i’ve never done this before #i really hope you guys like this despite how fucking long it is #sorry for any errors #or typos

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kinglazrus · 4 years

Text

Smells Like Team Spirit

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @phantomphangphucker: Danny Fenton seeming creepy, unnatural, predatory, etcetera to the general population of Amity Park. Or only seeming creepy, unnatural, predatory, etcetera to tourists, while Amity Park locals are confused by anyone finding Fenton ‘creepy/intimidating’.

Summary: Some mascots are great at pumping up a crowd. As Casper High's mascot, Danny has only one job: strike fear into the hearts of their opponents. This is the story of how Danny becomes the famed Mascot of Fear.

Word count: 9268

Tucker witnesses it first. His cousin from another state is visiting for the weekend and Danny comes over to hang out. Ozzy has met Danny before, a few times, so Tucker thinks they won't mind if Danny joins them for a little while. He arrives while Ozzy is in the bathroom, and Tucker gets a three-player game of the new Doomed: IV console game set up.

Danny lounges on a beanbag chair, leaving the couch to the Foley cousins. Clutching his controller, he plays with the controls, watching his character jump, roll, punch, and shoot, trying to get a feel for the different set up.

"I think they took out the high jump," Danny says. He spams the jump button while tapping various others across the controller, testing different combos.

"What?" Tucker lunges for the game case, taking out the pamphlet tucked inside the cover. He flips through, looking for the controls.

"Yeah, it doesn't seem to—oh damn that's fun."

"What? What?" Tucker scrambles up, throwing the pamphlet aside, and watches Danny's avatar leap into the air, then sprint forward.

"Air-dashing," Danny says with a grin.

"Sweet." The boys bump fists.

Danny, kneeling on his beanbag, keeps air-dashing across the screen, whipping the controller back and forth emphatically. The action does nothing to improve the gameplay, but at the same time, it just wouldn't be as enjoyable without it. Tucker lays upside down on the couch, hands braced on the floor, cheering Danny on. "Go, go, go!"

It's stupid and fun. They haven't even started playing the game yet, but this is the most they'll enjoy themselves all afternoon. And that's the scene Ozzy walks in on.

They remember Tucker's best friend, although they hadn't seen him since coming out. Ozzy's not sure what to expect from him, but it certainly isn't this. And by this they don't mean the raw enthusiasm for a simple game mechanic. They mean the shiver that crawls up their spine the second they lay eyes on Danny. They feel cold, like they've stepped in a bath of ice-water rather than their cousin's living room.

Danny turns his head toward Tucker and sees Ozzy standing in the doorway. Both of them freeze. Ozzy's heart beats fast and heavy in their chest. Their pupils dilate, stretching wide, and sweat beads on their forehead. They can't look away. If they do, then they're dead. If they let Danny out of their sight, they're dead.

Danny gaze slides away, back to the TV, and Ozzy can breathe again.

"Ozzy's here," Danny says.

"Oh!" Tucker's head swivels toward them. He hadn't noticed Ozzy and Danny's little staring contest. It had only lasted a second, but to Ozzy, it felt like an hour.

"Check it out!" Tucker says. He kicks off the back of the couch, flipping forward. His knees hit the carpet hard, making a loud thud, which earns him a shout from the dining room.

"Don't bother the neighbours!" Tucker's mom, Angela, says.

"Okay, Mom!" Tucker calls back, without much conviction in his voice. He beckons Ozzy forward and points to the TV. "They replaced the double jump with air-dashing! Which seems stupid at first, 'cause jumping forward isn't the same as jumping higher. But it looks like if you air-dash into something, you can climb up it!"

Tucker talks fast, making lots of vague gestures with his hands, not really looking at Ozzy. He grabs his own controller off the couch and swivels toward his cousin. "Here's how you do it."

Tucker looks up at Ozzy and pauses. "Hey," he says, tilting his head. "You okay?"

Ozzy is not okay, but they can't really explain it. Danny glances there way again, just for a second, and a shudder passes through them. Something about Danny is off, but Ozzy can't really explain it. He looks the exact same as he did the last time Ozzy saw him, even wearing the same damn t-shirt. But when Ozzy looks at him, and Danny looks back, their brain starts screaming not right, not right, NOT RIGHT!

"I'm, uh, I'm good, yeah," Ozzy says. They shuffle into the room, casting nervous glances Danny's way, and sit down on the couch, taking the farthest spot from Danny. Ozzy leans up against the armrest, taking the controller Tucker passes them, and looks forward. They think that, maybe, if they look ahead instead, if they just don't look at Danny, they won't feel so weird, and whatever this is will pass.

But oh, god, this is so much worse, because now they can't see Danny, and that makes their heart pound. An image of Danny suddenly lunging from his seat bursts into their mind and Ozzy stiffens. Hands tightening around the controller, they glance out of the corner of their eye.

Danny hasn't moved. Danny isn't even looking at them. It doesn't make them feel better.

"Seriously, are you good?" Tucker asks. He sits down to Ozzy's left, blocking their view of Danny.

"Let's just play," Ozzy says.

Tucker shrugs and starts the game. As they play, he keeps looking over at Ozzy, wondering why they're acting so strange. They were just fine half an hour ago, but now they're stiff, and kind of pale, and they keep looking away from the screen, even when they're in the middle of a fight. Ozzy's always been better than Tucker at Doomed, but today they're at the bottom of the scoreboard.

Tucker racks his brain, trying to come up with a reason for the strange behaviour. A bad phone call, maybe? Ozzy's mom has been in and out of the hospital for a while. He hopes it's not that. He wants to ask them what's wrong, but he doesn't want to push it. And they might not be comfortable talking about it with Danny there, either. So, Tucker decides to wait until they're alone.

His chance comes sooner than expected, when Danny says he has to go.

"Aw, really?" Tucker asks. He droops, shoulders slumping. "You've only been here an hour."

"Yeah." Danny nods. "I just remembered that physics assignment. I haven't finished yet."

"I thought you finished that?"

"Uh, so did I. But Jazz just texted me. She found the sheet and apparently, I left a few questions blank. I should go home and finish before she really gets on my case." Danny stands up and stretches his arms above his head. "Sorry. We can make up for it next time."

Before Tucker can protest further, Danny leaves, casting one last furtive glance in Ozzy's direction. Ozzy doesn't relax until they hear the front door close.

"What did he even check his phone?" Tucker mutters. Thinking back, he can't even remember Danny looking down at his pocket. It bothers him, but he knows Danny wouldn't lie without a good reason, so he'll leave it for now.

He pounces on Ozzy instead

"What's wrong?" Tucker asks.

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're a worse liar than Danny. Is it... is it your mom?"

"What? No." Ozzy shakes their head. "Mom's fine. She's doing really good, actually."

"But there is something wrong," Tucker presses.

Ozzy groans. They reach up to run their fingers through their hair, faltering when they touch their shoulder instead. Moving their hand up, they touched their buzzed head. "I don't know. Danny, he–" Ozzy cuts themself off.

"Danny? What'd he do? Did he say something while I wasn't looking? I'll kick his ass," Tucker says, leaping to his feet.

"No, don't!" Ozzy grabs Tucker's belt and yanks him back down. "It's nothing, okay? He didn’t do anything. It's stupid."

Tucker stares intently at them, then sighs and backs off. "Okay. It's okay if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. But if you do want to talk about whatever it is, I'm right here."

"Yeah, okay," Ozzy says.

—

Valerie sees it next. She invites Danny over for a study session at her new place in Elmerton. People say Elmerton is a neighbourhood at the edge of Amity Park, but as someone who now lives there, Valerie knows it's its own town. The people in Elmerton aren't like the people Amity. They don't have the same mannerisms. They don't have the same slang. They don't even have the same ghosts.

In fact, Elmerton has no ghosts. Which makes it a pretty poor place for a ghost hunter to live, but the apartments are cheap, and it's all her dad can afford right now.

They take the bus after school. It's an inter-city bus, because none of the school buses go out that far. The ride is more than hour. Plenty of people get on and off the bus in that time. Valerie likes to watch them. She can tell exactly when the last person from Amity Park steps off.

Valerie doesn't know how she could explain it to an outsider, but people from Amity can recognize each other at a moment's glance. It's something about the way they hold themselves, how they react to things. When your life gets threatened every day by ghosts from another realm, you look at things a little differently. It's like one day everyone from Amity Park collectively decided to stop giving a damn about anything that didn't immediately threaten to kill them.

"Huh," Valerie says as she looks over the bus. She and Danny sit at the very back, in Valerie's usual seat. After her first few times taking the bus, she learned it was just polite to sit further back when you had a longer ride. It also gives her a good view of the whole bus.

"What is it?" Danny asks, looking away from the window. So far, he has been spending most of the ride staring out at the passing scenery, watching as things got dirtier and poor run down the closer they got to Elmerton.

Instead of answering, Valerie leans over Danny.

"Hey!" He presses himself back against his seat, raising his arms, a scarlet blush creeping across his cheeks.

Valerie ignores him in favour of scanning the skies. "You don't see any ghosts or anything, do you?"

"What? No. Why? Why would there be a ghost here? I mean, it's Elmerton, right?" Danny says. He laughs and looks away, tugging the collar of his shirt. Is it just him or is it a little hot in here all of a sudden?

"Yeah, I guess so," Valerie says, pulling back. Her frown stays settled on her face.

There are only a few people on the bus with them, besides the driver. At the very front, a woman with weathered skin and greying hair, who got on at the last stop. Even though the bus is already moving again, she still hasn't taken her seat. Instead, she stands straight, facing the back of the bus.

By the middle doors is a young woman and teenage girl, their backs to Valerie and Danny. The woman has her arm around the girl's shoulder. Every once in a while, she cranes her neck and looks in their direction.

A man in a rumpled suit sits closest to them. Valerie sees him on the bus every day. They've chatted a few times, and he's nice enough. They usually say hi to each other. Today, he had started down the aisle toward them, giving a cheery wave. But the moment his gaze slipped from Valerie to Danny, he paled, dropping into the nearest seat. He clutches his briefcase tightly, holding it like a shield.

Valerie knows instantly that none of these people are from Amity Park because they all look afraid and she has no idea why. She stares at them a moment longer, glaring at the young woman when she peeks over her shoulder again.

It takes Valerie a minute to realize it, but she finally notices the one thing all of them are doing.

"Are they... staring at you?" Valerie whispers to Danny.

He shifts uncomfortably, tucking his hands under his arms, and leans his head against hers to whisper back. "Yeah."

"Why?"

Danny shrugs. "It's just a thing people do sometimes."

"People sometimes stare at you like you're about to, I don't know, pounce on them?"

Danny shrugs again.

"That's... really weird."

"Maybe they've heard of my parents," he says, grinning sardonically.

Valerie rolls her eyes and pushes his shoulder. He laughs, and Valerie does her best to ignore the tense atmosphere for the rest of the ride. She ignores it, but she doesn't forget it.

—

Valerie finds Tucker in the gym sound booth after school one day and corners him there. She locks the door behind her and pins him against the sound board. "What's up with Danny?" she asks accusingly.

Both Tucker and Sam have the annoying habit of dancing around Valerie's words whenever she tries to approach them cautiously. She's learned, from experience, that being direct and forceful is the only way to get information out of them. Getting Tucker alone with no back up also helps.

"I don't know! He's not a ghost!" Tucker blurts out, raising his arms defensively.

"What?"

"I mean, nothing. Nothing's up with Danny. He's so great. You know how great he is. You dated him for a little bit, luck you."

Valerie stares at him, wondering for a moment if this is Tucker's way of confessing that he has a crush on his best friend. She shakes her head, casting that thought aside for now. Grabbing Tucker's collar, she pulls him forward until they're nose to nose.

"You mean you've never seen how odd people get around him?"

"What, no?" Tucker's genuinely confused by the question. His face screws up as he thinks, trying to figure out what the hell Valerie is talking about. He needs to tread lightly, so he doesn't accidentally spill Danny's secret. He doesn't think she knows, despite how weird her question is.

"Just think about it for a minute, okay?" Valerie says. She releases Tucker and steps back, crossing her arms.

Tucker composes himself, smoothing out his shirt, and gives her a dirty look. He decides to indulge her anyway. With a great, dramatic sigh, Tucker taps his chin, looking up at the ceiling, then down at the floor. He hums and haws, making a great show of how terrible and strenuous thinking about this is, and then he shrugs.

"Nope, can't say I know what you mean." Brushing past Valerie, he heads for the door.

She reaches out and grabs his collar again, yanking him back.

"Come on, you're gonna stretch it!" Tucker whines, batting Valerie's hand off.

"I'm being serious here, Tucker. You've never seen anyone looking, I don't know, afraid of Danny? Kind of wary?"

"Afraid? Of Danny? You can't be serious, he's not–" Tucker freezes.

"What is it?" Valerie reaches out for him again.

Tucker smacks her hands away and skips out of her reach. "A couple months ago. I had my cousin over, and Danny hung out with us for a bit. They were acting really weird. I thought it was about their mom. And then I thought it was because they weren't out the last time they saw Danny, but they said it wasn't either of those and told me to drop it."

"Danny came over to my place to work on our history project last week. On the bus, people wouldn't stop looking at him. He brushed it off, but that's weird, right?" Valerie asks. "They looked like... like they were afraid."

Tucker laughs. "So weird. Can you imagine people being scared of Danny?"

It's the most ridiculous thing either of them has heard all year. They break down into a fit of laughter, falling against each other. It's so outlandish and absurd that you couldn't make it up if you tried.

Which is why Star, who has her ear pressed against the sound booth door, grins and takes off the moment the conversation dissolves into laughter. She has only one thought in mind: Paulina has got to hear about this.

—

"No way."

"Yeah."

"No. Way."

"Yeah!" Star nods enthusiastically. "I swear that's what they said."

"Afraid of Fenton?" Paulina asks. Star's already said it three times, but it's so unbelievable she has to hear it again.

"Afraid of Fenton," Star repeats. "Foley's cousin and some," she waves her had dismissively, "Elmertonites."

"Ugh, Elmerton."

"I know."

"Who's Foley's cousin?" Paulina asks. She can't remember if Foley has any other family in the city, but Star would. Star's the only person who knows this town, and it's people, better than Paulina. They are the gossip queens and they make everybody's business their own. Knowing a little extra something about a certain somebody could always come in handy somewhere down the line.

"An out-of-towner," Star says.

"Interesting." Paulina closes her locker and leans against. She waves at a few boys walking by, giving them a disarming smile. They crane their necks around to keep looking at her for as long as they can. As soon as they're around the corner, Paulina's smile drops and she turns back to Star. "You know, I think now's a great time for my friend from New York to come visit!"

Star grins. "Oh, great idea, Paulie. Amity is so great this time of year."

They walk down the hall, arm in arm, giggling and conspiring.

—

Everyone knows about Paulina's New York friend. Theirs is a friendship built not out of love but a mutual desire to constantly get one up on each other. Which means they aren't friends at all. But, their dads are business partners, so the two girls often find themselves forced together. These occasions are typically full of sweet smiles and sweeter words. Which everyone knows is a clever rich girls choice weapon in any circumstance.

When Paulina invites Whitney van der Bloom to Amity Park for the weekend, Whitney answers with a cheerful, "Sweetie, do you even need to ask?"

Which really means, "Sweetie, why on Earth would I want to go?" Sweetie, in both cases, is not a complement.

Whitney goes, of course. With a slew of backhanded complements tucked in her pocket. The battle begins the moment her plane touches down and she is determined to come out of this weekend as the undisputed victor. Paulina may have a home advantage, but Whitney was born into this kind of conflict. New money always flounders around a bit before learning how to properly navigate the delicate social rules of high society, and she can tell Paulina is still getting her sea legs.

Whitney finds it adorable, like watching a baby toddle through their first steps.

On her walk through the airport, Whitney touches as little as possible. She left New York in a private plane, from a private airstrip, where every surface was clean and shiny. Amity Park was neither of those things.

By the main entrance, she finds Paulina's driver holding a sign with Whitney's name on it. She passes him her luggage, a single Gucci bag, and follows him outside to the waiting car. She's impressed by Paulina's power play, although she would never say it out loud. Staying in the car while sending her driver out to collect Whitney, like a nanny picking up a child from daycare, is a bold move.

It's fine. Whitney will let her have the lead, for now. She won't have it for long.

The driver opens the back door. Whitney slides inside like she owns the car, tossing her hair over her shoulder, giving the driver a sugary smile. When she turns and gets her first good look at the inside, she freezes.

Rather than sitting on the other side of the car, at a respectful distance, Paulina is right beside her in the middle seat. And there are four other people with her. Paulina's little satellite—Whitney thinks her name is Sun—sits to her left. And across from them are two boys she doesn't know—and doesn't want to, based on how they're dressed—plus a girl she does know.

"Sammy?" Whitney asks, looking across the car at the Sam Manson, heir to the Manson fortune.

"Bloom," Sam greets her coolly. Sam doesn't even twitch at the nickname she loathes. Because that would be a sign of weakness, and she knows that if there's one thing you never want to do, it's look weak in front of Whitney van der Bloom. The girl may only be fifteen but she's a menace.

"Hi." Whitney drags out the "i," her voice rising and falling. "Oh. My. God. I haven't seen you since the Cabo retreat! What are the chances of seeing you here?"

Sam grins wickedly. "Pretty high, actually."

"Oh?" Witney doesn't have a response for that. Sam has always thrown her off, purely because she refuses to play the same games Whitney and Paulina do. It's infuriating.

She turns to the two strangers instead, looking them up and down. The boy on Sam's right makes her cringe. A turtleneck and cargo pants? Whitney would give him points for boldness if the colours weren't so garish. When she meets his eyes, he wiggles his eyebrows at her.

Whitney immediately decides she wants nothing to do with him.

The other boy, sitting right across from her, isn't much better. Worn out jeans that are actually worn out and weren't just made to be like that, and a ratty old t-shirt with a flaming green "F" on it. Gross. Resisting the urge to curl her lip, she lifts her eyes to his face.

He's not looking at her. He's looking down and away, his stare so intense it should be burning a hole in the carpet. Little does she know, it could, with very little effort on his part.

Normally, Whitney takes that kind of gesture as a sign of submission. Instant victory. Right now, something about this boy makes her think she doesn't want his eyes on her.

"Whit! I'm so happy you could come!" Paulina throws her arms around Whitney's shoulders and pulls her in for a hug, kissing Whitney's cheeks twice.

Whitney snaps out of her daze, although not fast enough to return the kisses. Another victory for Paulina.

"Of course, Lina!" Whitney says. She sees the boy in the turtleneck mouth "Lina" at Sam. She wonders what their relationship is. "There's no way I would pass up the chance to visit somewhere as quaint as Amity Park. It's nice to get a break from the lavish lifestyle, you know?"

"Oh, I know. You look like you need a nice rest." Paulina smiles widely.

Whitney's eye twitches. "So, Lina, who are your friends?"

"Well, you already know Sam. I didn't realize you ran in such high circles," Paulina said, earning another twitch. Before she can say anything back, Paulina moves on. "And these two are her friends. Tucker." The boy in the turtleneck, "and Danny." The boy that Whitney does not want to look at her.

Paulina leans forward and grabs Danny's arm, pulling him right out of his seat. He yelps and stumbles, bumping his head on the top of the car. Tucker reaches out to stop him, but Sam holds her arm out and keeps him back, wearing that same fiendish smirk. Before Whitney can figure out what's happening, Star's moved to take Danny's place, and Paulina has slid over to the other side of the car. She drags Danny down and sits him right next to Whitney.

"Danny's such a good friend, I can't believe I haven't introduced you to him sooner," Paulina says. She's still hugging his arm, pushing him forward a little more so Whitney has no choice but to squeeze up against the door to avoid touching him.

She doesn't want to touch him. She doesn't want to be next to him. She doesn't even want to be in the same car as him. Whitney unconsciously reaches for the door handle, but the car's already moving. She's trapped.

"Don't be rude, Danny. Say hi to Whitney," Sam says. She looks like the cat that ate the canary. And Whitney feels like the bird.

Danny gives Sam a disgruntled look before turning to Whitney. "Uh, hey, Whitney," he says.

Whitney tenses. The sound of his voice sends shivers down her spine. It washes over her, raising goosebumps along her arms. The cold certainly doesn't help. She thinks it's the AC in the car, until Danny's arm brushes against hers and she flinches away. His skin is icy to the touch.

"Sorry," Danny mutters. He finally looks at her.

Whitney wilts under his stare. Looking into his eyes is like looking into an endless expanse. Her own gaze jumps around, searching, but Danny's holds steady. Not even a twitch. Whitney's not even sure if he's blinked since she got in the car. When he looks away, his eyes slide off her.

"You– you're very," she stammers. For once, her words are lost to her.

Paulina's smile is bright as the sun. She leans back, giving Danny the space to do the same, and Whitney quickly tries to compose herself. She steadies her breathing, checking the other occupants of the car to see how they reacted. Tucker looks curious. Sam looks smug. Star looks delightfully vapid, eyes wide and smile wider.

"They're going to be with us all day, I hope you don't mine," Paulina says. "Danny knows the city really well, and Sam. Well, like I said. She's a Manson."

Whitney, still at a loss for words, nods numbly.

"This will be so much fun!" Star says, clapping her hands together.

Whitney doesn't think so.

—

Whitney lasts for four hours, which is far longer than anyone expected.

"I'm almost impressed," Star says, waving at Whitney's private jet as it takes off. "She's very good at faking important phone calls."

"Just never tell her that to her face," Paulina says. Hand on her hip, she eyes Sam, Tucker, and Danny. "I guess we can give you all rides home. But I hope you know this was a one-time thing. Mostly because Whitney probably won't come back after that."

"Uh." Danny raises his hand. "How do you know the phone call wasn't important? Why won't she be back? She's your friend, isn't she?"

"Oh, Danny. You're so sweet, you know that?" Paulina pats his cheek and pivots. Swaying her hips, she starts walking back toward the car. It's not even an insult this time.

"Thank you? I guess?" Danny says.

"Come on, Fenton. I might even help you with your math for what you did today." Star grabs his wrist and drags him after Paulina.

"I didn't do anything!"

Sam and Tucker linger a moment longer, watching Whitney's plane disappear into the sky. Tucker turns to Sam and says, "I'm so confused. Why did you even agree to this?"

Sam shrugs. "Whitney van der Bloom sucks."

"Yeah. Yeah, she does."

—

Paulina and Star eagerly spread the word: Danny Fenton scares outsiders. The rumour spreads quickly throughout Casper High, although everyone is careful never to mention it while Danny himself is around. Not even Sam and Tucker tell him. It's one of those rumours you don't want getting back to the person it's about. Not because it's bad, but because it's a hell of a lot more fun when they don’t know.

Nobody really gets the "why," except those who know Danny best. To everyone else, he's a scrawny kid with eccentric parents, and he wouldn't hurt a fly. Most of them decide outsiders are just weird like that and put it out of mind. But Mikey, clever kid that he is, decides to put Danny's mysterious ability to work.

"I'll help you with your physics homework if you cheer us on at the decathlon," Mikey says. He leans across the aisle between their desk, whispering low enough that the teacher won't hear them.

"You do sports?" Danny asks, raising on eyebrow.

"No, it's academic. Don't be ridiculous."

On the edge of his seat, Mikey waits for Danny's reply. The decathlon is tomorrow, which may have been short notice, but Mikey isn't a fool. He knows academics bore the hell out of Danny and the only way he will go is with incentive. Mikey waited until they got their most recent test back. Peeking at Danny's paper, he can see his classmate failed, which is good news for him.

One decathlon is a small price to pay for a passing grade.

Danny looks down at the big red F on his test. He whispers back, "Sure. When is it? Do people have to dress nice for these things?"

"Tomorrow. And," Mikey pauses a moment to consider, "yes. I mean, no. Not nice, but there's this thing we do. It's okay, I'll have you covered. Just wear what you usually do."

Danny looks uncertain, but Mikey knows he'll accept. He gave Danny no other choice.

—

Mikey tries to gauge Danny's reaction when he passes over the hoodie. It's ten minutes to the start of the competition. They're backstage getting ready for the judge to call them out. At the moment, they're separated from the other team, but there's no rule against some friendly banter before things get going, so Mikey has a plan. A plan that needs Danny to wear this hoodie.

Danny holds it up, frowning at the design on the front. A fierce raven with bright green eyes carrying a bloodied snake in its beak; they're competing with Silver Valley today whose mascot is a snake. He picks up the hood, inspecting the mask sewn into it. It's a simple black masquerade mask with a long, beak-like nose.

"And this is... standard?" Danny asks, lowering the hoodie so he can look Mikey in the eyes.

Mikey nods emphatically. "Yeah. I know decathlons don't seem exciting, but we get really into it. Lots of people do this."

"And you just had a hoodie with this exact picture lying around?" Danny turns the hoodie around, displaying the graphic image on the front.

"Yeah. Lester wore it last time. He's let me borrow it for you today," Mikey lies. It actually cost him thirty bucks to get custom made, but the mask was cheap. Besides, the competition today has a cash prize, which will more than make up for it when his team wins.

"If you say so," Danny says. He shucks off his button up and pulls the hoodie on instead, pushing the hood down to rest at the back of his neck.

Mikey immediately pulls it back up and lowers the mask over Danny's eyes. "It's part of the school spirit," Mikey says.

"Riiight." Danny adjusts the mask, but he doesn't take it down. "Shouldn't I be sitting in the audience?"

"You will. But I wanted to introduce you to the other team first. It's a sportsmanship thing," Mikey explains. He beckons Danny forward, leading him down a long hall behind the stage. As the hall opens up into the wings of the stage, the other team comes into view.

Like Mikey and the other decathlon members, they wear matching jackets. Although where Casper's jackets are red, Silver Valley wears grey.

Danny stops just before stepping into their line of sight. "Mikey," he hisses. "I don't see anyone dressed like a snake over here."

"Just trust me. You want that physics help, right?" Mikey only feels a little guilty about tricking Danny like this. Mikey's not actually hurting him, and they aren't breaking any competition rules, so it's fine.

Danny shuffles his feet, giving the other team a solid once through, and nods.

"Hi, everyone!" Mikey says, drawing the team's attention. "We just wanted to come over and wish you good luck! Friendly competition and all that."

Watching them closely, Mikey catches the exact moment they lay eyes on Danny, and it is so much better than he could have hoped. The whole team freezes. Mikey can see their eyes dilating, like they've been shot with a burst of adrenaline, a little kick-starter in their fight-or-flight response. Judging by the way a few of them shuffle back, they're leaning toward flight.

Mikey revels in the fear in their eyes. "Good luck!" he says.

"Yeah." Mikey turns at Danny's voice. For a second, he thinks he sees something in Danny's eyes, something swirling and green. But in a blink, it's gone. Danny smiles brightly, but with the mask it looks downright villainous. "Good luck. I think you'll need it."

The Silver Valley team pales. Casper High wins by a landslide that day.

—

The story of Casper High's raven boy spreads from Silver Valley out to other schools. Most of them think it's just a rumour, but enough people pass it along that it eventually works its way back to Casper and into the ears of one Dash Baxter. Dash, being the proud jock he is, can't let himself be one-upped by a nerd.

"Hey, Fenton!" he calls out to Danny at lunch hour. Shoving his way between Sam and Tucker, Dash slams his hands down on the table. Danny flinches. "Relax, I'm not here to wail on you. For once."

Sam shoves Dash's hand off the table. "Great, then get the hell out of here," she says.

"Shut up, Manson. I ain't talking to you." Dash sneers. He turns his focus back to Danny. "I got a proposition for you."

"I can't believe he knows the word proposition," Tucker whispers.

"I said shut it!" Dash raises his hand to smack Foley upside the head. Halfway through the swing, Danny lurches forward and snatches Dash's wrist.

"Dash, if you want to make a deal or something, I don't think hitting my best friend is the right way to start," Danny says.

Dash scowls at him. He jerks his hand out of Danny's grip and steps back, rubbing his wrist. He won't say it out loud, but Danny's got a pretty good grip. "Yeah, whatever. He's not worth it anyway."

"Dash."

People are staring at them now. Most of them looking for a show Dash isn't going to give, at least not today. Eager to get this over with fast, Dash leans over until he's so close there's no way anyone could overhear them.

"Listen. You do one thing for me, and maybe I won't wail on you for a week," he says.

Danny shoots him a deadpan stare. "Maybe?"

"Fine," Dash relents. "I definitely won't."

"What do I have to do?"

"Come to our next football game."

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you deaf, Fenton? Come. To. The. Game." Dash enunciates carefully, slapping his palms down with each word, leaning closer in. Danny reels back so far that he has to grab the table to keep from slipping off the bench. "And wear the sweater."

Dash saunters away before Danny has a chance to respond. The prying eyes turn away then, more than a few disappointed by the turn of events. Danny ignores them in favour of turning to his friends.

"Do you guys know what sweater he's talking about?" he asks.

"Probably the one Mikey had you wear," Tucker says. "Because it's so s–" Sam kicks him under the table. "–exy! It's uh... it's a sexy sweater."

"Oh, my god." Sam drops her face into her hands.

—

Danny doesn't know it's not standard practice to shake hands with the opposing team's quarterback, and their backup quarterback, and their backup backup quarter back before a football game. But he is pretty sure it's weird for him, a random student, to be doing it instead of someone from the actual team.

"Just stand in front of 'em until they shake your hand, that's it," Dash says, shoving Danny toward the Waterford Heights Weasels. He waves impatiently, motioning Danny forward. Dash personally doesn't see what's so scary about the getup. A sweat with a bird and a mask, big whoop. But he's willing to try it, anyway.

"Think it'll work?" Kwan asks. They stand side-by-side, arms crossed, elbows brushing. The rest of the team mills about behind them, some of them spying on Fenton, others getting in the right headspace for the game. It's only a couple minutes to kickoff.

Dash shrugs. "Worth a shot."

It's a great night for a game. The sky is clear. It's not too chilly. There's still an hour before the sun will set. It means they'll have the light in their eyes for half the game, but if this works, that won't even matter.

Dash and Kwan watch Danny approach the first player. They made sure to give him the jersey numbers beforehand. Kwan, who has neater penmanship, wrote them down on Danny's palm. Their original idea was to have him greet the whole team but that would take too long. They settled for the key players instead.

Danny plants himself in front of the star quarterback and sticks his hand out. Dash snickers when the guy tries to step around Danny, and Danny sidesteps right back into his path. He says something and shoves his hand in the quarterback's direction again.

"You think Fenton's playing along?" Kwan asks.

"Nah. As if he even knows what's up. Did you see the blank look he gave me in the cafeteria? Besides, I upped the 'no-beating' time to two weeks if he did the handshakes."

Kwan touches his fingers as he silently counts the dates in his head. "That's the next home game."

"Yep. If this works tonight, I might just give him the offer again then."

The Waterford's quarterback eventually shakes Danny's hand, scurrying away as soon as he's released. Danny moves on to the next one.

That night, the Waterford Weasels don't get a single touchdown.

—

Danny is suddenly the most popular kid at school, at least amongst the jocks. Considering how much weight Casper High puts behind their athletic programs, that makes him pretty damn high on the food chain. Not that he seems to realize.

The basketball team, the volleyball team, even the cheerleaders. They drag a confused Danny along whenever they can and set him lose on the opposing team. There's always a bribe, of course. Everybody knows Danny isn't big into school spirit. He'd never gone to a single game before all this, after all.

At first, they're just using him. He freaks out the competition so much it throws them off their game, which means a lot more trophies to fill up Casper High's dusty case in the near future. Eventually, though, it becomes something else. There's still the raw, primal joy of seeing Danny scare the hell out of some outsiders, but they start inviting him to the after parties, too. They let Danny's friends tag along. Dash even gives him a friendly slap on the back one day when they're passing in the hall.

Three months ago, nothing like that would have happened. Three months ago, Dash would have stuffed you in a locker for even suggesting it.

By some miracle, they manage to keep the teachers out of the loop. If any of them asks, the students either answer with a shrug, or suggest that Fenton's turned a new leaf and he's really into school spirit now. Most of them go for the shrug.

It doesn't last forever, though. The students get bolder, inviting Danny to away games outside the city. He rejects most of them, no matter how sweet the bribe, with a number of excuses.

"I have homework."

"I've got some extracurricular stuff to work on."

"I don't have a car."

"You don't need a car, we've got a bus!" Dash says.

Danny, already turning to walk away, stops. "What?"

"You can ride on the team bus with us," Dash says. It's not exactly conventional, but they've got the room for it. All they have to do is sneak Danny past Tetslaff and keep him out of sight until they're on the road. There's not much she can do about it once they've already set out.

"Are you serious?" Danny asks.

Dash rolls his eyes, not even deigning Danny with a proper response. Fishing his notebook out his backpack, Dash quickly scribbles out the time and date of the away game, plus when the team bus is going to leave.

Danny eyes the piece of paper, frowning as he tries to decipher Dash's cramped handwriting.. "You don't even know if I'll show up."

"You'll show up."

"I doubt it."

—

Danny shows up. He meets Dash by the back door, already donning the sweater he's now permanently borrowed from Mikey. He asked Mikey if Lester would ever want it back, but Mikey assured him his debt is settled. Whatever that means.

"Tetslaff usually waits until all the equipment is loaded up before getting on. We just have to sneak you by her, which won't be too hard," Dash says.

"You realize I'm not shorter than you anymore, right?" Danny asks.

Dash squints. No, he hadn't, actually. Even though they see each other every day, Dash still pictures Danny as the same wimpy kid from freshman year. But Danny's right. He has a few inches on Dash, now that they're a couple years older, although he's still got nothing in terms of muscle mass. Just looking at him, Dash is pretty sure Mikey has more muscle than Danny does.

"Whatever, let's just go." Dash leads Danny over to the bus.

Tetself stands with her back to them. She oversees the rest of the team as they throw their equipment bags into the storage compartment at the bottom of the bus. She's completely oblivious to the two rule breakers heading her way.

But Kwan and Dale see coming from afar and jog over to join them. They fall into step on Dash's left, making a little wall between Danny and Tetslaff. If Danny ducks his head, he's completely out of view. They're almost home free, a few feet from the bus, when Danny's foot slips into a rut in the grass he careens forward.

He cries out in shock, throwing his arms out to catch himself. Dash manages to snag his arm before he hits the ground, jerking Danny to a stop. He hangs there a moment, body limp, blinking at the grass and wondering if that really just happened.

"Daniel Fenton, what are you doing?" Tetslaff asks.

Dash jostles Danny out of his daze. He scrambles upright, brushing himself off as Tetslaff approaches. She stops right in front of him, fists on her hip, her glare stern.

"Getting on the bus?" Danny says.

Behind Tetslaff, Dash slaps a hand against his face.

"Only team members are allowed on the team bus. Those are the rules."

"But coach, he's out lucky charm!" Dash protests.

Tetslaff turns, squinting at Dash. Crossing her arms, she leans toward him. "Oh, yeah? How so?"

Dash, Kwan, and Dale share a long, considering look. Kwan shrugs. Dale tilts his head back. Shooting Danny a wary glance, Dash beckons Tetslaff over, out of earshot. She stays rooted to the spot.

"Please, Coach?"

Normally, a little something like saying please wouldn't do a lick of help in swaying Tetslaff. She's as stubborn as her arms are thick. But today, she feels a little indulgent. The team's being doing great, both in practice and on field. She's willing to give a little, if only for all the effort they're giving her back.

With a sigh, Tetslaff follows Dash.

"He scares the hell out of the other players so that they mess up and we win," Dash confesses once they're out of earshot.

Tetslaff's eyebrows shoot up her forehead. "Fear tactics, huh? Didn't want to rely on you own skill?"

"That's not it! I know we're a great team. We don't need Fenton. But he makes us work harder for it. He's kind of motivating, you know?"

Tetslaff looks at Dash and says nothing. With a shake of her head, she marches back to Danny. "Mr. Fenton, you're coming with me."

Danny gives the team a helpless look, a weak shrug, and follows their coach back into the school.

"Damn," Kwan says. "Almost had it."

"Did you mean what you said about Fenton, Dash?" Dale asks.

"I think I did?" Dash watches Danny and Tetslaff until they disappear through the doors. "I don't know about you guys, but whenever he scares the other team, I kind of want to earn that."

Dale nods. "Man, I wanted to see the fear in their eyes.

"Huh." Kwan taps his chin, deep in thought. "Does anyone else think we should be concerned about the fact that we enjoy that so much?"

All at once, more than half the team drones, "Nah."

"I think you're right, though," Kwan says to Dash. "Having Danny around is kind of fun."

"Today's game is gonna be so boring." Dale moans in disappointed. He boards the bus, quickly followed by his teammates. Soon enough, everyone is on and in their seats. All they need is for Tetslaff to return. She's gone for a solid ten minutes. There are still a few hours before the game starts, but it makes the players antsy. Dash keeps checking out the window for any sign of her.

The school's back door opens. Dash perks up, leaning toward the glass as Tetslaff steps out. She holds the door open. Danny comes out after her. And he's wearing the official Casper High Raven costume.

"Boys!" Tetslaff says when she climbs back on the boss. "Say hello to our new mascot!"

Her declaration is met with a round of cheers.

—

It's two hours before the game. Danny sits on a bench outside the locker rooms, the raven head resting beside him. When Tetslaff offered to make him the mascot, he admittedly hesitated. In the past, he didn't have time for stuff like this. But things are a little easier now, ghost-wise. His parents are better hunters. Valerie proves time and again how capable she is. The ghosts themselves have even backed off a little since Danny started junior year.

For the first time since starting high school, he actually has the time to do high school things outside of homework. It won't be his first time acting as the official mascot, either. He used to fill in for the mascot in freshman year, before things got too much for Danny to handle and he had to drop it.

He wishes Tetslaff let him keep wearing his hoodie, though. The raven costume isn't that comfortable.

The door to the locker rooms opens. Paulina steps through, already in her cheerleading outfit even though there's still an hour before she needs to be on the field. She takes one look at Danny and says, "Oh, hell no."

Danny recoils, offended. He thought they were on sort of good terms after everything with Whitney, but apparently, he was wrong.

"Tetslaff already made me the mascot, Paulina. I'm here whether you like it or not," he says.

"No, duh. I'm pretty sure you two were the only ones who didn't know you're are mascot." Paulina flicks the shoulder of the raven suit. It makes a dull thunk. The plastic feathers barely twitch. "But you're not scaring anyone in that thing. What are you gonna do, say 'boo?'"

Danny thinks about all the little tricks he has up his sleeve and grins. "I think you'd be surprise."

The costume may be bulky and round, with a wide friendly smile that gives one of those "huggable mascot" looks, but Danny's a ghost. If anybody can do scary, it's him. The past few months have proved that nicely.

"Wait, wait, wait," Paulina says, holding up her hands. She pivots in front of Danny and grabs his shoulders. "You know that you scare people?"

"I mean, yeah? It's kind of hard not to." Danny shakes his head. After the fifth time some stranger flinches away from your touch, you start piecing things together.

"And you never said anything?"

Danny honestly didn't think he had to. Did everyone just expect him not to catch on? Yes. Yes, they did. But that's not the point right now. Danny rubs the back of his neck and chuckles nervously. "I don't really care much about being popular anymore, but it's kind of nice to be invited to stuff, you know?"

Paulina doesn't believe him for a second. She crosses her arms and gives him a critical star. "And?" she asks.

Danny looks at her, looks away. Kicks the grass with his foot. He knows exactly what she wants to hear. He wants to deny it, but he can't. Sheepishly, he admits, "And it's kind of fun."

"Perfect. Then you won't mind what I'm about to do to you."

"Wait, what? Paulina, I– ah!" Paulina grabs his arm and drags him into the girl's locker room.

—

Danny holds himself perfectly still, arms out from his body. "Paulina, I don't think–"

"Ah, ah, ah! I'm almost done! No moving. And make sure you don't lean back against things too much, or else you'll smudge it." Paulina peers under Danny's arm, holding a paintbrush slathered in blue body paint so dark it's almost black.

"Aren't our team colours red and white?" Danny asks. Turning his arms over, he scans the parts of his skin Paulina has already finished painting. Bold feathers cover most of his upper arm, going up his shoulder and, from what Danny could feel as Paulina worked, down his back. She won't let him see what she's doing, though. He hopes it's cool.

"You mean the most boring colours in team colour history?" Paulina scoffs. She steps back, admiring her work for a moment, and drops her brush in the can of body paint. "I've been trying to get Ishiyama to change the school colours for years. Maybe with this, she will."

"Are you don’t yet?"

"Boy, I worked hard on this, let me breathe it in before you go out there and ruin it."

"Mikey's hoodie was scarier."

"Mikey's hoodie was garish. This is a work of art."

Danny picks at his new pants, heavy things made of a thick material and covered in a generous layer of black feathers. At least his legs will be warm tonight.

"You think I'm scarier without a shirt on? Gee, thanks." Danny rolls his eyes. He's not as offended as he sounds, though. Being a half ghost has led to some physical qualities he would rather do without, but can't do anything to change. Like an incredibly fast metabolism that burns through everything he eats before he even has a chance to taste it. Jazz keeps telling him he has to start making health choices, so he doesn't pass out or keel over from hunger.

He tries, but there's only so much he can do, and his ribs seem to be permanently on display. Danny pokes them now, scowling at how they press against his skin. That is so not healthy. He lets his hand drop back to the feathered pants.

"Where did you even get this on such short notice?" he asks. All Paulina did was make a phone call, then someone came buy and dropped off a paper bag with the pants, body paint, and a smaller plastic bag inside.

"I already had it made, silly. I told you, that sweater was so ugly. I couldn't let you keep repping Casper High in something like that." The noise Paulina makes is nothing short of disgusted. She really hates Mikey's sweater, effective as it was. But this is going to be glorious.

Danny peeks over his shoulder, trying to catch his reflection in the mirror, but he can't get a good view.

"Look straight," Paulina commands, pushing Danny's cheek. She raises his arms. "Hold them out like this, perfectly still. Perfect."

She takes out her phone and snaps a few photos of Danny's back. Flicking through them, she chooses the best one, posting it to the Casper Ravens twitter page with the caption "new mascot unveiling tonight." Once she's done, she passes her phone to Danny to show him her handiwork.

"Whoa." Danny stares down at the delicately painted wings on his back. Paulina made them just right so that when he raises his arms, it looks like the wings are unfurling. "Okay, that's a lot cooler than Mikey's hoodie. A shirt would still be nice, though."

"It'd take away from the look. You're practically a skeleton. What'll freak people out more than that?"

"Really feeling the love, Paulie."

"No using my nickname for her!" Star shouts from behind a row of lockers.

Paulina shooed the other girls to the other side of the room when she brought Danny in to give him his new look. By now, they are all changed into their uniforms and ready to show they're spirit.

"Okay. I'll just call her Lina instead."

"Please, god, no." Paulina groans. "That name is so stupid."

The other cheerleaders giggle as they join Danny and Paulina in the main room. They look nice, wearing their matching pleated skirts and crop tops. With their hands on their hips, the pom-poms give their steps a little extra bounce.

"We know you haven't choreographed anything. Just do your think, and we'll do ours. I know you aren't as clumsy as people think," Star says. She gives Danny an encouraging pat on his cheek. It is not as motivating as she thinks it is.

The girls start lining up by the door, doing a few small jumps to get their blood pumping. Danny does the same, shaking out his arms and hopping from foot to foot. He moves to take his place at the end of the line.

"Hold it!"

"Oh, what now?" Danny groans, slumping over. Paulina's shoes invade his vision. She sticks a plastic bag under his nose, holding it out for him to take. "What's this?"

"The last piece of your costume. It's my favourite."

Danny removes the piece from the bag. He grins wickedly.

—

Balmoral High, as the home team, runs onto the field first. Having heard of Caspers' unusual intimidation tactics, they came prepared. The players run onto the field amidst a burst of sparklers and strobe lights flashing their team colours. It pumps up the crowd, just as it's meant to, and the team is met with a roar of approval.

They pump their fists, leaping and bounding across the field. Cheerleaders in short skirts and shorter tops wave their pom-poms, do cartwheels and flips, and spur the crowd on. Their mascot runs on last. A guy in a bear costume, his raises his arms and roars, slashing his paws through the air.

It's all very cute.

Casper High comes in with far less fanfare. The cheerleaders are first, swishing their hips and blowing kisses at the crowd. Raising their voices, they cry out to the crowd. "We're the corvid to your carrion! We're here to fight to the break of dawn!" The few people from Amity Park who could make the trek to the neighbouring city cheer back, cranking their noise makers and stomping their feet. The players charge in next, thrusting their helmets in the air. They have feathers paint on their cheeks.

A few Balmoral players snort, bumping elbows and pointing to the face paint. When the last Casper student runs onto the field, all of Balmoral turns to watch for the infamous mascot. No one comes.

"Ha!" Balmoral's linebacker, in the middle of the team huddle, shouts. It would seem that Casper's reputation isn't all it's cracked up to be.

"Excuse me?"

The linebacker freezes, feeling a tap on his shoulder. He turns, slowly, and sees a boy wearing raven skull mask and a devilish grin.

"Boo."

#phic phight #phic phight 2020 #tumblroneshots #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #phanfiction #phanfic #phicc #I had fun coming up with the cheer at the end #mascot!au

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malfoymanortings · 3 years

Text

fluorescent adolescent PART 2

summary: Fred Weasley has been drawing the eldest Malfoy daughter since his third year of Hogwarts. Elara Malfoy has fancied Fred Weasley since her fifth year at Hogwarts. It is during their final year, that the two of them do something about the mutual attraction.

pairing: Fred x OC older Malfoy sister

not related to flames and snow!! just a different perspective on Fred x older Malfoy sister.

let me know if you guys want a part three. also, this was my first time writing smut so hopefully it was good!

Elara Malfoy had a thing for Fred Weasley.

She wasn’t quite sure when it had started, maybe in third year when he had stumbled into her path reeking of gunpowder; he had taken that opportunity to bow to the “Slytherin princess” and apologized profusely before being dragged off by his twin. Daphne Greengrass, her closest friend, had scoffed and told her the blood traitor was mocking her.

But although Elara agreed, she secretly felt it wasn’t a joke to Fred.

So yes, it was her narcissism that made Fred Weasley seem so appealing to her, as the thought of the boy calling her the Slytherin Princess (I am so sorry I knocked into you, goddess, it won’t happen again, I swear it!), made her liking of the boy grow. Of course, that was a secret she would have to take deep to her grave with her, unless she wanted to be disowned and removed from the Malfoy family. Elara had already worked hard to be part of that family, as her father was a rotten man with disgusting ideals and the worst view on punishments for a child. She didn’t spend her childhood taking beatings for both her and her brother to prove her worth just to throw it all away over a boy, a blood traitor nonetheless!

It was hard, though. Especially when she knew he stared at her all the time. Especially during the Yule Ball, when he had looked so delectable and had taken the gorgeous Angelina Johnson as his date, it was ever so hard for Elara to swallow her jealousy. Theodore Nott may have been handsome, but he was nothing next to Fred Weasley. Fred Weasley was stunning, and had the personality that was rare to find.

Fred Weasley was annoying and witty, hilarious and clever. George and him were the best pranksters Hogwarts had ever seen, in her opinion. Of course, they normally targeted Slytherin’s as their intended victims, but usually it was well deserved, Elara had to admit. The man was so open yet closed off, as Elara had never dared speaking to him.

Her brother Draco had a big mouth, and the last thing she needed was for him to gossip with father and tell him that Elara was even speaking civilly with a Weasley.

Yet when the opportunity in Potions class presented itself, Elara agreed upon meeting Fred Weasley at the astronomy tower around midnight. She dressed carefully that night, her best matching lace set, covered with fishnets and a black skirt, white blouse combo. She left her hair down, rings on her fingers, and applied a generous amount of her perfume to tie it all together.

Elara headed for the astronomy tower exactly at midnight, taking care to make sure no one saw her leave. She kept her wand up the sleeve of her robes, at the ready just in case she ran into any sort of trouble. Like that idiot Umbridge, what a nasty woman. If it weren’t for her father being so close with the Ministry, she would spit at the woman. Instead, she had to play nice and act like the disgusting toad wasn’t vile.

Fred Weasley seemed impatient, pacing back and forth and glancing at the watch on his wrist.

Elara stood in the doorway for a moment, admiring him openly for the first time. He was dashing, there was no doubt that the Weasley’s had impeccable genes. He seemed to have gotten a haircut over Christmas break, as it wasn’t as long as she preferred it. He kept flexing his fingers around his wand, and Elara wore a smile as she imagined those same skilled fingers wrapped around her throat.

“You didn’t think I would forget our engagement tonight, did you?” Elara came out from the shadow of the stairwell, smirking when Fred jumped.

“Well, it’s bloody past midnight, innit?” scoffed Fred, stilling his pacing and crossing his arms.

Elara walked into the room slowly, glancing around the tower and keeping her tone light. “You just said around midnight. I don’t recall you specifying what exact time you wanted me here.”

“Next time I’ll be more clear, then.” Fred took on the same tone she had, and he smirked back at her when her eyes narrowed at him.

“Who said there’s a next time?” quipped Elara, crossing her arms as she leaned against the wall farthest from Fred.

“Oh darling, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me for more.”

With that rather bold statement, Fred walked over to Elara who watched him appraisingly.

“I rather doubt that, Weasley.”

Fred harshly placed his arms on either side of Elara’s body, his body heat warming her. “Beautiful, if you could just shut that pretty little mouth of yours, you wouldn’t piss me off so much.”

Elara raised an eyebrow, slightly embarrassed that she could already feel wetness between her legs. “Where’s the fun in that, Weasel?”

Fred slammed his lips against hers then, and Elara snaked her arms around his neck. His lips felt like fire against hers, spreading a heat through her body as quickly as a brushfire. His hands ghosted down her waist, sliding behind her hips to grip her bum. Elara bit down on Fred’s lip, harshly dragging his lower lip through her teeth, and Fred moaned audibly, slapping her bum with one hand while the other squeezed harshly.

He trailed his lips down her neck, nipping softly at the skin he had lusted over for so long, dusting kisses across her collarbones. His teeth grazed her skin, making her shiver and let out a moan against her will.

“That’s it darling, be loud for daddy.” encouraged Fred softly, his hands ghosting her inner thighs.

Elara’s breath caught in her throat, and she tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. She would be damned if she called Fred Weasley daddy.

“Do you want me to touch you, love?” asked Fred, moving his hands up to unbutton her shirt. It fell to the ground, and Fred stared at her creamy breasts hidden from him with a lace bra that seemed to be teasing him.

“Yes.” Elara was breathless, almost embarrassed at how desperately she wanted him to touch her.

“Yes, what?” Fred kissed her jaw, his hands moving down to play with the hem of her skirt.

She knew he wasn’t going to go further until she said it. “Yes, daddy.”

Fred grinned at her then, and her skirt came down along with her fishnets. He knelt down, pressing sloppy kisses to her thighs as he forced them open. Elara’s legs grew weak, something Fred took notice of.

“Lay down, love.” with a wave of his wand, Fred had conjured up a soft blanket for them to lay on. Elara sat down, before Fred had pushed her down to continue his onslaught against her cunt.

Once again forcing her thighs open, he snapped the waistband of her panties. “Darling, I appreciate the thought you put into these, but next time, come ready for me, alright?”

He tugged off her panties without waiting for a response, and then ran his hand across her bare pussy. Elara gasped, bucking her hips up, and Fred laughed.

“You look delicious,” Fred ducked down, his breath fanning across her delicate skin. “Good enough to eat.”

He gave her a teasing lick, and again Elara’s hips bucked up on their own accord. Fred placed a large hand on her lower stomach, holding her in place. His other hand held her legs open as he licked and sucked her clit, his tongue sliding in and out of her pussy. Without warning, his mouth left her, and his fingers replaced the warmth of his tongue. First it was one, and then he slowly added another, curling his fingers as he made eye contact with her.

“Fuck,” Elara whimpered, pleasure flooding her body. It was almost too much for her to deal with, the way Fred Weasley was going down on her.

He increased his speed, and Elara arched her back, moaning loudly when he began nipping at her hips, sucking on the soft skin and placing harsh kisses as his fingers pumped faster and faster inside of her. He placed his mouth on her clit, keeping the fast pace with his fingers, and Elara gripped the blanket as a stream of moans left her mouth.

She could feel herself getting close, a coil in her stomach as Fred kept sucking on her clit. As she felt herself nearing the edge, her legs clenching around Fred’s head as she was about to cum, he suddenly pulled away, giving her a cheeky grin with lust filled eyes.

“Why the fuck did you stop?” Elara asked breathlessly, brushing away at the strands of hair that stuck to her forehead.

“Darling, if you want to finish, you’re going to need to beg daddy.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Fred trailed kisses up her stomach, skillfully reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. Her breasts free, Fred took a hard nipple in his mouth, the other one he explored with his hand.

“Bite me,” Elara said breathlessly, bucking her hips up to the erection that was pressed against her bare pussy. “Bite me daddy.”

She felt Fred smile rather than saw him, and let out a loud moan as Fred Weasley bit down on her hard nipple, pinching the other one with his fingers. He started grinding his hips into hers as he bit and sucked at her tits, and Elara once again had to grip the blanket in her hands.

“Please, daddy,” Elara gave in, running her nails down Fred’s back. “Make me cum.”

Fred paused for a moment, his eyes meeting hers. He gave her a quick grin, before quickly ducking back down to suck at her clit again. Once again, the familiar feeling was building up in her lower stomach, and as Fred pumped his fingers in her pussy and his lips sucked on her bundle of nerves, she finally found release, her legs shaking as she came on Fred Weasley’s face.

“You taste so sweet,” his voice was low, his tone cocky. “Now, my turn.”

Fred slipped his boxers off, and the bare skin of his hard dick brushed against her pussy as he teased her entrance with his head. Elara dragged her nails down his back, and Fred thrusted into her with a groan and made Elara gasp as he began pumping in her.

He spread her legs to the side, resting each hand on either inner thigh, causing him to stroke deeply within her. He went softly at first, letting Elara adjust to his massive size, and then began thrusting his hips deep inside her faster and faster. He soon moved his arms on either side of Elara, and she wrapped legs around his waist.

“Fuck, Elara, you feel so damn good around my dick.” Fred moaned out, burrowing his head into her neck.

“Choke me.” said Elara in reply, letting out a moan as Fred hit a new spot inside of her.

Fred complied, much to her surprise. He wrapped one hand around her throat, squeezing harshly, the other hand propping himself up. The force of his thrusting made her tits bounce, and Elara parted her mouth in a silent moan as Fred’s fingers clenched around her esophagus.

His thrusting became more sloppy, and she knew he was close to coming. Elara could once again feel the build up in her lower stomach, and she knew she was going to cum once more.

“Daddy, I’m gonna cum.” the words came out a moan, and Fred pressed a harsh kiss to her neck as he picked up his pace once more.

Her walls clenched around him, and his name fell from her lips as her toes curled and her vision went white. She felt his dick twitch before he came inside her with a loud moan, pulling out his dick and laying next to her on the blanket.

Elara kept her eyes shut, feeling the odd sensation of her pussy twitching. It had been her first time, and it had been with a Weasley.

After a moment, Fred propped himself up next to her, looking down at her still form. He admired her naked body, committing it to memory for later when he would be alone and drawing the way she looked as he made her orgasm.

“You could stop staring anytime now.” Elara remarked lightly, her eyes still shut.

“You’re gorgeous.” replied Fred, pressing a featherlight kiss to her temple.

Elara opened her eyes then, shoving Fred away from her and standing. “Alright, that’s my cue to leave. This was fun, trust me, but I really ought to be going.”

“What, you’re just going to leave?” Fred protested, tugging on his boxers as he got up. He kept his eyes on hers as she quickly redressed herself.

“We just needed to get that,” she waved her hands. “Out of our system. Now, we can go back to our separate worlds.”

Fred shook his head, grabbing her hands as she was doing the last button on her blouse. “Elara, we can’t just go back to quietly fancying each other after that.”

Elara’s eyes flashed, and she yanked her hands out of Fred’s grasp. “Watch me.”

Elara tugged her robe on, and after making sure her wand was tucked away, she stormed out of the astronomy tower, leaving Fred Weasley standing alone.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x oc #fred weasley imagine #fred #weasley #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley x malfoy older sister #fred x elara #elara malfoy #older malfoy sister #fred weasley smut #harry potter #hp smut #weasley smut #fred x oc smut #fred weasley x oc smut #smut #malfoy smut

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nyancatkuroo · 3 years

Text

Smoke Sesh Blues Pt.1

Pt.1 Terushima/Kunimi/Kenma x Reader ll Weed

Pt.2 Saeko x Reader ll Molly + Alcohol

INTOXICATED a Miki Mouse Whorehouse collab.

A/N: Here is my second collab fic for the whorehouse and I couldn’t be more excited! This is a Dark Content fic, so 18+ please dot not interact or you will be blocked. (This one doesn’t have any NSFW in it but it doesn’t mean I want a bunch of minors interacting with my content).

TW: mentions of alcohol, weed smoking, mentions of shrooms.

WC: 1.5k

Sitting across the room was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen, well, beautiful might not be the best word to describe her. Ethereal, and transcendent might’ve been the words you’d use to describe a really, really attractive woman, but Tanaka Saeko was not just any attractive woman.

Where beautiful meets savagely charismatic, ethereal simply wasn’t enough to describe the sheer magnetism that the young blond woman exuded, simply sitting there, grinning from ear to ear. Her sharp, dark eyes and toothy grin hit you straight in the guts, and that’s when you fell, hard and fast, and painfully.

Next to the blonde was a young woman equally as attractive as Saeko herself, and if Saeko wasn’t the definition of ethereal, the raven-haired girl sure was. With a pale and delicate face that screamed of poise and grace, a criminally sexy mole on the left side of her chin, and blue eyes that made a chill of pleasure run down your spine, Shimizu Kiyoko was the epitome of everything you weren’t.

Saeko had her right arm around the younger girl, hugging her close, as if afraid she’d run off. “I’d take precautions too, if that was me,” you thought. Kiyoko was one of the smartest and prettiest girls in campus after all, and despite not knowing her personally, having talked to her only once or twice because of mutual classes, it wasn’t hard to understand why she was one of the most sought after girls.

Well, that and the very amusing reputation preceding her since she entered university two years ago. The thing was, the dark-haired girl wasn’t Saeko’s girlfriend, but she was definitely intertwined with a Tanaka. Saeko’s younger brother to be exact, Tanaka Ryuunosuke.

The two were rumored to have been going out since Kiyoko’s high school graduation. Despite having let it be known pretty early on in her academic life that she had a boyfriend, with a younger partner still in high school, all the hungry frat boys up for a challenge and every business major in a radius mile who thought she “deserved better”, apparently made it their mission to woo her. It made for pretty good entertaining drama to watch, but your heart went out for her.

Based on what Saeko told you, keeping you updated on the family drama, the first year was really rough on the young couple. With her younger brother finally on campus this year, though, overcoming all the annoying dudes was easier done a job at two. Especially with a barking protective idiot and Kiyoko’s punching one-liners, which you wouldn’t expect coming from someone so calm and collected. Perhaps it wasn’t that surprising, apparently, from what you’d heard from Saeko, Kiyoko’s comedic timing was unmatched.

And okay, you obviously knew Saeko, and if Kiyoko wasn’t her girlfriend, what was the big fuss all about? Jealousy, simple as that. It was 10 pm on a Friday night, which meant parties around campus were raging from one hard to get in-club to home parties and make-shift park dancefloors. Fridays were made for debauchery and every single student who didn’t work a night shift was accounted for, every student except one, Ryu.

Saeko’s younger brother, a baldy with a lively personality, was running late because of his group of friends. Something about “Noya wrecking havoc once again” and “the trio trying to fix things, again”. You didn’t know what the issue was but it was a problem for you because that meant that Saeko had to act as guard dog for the younger girl, which meant less time spent making you feel all sorts of sinful little pleasures.

Saeko wasn’t your girlfriend either, which is why you didn’t have that close connection to Kiyoko. You guys were simply friends with benefits, lots and lots of benefits that included midday brunches, and late-night movie and make-out seshs, but still, only friends with the hall pass.

You were making eyes at the blond, desperately trying to make her notice you, amongst the hordes of horny 20-somethings year old guys trying to get at Kiyoko, but without luck. Tired of waiting and wanting to actually start enjoying yourself, you decided to go explore the rest of the house the party you currently were in was hosted. Leaving the living room, you ventured into a surprisingly big kitchen where you spotted Terushima Yuuji running his little side hustle. With a hum and an easy smile plastered on your face, you made your way towards the young man.

You knew Terushima from years ago. When you and your friend Issei started venturing into the wondrous world of drugs and alcohol, he mentioned how he knew this guy from a rival volleyball team who was supposedly the best plug in the area, which Terushima was. The shrooms you bought off of him never disappointed and the weed he provided really was that good fucking kush. Tonight though, you felt needy and wanted to let loose, so molly it was.

You put your hand on Terushima’s shoulder, making him aware of your presence, and he turned around, a slight frown on his face before he recognized you and greeted you with the sickest bro shoulder-bump-hand combo. You loved this dude so damn much.

“So, what’s it gonna be this time my little pogchamp?”

With a grimace you pushed the young man’s face with your hand and laughed.

“You’ve got to stop watching your Tiktoks on Instagram, you’re like two months late to that trend my guy.”

“Ain’t no problem, when a king does right by his subjects the peasants don’t have a choice but to laugh along”, he grinned.

At that, you bursted out laughing, holding your belly because of how ridiculously funny that statement was. “Out of pocket, Teru, out of fucking pocket.”

With a whatever, and a roll of his eyes, Terushima asked what you wanted and gave you a few little pills that fit just right inside your jean pocket.

“You know you’re the best.” Sending finger guns his way, you were about to leave, on a quest to find another interesting adventure, when Terushima called your name.

“Hey if you wait a couple minutes until I’m done here we can go smoke a few. Kunimi just bought this new bong and it’s pretty fucking sick, you’ll love it.”

With nothing better to do, you agreed and after a while, Terushima was done and the both of you left the kitchen and made your way to the second-floor, towards Kunimi’s room. When you arrived, the door to the room was closed but you could see the smoke filtering out of the red lit room, the people around too busy in their own affairs, or simply not caring enough, to notice the very obvious hot-box going on behind the closed room.

When you got in, Doja Cat’s Kiss Me More was playing on loop, and you unsurprisingly found Kunimi and Kenma sharing the bong. The pair could outsmoke you any day, but you genuinely enjoyed their company.

There was no one better than those two to have a chill yet feel-good smoke sesh with, cuddles and an infinite supply of munchies present every time. You sat next to Kenma and he immefiatley started nuzzling you, passing you the bong. On the back, you could hear Kunimi telling Terushima he was being too loud and that he’d kick him out if his voice reached higher levels than Toad’s. Terushima was right, paired with the right weed, this bong was way too powerful and it only took you a couple of hits to start feeling.

You laid down, Kenma still close to you, and started singing along, while playing with Kenma’s hair. Yeah, this was definitely your definition of a good time, but despite how good you were feeling, and how warm the little guy you were cuddling with felt, you thought something was missing. The pills in your pocket started feeling heavier, unease growing inside of you. Lost in your worry, you apparently started petting Kenma too roughly, if the kick in the knee he gave you was anything to go by.

“Sorry”, you mumbled, only to receive a small groan for an answer.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, cozied up on the floor with your friends, listening to Doja’s newest collab, but the moment was disturbed when a foreign source of light appeared. Someone had opened the door and when you saw who it was, your heart nearly skipped a beat. Fucking feelings.

With a gentle smile on her face, Saeko was looking at you with what, for a split second, you thought was fondness, but a moment later her eyes went back to their usual playful glee, and her toothy grin returned.

“Ryu got here like an hour ago, I’ve been looking for you, but I see you don’t really need me to have a good time, hm?”

By that point, you felt more sleepy than high, but seeing the woman occupying your every thoughts appear out of nowhere, with what looked like heavenly light all around her, which was just some crusty hallway lighting, woke you up faster than you cared to admit. You kissed Kenma on the cheek, patted Kunimi on the head, and slapped Terushima on the shoulder as a goodbye, and before they could complain about the disturbance, you were out of the door.

#this was initially supposed to be a saeko railing you while under the influence of molly and alcohol #...#but #brain decided otherwise #and im late enough to the collab #so this is what yall are gettin #at least until I decide to make part two #aka the intial plan for this fic ;ldzkhgjbvùkùhb #kozume kenma #kenma #kunimi akira #terushima yuuji #tanaka saeko #saeko x reader #y/n #dark content #this one is just abt weed but still #tw weed #I guess

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parkertech · 4 years

Text

Tattoos & Tears — CHAPTER 5

summary: on everybody's 18th birthday, they get a tattoo of their soulmate written on their wrist. for you, it's your best friend who you thought you got over. who even has a girlfriend of his own.

warnings: swearing, angst

———————————————————————

The next month had to be the hardest month Peter had to go through, ever since Tony’s death. Peter hated himself for how his feelings did a full 180. He didn’t feel anything with MJ anymore. No happiness, no excitement, not even any boredom. He just felt numb around her.

Of course he didn’t say anything. He knew if he did he would hurt her. He knew every ‘I love you’ from her was genuine. His truth was reminded like an annoying fly in his face that wouldn’t go away. He didn’t want to feel like this. But you can’t control your heart.

That exact heart ached for you all the time. It ached for your touch, for your kisses, for you laughs and smiles, for you in general. But he couldn’t get that. What made it worse was that he was with MJ and didn’t get the balls to tell her the truth. But what made it absolutely aggravating and unbearable was that Brad has asked you out. And you said yes.

You fucking said yes.

Of course you would say yes. Because he’s your soulmate.

Fucking soulmates.

He grew the hate to word. It was an annoying thing. Some stupid determination that isn’t even based off your opinion. It’s literally just because it said so.

Peter did what you did when you were in heartbreak. Isolate from you. He couldn’t stand the pain every time he saw you and Brad. He dug it down deep which added to his numbness.

It had now been 3 months. 3 long, nerve wracking months. Peter’s birthday was today. Well, when the clock hit 12. He wasn’t excited. Not even a little bit. Tonight was the night his supposed ‘love of his life’ would be determined. And he knew it wasn’t going to be MJ. His truth was going to come out today. He could already picture her tear stained face, red cheeks, pure hurt and pain across her face. He closed his and groaned at the thought, before hesitantly and unwillingly get ready for the day.

MJ wasn’t waiting for him at his locker today. He sighed in relief, feeling already some of the pressure in his chest die down. He put in his locker combo before grabbing his calculus textbook along with some random, dingy notebooks. He felt a random pair of arms wrap around him, and he sighed loudly. He turned around, expecting to find MJ. But it wasn’t. It was you.

“Hi Peter!” You said enthusiastically, with a bright smile. Peter blinked a few times, thinking he was dreaming. But his pounding heart reminded him to snap out of it.

“H-Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” He stuttered. He mentally beat himself up for how obvious he was being, keeping his focus on you. Your radiant smile all of a sudden made the room more happy, and it made him mimic it.

“What’s up? Well, I hear someone’s big night is tonight!” His face fell a little and he started at you sadly. You furrowed your eyebrows, looking him up and down. “You okay, buddy?” Peter shook his head a few times, before nodding.

“Yeah, I’m good...” he trailed off. You went back to your happy demeanor and touched his shoulder. He felt it ignite to life, leaving a slight tingle and warmth.

“You better be. You can’t be grumpy when you find out who your soulmate is going to be!” You said, trying to bring back the good mood. Peter looked down at his beat up sneakers and swallowed the huge lump in his throat.

But I want my soulmate to be you, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, I know.” Peter was acting weird. He wasn’t being his jittery self, making cheesy puns, nerding on about new tech and shit. He was being distant, and you could tell.

“Pete, is everything okay with you? Do you need to tell me something?” You ask silently. Peter was tempting when you said that, but decided to not. He’d just weird you out.

“No, I’m fine. Just tired...” He lied. You could see he didn’t want to be pushed, so you nodded hesitantly.

“Alright...well, we’re gonna go to your place tonight, right?” Peter’s head shot up from the floor, pure anxiety in his eyes.

“What, why? Why would be going to my place?” You give him an obvious look, but Peter doesn’t catch on.

“It’s your birthday. We’re gonna celebrate! Don’t worry, it’s not a party, because I know you hate them. It’s just me, Ned, Betty, and MJ of course.”

“Why ‘of course’? You don’t know MJ.” He said a little aggressively. It was because he didn’t want MJ, but that doesn’t mean he could take it out on you. He saw your face turn into a taken aback one, but in a defensive way. Shit.

“Okay, calm down. She’s your girlfriend, number one. Number two, I do know MJ because we’ve been friends since freshman year.” There was a pause since Peter didn’t know what to say. He let his guilt and embarrassment eat him away, which made you scoff and shake your head. “Fine, since you’re in a bad mood, I’m just gonna leave you alone.”

“No, wait, Y/N-“

“See you at your place, Peter.” You replied coldly. Peter’s entire mood went downhill all over again when he saw you walk away from him. Well, more like stomp away from him. He hit his head on his locker 3 times, muttering curses under his breath.

Why is everything going wrong? One second he was fine, happy. The next he was upset, and disappointed. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to tell MJ. Tonight.

———

The rest of the school day had went by. May heard about his little gathering, and left him alone. That was after she gave him her gift—a Polaroid camera. Of course, May would’ve gotten him something better, but she wasn’t the richest. That didn’t mean Peter didn’t appreciate it though. He appreciated everything May got him. How could he not? It was May for crying out loud.

After an hour when May left, he heard a knock at his door, and got up from the couch with a sigh. Before he opened the door, he looked through the peephole in the middle. You weren’t lying—MJ, Ned, Betty, and you were standing there, waiting for Peter to open the door. Peter took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, before grabbing the door handle and opening the door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” You all shouted in unison Peter groaned and dramatically held his ears.

“You guys know it’s not my birthday yet, right?” Ned shrugs and steps inside, the rest of you following. Peter just now noticed some of you had small bags and different boxes wrapped in wrapping paper, which he assumed were his gifts.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate.” Ned replied dully. MJ gave him a quick kiss, going for his lips. But involuntarily, he turned his head so she kissed his cheek. Thank god she didn’t say anything about it. Everyone put their gifts on the counter top of the kitchen, before jumping on the couch.

“Well, he’s been in a very snappy mood, soooo...” you point out playfully. Peter catches you smiling at him, and rolled his eyes before mimicking him.

“Yeah, I was just tired.” He mumbled while popping some popcorn. Peter grabbed a variety of sodas and placed them in front of the couch while waiting for the popcorn. “May’s not home, so we can swear and shit.”

“Yeah, but don’t fuck MJ.” Ned says sarcastically. Everyone chuckles a bit except for Peter.

“You’re just salty you can’t get birthday sex.” MJ snarks back. You let out an ‘oooooh’ while Betty whispered something in Ned’s ear. Whatever it was, it got his eyes to widen and his eyebrows to raise. She giggled and smirked a bit, and you fake gagged.

“Ew, stop eye fucking each other.” You scold playfully. They both roll their eyes while MJ gets off the couch and whispers something to Peter. You eyed her all the way, not even noticing you were glaring, until she left the living room and somewhere in the back. When Peter followed her, your heart clenched a bit and a small lump formed in your throat. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what was going to happen. Can you blame him, though? It was MJ of course he’d rather be alone with her.

If only Peter could tell you how wrong he was.

MJ was straddling his lap, kissing and sucking on his neck like her life depended on it, her shirt tossed aside next to her. Even though Peter was gripping her hips, his face screamed “get me out of here.” Her sucking just annoyed and discomforted him, and he would do anything to get out of this situation. Anything. MJ noticed his behavior, and slowly removed her lips from his neck.

“Is everything okay?” She asks shyly. It’s a little embarrassing when your boyfriend doesn’t give you his usual reaction in this kind of moment. Peter looked at her concerned eyes, and then down at the ground.

“Yeah, I’m just not really feeling this right now...”

“Oh...” MJ said kind of sadly. She hurried her shirt back over her head, and sat next to Peter. There was an awkward silence in the room, as she stared down at her hands in her lap and Peter stared at the carpeted floor under his feet. “Is everything okay with you?” It took Peter a second to process her words, before he looked up at her and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I’m fine.” He lied.

‘No, I’m not fine. I realized I’m not in love with you a month ago and I can’t bring myself to tell you because I know I’ll hurt you.’ His thoughts were screaming at him now. MJ being the most observant person on planet earth, could see straight through him.

“You’re lying,” Peter groaned slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. MJ is silent again for a few moments before continuing, “is it Spider-Man shit?”

“No, that’s not it.” Peter said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just....I-“ He wanted to say it, say it so fucking badly. “I just-“ He stopped, realizing this could actually happen. He could pour out the truth and everything would be over. He wouldn’t have this weight on his shoulders anymore.

Then he remembered it’s his birthday. He doesn’t wanna ruin this day. If he’s going to tell her, it was not going to be tonight. He needed to have one good day. “I’m just tired, and stressed. School and shit...” He mumbled.

Please believe me, please believe me, please believe me!

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She bought it. Peter let out a breath in relief, before shaking his head.

“No, I just-I wanna enjoy today. It’s my birthday in like, an hour, so...” MJ nods understandingly before kissing his cheek, hoping it would relax his nerves.

“You can tell me anything, okay?” She reassured. ‘If only that were true.’ Peter thought to himself. He nodded again, before MJ squeezed his shoulder and went back out to the living room, Peter following.

Since it was his special day, Peter made a rule that he could put on whatever movie and no one could complain. To no ones surprise, it was Star Wars for the one hundredth million time. Everyone passed out in pure boredom except for Peter. He checked the time on his phone. 11:59. Great. His fate was about to be determined by a tattoo. He gently pushed MJ’s head off of his lap, before running over to his room, and sitting down on the bed. He didn’t realize how long a minute actually was until he sat there in his own silence.

What if it says MJ? It could happen. Maybe he’s just in a weird faze and doesn’t realize it. I mean, why else wouldn’t he have broken up with her by now? If he truly ‘loved’ you as he said he did, he would’ve tried to win you over already. But he hasn’t. So what the fuck where his feelings doing? Fucking feelings...they’re so annoying.

Peter checked the time again on his phone. 12:00.

He didn’t realize it was going to actually happen until he looked at the time.

God, shit, fuck, I’m not ready for this. Don’t be a pussy, Peter. You fight criminals for fucks sake. A tattoo won’t hurt you.

He kept mentally reassuring himself, before he finally took a good amount of air in, and held up his wrist in front of his face. His right eye slowly peeled open, and he saw the first letter. It wasn’t M. His other eye opened, and he felt his face drop the second he read the full thing.

Y/N.

It’s there. That’s her name. This is real. I can’t take this back. Holy fuck. Oh my god. Peter had no idea what to think. He actually convinced himself for a second he didn’t love you. But the ink on his wrist just said ‘fuck that’ and smashed his beliefs into a million pieces.

‘Who’s your soulmate?’

‘It’s...Brad Davis!’

He was your soulmate.

And you knew.

And you lied about it. You said it was Brad. That’s why you got mad when he said to stay away from him. That’s why he was mad when you said Brad was your soulmate. Because he was yours.

You lied. And you did it on purpose.

Peter felt hot and angry tears glossing his eyes as the gears turned in his head. All the puzzle pieces were clicking, and just created anger in him. He didn’t know if it was directed towards him for not noticing sooner, or at you for lying to him about this kind of thing. It was a mix, most likely.

Peter‘s spidey-sense tingled and his ears started ringing, which made him direct his head towards the doorway. His face paled when you saw you standing there, your arms wrapped around your body, and your eyes being slightly glossy like his. Peter stood up and flared at you, a scowl across his face. His reaction—something that you dreaded, made you swallow hard, and look down at the ground. He was definitely angry, something you knew was going to happen. Now that I was actually happening now, it was a hundred times more nerve wracking. Your anxiety was at an all time high, and you slowly turned around, facing the door. You placed your shaky hands on it, slowly pushing it shut before turning the lock on the knob.

“I-I think we need to talk...” you stuttered nervously. Peter could feel his fists clench shut, trying to contain his anger, before replying.

“Yeah. I think we do.”

———————————————————————

a/n: after a million centuries chapter 5 is FINALLY here. sorry for the long wait, i had a pretty bad two weeks...but I’m fine now, sooo

Taglist 🏷 (requests are open!)

@marvel4geeks @ladykxxx08 @chloecreatesfictions @joyleenl @witchything @pluckypete @yourneighbourhoodclown @whatareyouhidingpeter @elamvlfoy @trumpettay @pparkeramorr @naioimie

#peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #spider man #spider man imagines #spider man x reader #spider man x you #spider-man #spider-man far from home #spider-man homecoming #spider man far from home imagine #spider man homecoming imagine #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader

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strangerthingsharrington · 3 years

Text

Can’t Fight This Feeling

A/N - sorry for the lack of update once again! Covid life/seasonal depression isn’t a good combo!! But here you go!

-21-

We drove in near silence, aside from the quiet music coming from the stereo, with Dustin only giving out a couple driving instructions for Steve to follow.

Steve sighed semi-aggravated, “How far is this place?”

“Relax we’re almost there,” Dustin told him, “besides you’re the one who told me to keep quiet unless there were instructions. That includes being quiet about arrival times,” he added to Steve.

I bit my tongue to stop the laugh that almost slipped out, because technically Dustin was right.

“Suzie must be pretty special, huh?” Robin asked from behind me, “I mean, if you built this thing and lugged it all the way to the middle of nowhere just to talk to her?”

That wasn’t something that surprised me at all about Dustin. He’s just...like that. For as sassy as he could be, he was an extremely caring and loving kid.

“I mean, no one is scientifically perfect, but Suzie’s about as close to being perfect as any human could possibly be,” Dustin answered.

And there was another side to Dustin. Smart ass Dustin.

Steve squeezed my hand gently and continued rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.

“She sounds made up to me,” Erica interrupted.

I scoffed and looked back at her, she looked at me and shrugged, “What? It’s true!”

“Dustin wouldn’t make up a girl! She’s totally real,” I defended, before turning to face the windshield again.

“Does she sound made up to you?” Erica asked, popping her head in between me and Steve, but she was looking up to Steve.

He sighed lightly as Erica sat back in her seat, Steve wasn’t answering and I looked over to him, only to see him looking awkwardly in the rear view mirror.

“Steve? Come on,” I scoffed with a small eye roll.

“Why are you hesitating?” Dustin demanded.

“I’m-I’m not! I think she sounds real! Totally...absolutely real,” he said drifting off before looking to me with wide eyes and a small shoulder shrug.

Again, I rolled my eyes with a small grin. I had to believe my brother. I mean, if he made her up, then that’s a whole other issue we would need to deal with at a later date.

“Turn left here!” Dustin suddenly exclaimed.

Steve looked around rapidly, “There’s no road here!”

“Turn left now!” Dustin demanded.

Steve let go of my hand and brought it up to the steering wheel turning it sharply to the left, “Hold on!” he called to the rest of us as we all shifted harshly with sounds of disapproval coming from us all.

We turned onto the grass at the bottom of the hill where a week ago I had picked up my brother after he intercepted the Russian transmission.

“Whoa, Henderson! Where are we going?” Steve yelled.

“Up!” Dustin and I shouted together.

We were all bouncing around in the car since we were driving over grass at a slight incline now.

“Jesus!”

“We’re not gonna make it!” I exclaimed looking to Steve.

He had both hands firmly on the wheel, never taking his eyes off the front of us.

“Yes we are!” he called to me, “Come on, baby! Come on!” he instructed to the car, as if it would listen to him and continue taking us higher and higher.

But a moment later, the engine began making noise and slowing down. Steve continued pleading with the car and pushing on the gas to no avail. He were just getting stuck further into the grass.

Steve finally relented and put the car in park, cutting the engine.

“Well, I guess the Toddfather has its limitations,” Robin quipped from the back seat.

Steve shot his head back to her and gave her the death glare before looking back to me with a grimace and opening his car door. I followed quickly, getting out of the car and helping Robin and Erica get out of the backseat.

We all stood and stared up at the hill in front of us. After the past few days, I knew none of us wanted anything to do with climbing this thing.

But we obviously had no choice.

“Come on, guys,” I sighed as I began climbing.

Within seconds Steve was by my side holding my hand as we climbed together. None of us wanted to use any extra oxygen to speak and I could hear everyone panting and groaning or mumbling things under their breath.

Finally we reached the peak and saw Cerebro sitting there.

“Holy shit...this is pretty impressive Henderson,” Steve said between gasping for air.

“You do what you have to do to talk to the person you love,” he said simply.

Dustin went right away to the radio and began messing with it, getting it to the frequency needed to speak to the adults in the lair.

“Bald eagle do you copy?” Dustin asked.

I snickered slightly. After knowing Murray Bauman for only about half an hour, I knew he would hate that code name, and that’s exactly why Dustin had chosen it for him.

“Bald eagle, I repeat, do you copy? This is Scoops Troop.”

A second later, the staticky voice of Murray came through, “Yes, I copy.”

I breathed out a small laugh and patted my brothers back.

Dustin chuckled and cleared his throat, “Call sign?”

“Bald eagle,” came the dry response.

I grinned at my brothers back as Steve put his arm around my shoulder.

“Please repeat,” Dustin instructed.

“Bald eagle! This is bald eagle!” Murray snapped back.

“Copy that!” Dustin said with a laughing edge, “Good to hear your voice bald eagle, what your 20?”

“We reached the vent. I’ll contact you when I need you,” he barked through the radio, “until then, silence.”

“Roger that bald eagle, this is scoops troop going radio silent. 10-10, over,” Dustin answered immediately.

I shook my head, wondering if Dustin thought others took his radio lingo as serious as he did.

Dustin looked up at us, I smiled down at him as Steve patted his shoulder.

“Good job, Dust,” I told him.

He grinned back at us. I sighed heavily and looked out towards the trees. Just beyond you could see Starcourt all lit up. I took a few steps away from the group, as Steve followed along with me.

Steve rubbed my arm slightly, “You okay?” he asked me.

I smiled softly, “I could definitely be better. But waiting for Mrs. Byers and Chief Hopper to close the gate to another dimension...it’s definitely something,” I said with a small laugh.

He grinned and nodded a couple of times, “Yeah...but it’ll be over soon. Then your essay will finally be complete.”

I laughed and nodded, “Escaping from a Russian underground lair and helping direct people to the key to close the gate is really the way to go for ending it.”

He chuckled, “Easily an A plus worthy essay.”

I smiled softly and nudged him lightly, “Yeah...depends on how it actually ends, I guess.”

“Hey,” he said quietly, removing his arm from my shoulders and standing in front of me, “we’re all gonna be okay,” he said cupping my face with his hands, “I’m gonna keep you safe, Lou. I’m gonna do everything in my power to keep all of you safe.”

“I know,” I whispered, looking up at him.

His face was still a bit swollen on his left side, and it looked like the discolouration had deepened. He was still cut up with dried blood still lingering in different spots on his face.

But I trusted him fully. As crazy as that sounded. I really, really did trust him.

The crackly voice of Murray Bauman broke the silence, “Scoops troop,” he said through Cerebro, “this is bald eagle,” he said through strained voice.

I looked over at the group surrounding the radio tower and walked over to them with Steve next to me.

“I’ve reached another junction,” he told us.

“This is what?” Dustin asked, looking down to Erica.

“The fourth junction,” she responded.

“Alright,” Dustin sighed, “so if memory serves, this is right after the My Little Pony thesis.”

My Little Pony? I looked up at Steve, confused, but his face told me that he had no idea what he was talking about either.

“We went left so he has to go right!”

“Right,” Erica agreed.

“Fly right, bald eagle,” Dustin instructed over the radio.

“Flying right,” Murray echoed.

“What’s the My Little Pony thesis?” I asked the group.

“Don’t get them started,” Robin begged.

I smiled and shook my head, “What do you mean, get them started? Come on, just tell me!”

“Hey guys?” I heard Steve call.

I looked behind me, suddenly nervous because Steve’s voice sounded worried. I took a few steps forward until I was next to him, staring out over the tree line and knew instantly why he sounded worried.

The lights at Starcourt were flashing through the night. I wasnt totally sure what it meant, but I knew it wasn’t good.

“Shit,” Dustin whispered behind me.

At almost the same exact second, we all turned and ran back to the radio tower. We needed to talk to the group at Starcourt.

“Griswold family, this is scoops troop! Do you copy? Over!” Dustin shouted.

He repeated himself once more before we heard an inhuman screech through the radio. I grimaced at the sound, shrinking under Steve’s sudden protective arm around my shoulder.

Dustin continued shouting into the radio, asking them to confirm their safety.

A loud roar sounded through Cerebro and my eyes filled with tears immediately. The monster was at Starcourt. We had to do something.

There were more noises coming from the radio but Dustin tried, still, to communicate with the others.

But no one ever responded back to us.

All I could hear was the snarling sound coming from the radio and Dustin’s yells for confirmation that they were okay.

Steve’s arms were suddenly gone from my shoulders and I looked up and saw him taking a few steps away from us.

“Where are you going?” Erica yelled to him.

He turned back frantically, “We have to get them the hell outta there! Robin, come on!”

Robin was up immediately and following him towards the hills decline, and I saw her with an extra walkie talkie in her hand. I got up and followed with them.

“I’m coming too!” I called out.

Steve spun around and faced me, “No you’re not,” he told me shaking his head, “No, no way, Lou. Stay here with Dustin and Erica.”

“No, I’m going with you,” I said instantly.

I knew that Dustin and Erica would be safe here on the hill, the monster was at Starcourt. If they stayed on the hill they would be fine.

He stared at me intently, “Lou, please please just stay here,” he begged.

“Why? I want to help!” I exclaimed, “Besides, Robin should stay here too! She was in the vents!”

“Robin already said she doesn’t know where they went! That’s why Erica and Dustin are going to navigate!” Steve told me, pleading with me.

I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek, not willing to back down on my stance. I needed to go and fight and help end this. I needed to help...to protect everyone.

Steve looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back up to me.

“I can’t let anything happen to you, not now,” he said thickly with watery eyes.

I sighed gently, “Nothing will happen to me, we’re all gonna be okay.”

He walked over to me, and gently put his hands on each side of my face, “Please...just do this one thing for me. After everything the last few days...I really can’t let anything happen to you. I don’t know what I would do...”

I put my hands on his wrists, “I’ll be okay, if something happened to you, Steve and I wasn’t there...” I let the sentence drift off.

I really wasn’t sure what would happen if something happened to Steve after everything.

“Please just stay here with the kids...I swear I’ll come back and get you as soon as this is done,” he promised me softly.

I knew I really wasn’t going to be winning this battle. Even if I stayed stubborn that was just going to keep Steve here longer, and possibly risking everyone else at Starcourt from getting help.

“Okay,” I relented.

I physically felt the tension release from his body at my acceptance.

“We’re still on for tomorrow, right?” he asked me with a small smile.

I nodded wothout hesitation, “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, taking my hands away from him.

He nodded before letting his hands fall slowly from my face, “I’ll come back as soon as I can,” he whispered.

I nodded, “I know.”

“Steve,” Robin said quietly, “we have to get back.”

Steve sniffled and looked away from me nodding once, “Okay.”

He took a couple steps back before he looked at me again, “Be careful,” I said looking between my Robin and Steve.

He smiled sadly and nodded once, “We will,” he said before turning with Robin to start their descent down the hill.

I took a deep shuddering breath before turning to look back at Dustin and Erica who were sitting in the grass still by the radio.

I walked back to them and sat next to Dustin. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it softly.

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

I looked back up at him just as some tears fell from my eyes, “I know it’s stupid,” I told him quietly, “but after all of this...yeah-I mean, I cant really hide that now, ya know?”

He nodded in understanding, “They’re gonna be okay, Lou. Really.”

I nodded, wanting to think of anything other than how scared and nervous I was.

“We should huh...call bald eagle and let them know what’s going on,” I said with a small sniffle.

Dustin removed his hand from my shoulder nodding quickly, “Yeah, for sure.”

“Bald eagle, this is scoops troop! What’s your 20?” Dustin called into the radio.

“I told you radio silence!” Murray shouted through the radio.

“Yeah but we have a problem!” Dustin told him.

“What kind of problem?”

This time is wasn’t Murray that came through. Chief Hopper was coming through the radio, and you could hear the worry in his voice.

“The lights at Starcourt were going crazy, Chief. We tried to radio the others but no one was responding and we heard it,” Dustin said before sighing harshly at the end.

“Heard what?” Hopper growled.

“The monster,” Dustin told him, “it’s at the mall.”

Hopper didn’t talk to us for a moment. I could only assume he was freaking out with Mrs. Byers on the other end.

“Hop, what do you want me to do?” Murray came on and asked.

“Keep going,” Hop instructed sternly, “we gotta end this. Tonight.”

Dustin huffed and dropped his microphone.

“Shit,” I heard Erica mutter underneath her breath.

“They have all the information they need to get in there...bald eagle just has to land and then we’re almost golden. We’ll be-we’re gonna be okay,” Dustin said, trying his best to be reassuring to us.

But all I could think of was the group at the mall, and how terrified I was about not hearing from them. I was scared for my best friend who was on her way back to the mall to try her best to help.

Steve. I was terrified for Steve. I tried not to let my thoughts linger on him to much, but they always went back to him.

——

Title credit to REO Speedwagon and gif credit to owner

#Steve Harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #dustin henderson #netflix

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everybodyscupoftea · 3 years

Text

don’t forget gloves

jj x unc women’s soccer reader

jj agrees to a pickup game during winter break

(warnings: cursing, severe lack of editing)

JJ agreed, a little to your surprise, to come play in a pickup game with you and some of your teammates and their partners. You knew he typically didn’t like doing stuff like that because he wasn’t the most knowledgeable about soccer, but since hit had been over a year, you guessed he felt confident enough in his abilities.

“Babe,” he held his hand up when you made a surprised noise, “I’ve been practicing for months now.”

You raised your eyebrows in amusement, “Sure thing. It’s later this afternoon, but I’m gonna go early and stretch if you want to come.”

“Do I have time to take a nap?”

Humming, you glanced at your watch, “Sure. I’ll come pick you up in an hour and a half.”

“You don’t want to stay?”

“Not if you’re sleeping, I’ll just go home and watch some TV.”

JJ shrugged and handed you your keys, “Suit yourself.”

You ended up walking home and jogging back to JJ’s apartment as a sort of warmup. The sun was getting low, would probably start setting in the next hour, and you didn’t want to get hurt. You texted him and within a few minutes, he was opening the passenger door and climbing in.

“Hey, how was the nap?” you asked, turning the heat up a little.

JJ looked at you suspiciously, “Did you just run here?”

“Maybe.”

He snorted, “You baffle me sometimes. The nap was great, feeling rested and ready to kick some ass.”

“Glad to hear,” you answered, backing out of your spot to head to the practice field.

When you got there, JJ helped you drag the goals into place, and you helped him stretch out. After tying his shoe, he stood up, “Who all is coming?”

“Not too many people, a couple teammates and some significant others.”

He nodded, “What time?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Will you pass with me a little bit?”

“Sure.”

He moved back about ten feet, and the two of you knocked it back and forth steadily and in silence. You were actually really impressed at how much he’d improved, even when you hit one at him more firmly than you intended.

Grinning, he passed it back easily, “I’ve been using a wall at my complex. This is so easy compared.”

Which reminded you of when you were younger, using the wall as a passer to work on control and staying on your toes to move quicker. You nodded, “The wall is a great way to build skill.”

“I read it online,” he admitted, “there was one week that I walked around my house with a soccer ball at my feet at all times, but my roommate got annoyed so I quit.”

Yet another thing you’d done as a child, and you raised your eyebrows, “My parents got annoyed when I did that as a kid too.”

He laughed, “Even your dad?”

“Especially my dad. He was all for improving until he tripped over it carrying food.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes, Thanksgiving food to be exact. Thankfully it wasn’t the turkey, but we had no dressing that year.”

“Damn,” he whistled lowly as a car pulled in and parked next to yours. A few of your teammates that carpooled climbed out, one of them carrying a bag full of pennies she’d grabbed from the locker room.

A few of them spread out to kick around while a few of you waited to the side.

“Girls versus boys?” your teammate, Alexis, asked.

You shook your head, “Nah, I think Payton is bringing her girlfriend so it’d be uneven.”

“Wait have we met Payton’s girlfriend before?”

“Not this one,” you mused, “I think the one we met during the season broke up with her.”

“Oh shit,” Alexis muttered, “you know why?”

“Traveling killed her. She wanted weekends together that Pay just didn’t have during the season.”

Alexis sighed, “That fucking sucks.”

“Yeah, but this girl, Emma, plays volleyball, so she gets it.”

“How do you know?”

“I talk to her regularly,” you answered, amused.

“You’ve met Emma?”

“Only on FaceTime. I think she’s pretty nervous to meet us.”

Alexis smirked, “Good.”

Mack was the next to join the group, dragging her boyfriend behind her with a grin, “Can’t believe we’re all matching!”

You glanced down, all three of you wearing the same hoodie and shorts combo, “Wow, so cute,” you deadpanned.

She reached forward to flick your nose, “Fuck off, give our brains some credit.”

“Our brains,” Alexis snorted, “we just share a single fucking braincell.”

Payton was the last to show up, sitting in the car a few seconds after turning it off, talking to the girl in the passenger seat.

“Think she’s giving a pep talk?” Mack mused, holding a ball she’d been juggling against her hip.

“Probably.”

The other two girls joined the group a few minutes later, and Alexis started handing out pennies to assign teams. You and JJ ended up on the same team, and he looked relieved. You held your fist out to him to bump, and when he did, you told him, “Partner in crime, we got this.”

And when JJ slid across the ground to tap the ball in off your pass, you yelled, jumping into his arms in excitement.

The game finally ended at 8:00 when the practice field lights automatically shut off. Mack suggested everyone turning their brights on to shine over the field, but it was getting obnoxiously cold, and had been raining for a good 40 minutes, so most of you bowed out.

“You only want to keep going because you’re losing,” Payton yelled from across the field.

JJ had his hands on his hips, one of the only ones smart enough to wear gloves. His cheeks were bright pink, and you smiled at him, “Great game.”

“You too, obviously.”

“Weee are the champions, my friends,” Alexis crooned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You snorted and Mack flipped her off, “Fuck off, it was just for fun anyway.”

Payton smirked, “Would you be saying that if you won?”

Before Mack could say anything, her boyfriend grabbed her elbow, “Alright, babe, let’s go.”

“You’re lucky,” she called over her shoulder.

JJ laughed and picked up both of your bags on the sideline. You laced your fingers together, walking next to him, trying to regain feeling back in them. When you got to the car, JJ tugged on the door handle until you managed to unlock it.

You sighed, and tried to crank up the car, but you couldn’t get your fingers to cooperate, too frozen and stiff to wrap fully around the keys.

JJ spoke, not looking at you, “Damn, I took that one to the thigh, never been more grateful to be wearing leggings.” Then he seemed to realize the car was still cold and still off, “You good?”

“I can’t get it.”

He’d pulled his gloves off, and he reached over with his hands to grab yours, almost jerking away when they made contact, “Fuck, your hands are freezing. Why no gloves?”

“Forgot.”

Shaking his head, fondly, JJ asked, “Want me to drive home. Let your fingers defrost.”

“That’d be great,” you answered, relieved.

JJ leaned across the console to press a kiss to your forehead before opening the door and getting out quickly. Instead of getting out, you slid across to the passenger seat in maybe the most ungraceful way.

He got into the driver's seat, cranked up the car, and pulled out of the parking lot all within a few seconds while you held your fingers up to the heat blowing out of the vents.

When the two of you got to his apartment, you glanced over at the counter where your discarded gloves were sitting.

Smiling wryly, you told him, “Won’t be forgetting those again.”

“Bet not,” he laughed.

“Wish we had a fireplace,” you sighed, moving toward the bathroom to get your wet clothes off.

A few seconds later, JJ called out, “I can light a bunch of candles for you instead.”

day 12 of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: your hands are freezing

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #college jj #outer banks #outer banks fic #obxmermaidholiday

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ssatoritendou · 3 years

Text

Blueberry Eyes

Pairing: kageyama/reader

Kageyama Tobio

Word count: 4.2k

+ summary: You and your soulmate are connected by listening to music.

Genre: fluff; soulmates

To say he found it annoying was an understatement. How can someone listen to the same song over and over again? Stupid soulmate. That’s what Kageyama thought. He didn’t have time for a soulmate. He has one focus and his one love Volleyball. But he could say this about his soulmate. She listened to the playlist in exact order every day at the same time. It kept him on a time schedule surprisingly. Sometimes she went a little off base in the afternoon, sometimes listening to classical piano pieces and sometimes white noise.

Right now he was practicing sets against the wall at lunch waiting for Hinata to come over to yell at him excitedly to set to him. Which he would end up ultimately doing. When all of a sudden strong guitar rift came into his head causing him to set the ball higher than expected leading it to hit him in the face. “Kageyama what happened? You messed up. You never messed up.” “Idiot. Stupid idiot, she is not on a schedule. And this song isn’t even on her playlist.” “Maybe it’s a song she listens to when she is upset,” Hinata suggested. Kageyama didn’t like the feeling that his soulmate could be upset. But what could he do, he didn’t know you. “I don’t care if she is upset! It’s really annoying that she is listening to songs not on schedule and not the regular ones. It throws me off my game. And you don’t want me off my game if you want perfect sets Hinata.” “I think you need to be more appreciative of your soulmate bond. It’s amazing that you are able to hear the music she listens to. It gives you an insight into her personality. I just have my soulmates' first words to me and all I know is that I’ll know who it is when I meet them. I guess for you it could be anyone with headphones on. And why are you assuming the gender of your soulmate for all you know it could be Tsukishima with all the times he is wearing headphones.” Hinata said with an evil smile on his face. “Baka it’s not Tsukishima he doesn’t listen to music on a schedule and he doesn’t listen to this type of music that is for sure.”

“HEY! HEY! HEY!” You heard come from your owl-headed captain while he was reading a volleyball magazine. “Keiji does he always have to yell like that inside?” You asked your older brother. He exhaled and shook his head, “Settle down Bokuto, we are inside.” Bokuto frowned and his hair frowning with his face. “Akaashi, ____ you won’t believe it I’m one of the topped 5 ranked Aces in the nation. See!” He pointed to the magazine with a great picture of him spiking. “Weren’t you in the top 3 the last time we went to nationals?” “Akaashi!” He bit back your brother. “You are in the top 5 that’s all that matters.” You said with a smile. “It’s a positive thing. Universities with strong volleyball programs will see this and definitely want you on their team. As long as you eat healthily and improve your technique.” “Thanks, little Akashi.” You hated that nickname he had given you “Bokuto don’t call me that. Shouldn’t you be studying if you want to go to the training camp next month?” “Don’t you guys want to help me?” He said, turning to you and Keiji. “I’m a first-year Bokuto. I have no clue what you are learning about.” “I have my own finals to worry about so that I can play as well. ___ here is just a manager in training. She doesn’t even have to go. I'm sure she would rather stay home anyway.” “Not true. I would like to know everything about the teams playing style considering we will be playing against them in the future.” “There you go _____. You know Kuroo told me about this amazing combo team from the Miyagi Prefecture. Fast spikes. But I’m sure he is over exaggerating. They were invited to the training camp.” You were able to get Bokuto to calm down. Maybe that was your gift as an Akaashi, being able to calm down the Owl-Headed captain, just like your brother. You were able to get him to talk about volleyball with Akaashi while you put in your headphones. You were listening to some Beethoven pieces to keep you focused. You put your phone to your side and started working on some of your math work. Sometimes your mind wandered to soulmate connections. Most girls your age would tell and squeal about their connection. But you had no clue what your connection was. It bothered you a little bit. Akaashi was lucky he had a tattoo of a timer of when he was going to meet his soulmate. He wouldn’t tell you the exact timing of the timer. You never had any strange markings or any sort of sign. It worried you. Were you destined to be alone? But dwelling on things that shouldn’t make you worried won’t do you any good. You had a plan for your life and the universe will work things out for you. As you are working on the homework your music was changed to a rock song. You yanked the headphones out and Konoha was laughing. “Don’t do that you jerk.” You pushed him.

Kageyama was going for his morning run. He put his headphones in not like he needed the music he had his soulmate's morning playlist playing. “Tobio dear I made eggs and toast. Where are you going?” “Out for a run Mom, I’ll be back in 20 minutes.” He said after finishing tying his shoelace. He began running around his neighborhood. He noticed the music was barely playing a faint, low noise of the start of techno piano, he thinks it is Korean pop. But he could barely hear it; he heard the pumping of his heart louder. He decided to take a stretching break and put on his own music. His sister made him a playlist to keep him pumped while running. He was a little ashamed of admitting it but he enjoyed Ariana Grande. He put on her new song and continued his run.

Yes, the finals were finally over but in the midst of immense studying, you had gotten sick. A chest cold you would have gone to school but your mother insisted that you stay home for the day. You put on your music at a low volume. You had NCT U’s light bulb playing in your ear as you were falling back to sleep in the early morning as Keiji the adjoining bathroom was brushing his teeth. The cough syrup finally kicks in and making you feel sleepy. That's when you swear that your song had changed to Ariana Grande’s Positions. When you look down and your screen still said NCT—Light Bulb with the volume not even passing the rewind icon. “Keiji!” He emerged from the bathroom toothbrush in his mouth shrugging at your loudness so early. “I can’t hear the song that is playing in my headphones instead it’s playing Ariana Grande. Can you hear it?” You handed him the headphone. He spat the toothpaste in the sink and came to sit on your bed placing the headphone in his ear. Instead of hearing the very powerful female vocalist, he heard the rap section of the song you were listening to. “I do not hear Ariana Grande, I just hear the Korean Rap.” You flopped your head down on the pillow. “Is this cold medicine making me go crazy?” Keiji laughed at your dramatics. “You know some soulmate connections are connected to what you listen to.” He smirked leaving your room. “Well, I’m off to school text me if you need anything.” Your eyes were wide open with shock. You listen to music all the time. All the time. Based on times of day, feelings and emotions, and tasks. This is the first time you heard your soulmate's music or whatever they were listening to. Or maybe your music was always too low for you to hear what they were listening to. But if that’s true based on this experience that means the volume was too loud for them to hear their own music. You had forced your music preferences onto someone else which is a horrible thing to do. You must be so annoying to this person. Listening to music all the damn time. And they have to listen to it. You quickly pulled the covers over your head hoping to fall apart.

The rest of the morning the person whoever they are were playing pumped-up songs. You assumed they were happy about something or possibly working out. After Akaashi requested your help with songs for his workout routine you were well versed in the subject. They played them until about 8:50 which is when a majority of when classes start in high school. That was a plus you knew this person was in high school.

Kageyama has had 2 off days now in the past 2 months. The one where his soulmate changed the song they were listening to and messed with his practicing of setting to himself. 2 today when his soulmate didn’t listen to any music at all. Today was the day he got back his final grades. He did overall well except for one that didn’t even graze the passing mark. How the hell was he going to get to Tokyo now? He wanted to play Nekoma. He wanted to face that setter that got along with Hinata again. He wanted to play those other Tokyo teams. Some have been to nationals and he wants to beat them and let them know that he is better than them. When it came to practice time and they were in the club room, Hinata had failed one test too. He and the orange were seething that they were not able to go. “Hey, you two only failed one test right? So just take the supplementary lessons in the morning and don’t worry I got you a ride to Tokyo. You’ll be there in no time.” Tanaka said with an evil smile.

Summer has finally approached. With that comes a lot of training for the volleyball team. But these camps were more than just training. It was about building relationships with teams and other players in the same positions as you to pass on techniques. But once it’s game time no one can really beat Bokuto’s spikes. With his strong arms, pure agility, and positive attitude while playing it's hard to keep up with him. Expect when he is shut out then and only then can Akaashi really know what to do to make him feel better. But Bokuto is also not your team's strongest link; everyone else is very strong as well.

You were filling water bottles up when Kuroo tapped your shoulder. “____ this is the Manager and Junior Manager of the Karasuno team from Miyagi.” “Oh, you mean the wonder-team. The ones with the crazy spike attacks. Bokuto was talking about this for months. Pretty sure Keiji was going to strangle him if he wouldn’t shut up.” You said with a laugh. The oldest bowed, she was quite beautiful. “Hi my name is Kiyoko and this is Yachi.” The smaller one blonde bowed as well and said a quick hello. You bowed back and said, “It is nice to meet you. I’m ___ as Kuroo said. And I’m a manager at Fukurodani. I’ll show you around and where you and where your team will be sleeping.” You were given the job of showing the new managers where they would be because you drew the shortest straw of the managers. It didn’t bother you as much. “Since we are in a school we are staying in classrooms that’s why the form said sleeping bags are required. So the girl managers are sleeping in room 119. And based on the map I was given Karasuno will be staying on the opposite side of the building in 160. And the coaches are staying right in between 140-142. Why don’t you two set up your spots here? And then I’ll help you with the other bags if you need them for your other rooms.” You said looking up from your paper. “Thank you again. But don’t worry about the bags the boys will bring in their own. Yachi do you mind putting my bag in there while I tell the coach about the sleeping arrangements.” “U-uh yes, Kiyoko,” Yachi said nervously. The tall older dark-haired female left the room. “Are you a first-year by chance? There aren’t a lot of first-years well none, managers and I would very much like to have a friend.” You said to the blonde female. “Yes I am. Yachi Hitoka.” “Akaashi, _________. Pleased to meet you and I hope we can become good friends.”

Yachi and You spent time together when you weren’t with your teams. You found her company enjoyable. She talked about Hinata an orange-haired short but fast spiker and his partner a setter Kageyama who is obsessed with volleyball. She then told you they weren’t the brightest pair and they had to take supplementary lessons but would be arriving shortly. Within an hour the 2 burst through the door panting from running. As soon as the next set for Karasuno’s match started you watched to see what Yachi was talking about. And she was right the little orange one moved so fast and the blueberry setter, set to his exact speed. That was a true pairing.

As soon as the camp started it ended in 2 days. And you were thankful. You enjoyed the rushed yes, but since you were the runt of your Fukurodani manager team and were the servant to everyone. Keiji saw that it was taking a toll on you. You just finished cleaning around the gym when someone bumped into you causing you to drop the floor polish. “Hey watch it blueberry.” You let that slip out by accident slapping your hand on your mouth. When you first saw the setter of the Karasuno team you thought his eyes looked like blueberries and even his hair now that you are closer to him looked like that shade of blue. “What did you say?” He said with anger in his tone. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m just a little worn out and I tend to get a little crabby when that happens. I know you didn’t mean to bump into me. And that reaction was not warranted.” You bowed and apologized profusely hoping that he would accept. Keiji was walking over when he saw you bent over in front of the young setter. “Uh ___ what is going on here.” “Not now Akaashi.” “What did she do?” Akaashi asked with a sigh in his voice as he pinched the tip of his nose. “She called me blueberry after I did accidentally bump into her causing the polish to fall over.” “Hmm, not her worst reaction.” This caused you to kick your older brother in the ankle. “Wait till I tell mom about this then will see if you get any curry tonight.” You stuck your tongue out in return. “There is one way to settle this then you rambling apologies and making Kageyama uncomfortable. As long as Kageyama doesn’t mind will you help her clean up the polish?” You felt bad for him, how was a first-year going to say no to a second year. Also, your brother putting him in an awkward position to if he said no he would look like a bad guy. But what you and your brother didn’t know that Kageyama had the utmost respect for him. Akaashi was setting for one of the top aces in Japan. He was so lucky. So naturally, he agreed to do so. You were a little shocked. You and he cleaned in silence; it was peaceful. You were humming a little bit. You noticed that Kageyama looked up when you started humming. You stopped right then and there afraid you would freeze to death from his icy glare. Not that you mind though, the none emotionless setter was gorgeous. He did have ridiculously beautiful blueberry eyes and a nice jawline. And his hair looked really soft too, which made him look like a blueberry even more. You finished quickly so you would not hold him up anymore. “I’m sorry again that my brother forced you to help clean.” You apologized bowing to him. “He didn’t force me. I did bump into you, causing you to drop the polish. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, I was lost in my thoughts.” He bowed to you. ‘Also very gentlemanly.’ You thought to yourself. “I understand I do that too sometimes. You played really well for the games you got to play in. You can set to the orange guy perfectly. You match his speed so he can spike it perfectly almost every time when he isn’t blocked by Nekoma.” You said mocking Hinata’s spiking motion. Kageyama looked down and smiled at you. “I think Fukurodani stumped him a couple of times.” “Well, we do have one of the top 5 aces in Japan. It is bound to happen.” You said with a chuckle walking backward out of the gym. “Hey I was wondering was that song you were humming earlier something by Ariana Grande?” You thought for a minute. Over the course ever since you found your soulmate connection you decided to lesson your time listening to music. You found that the person you were connected to liked Ariana Grande a lot. Maybe it was Positions. “Oh yeah, it was. Sorry if you found that was annoying. Just someone I know really likes that song.” You laughed again. “Come on ___ we got to go!” Bokuto yelled from the bus he was hanging out of the door while your brother was trying to pull him in. “It looks like I have to go. There is supposed to be another training camp soon, maybe your team will invite them too, it was nice talking to you. Yachi has my number if you need another friend.” You grabbed your bag by the entrance of the gym and hopped over to your bus. Kageyama watched you the whole way, his heart fluttering a little bit. When you reached the bus Bokuto was smirking, “Was Little Akaashi flirting with the setter from Karasuno?” “No! I have no idea what you are talking about! And stop calling me that!” You huffed and sat in your seat. You placed your headphones in for a somewhat long drive which you can get some much-needed sleep. You decided to listen to music for once, choosing to listen to Blueberry Eyes. As the bus was finally pulling out Kageyama was looking at the bus and you gave him a little wave and he waved back. “You are blushing.” Bokuto leaned over with a big smile. You pulled his sleep mask down. “Go to sleep you great horned owl.”

As the Manager from Fukurodani gave Kageyama a wave. He waved back. But the reason he was looking at the Fukurodani bus leaving was that he heard the song his soulmate was playing, Blueberry Eyes. He does not believe in coincidences. You just called him blueberry. Worse of all was that he kind of liked you. But not in a romantic way yet. He liked you as a person. You didn’t find volleyball boring, your brother was also a setter, and you were fun to talk to. “Kageyama who are you waving at?!” Hinata yelled at him. “No one you need to worry about Dumbass!” He yelled back. “He was waving at one of the Fukurodani’s cute managers,” Nishinoya said, smiling. “She seems so sweet and innocent like a pure angel.” Tanaka agreed. “Yeah, she is Akashi's sister,” Suga said. “So I doubt you two will ever get close to her.” The two second-years pouted at their chances with the manager.

The next camp was coming up in a few weeks. Hinata and Kageyama did have a fight and he did frighten Yachi. He felt bad because of the few friends he had; he lost both of them. As much as he hated Hinata, he was able to keep up with Kageyama’s skill and shared the passion for volleyball. Yachi was able to help him with his grade and was a great tutor and she also didn’t find volleyball boring, and she is curious about the sport. He went to her house to apologize. He brought her some cat-shaped cookies (that what his sister told him to do). “You didn’t have to Kageyama.” Yachi was shaking her head feeling guilty that she didn’t do anything for him. “It is an apology for what happened in the gym the other day between Hinata and me. You shouldn’t have seen that and we shouldn’t have let that happen.” “Thank you for the apology. I hope you and Hinata work things out.” She said with a smile. There was silence for a moment before Yachi’s phone dinged. She looked down at it knowing it was you continuing the conversation that you guys started earlier. She laughed at her phone. Kageyama lifted his eyebrow in suspicion. “Sorry, that was ____.” “_____?” “Uh yeah. Fukurodani’s manager, Akaashi’s sister.” “Oh her. I believe she is my soulmate.” With that statement, she almost dropped the box of cookies. “What?!” She squeaked.

“Yachi!” You screamed and leaped into her arms. “____ it had only been 2 weeks.” “But I missed you. I don’t have a lot of girl-friends.” She laughed and hugged you right back. “Come on I’ll show you to your classroom again.” Yachi was not the one for evil plans or devilish plans. But only knowing for a few weeks she knows Kageyama would be a good fit for you. And you for him. So she and he planned for a way to get to know each other. While he focuses on volleyball.

“____ I have to help with setting up for dinner. Can you throw balls for Kageyama? I usually do but-” “Of course Yachi. I’m used to doing it for Akaashi.” You jogged over to Kageyama and he was stretching.“Hi Kageyama, Yachi asked me to throw balls for you to set is that ok?” “Yes of course. I’m assuming you know how to throw to setters?” “Mmhmm.” You hummed with a nod.

Evenings passed, helping Kageyama with his setting for this move for him and Hinata. After each training session, he would walk you to your room. You got to know him, he was really a simple person, with some anger problems, and a love for volleyball. You also found out you could make him blush easily.

The last day had finally approached. The boys and managers were treated with BBQ. After that, you had to clean the gym. “Want some help again? A way for me to repay you for helping me this week.” Kageyama asked. “Please do.” You said with a sigh. “Thank you.” He shrugged happily helping you. “You and Hinata really improved that move. It looks good I have a feeling you will get to play Seijoh. I’ll be rooting for you.” He was listening to you but also not because he had a plan for you, he was going to confirm his theory that you were in fact his soulmate. He put in his headphones when you weren’t looking, putting it at full volume, and played the song you have been listening to for 2 weeks. Blueberry Eyes. He turned his head and watched you jump and seeing you drop your broom. You looked directly into Kageyama's eyes. He looked at you deadpan, smirking, skipping the song to an Ariana song. You had a cute confused look on your face and made his heart flutter again. He took out his headphones. “You- You, uh… You are my soulmate!” You said flabbergasted. “Yes.” He shrugged. “You knew? For how long?” “2 weeks when you were leaving. You listened to that song. Blueberry Eyes. Normally I would be offended, but the song is very complimentary. You do have good music taste and I like that you were on a schedule. Then you went off it and that did throw me off.” “I’m sorry. When I found out that was my connection which was when I was sick and you were listening to your music. I felt horribly guilty that I was forcing my type of music onto another. And I never wanted to do that to you.” He walked over to you and hugged you to stop you from rambling. “It doesn’t matter to me. You have good music taste. I don’t know what I really liked.” “Ariana Grande.” He blushed and pushed you out of his grasp. “Hey, Baka that is not fair.” He said embarrassed. “Oh, Kageyama it is not that bad.” You laughed. You noticed he was still holding your hand. “I like that you are my soulmate Kageyama.” “And I like you are mine. And I ask for a couple of things. 1. Please call me Tobio, 2. Never change your music taste, and 3. If you can please come to my games.” You blushed at the last request. “Anything for my Blueberry.” You pecked his cheek. His face heated up again. “You can call me Tobio,'' I said. “Blueberry in private please.” “Anything you want.” you agreed.

#kageyama #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyū!!#haikyuu kageyama #tobio #haikyuu tobio #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #hq tobio #hq kageyama

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wheresmynaya · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Lights Ch.5 |Brittana

A/N - Hey friends! Homecoming is finally upon us - brace yourselves, it's the longest chapter yet. Big thank you to everyone that's sending in those lovely messages, it's very much appreciated! So much so that I've already got a jump on writing chapter 6. Thank you all for reading and I hope this chapter jingles your bells.

To my fellow Steeler Nation, 11-0 baby!!! (Even if that last game was so horrible🤦🏽‍♀️ )

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

Homecoming is finally here and Santana is a bag of nerves.

She’s trying her hardest to keep her cool and do the things she normally would in preparation for the night, but nothing’s able to distract her. It’s actually embarrassing how nervous she feels and she’s so relived that Quinn isn’t around to point it out, Lord knows that girl would get such a kick out of it.

Santana’s nearly done applying the finishing touches to her make up when Maribel knocks at her bedroom door. She lowers her mascara wand and calls out for her to come in while she turns down the music.

“Oh mija,” Maribel coos as she takes in the sight of her daughter all glammed up in her usual choice of color. She brings her hand to cover her heart as a smile stretches across her face, “You look beautiful.”

“Thanks mami,” Santana mumbles a bit bashfully.

Maribel reaches out to fix a whisp of Santana’s waves that’s gone out of place, “You know I use to curl my hair just like that when I was your age.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before I did all this?” Santana jokes, “I would’ve opted to go straight.”

Maribel gives her a knowing look and Santana can’t decide if she wants to laugh or hide her face in her hands. She’s already a nervous wreck, but thankfully her mom doesn’t linger too long on her phrasing.

“Hey, your mother was hot back in the day,” Maribel warns playfully, “Who do you think you get your good looks from? Papi?”

“True,” Santana giggles.

“How come you and Quinn didn’t get ready here?” Maribel mentions, “You always do.”

Santana shrugs, “We decided to change things up this time. Her mom was getting jealous you always got to see Quinn first.”

“I see,” Maribel nods, “Well, who did you decide on taking? You never told me.”

Santana bites her lip as she turns away to find her purse She was hoping to avoid the questions until after the dance, but she should’ve known better. Still, she tries to be vague about it all.

“I’m going with someone on the football team like always,” Santana says dismissively hoping that’ll be the end of that.

“It’s not that Puckerman boy, is it?” Maribel warns as Santana comes to sit at the edge of her bed to put on her heels, “Your father hates him.”

“No, it’s not him,” Santana answers easily, too easily that she doesn’t catch the slip-up before it happens, “She’s new to the school.”

Santana freezes as panic starts to settle into her bones. She’s not sure what to expect from Maribel so she just stares wide-eyed at fumbling with the straps. The seconds that tick by feel like hours but then Maribel finally says something.

“Brittany,” Maribel says softly, “That’s her name, right? You said she was new to school the other week.”

Santana takes a peek over at Maribel to find that she doesn’t look angry. She’s just looking at Santana in that soft way moms do when they see their kid struggling with something.

It makes Santana want to cry for some reason; out of relief or out of guilt? She’s not sure.

“Yeah, I – I’m just…” Santana starts stammering for an excuse, “She was going to go alone a – and she…we thought that it would be okay because I’m a– “

“Santana,” Maribel coos as comes to sit next to Santana. She wraps an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, “You don’t have to explain.”

Santana just nods; the lump in her throat too big to get any words around. Her sexuality is still that thing no one talks about – mostly because of her father – but she’s always terrified of alluding to it too. Maribel makes her feel like it’s a little okay though as she just rubs at Santana’s shoulder until she feels the tension slowly start to ease.

“Wait,” Maribel turns to look at her, “You said she’s on the team?”

“Yeah.”

Maribel gives her a sideways smirk, “Now that you have to explain.”

Santana feels herself smiling too, “She’s the new quarterback. She’s actually really good too.”

“Is she now?” Maribel’s brows shoot up as her smile widens, “That’s amazing! Will she come to pick you up?”

Santana’s smile falters, “No. I – I didn’t know if Papi was going to be here.”

Maribel matches Santana’s frown but nods, “I understand.”

Santana gives her an apologetic smile but Maribel just leans over and kisses her temple.

“Well, I’d like to meet her one of these days,” Maribel says kindly, “If she’s dating my daughter the same rules still apply. Girl or boy, they have to come introduce themselves.”

Santana’s eyes bug out, “Oh, no. We’re not – that’s not a thing. We’re just…we’re friends.”

Suddenly Santana’s phone begins to ring loudly, making the pair of them jump at its interruption. Santana scrambles to catch the call, relieved to see the name on the screen.

“Oh thank God. Sorry Mami, Quinn’s calling,” Santana says, “Could be a fashion emergency.”

Maribel only nods as she gets up to leave the room. Once the door closes behind her, Santana answers the call but she doesn’t get a chance to say anything before Quinn’s hitting her with 21 questions.

“Have you asked yet?” Quinn says in greeting.

Santana rolls her eyes, “Asked who what?”

“You know who and what.”

“Ugh. No,” Santana says firmly, “No, I haven’t.”

“What’s the hold up? Are you really waiting until the very last minute?” Quinn groans. Santana can practically hear the girl pacing now, “It’s almost 7, Santana.”

“I don’t know if I will ask, okay?” Santana tells her firmly, “I haven’t decided yet. This is all very, very new to me and I’m scared as shit so just chill the hell out, Fabray.”

There’s a sigh at the other end of the line but it isn’t out of angry frustration. It’s sympathetic and full of understanding.

“Okay. Well, we’ll be there if you change your mind. I think you should come, maybe it won’t be so scary if you’re with your friends, you know?”

Santana nods even though Quinn can’t see her, “Yeah. Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. I’ll text you the place,” Quinn tells her before they’re saying goodbye.

Santana tries to settle her nerves again and looks to the long mirror set up at the corner of her room. She knows Quinn means well – she always does – but right now Santana just needs to focus on getting her head right. She tries remember all the little mantras she use to tell herself to get pumped up.

It worries her when they don’t really have the usual desired effect.

But then she thinks about Brittany and how that’s who she’ll be spending most of her time with tonight and that seems to do a better job of easing her nerves before she has to leave.

When Santana arrives at Brittany’s house, she realizes she actually hasn’t done this before – the whole picking up a date thing. Usually the guys pick her up at hers and Hector grills them while Santana finishes getting ready upstairs. It’s all very traditional – no surprise there.

But this? This is new territory and like she told Quinn – it’s kind of scary.

She sucks in a deep breath though and goes to ring the doorbell. She can hear Brittany’s little brother yell out something before Whitney’s opening the door.

“Oh Santana!” Whitney sighs dramatically, “Look at you, you’re gorgeous! Come in, come in.”

Again, Santana blushes at the motherly tone. Whitney has this way of making her feel kind of shy and at-home all at once and it’s kind of nice.

“Thanks Mrs. Pierce,” Santana answers bashfully as she wanders in to awkwardly stand in the foyer.

Pete is just sitting on the end of the stairs staring up at her in awe. It makes Santana giggle.

“Hey Pete,” She waves.

Pete’s cheeks bunch in a familiar way as he straightens to sit taller, “Hi.”

Santana takes note of the blue and yellow jersey he’s wearing with the number 12 on his chest and smiles, “Nice jersey.”

He looks down at it and his smile grows even bigger, “Thanks! It’s my sister’s from a long time ago. She let me have it. Wanna see the back?”

Santana smirks at his enthusiasm, “Sure!”

He jumps up and does a quick spin, “See? It has Pierce on it and look at the sleeve! It’s a dolphin. That’s Danny the Dolphin, he went to our old school.”

“That’s very cool,” Santana compliments, “I love those colors.”

“You do?” Pete’s jaw drops, “Blue is my favorite color. It’s Brittany’s too!”

“No way,” Santana looks just as surprised.

Pete jumps up to sit on the edge of the coach right next to where Santana stands, “What your favorite color?”

Santana taps at her chin, “I think it might be red.”

“I thought so,” Pete replies, “You wore red the last time you were here and now you’re wearing red again.”

Santana just chuckles at this kid’s amazing memory.

“Britt, come on now!” Whitney calls up the stairs, “Santana’s here.”

“Sorry! I’m coming,” Santana hears Brittany reply followed by quick steps that turn into heavy thuds as the blonde hurries down the stairs.

Santana steps forward, “Oh, there’s no rush – “ but the rest of her words stop in their tracks as she catches sight of Brittany for the first time. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting Brittany to wear – her outfits at school were always pretty eccentric yet tasteful – but this tops all of them.

“Oh,” Is all that Santana manages to get out.

Brittany’s baby blue tulle skirt adds the usual playfulness to her outfit while the fitted white blazer and dress shirt class it up. Santana finds herself smiling at the black bowtie around her neck; only Brittany could pull off such a combo.

Santana’s too busy staring that she doesn’t notice Brittany doing the same exact thing.

Whitney’s laugh breaks up the silence, “Both of you girls are stunning!”

“Yeah,” Pete nods and looks to Santana, “You’re really pretty.”

“Agreed,” Brittany adds as she finally comes down the last couple of steps and closes the distance to Santana, “Sorry I made you wait. I couldn’t figure out how to tie this thing. It took me like three tries. Does it look weird?”

She waves at her bowtie and Santana chuckles.

“It looks great,” Santana goes to give it a straighten before she realizes what she’s done and quickly pulls away, “Uh don’t worry about the wait, there’s no rush.”

“Okay cool,” Brittany smiles then looks around shyly, “So, do you wanna…”

“Oh! Yeah,” Santana straightens, “We can go.”

“Hold on,” Whitney stops them both as she fetches a couple of small boxes, “I’ve got a little something for you both.”

“Mom,” Brittany sighs out of embarrassment, “I told you not to get those.”

“Hush Britt, they’re just daisies,” Whitney jokes, “You can’t go to a dance without accessories.”

Brittany begins to blush as she looks to Santana and whispers, “We can take them off in the car if you want.”

Santana gets the reluctance. Corsages are something dates get for each other, it’s not really a thing friends do. Or maybe it is and Santana just hasn’t ever experience it? But seeing Brittany clam up about it has Santana smiling – at least she isn’t the only one nervous about this whole arrangement.

Santana gives her a look, “Don’t be mean. She’s got a point and I do love to accessorize.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, but relents as Whitney passes her a couple of corsage boxes.

“Hey Pete, will you help a girl out?” Santana asks sweetly as she takes one of the boxes and crouches down to Pete’s level. He’s eager to come over and carefully slides the corsage on Santana’s wrist with her guidance.

“Like that?” He asks.

She admires his work and gives him a high five, “Nice job.”

Whitney smiles at the two and glances to Brittany who’s still looking reluctantly at her own corsage. Before Whitney can offer to help though, Santana beats her to it.

“Come on. Give it here,” Santana instructs playfully, “I’ll do yours.”

Santana isn’t sure where all this confidence is coming from, but she isn’t going to complain about it now – especially when she doesn’t know how long it’ll last. It’s kind of nice having the upper hand for once. It’s rare that she sees Brittany waver, but this sort of embarrassment brought on by her mom is relatable and…kind of cute.

So Santana makes quick work of getting Brittany’s corsage onto her wrist. She’s aware of how her fingertips brush against the soft inside of Brittany’s wrist – it’s probably the first time they’ve really touched. She’s surprised neither of them flinches from it.

“Thanks,” Brittany mumbles once her corsage is secure.

“Sure,” Santana nods and takes a step back to put some distance between them, “So ready to go now?”

“Yup!”

“Wait!” Whitney stops them again.

Brittany instantly pouts, “Mom, please.”

“What? Let’s get some pictures,” Whitney says, “Let me see your phone, Britt.”

That’s when Santana’s confidence streak runs out.

Pictures get posted on the internet and once something is on the internet it’s there forever and does she want this on the internet forever? She’s overacting; she can feel it but there’s that nagging fear at the back of her mind that forces its way to the forefront. She’s been burned before and she’s still recovering from that.

“Wait,” Santana pauses just as Brittany’s handing over her phone. She’s trying to figure out a realistic excuse without making Brittany feel like she’s ashamed to be pictured with her or something like that, but she falls short.

It’s just…too intimate for her liking.

“Oh honey,” Whitney says softly, “We don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable. You both just look so beautiful.”

It’s those simple words that banish Santana’s fear for a moment. It’s the kindness and the consideration that Santana’s not use to and it has her relaxing just a little.

“Yeah,” Brittany agrees with a gentle smile, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.“

Santana shakes her head and tries to box up the rest of that terrifying feeling.

At some point she has to stop letting it win. At some point she has to take back the power. Maybe her confidence streak was spurred on by the being there at the Pierce’s and the safe space that they unknowingly created? Maybe she can practice taking back her power here?

“No,” Santana says, “We can. I just…can you hold off on posting them anywhere?”

“Oh yeah,” Brittany nods, “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Santana says softly.

“Alright you two,” Whitney shoos them together, “Say cheese!”

Pictures don’t take up too much time; in fact, Whitney only snapped a few before Brittany was reaching for the phone.

“She gets camera-happy,” Brittany had told Santana, “I’m saving us both from the blurry pictures and unflattering angles.”

Now they’re in Santana’s car pulling out of Brittany’s driveway. Santana had given Brittany free reign on music choice, so Brittany’s busy scrolling through songs on Santana’s in-dash unit. Now that it’s just them, Santana starts to feel a little nervous again.

Really, she’s caught in between feeling giddy for going with Brittany to Homecoming and feeling guilty that she’s hiding her true self when Brittany’s been so confident and accepting. Santana finds herself wishing she could be like her.

Maybe one day?

“Oh, I love this song!” Brittany cheers as she starts to play something upbeat.

Santana smiles her way even though Brittany doesn’t see it. She remembers what Quinn said about Brittany being a good person to have around – how she’d be a good influence on her – and that has Santana testing the boundaries of her comfort zone again.

“So,” Santana says with a glance in Brittany’s direction.

“So…” Brittany prompts with a chuckle.

“Have you eaten already?”

“Like dinner?”

“Yeah.”

Brittany ponders, “No, I guess not.”

“Well…did you want to?”

She can feel Brittany’s eyes on her, but she focuses on the road instead.

“Quinn and Mike invited us to meet with them if we wanted,” Santana explains shyly, “I forgot to bring it up before. It was a last minute thing. I just wasn’t sure if it was something you might want to do.”

“No, I’m totally down!” Brittany beams, “I mean, if you want to.”

“Uhh, yeah. I think it could be cool,” Santana admits for the first time since Quinn mentioned it last night.

“Awesome,” Brittany grins her way, “Where are we meeting them?”

“Breadstix? Really?” Santana deadpans instead of a greeting when she approaches Quinn.

Brittany rushes over to compliment Mike’s snazzy suit. He and Quinn had been waiting outside of the restaurant for Santana and Brittany to arrive.

“Uhm, you love this place,” Quinn replies but barely hides her smirk.

“Exactly,” Santana says, “You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist coming here. This is a trap.”

Quinn just rolls her eyes, “You ever think that this is the only damn restaurant in Lima that isn’t infested with rats?”

“Oh gross,” Santana crinkles her nose, “I don’t want to think about that before I have my ‘Stix.”

“Okay then, stop complaining,” Quinn jokes before lowering her voice, “Glad you changed your mind.”

“Don’t make it a big deal,” Santana warns quietly, “I’m barely holding it together.”

Quinn just pats her shoulder, “It’ll be fine, Santana.”

“Let’s hope so,” She says as they start to walk over to Mike and Brittany.

“You two look cute by the way,” Quinn whispers quickly.

Santana can’t even say anything witty in reply. She kind of agrees with her best friend for once.

Despite Breadstix being a popular meeting place before and after any McKinley event, the four of them are able to snag a well-hidden booth towards the back and avoid getting spotted by anyone they know. It’s strange how easy it all felt once Santana wasn’t so focused on the fear of someone seeing them together.

She slipped into the booth next to Quinn while Mike and Brittany slid into the one on the opposite side respectively. Santana thought it was a good move sitting next to Quinn instead, but she clearly didn’t think it through because now she’s directly in front of Brittany and it’s kind of hard not to stare when she’s right there.

She still can’t get over how pretty Brittany looks with her hair done up and just that tiny bit more make up on. She doesn’t think Brittany’s the type that really needs to apply much, but man…when she does, she’s stunning.

Santana also finds pretty quickly that Quinn was kind of right about it not being so scary if she’s out with her friends. It’s a weird thought, but she kind of feels safe with them like this. She can actually imagine the four of them doing this again and that thought makes her smile.

Once they order their food, they fall easily into conversation and Santana begins to give in to having a good time. In fact, it might’ve been one of the best times she’s had in awhile.

Usually Santana’s date would bring her here and they’d end up cutting dinner short so that they could make out in his car before the dance. She always hated that part; making out with guys kind of felt like a chore to her so it lost its effect a long time ago, but the messing up of her hair and make up was the annoying part. She learned pretty quickly that if she pinned their hands or told them not to touch it only made them want her more.

Now that was something she could get behind.

It gave her the upper hand and that’s kind of how she established a little reputation for being the dominant one and guys loved that about her. It was like who was man enough to tame Santana Lopez? No one was ever successful obviously because no man ever could.

She lost that power when she was outed though, but things are a lot different for her now in more ways than one.

Even if she is only going with Brittany to Homecoming as a friend, there’s no pressure of having to put out or sacrifice her dinner because she has to go make out with her date. Not that her past dates ever made her do anything, she just did what she needed to in order to solidify her status.

But with Brittany, she doesn’t have to worry about any of that and it’s a fucking relief for a change. Maybe she can actually enjoy the dance for once instead of looking at it like it’s a game that needs to be won? Then again, there’s still the matter of who will win Homecoming King and Queen and that puts things back into perspective for Santana.

She has to win – she has to – especially when there’s so much riding on this for her. It’s not just a crown: it’s her reputation, it’s her image, it’s her popularity. It’s a big fuck you to everyone that has talked shit about her behind her back.

“Santana,” Quinn calls out loudly with the snap of her fingers.

Santana blinks and notices three pairs of eyes staring at her. They all have the same look on their faces – concern, worry, confusion.

“Sorry,” Santana brushes off, “I zoned out.”

“Seriously, you looked like you were in another dimension,” Mike jokes.

Santana forces out a chuckle; she kind of was.

“Mike was just talking about his meeting with Ms. Pillsbury about college application deadlines,” Quinn supplies but there’s still a touch of worry in her brow, “Didn’t you have your meeting already too?”

Santana nods as she nibbles on a breadstick, “Yeah. She got me pretty early on. I swore she’s meant to go in alphabetical order or something? I bet my dad had something to do with it.”

“Right? My dad’s been on my case since Freshman year,” Mike chuckles and then looks to Brittany, “Have you had your meeting?”

Santana looks to Brittany too, suddenly curious about what Brittany’s plans are after graduation. Most of the students here – at least the ones that care about their futures – can’t wait to get out of Lima. She wonders if Brittany thinks the same since she’s new to the area, but she can’t imagine anyone actually wanting to stay here longer than they need to. Brittany doesn’t have to grow up here to feel the same.

“I have, yeah. It’s kind of cool how she’s checking in on everyone,” Brittany says, “With the move and being new, I thought I’d slip through the cracks or something so I did most of my college prep beforehand.”

“Where do you plan on going?” Quinn asks before Santana could.

“I’ve got a few places in mind,” Brittany shrugs as she starts to play with the straw in her drink, “I use to want to go to Florida State because some of my favorite athletes went there but I don’t think I could move that far away from my family now that we live here. I’m hoping to get an offer from Ohio State. If not, Louisville is as far as I’ll go.”

“Makes sense,” Quinn nods, “I’m looking at Yale. The farther from here, the better.”

“That’s a great school,” Brittany notes, “Why so far from home?”

“Most people here can’t wait to get away from their family,” Santana explains. She can see Quinn nod in agreement, but Brittany just shakes her head.

“Not me,” Brittany replies, “I couldn’t imagine being that far from mine.”

“That’s because you’ve got a cool mom and even cooler little bro,” Mike compliments which instantly lightens the mood.

Santana’s experienced how supportive and kind Brittany’s family is and it makes her wonder how different she would’ve turned out if her family acted similarly. She probably would’ve had a way easier time coming to terms with who she is, that’s for sure!

“Here we are kids! Have at it,” The waitress says as she brings over everyone’s meals. Once the plates are down, the previous conversation is long forgotten and they all focus back on getting excited for the dance.

Once they arrive at McKinley, that feeling of safety and security quickly leaves Santana. Now she’s back to being out in the open – exposed – and it makes her feel just a little more unsettled.

Mike happens to park close by so the four of them regroup and make their way to the entrance together. There’s strength in numbers and Santana tries to remember that as she walks alongside Brittany to the end of the line that’s heading inside. Santana makes sure there’s enough distance between them so their hands don’t accidentally touch or something that would make everything weird but knowing that’s even something she’s being weary of is weird already!

She shakes her head at how she’s already overthinking things when Brittany bumps her with an elbow. The blonde doesn’t say anything, just tilts her head at how Mike’s hand rests at the small of Quinn’s back.

Santana sees and they start to smirk. It’s enough to distract her from the meddling thoughts as they continue to wait in line.

“Oh! There’s Kurt and Mercedes,” Brittany says when she spots her friends walking up from the carpark. She then looks to Santana, “Do you mind if I go say hi really quick?”

Santana quirks her brow, surprised by the fact that Brittany’s even asking. Usually if her date saw someone, they’d just up and go to them.

“Uh yeah,” Santana nods, “Go ahead.”

“Sweet!” Brittany beams, “I’ll be right back.”

Quinn glances over her shoulder to smirk at Santana, “She’s so chivalrous, isn’t she?”

Santana narrows her eyes at Quinn before glancing down at Mike’s hand placement. She smirks when she sees Quinn blush and instantly turn out of his hold to face Santana fully. Mike just looks a little confused but turns around too so that they’re all facing each other now.

“Slow moving line, huh?” Mike comments since the two Co-Captains seem to be having a telepathic conversation.

Before either of them can respond, a booming voice calls out from behind them.

“Sup Chang!” Karofsky says and slaps Mike on the back. Azimio lingers beside him and they both look between Santana and Quinn then back at Mike, “No way you scored both of these pretty ladies.”

Santana instantly rolls her eyes and moves closer to Quinn.

“I’m here with Quinn,” Mike tells them simply, “Santana’s here with Brittany.”

Azimio shakes his head first, “Of course she is. A shame really.”

Santana feels her heart start to pound and her fist tightens, “What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Means it’s a damn waste,” Azimio laughs as he waves his hand at her, “Hot piece like you had to go and switch teams.”

“I don’t see you two idiots here with dates,” Quinn challenges. It’s enough to give Santana a boost of courage too.

“Unless you’re here together?” Santana adds.

“Fuck no! Rather come alone,” Karofsky retorts and gives Santana a grimace, “That shit isn’t natural.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Santana snaps. She feels her whole body ignite as her blunt nails dig into the palms of her hands. She can’t decide if she feels like ripping his head off or bursting into tears.

“You heard what I said dyke,” Karofsky bites back and the way the last word falls makes Santana’s skin crawl.

“Hey man!” Mike steps in. He stands a little straighter but he still looks like a twig compared to the hulking guys, “That’s enough. Don’t you two have somewhere else you can stand?”

Azimio waves him off while Karofsky just laughs, “What? You in on it too?”

“Sticking around for a show later?” Azimio adds as he pokes at Mike’s chest.

Mike slaps his hand away, “Back off, dude. It’s not like that.”

Azimio doesn’t take too kindly to being challenged and soon he and Mike start to shove at each other.

“What are you gonna do?” Azimio instigates, “Lady Lips isn’t here to back you up. You’re all by yourself.”

That’s when Mike shoves Azimio hard and it has Karofsky and Azimio fired up. They start to egg Mike on even more while Santana and Quinn try desperately to pull him back before it gets any worse.

“Go ahead, let him go!” Azimio challenges, “Let’s see what the Asian’s got.”

Thankfully Coach Beiste sees the commotion and jogs over. She puts herself between the guys and shouts, “What the hell is going on here?”

Azimio and Karofsky settle instantly, “Nothing Coach, just messing around with Mike here.”

Mike’s fuming still but Quinn’s got her hand in his and she’s rubbing at his arm with her free one. Santana just keeps glancing between the guys and Coach Beiste.

This is exactly why she has been so terrified. The people at this school are so damn ignorant and she’s too sensitive about it all to defend herself. She can’t rope Brittany into this, she can’t subject her to the bullshit she has to deal with.

“Well cut it out or you’re not getting in,” She orders, “Now go! End of the line!”

Azimio and Karofsky just huff before moving on. Coach Beiste glances at Mike but he just gives her a nod before she’s heading back to the entrance.

It’s then that Brittany jogs back over with a cheek-bunching grin on her face, completely oblivious to what just happened. It instantly falls though when she notices Mike still relatively frustrated and Quinn trying to console him – even Santana doesn’t realize she still clenching her firsts until Brittany speaks.

“Hey,” Brittany greets softly and looks to Santana, “What’d I miss?”

Santana looks to Mike and she gives only the subtlest shakes of her head. She doesn’t want to get into this tonight. She doesn’t want her drama messing everything up so it’s best to keep Brittany in the dark.

It’s enough that he understands what she’s trying to say without saying so he only looks away.

“Nothing,” Santana smiles and hopes that Brittany doesn’t try questioning it. She nods ahead of them, “Oh look, the line is finally moving.”

Brittany spins just in time to see everyone begin to move forward and that’s the end of that.

Once they enter the gym, the group moves to find an empty table near the rest of the Cheerios and Titans. The lights are dim and there’s enough going on between everyone arriving and the music that Santana’s able to avoid Brittany’s curious stares.

“There they are!” Sam cheers once the group gets close enough. His date – Sugar – is hanging off his arm while she chats excitedly with one of the girls on the squad. He reaches over to bump fists with Mike and Brittany, “You guys look really great! You all do. Santana and Britt, you guys got the whole fire and ice thing going on. It’s so cool!”

Brittany and Santana glance at each other’s outfits – Brittany in blue and white, Santana in red.

They chuckle at the coincidence.

“Thanks Sam,” Santana answers then glances to Sugar who’s finally turned to acknowledge the newcomers, “Hey Sugar.”

“Hey Lopez. Hey Quinn, Mike,” Sugar waves then looks to Brittany and goes to fist bump her similar to Sam, “Sup Britt.”

Brittany just chuckles, “Hey Sugar.”

“Come sit,” Sugar says to them with the wave of her hand, “We saved you seats near us. Sammy? Can you and Mike grab us some punch?”

Santana rolls her eyes at Sugar’s bossiness. It’s nothing new to her; Sugar’s kind of known for being a brat but she’s mostly harmless. She slips you twenties for a multitude of reasons so no one really complains.

Sam just shrugs, “Sure thing.”

When the guys head off, Sugar leans on the table and lowers her voice, “So I heard that Missy Gunderson is in the lead for Homecoming Queen.”

“What?” Quinn gasps like it’s the most scandalous thing she’s ever heard.

Santana just leans back and shakes her head, “No way. That’s bullshit.”

“Who’s your source?” Quinn questions, “JBI?”

“You know I can’t reveal that,” Sugar replies, “Just know that they’re reputable.”

“So not JBI?” Santana jokes.

Brittany watches the whole thing unfold and does her best to keep up. Santana notices and it has her itching to comment on how hard the blonde is concentrating. It also has her itching to tell her she’s kind of cute for it but she catches herself before that slips out.

“It isn’t JBI,” Sugar tells them, “But they always know the juiciest gossip so I trust it.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Santana says instead, “Remember the last time you heard something? You were completely off.”

“True,” Quinn nods.

“Okay so I have like a 95% accuracy rating,” Sugar brushes off.

“Says who?” Santana laughs.

Sugar looks at her like she’s lost it, “People, duh. Who else?”

“I’m not believing a word you say,” Santana continues to laugh, “I don’t even know how you came up with that number, but if anyone’s going to win it’s either me or Quinn.”

Sugar just looks to Brittany, “Who are you voting for?”

Between Santana and Quinn, they know the answer but it’s a little funny seeing Brittany put on the spot like that.

“Uh well,” Brittany chuckles nervously, “I’ve already sworn my allegiance to Santana so…sorry, Quinn.”

Quinn fakes an eye roll, “I’m honestly heartbroken.”

Sugar just shrugs, “I’m just going to vote for myself like always.”

Santana only shakes her head as Mike and Sam return with their drinks.

“We did not think this through,” Mike jokes with Sam as they hand out cups of punch. They’re both extremely cautious of the red liquid sloshing around but manage not to spill a drop.

“I’ll go up again to grab ours,” Sam offers, “I think I saw some snacks over there too.”

“Thanks guys,” Brittany says before she’s offering to clink her cup with Santana’s.

A small smile tugs at Santana’s lips as she obliges.

“Cheers,” They say in unison before they take a sip.

This is why she decided to come with Brittany; this carefree feeling she emits is something Santana only hopes that she can absorb by just being around her. It seems to be working so far and she instantly feels much lighter than earlier.

“Hey, there’s Kurt!” Brittany cheers a moment later as her kicker takes the stage with some others she recognizes from the Glee Club. Her call out was loud enough for him to hear so he smiles shyly her way.

To Santana’s surprise, no one at the table starts to boo.

That’s usually what the Titans would do when one of their own does something like sing on stage in front of the whole school, but now that Brittany’s Team Captain a lot has changed. Santana eyes the team and none of them say a word – they just watch the performance quietly. She even sees Puck bobbing his head and again she’s surprised that no one’s calling him out for it either.

Maybe Brittany really is changing things around here?

When Kurt finishes his song, Brittany rises and starts to clap. She’s the only one at first, but then Mike and Sam join her along with the rest of the Titans then the entire room is clapping.

Santana just looks to Quinn to see if she’s seeing this too. They’re both pretty shocked.

“Go Kurt!” Brittany hollers then starts to pump her fist in the air.

Kurt just blushes through his thanks and scurries off the stage as Rachel comes out next. The Titans settle back down but Santana’s just staring at Brittany like she can’t believe her eyes.

“What?” Brittany chuckles.

Santana averts her gaze, “I – I’ve never seen the Titans cheer for someone that’s in the Glee Club. That’s like…unheard of. Making fun of them is a core belief.”

“Well not anymore. At least, not for the Titans,” Brittany says simply, “Kurt’s apart of this team and my guys know how I feel about being supportive of him.”

“Wow,” Santana lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “There’s no way that would fly on the Cheerios.”

“Why not?” Brittany asks. Her tone isn’t challenging, she’s just genuinely curious and it makes Santana’s smile falter. “Aren’t you and Quinn Co-Captains? Don’t you have the power to change the culture of your squad if you want?”

Santana and Quinn exchange a look, because it’s not something they’ve ever thought of before. Coach Sylvester makes it hard to do anything different since she’s been coaching the Cheerios from the beginning of time. The culture isn’t something created by the squad or the captains, it was created by her.

“No one on our squad is in the Glee Club,” Quinn comments but it doesn’t exactly answer Brittany’s questions.

“Maybe that’s because they never felt comfortable enough to join?” Brittany suggests, “Maybe that’s something you two can change before you graduate? Something positive to leave behind rather than the same hurtful cycle.”

Santana softens, suddenly feeling a little guilty.

She can admit that she hasn’t always been the nicest and she can try to make an excuse for it but really…there isn’t one. There are certain expectations she has to honor because of her social status, but the same kind of expectations are applied to Brittany too whether she knows it or not.

The only difference is that Brittany doesn’t let those expectations define her. She has no problem breaking tradition if that tradition sucks.

“And that’s why you’re gonna win!” Sam says proudly and goes to high five Brittany.

Brittany just gives him a playful eye roll before meeting him in the middle.

A while later, the Co-Captains and quarterback make their way over to cast their votes. The music is loud and upbeat; Quinn’s leading the way along the backside of the dancefloor with Santana and Brittany following side by side behind her.

Santana doesn’t miss the longing stares Brittany sends towards the crowd. She looks like she’s seconds away from running off to join them and it makes Santana chuckle.

“You know, you can go out there if you want.”

Brittany looks away to find Santana smirking, “Are you going to come with?”

“I don’t dance,” Santana tells her. She hears Quinn huff from in front of her and she can just picture Quinn’s hazel eyes rolling at her answer.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Brittany jokes with her brow quirked, “I’ve seen the Cheerios’ routines. You dance.”

Santana rolls her eyes at Brittany’s teasing tone, “That’s not dancing.”

“Okay then,” Brittany laughs, “Show me what is.”

Santana’s eyes go wide at the challenge and it feels like her heart skips a beat too. Brittany’s giving her that famous mega-watt smile and Santana’s finding herself wavering the longer she stares. Of course she dances, but it’s different if she agrees to dance with Brittany.

Brittany’s her date and they’d definitely turn a few heads if they were to go out on the dancefloor together. She’s not sure if she wants that kind of attention though.

But…Brittany’s also her friend and friends dance together all the time. It’s like the perfect loophole and that’s kind of their thing now, right? Skirting the lines between what Santana will allow and what she’s too afraid to try.

She feels like she’s at a crossroads and has both the devil and angel on her shoulders whispering away. One’s telling her there’s nothing to worry about while the other says she’s crazy if she thinks anyone’s going to make this easy for her.

Really, she just wants both of them to shut up already.

Meanwhile, Brittany’s still patiently waiting for a response so Santana just goes with her gut instinct – which happens to be a complete flirt apparently.

“I’m not sure you can handle that, Pierce,” Santana says.

Brittany just chuckles again, “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

Quinn looks over her shoulder and gives Santana an impressed nod. Santana doesn’t let it get to her head though as they come to the polling booth where Coach Sylvester sits at small table staring everyone down.

“Hey Coach!” Quinn greets.

“Q, Sandbags,” Coach Sylvester gives them a nod before glancing at Brittany, “I don’t have a name for you yet.”

“It’s Brittany,” Brittany supplies.

“Don’t care,” Coach Sylvester shrugs, “You ladies here to vote?”

“Yes Coach,” Santana and Quinn answer almost robotically. Brittany just nods.

“Alright then. Single file, I want eyes on each of you,” Coach instructs, “There isn’t going to be any funny business this year. Not on my watch!”

Quinn, Santana and Brittany do as they’re told and fall in line.

“What does she mean by funny business?” Brittany whispers to Santana while they wait their turn.

“Last year some idiot stuffed the ballot box with write-in votes for Butt-Muncher McGee,” Santana answers, “It was a whole ordeal.”

“Pretty sure that was Puck,” Quinn adds.

Santana nods, “Probably.”

Coach Sylvester then beckons for Quinn to step up so that she can hand her a ballot before directing her into the booth. When the Coach looks back at the remaining girls, her eyes cut to Brittany.

“You,” She points out, “Lady Titan.”

Brittany stands taller, “Yes Coach?”

The Coach’s eyes narrow like she’s trying to analyze the quarterback.

“I saw that no-handed cartwheel you landed at the Pep Rally yesterday,” Coach informs her, “Your execution needs some work.”

Santana glances up at Brittany but she continues to stand as stoic as ever.

“Thank you for the feedback,” Brittany says politely just as Quinn exits the booth.

“If you were on the Cheerios I could turn you into a champion,” Coach replies then looks to Santana, “Come and grab your ballot, Lopez.”

Santana nods and does as she’s told again but she much rather stand and watch whatever’s going down between the Coach and Brittany.

Once inside, she sets her ballot down on the counter and reaches for the pen. It’s weird; she has never really given too much thought when it comes to voting. She just checks off her name and whatever Titan is up for King without a second thought purely because she never cared about who became King just as long as she was Queen.

This time though, the only Titan there is Brittany.

Seeing the blonde’s name diagonally from her own makes her feel…fluttery inside for all sorts of reasons – reasons that she doesn’t want to unpack at the moment. Most of the time these things are just popularity contests, but for once Santana sees someone on the ballot that actually deserves to win.

And God, she’s really hoping that this isn’t some elaborate prank.

She wants to believe Quinn and Sam so bad, but a part of her can’t shake the fact that the students of McKinley have a history of being assholes. If it ended up taking a turn of the worse, Santana doesn’t know what she’d do…maybe trying kicking everyone’s ass?

She’s not sure how far she’d get though.

“What do you say, Blondie?” Santana hears the Coach ask, “Being a Cheerio is quite the privilege…”

Santana’s brows rise at the offer.

It’s rare that Coach approaches anyone so Santana quickly checks off her boxes: a vote for herself and a vote for Brittany. When she slips the ballot into the box and exits, she finds Brittany smiling politely at Coach Sylvester once again.

“Cheerleading isn’t really my thing,” Brittany tells her as she steps up to take a ballot, “Thanks for the offer though.”

Coach Sylvester grimaces and gives a nod to the booth, “Go.”

“She’s so pissed,” Quinn whispers through her smirk as Santana joins her.

“No one turns her down,” Santana replies, “She doesn’t usually offer spots either.”

“Yeah,” Quinn nods then there’s a pause before her tone turns playful, “So can we talk about how you two were shamelessly flirting earlier? You can’t even deny it because I saw that face you pulled. Are you really not going to dance with her?”

“Oh my God. I’m not doing this,” Santana groans although her cheeks instantly flush. She avoids Quinn’s stares by walking away.

“Santana. Santana!” Quinn calls after her, “Stop walking away from me, we have to wait for Brittany. Santana!”

Santana ends up finding an even better loophole and wanders out onto the dancefloor with Quinn, Sugar and Brittany where they dance together in an awkward little circle. She’s probably the only one that thinks it’s awkward though, everyone else is having a blast. Quinn’s doing her usual sway from side to side, Sugar looks like she’s being electrocuted and Brittany’s…just perfect.

Seriously, the way she moves is so fluid and she actually has some rhythm. It’s hard for Santana to keep her gaze moving. If she lingers too long on Brittany, she’s sure those moves would have her hypnotized. All in all though, she really is having fun dancing with everyone. This night might go down as one of the best she’s had all school year.

“Attention students,” Principal Figgins announces as the song fades, “Will the candidates for King and Queen gather on the stage.”

Suddenly Santana’s weirdly nervous again, not only for her but for Brittany too. When she looks to the blonde by her side, Brittany’s just giving her a lopsided grin.

“Good luck,” She whispers with a soft touch to Santana’s shoulder before she’s making her way to the stage.

Santana gives her a single nod before she glances to Quinn who’s gesturing for her to follow in the opposite direction.

It feels like they’ve done this a million times before but the nerves have never been like this. Usually she stands proud with her chin held up high as she awaits the winners to be announce. Usually she isn’t afraid because when you’re popular there isn’t much to be afraid of; you’re at the top of the food chain, none of them can touch you.

But again, this year is different.

They’ve seen her crack before. They know she has a weakness, everyone knows it aside from Brittany. Still, she does her best to muster all the courage she has and finds her place beside Quinn and Missy.

“I love your dress Santana,” Missy compliments but Santana can tell by her tone that she’s being fake like always. It makes her eyes roll.

“Wish I could say the same for you,” Santana quips, “I see we’re recycling last year’s dress.”

Missy’s jaw drops and the fake niceness is gone, “Are you kidding me? I had this flown in from New York. It’s custom made.”

“You should ask for a refund,” Santana smirks; even that little bit of banter has her feeling somewhat normal.

“The votes are in,” Principal Figgins says flatly, “This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for where we announce our Homecoming King and also Queen.”

Santana feels her hands go cold and clammy despite the hot spotlights they stand beneath. She swears Figgins is talking even slower than usual and it can’t just be for the dramatic effect.

She chances a glance towards the other end of the stage where Brittany stands between Rick and Scott. Santana thinks Brittany might look a little anxious too, because her usual mega-watt smile isn’t as big and bright.

“Roll the drum, please,” Principal Figgins instructs as he opens the first envelope, “This year’s Homecoming King is…”

Santana finds herself holding her breath at the long pause. She glances to Brittany again then back at the crowd like she’s trying to guess what Figgins is about to say, but their expressions are unreadable.

“Brittany S. Pierce!”

Everyone applauds; the Titans are the loudest – Santana can hear Mike and Sam over all of them – as Brittany steps up to be coronated. Her cheeks are a little pink but her smile is back to being cheek-bunching and bright.

“PIERCE! PIERCE! PIERCE!” Mike and Sam chant in unison while the other Titans pound their fists against the table in perfect rhythm.

“Quiet down,” Principal Figgins tells them but they keep on going for a few more seconds until Brittany’s waving for them to settle down.

Santana’s surprised; not because Brittany won, but because it doesn’t seem to be a prank.

One look at the crowd has Santana’s mind changing. She watches the edges of the stage for anything out of the ordinary like a group of Puck Heads with extra large slushies or Karofsky and Azimio up to no good, but no one is there.

The only ones that look annoyed are Rick and Scott and the guys from the Hockey team, but they always look like that.

“Congratulations, Miss Pierce,” Principal Figgins says as Brittany does a little curtsey before the crowd.

Santana finds herself smiling proudly as Brittany does her best royal wave before the crown is placed upon her head.

“She really did it,” Quinn whispers to Santana.

Santana’s still too surprised to say anything.

Typically, nominees that attend the dance together usually end up winning together as well so to see Brittany win has Santana feeling giddy. It’s a bittersweet feeling though because this is exactly what she wants, but it would also make her the Queen to Brittany’s King and that both excites and terrifies her.

Then she gets to thinking…maybe the prank isn’t on Brittany?

Maybe the prank is on Santana instead?

“And now,” Principal Figgins continues as Brittany takes a step back, “Your McKinley High Homecoming Queen is…”

Santana’s heart is racing. It would make sense; Brittany’s not phased by being nominated King but the whole school knows what it would do to Santana if they made her Queen.

She’d have a total meltdown!

She’s waiting for a vat of pig’s blood to be thrown on her like in Carrie or the cold whiplash of a slushie facial, but then Figgins is announcing the winner and it’s a weird mix of relief and disappointment when she finds that…it isn’t her.

“Quinn Fabray!”

Santana can hear the surprised gasp from her best friend as the crowd erupts. She feels like all eyes are on her, watching and waiting for a reaction. She gets that same feeling she had just before the Pep Rally like the walls are closing in on her and she can’t breathe.

This is it. This is the end of her reign as one of McKinley’s biggest and baddest.

She feels cold fingers wrap around her forearm and it pulls her from her thoughts.

“Santana,” She hears Quinn mumble.

Santana can feel herself smiling but she knows Quinn can see through it. It isn’t genuine because she can feel the tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m – “

“Stop,” Santana tells her even if her ears are ringing. She can just hear the apology forming and she doesn’t want to hear it, “I rather it go to one of us then that stuck-up bitch.”

Missy Gunderson scoffs at them.

“Miss Fabray?” Principal Figgins prompts but the two continue to hang on to each other.

Quinn shakes her head, “It should be you. I voted for you.”

Santana feels her throat tighten, “Don’t worry about me. Go get your crown, Q.”

Quinn nods and puts on her pageant smile as she approaches Figgins.

“Congratulations, Miss Fabray,” Principal Figgins says as the crown is placed upon Quinn’s head.

Santana claps the hardest, but it doesn’t cover up the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“And now, behold the tradition of our Homecoming King and Queen sharing their first dance,” Principal Figgins announces as the Glee Club takes the stage.

The nominees are directed off stage while the students on the dancefloor create a circular opening for Brittany and Quinn. Santana watches longingly as they make their way down the steps.

She joins Mike, Sam and Sugar standing at the front of the opening as the band starts up with the first chords of Miguel’s Pineapple Skies. Artie’s on lead vocals and Santana would be in awe of how good he actually sounds if she were able to focus on anything else but her best friend and her date dancing together.

And maybe Quinn’s right, maybe it should be Santana out there but Santana doesn’t know if she would be brave enough. Quinn obviously has nothing to worry about, no one’s ever questioned her sexuality before.

But if it were Santana there instead? She can just hear the questions now: So Santana really does play for another team?

And if she were to say yes, what would happen? Would she endure the same kind of treatment everyone else who is different endures? Would they make her life a living hell like they did last year?

“It’s so cool Britt won,” Mike says to her while they watch Quinn and Brittany groove to the music, “She’s awesome.”

“Let’s hope that’s the only reason why she won,” Santana mutters without thinking. A part of her is still paranoid that something bigger is going on and she keeps an eye out for anything suspicious.

Mike frowns though, “What do you mean?”

Santana shrugs as she watches Quinn try to twirl Brittany, “You’ve seen how people at this school treat those that are different. Just look at Karofsky and Azimio earlier. How do you know they didn’t do this?”

Mike instantly softens, “Those guys are jerks, Santana, but I promise they have nothing to do with Brittany winning.”

Santana looks up at the sound of him being so certain.

“Everyone on the team agreed that she should win,” Mike explains, “We all voted for her, couldn’t have a Puck Head as King, but it’s more than that. She’s our quarterback.”

Santana’s lips part but she says nothing.

Once again, she let her own insecurities take her on a joyride.

“Plus, you’ve got to admit she’s a pretty cool person,” Mike shrugs as Quinn lets out a laugh at Brittany trying to do the robot, “Maybe she’s starting to change people’s minds about what it means to be different? Maybe they’re starting to see that it’s okay?”

Santana bites her lip. Maybe Boy Chang is on to something?

“Well…they could’ve at least amended her title,” She replies, “Just because she plays football doesn’t mean she wants to be a King. Female quarterbacks can be Queens too.”

“True,” Mike nods, “But she doesn’t look too bothered by it.”

They both continue to watch Brittany and Quinn dance together. At least it’s an upbeat song so they don’t have to do the whole awkward slow dance thing. They both look like they’re having a blast though and Santana finds herself wishing she could be that carefree.

“She really does look beautiful though,” Mike comments dreamily.

“Yeah she does,” Santana whispers with her eyes still on Brittany.

He glances to his side and quickly amends his previous statement, “Quinn, I mean.”

Santana only smiles, “Yeah. She does too.”

She doesn’t realize what she’s said until Mike’s raising a brow at her and there’s a small smirk starting to grow.

Santana narrows her eyes at him, “Don’t say a word.”

All Mike does is gesture that his lips are sealed before turning away.

Santana really isn’t worried about him. Of all the guys at McKinley, Mike’s probably the most decent one there is so she knows she can trust that he’ll keep her slip-up to himself.

Still, she can’t believe the slip-up happened in the first place.

It’s probably the first time she’s ever voiced her attraction for Brittany out loud and now that she’s said it, it’s harder for her to deny. It also makes it harder for her to watch Brittany dance with Quinn.

Santana recognizes that she’s becoming a little jealous and immediately feels guilty about it. It’s not Quinn’s fault that McKinley chose her, that’s not why she feels jealous. It’s because she’s not the one still struggling to accept a huge part of herself and that makes Santana feel even worse.

She’s just so tired of caring too much about what everyone’s thinking about her.

\\\\\

Shortly after the honorary first dance, Brittany is quickly swept up in people wanting to congratulate her. Kurt is one of the first and he practically launches himself into her arms for a big hug.

“You make a magnificent King, Britt,” He compliments before he pulls away to bow.

Brittany giggles at the display then Mercedes and Tina are congratulating her next. Before she knows it, she’s surrounded by Titans and Cheerios and other students she recognizes from class. She’s polite and thanks them all for their votes – even if she’s still trying to wrap her head around the fact that so many of them chose her – but she’s quick to notice a particular someone missing from the crowd.

Brittany’s able to dodge the rest of the students as their attention is drawn to Quinn who has pulled Mike to her side. She bumps into Sam and Sugar as she starts to look around.

“Sorry. Have you seen Santana?” Brittany asks, “I saw her standing with Mike just a minute ago.”

Sugar only shrugs, seemingly unbothered or bored, then goes over to talk to Quinn. Sam scratches his head and looks around too.

“Sorry Britt,” He says, “I didn’t even notice. Maybe she’s gone to the bathroom?”

Brittany nods, but she has a funny feeling that Santana won’t be there.

She saw the look on her face when they were on stage, it was like Santana was about to puke up there. Brittany didn’t get it; wasn’t Santana meant to be a pro at this stuff? Could it be stage fright? No, that’s silly. She’s a Cheerio, she performs for crowds all the time so there’s no way she’s terrified of the spotlight.

It has to be something else and that has her worried.

“I’m going to go check on her,” Brittany tells him.

“Sure thing,” Sam smiles before going to join the rest of his friends surrounding Quinn and Mike.

Brittany actually finds Santana rather quickly. She was on her way to check the bathroom when she noticed someone sitting outside in the courtyard. She recognized Santana’s red dress through the foggy glass of the window and slowly made her way out to join her.

What she doesn’t expect to see is the cigarette in her hand; she didn’t think Santana smoked.

They’re still on school property so to see Santana being so open about it kind of shocks Brittany, but at the same time it doesn’t surprise her at all. With Santana’s bad girl reputation, Brittany wouldn’t expect anything less. Whatever makes you look cool, right?

“There you are,” She says in order to make her presence known. She sees Santana flinch and lower the cigarette from view. It makes Brittany chuckle; as if that would be enough to hide the fact that’s she’s out here smoking.

Santana looks over her shoulder as Brittany comes around to sit on the stone bench across from her.

“Hey Pierce.”

Brittany smirks, “You know I have first name, right?”

“I know.”

“And yet, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it.”

Santana matches Brittany’s smirk before taking another drag, “Nice crown.”

Brittany touches it like she forgot it was there then shrugs, “It’s alright. I’ve seen better ones at the party store.”

Santana gives her a wry chuckle before exhaling. Brittany’s quick to pick up on the tension but she can’t determine what’s the matter.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Santana answers but her voice cracks. It looks like she didn’t expect it too and quickly averts her gaze and focuses on taking another drag.

Brittany ducks her head and softens her tone, “You sure?”

There’s a deep sigh, “No.”

Santana’s still looking everywhere else but Brittany. The blonde isn’t deterred though; eye contact is spooky especially when you’re feeling vulnerable.

“What’s up?” Brittany asks trying to sound casual.

She doesn’t give an answer for a long time. They just sit in a heavy silence until Santana has to stub out her cigarette. Now that her hands aren’t busy, they wind together in her lap.

“I haven’t been very honest with you,” Santana admits so softly Brittany almost didn’t hear her.

“Okay?”

She has never seen Santana look so small and it has her crossing the short distance between them without even thinking about it just so she can sit closer. She’s not sure what Santana could possibly be lying about, but she’s an understanding person. Whatever’s going on, Brittany just wants to show Santana that she can be a good friend.

Santana takes a shaky breath and twines her fingers so tightly together that her knuckles begin to pale. Brittany so badly wants to reach out and ease them from the harsh grip, but that’s sure to be overstepping some boundary.

“So,” Santana breathes out. Brittany watches her lips part before she laughs dryly at how the words seem to get stuck, “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Brittany whispers encouragingly, “Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

It’s then that Santana finally looks up at her and it makes Brittany’s breath hitch. Her brown eyes are tinged red and they flicker between Brittany’s like she’s searching for something there.

Then she’s licking her lips and preparing to speak again.

“So, There’s another shaky breath and an even longer pause then she says, “I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Brittany exhales without thinking. She instantly blushes because that’s not what she wanted to say but she’s so surprised that it was all that came out. Santana’s still looking on edge so Brittany quickly gives her a reassuring smile, “Wow. That’s great, Santana.”

Something shifts for the brunette and it’s like a sigh of relief hits her. The stiffness in her shoulders ease and the anguish on her face starts to fade.

“I can see why people struggle with finding the right thing to say,” Brittany jokes in attempt to lighten the mood. Her cheeks feel hot, “I’m sorry, I’ve never been on the other side of this before. I wish I could’ve thought of something cooler to say.”

That seems to ease Santana yet again, even a small smile starts to form.

“But seriously,” Brittany continues as she ducks down to look Santana in the eye, “That’s really awesome, Santana. Thank you for telling me.”

Santana’s small smile falters as she shies away from Brittany’s gaze, “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Don’t be,” Brittany assures her, “That’s a silly thing to be sorry about. You should tell people whenever you feel comfortable enough. This is about you.”

Santana bites her lip, “I guess I’m not use to that as an option.”

That makes Brittany wonder, but she doesn’t go for a deeper dive.

“Well I appreciate you telling me. It’s a brave thing to do.”

“Brave?” Santana scoffs, “I just wanted to tell you before someone else did.”

So others know? Brittany wonders.

“Well even then,” Brittany replies instead, “I’d still wait for you to tell me yourself. I’d never want to assume, not about something like this. I know how it feels and it kind of sucks.”

Santana looks up at her through her long lashes, “So you are…? Am I allowed to ask?”

Brittany chuckles at how unsure Santana is – it’s a little adorable – but she quiets down and gives her a nod, “I’m bisexual.”

“Okay,” Santana nods too, “I’m…I’m sorry if that was insensitive. I don’t really have much experience when it comes to this as you can probably tell. I’m not friends with anyone else who’s…you know.”

“Gay?” Brittany supplies easily. She softens when she sees how the word makes Santana tense, “You can say it, it’s not a dirty word unless you make it one.”

Santana smiles at that, “I think I’m still trying to get use to saying it out loud. Shit, I’m still trying to get use to saying it in my head.”

“I get it,” Brittany chuckles, “I’m sure the people at this school don’t make it easy for you to be yourself, huh?”

Santana sighs, “Something like that. You’re probably the last to know.”

“Okay,” Brittany goes to bump her shoulder with Santana’s playfully, “You don’t have to rub it in. I know my gaydar isn’t the best.”

Santana chuckles and it makes Brittany feel a little accomplished, but the feeling fades when Santana gets swept up in a deep thought.

“Why do I get the feeling that there’s more to this?” Brittany asks hesitantly.

“Because there is,” Santana answers, “But I don’t want to get into it tonight.”

Brittany respects that, “Is that why you’re out here?”

Santana shrugs, “Kind of.”

“Okay,” Brittany says and goes to straighten up. She opts for a lighter tone, “Well, we don’t have to talk about it then. We can just sit out here if you want? Talk about how cute Mike and Quinn are together?”

Santana glances her way with a quirked brow, “Did you see how they were holding hands earlier?”

“Uh, yeah!” Brittany beams, “The sparks were totally flying before I came looking for you.”

Santana chuckles and after a moment she says, “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to ditch you.”

“It’s all good,” Brittany shrugs as she looks up at the dark sky. A couple stars twinkle above and it makes her smile, “It’s kind of nice out here.”

Santana nods and they fall into a long, comfortable silence. Brittany’s fine with it, it’s a nice break from the crowd that was forming around her inside. It’s nice to just sit with someone.

“You know,” Santana starts quietly, “I’m out I guess but sometimes it feels like I’m not. It feels like I’m still that scared little girl hiding in the closet.”

Brittany frowns at the brokenness.

“I’m just so over being afraid all the time,” Santana grumbles, “It sucks pretending to be someone I’m not. It sucks feeling like an embarrassment.”

The last word is what confuses Brittany the most, “An embarrassment?”

“Yeah,” Santana shrugs and she looks so helpless again, “I just…I wanted to prove to everyone tonight that I still got it you know? So what if last year was shitty for me? I can still rule this place because nothing has changed. I’m still the same person.”

Brittany’s questions are piling up but the way Santana’s voice cracks again grabs her attention.

“I just can’t believe I lost,” Santana croaks and Brittany swears she can see tears in Santana’s eyes, “After all of that, I couldn’t even win a damn crown.”

Brittany frowns at the sound of Santana’s bitter laugh and she’s trying so hard to bat away the tears before Brittany can see them fall. It’s like she can’t let Brittany see her in such a vulnerable state and it breaks her heart.

Brittany doesn’t think before she reaches up to remove the crown from her head.

“Take mine then,” She offers.

Santana goes to argue but her words fall short when Brittany places the crown on Santana’s head instead. She smiles at how it’s a little crooked and a touch too big.

“Looks good,” Brittany compliments.

“I – I can’t take this,” Santana says as she reaches up to remove it, “This is yours, you earned it.”

Brittany stops her hand from moving any higher, “I don’t mind giving it away, especially when it means so much more to you.”

Santana’s lips part and twitch to form a smile at how Brittany’s hand lingers atop of hers but then her brows furrow as she pulls away, “I wish it didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Brittany nods, “But in this moment while we’re young and dumb and care about silly things, it does and that’s okay. It isn’t just a crown for you. It’s acceptance.”

Santana looks at her like she’s surprised by what she hears; Brittany is too if she’s being honest.

Santana catches another falling tear with the back of her hand and lets out a embarrassed laugh, “God, this is so stupid. Why do I have to care so much about what everyone thinks of me?”

“One day you won’t,” Brittany assures her as she reaches into her blazer. She finds a couple tissues there and offers them to Santana.

“Thanks,” She whispers behind a watery smile.

Brittany just nods, “I think it’s only natural to care, especially here. Everyone cares way too much about what everyone thinks of them. It would drive anyone a little crazy I think.”

Santana dabs beneath her eyes, “It sucks.”

“Yeah,” Brittany chuckles, “It kind of does.”

“Were you always like this?” Santana wonders while she tries to dry her tears, “So sure of who you are?”

“I was being called a tomboy from when I was like 6,” Brittany jokes lightly, “People have been trying to tell me who I am and fit me into a box my whole life. I wasn’t very sure of myself for a long time.”

“Oh,” Santana frowns.

“I’m not an angry person but it always made me a little mad inside and that stuck with me as I grew up,” Brittany tells her, “I only made it even worse when I started playing sports in school. It felt like everyone was labelling me before I could even explore who I was.”

Santana sighs, “I can relate.”

“I guess after awhile I got tired of being so annoyed by it all,” Brittany says, “People are always going to talk, they’ll always have their own ideas about who you are, and you can’t really change that. What you can do is change how you react to it.”

“Makes sense,” Santana replies.

“Maybe I grew a thicker skin or something or I finally became immune to listening to what everyone else had to say about me,” Brittany continues with a shrug, “I stopped focusing on them and started to focus on me. I embraced all my awesome and once people saw that, they embraced it too. I was being the authentic me and I’ve been told by at least one person here that it’s kind of inspiring.”

Santana smirks at the sound of Brittany trying to joke with her again, “Was it Kurt?”

“Yeah,” Brittany giggles.

Santana just shakes her head as she takes a steadying breath.

“I’m sorry about this,” She says with wave at herself, “I didn’t really anticipate having a whole breakdown at Homecoming. It’s probably not what you signed up for.”

“I signed up for a night out with a friend,” Brittany assures her with a smile, “It’s been good to me so far. What about you? You know, aside from the obvious.”

Santana chuckles, “It’s been good to me too.”

“Sweet,” Brittany beams then leans back to look up at the night sky as they settle into another bout of silence.

Brittany’s just replaying their conversation in her head.

She learned a lot about Santana tonight and maybe the most important thing she learned is that Santana is pretty sensitive at heart. It’s so unlike the persona she puts on at school around everyone else but it makes sense, because that’s the role she feels the most comfortable playing.

It’s no wonder she’s struggling to adapt.

When Brittany glances at Santana, she finds the brunette staring up at the sky too. Her crown still sits perfectly tilted on Santana’s head and it makes Brittany feel all fuzzy and warm inside. She hopes that she’s able to offer Santana some type of comfort whether its her words or by giving away her crown, because Santana doesn’t deserve to feel so horrible about herself.

Brittany hopes that maybe in some small way she has shown Santana that the things she feels are normal and she isn’t alone and if she needs someone Brittany can be that person for her too.

But just for good measure, Brittany adds one last thing.

“None of this is really matters – you know – like in the grand scheme of things,” Brittany mentions and it has Santana looking back at her, “Years from now when everyone’s moved on, no one’s going to remember who won what. It’s all a stupid game with stupid prizes and none of it is going to matter once you graduate. At least that’s how I look at it.”

Santana softens, “You’re kind of a genius, Pierce.”

Brittany doesn’t think anyone’s ever called her that before and the smile she wears shows it.

“Do you want to go back in?” Santana asks awhile later, “We’ve been out here long enough. You probably want to get back in there.”

“Only if you want to,” Brittany shrugs but as soon as she says that she remembers the horde of people still wanting to talk to her. Maybe she would rather run far, far away instead?

“I usually don’t stay the entire time,” Santana tells her.

Brittany quirks a brow and jokes, “Too cool?”

“Maybe,” Santana smirks, “You want to get a coffee instead?”

“A coffee?” Brittany laughs, “It’s nearly 9:30.”

“What?” Santana teases, “Getting close to your bedtime?”

“Maybe,” Brittany quips before rising to her feet, “Is the Lima Bean even open at this time?”

Santana shakes her head, “I know place.”

Brittany just shrugs before holding her hand out to Santana, “Let’s go then before one of us turns into a pumpkin.”

“If it’s only 9:30 I think we’ll be safe,” Santana giggles as she lets Brittany pull her to stand, “I’ll just let Quinn know we’re going first.”

“Okay sure,” Brittany starts to walk towards the door when Santana catches her by the wrist.

“Uh…you might want to wear this so no one thinks I stole it from you in a jealous rage,” Santana says jokingly as she pulls off the crown.

“I think I could take you,” Brittany laughs then bends down a little so that Santana can place the crown back on Brittany’s head. She makes a few adjustments so that it sits just right before tucking a stray hair behind Brittany’s ear.

“Perfect,” Santana compliments as she pulls away.

Brittany only blushes as Santana opens the door for them both.

\\\\\

As soon as Santana told Quinn that she and Brittany were leaving early to get a coffee, she swore Quinn was going to pass out from all the excitement. She ignored all of Quinn’s usual comments in favor of teasing her about Mike and how they’ll be spending their night instead.

That shut Quinn up real quick.

Now they’re at Elliott’s Fairgrounds – a café Santana found halfway through her Sophomore year – and they’re chatting away over a couple of hot chocolates. Aside from some old guy that looks to be asleep in one of the arm chairs near the fireplace and the two baristas behind the counter, they’ve got the place to themselves.

“Woah,” Brittany breathed out when they first entered the small townhouse that had been converted into a cozy café, “This is so much better than the Lima Bean.”

Unlike their competitor, Elliott’s Fair Grounds was a lot more down to earth and gave off such a laid back vibe. The owner – Elliott – prides himself on creating a safe space for all kinds of people and that’s really what drew Santana in. Most of the time the place is filled with students from the local community college busy studying, but on a Saturday night it’s usually empty – just how she liked it.

Brittany’s still wearing her crown and Santana can’t get over how the blonde doesn’t give a single fuck about it. Not that any of the staff here would ever tease her, but Brittany just carries on like usual and Santana kind of loves that about her.

“It’s so cool being in a café at night,” Brittany comments as she swipes her finger through the whipped cream atop her mug, “It’s like an alternate universe or something.”

“Yeah. No one here to bother me,” Santana chuckles before admitting, “The Lima Bean can get a little crowded. I use to come here all the time last year.”

“Why’d you stop?” Brittany asks as she cleans off the tip of her finger.

“Uhh…” Santana swallows dryly and glances at the baristas behind the counter just so she doesn’t stare but it only further reminds her of the answer. She’s already spent so much of their night talking about herself so she opts for something simple, “I guess I’ve just been busy.”

Brittany seems satisfied with the answer, “Well maybe this can be our new thing then? We can like…come here once a week or something?”

Santana smiles at the thought of doing something like this together on a weekly basis.

“Yeah,” She nods, “I can be down with that.”

After the drinks and the conversations, Santana gets Brittany home at a respectable time even though Brittany said she didn’t really have a curfew. Santana was instantly jealous – if she isn’t home by 11 on the dot, her parents would kick her ass.

That had Brittany laughing as they pulled up to the Pierce residence.

“Well you’ve got about 15 minutes left,” Brittany jokes, “Think you’ll make it?”

Santana chuckles, “Totally. I don’t live too far from here.”

“Okay good,” Brittany grins, “I don’t want to be the reason you’re getting into trouble.”

“So considerate,” Santana teases and then they fall into a moment.

Santana recognizes it the second it happens.

They’re alone in her car at the end of their time together at Homecoming, Santana knows what usually happens next from her past experiences. This is where the guy would put his heavy hand on her thigh and lean in for a messy goodnight kiss. Some dates were better kissers than others – for example, Puck even if he’s an ass – and Santana would oblige because that’s what she’s supposed to do.

Girls kiss boys, boys kiss girls.

Only, that’s not always the case because here she is and she’s not sure what to do. Brittany’s her friend but the things she feels in the pit of her stomach aren’t feelings she gets around a friend. She tries to imagine that it’s Quinn in the passenger seat and they’d usually hug before she leaves.

Is she allowed to do that with Brittany? Should she ask? Is that lame as hell? Probably.

“Wow, you are really spinning those gears,” Brittany chuckles which has Santana going beet red in an instant.

“I – I was going to tell you something but I couldn’t remember what it was,” Santana lies.

“Right,” Brittany nods, “Well, text me if you do. I’m going to hug you now because it looks like you need it.”

“Oh,” Santana chuckles at how easy Brittany makes it all seem as the blonde leans over the middle console. Her long arms wrap around Santana in a warm hug and it’s hard for the brunette to keep from humming at how nice it feels.

“Thanks for a great night,” Brittany says softly and her breath tickles Santana’s ear, “Thanks for telling me about you too.”

Santana’s heart feels so full it’s about to burst. Brittany’s probably the best date she’s ever had. No one’s ever shown her this kind of kindness and understanding. She actually doesn’t want this to end so soon now.

“Thanks for listening,” Santana ends up saying in reply as Brittany pulls away.

“Well goodnight, Santana,” Brittany says as she goes for the door. She gives her a soft smile, “Get home safe.”

Santana just nods, “Goodnight.”

It’s not until Santana’s at home getting ready for bed that she notices she hasn’t stopped smiling since. Even as she’s brushing her teeth and she has a mouthful of suds, her grin is still ever so prevalent.

It only grows bigger when she sees her phone light up on her night stand. She walks over to check it while her toothbrush is still hanging out of her mouth. There’s a text from Brittany and she’s quick to open it.

From Brittany – Here’s all of those pics we took earlier. You can do whatever you want with them, I don’t mind. I think we look pretty good, don’t you?

Santana stands there for a moment admiring each and every one of the pictures attached to her text and she can’t help but agree. Brittany’s beautiful and that smile…man, Santana hasn’t seen a prettier one in her whole life. She looks pretty good herself too, but for once she’s not looking too much at herself in these pictures.

They kind of make a good-looking pair in these and maybe she even sets her favorite one as Brittany’s profile picture in her phone but she doubts anyone needs to know about that.

It’ll just be her little secret.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #this is so long wtf LOL

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