Hi Elle! 💜 Your dividers are really the prettiest 🥹
May I request something a little different from usual? I was wondering if you could do some dividers with small, minimalistic but cute arrows pointing down, towards the "continue reading" icon of tumblr. Both static or gif arrows are fine, whatever you think would come out best! As for the colours, I'd like sage green / neutral green
Thank you so much for your work ☺️🫶
Hi! I don’t typically do animated dividers because they take a long time and often end up scrapped, but I put these together for you, hope they work!
Danny Fenton is trying to keep up with Cassandra Cain’s hand-to-hand combat training — no ghost powers allowed. What starts as a serious sparring session quickly devolves into playful banter, accidental ghostly mishaps, and a rare tender moment between them. Just when things start to settle, Cassandra’s brothers crash the “date” with a classic Bat-family “shovel talk.”
.........
The old Gotham University gym smelled like sweat, leather, and a faint trace of something old and dusty—like forgotten ghosts of previous athletes. Dust motes danced in the sparse shafts of sunlight filtering through grimy windows, illuminating the worn mats and scuffed punching bags. Danny Fenton bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, gloves half-laced, trying to look like he belonged in a hand-to-hand sparring session. He felt profoundly out of his element. His usual fights involved phasing through walls and firing ecto-blasts, not dodging actual, solid fists. He’d agreed to this because Cass had asked, and frankly, anything she asked, he’d probably do. But he was starting to question his life choices. This wasn't exactly the "normal college experience" he'd envisioned when he moved to Gotham. Then again, nothing in his life was ever truly normal.
Cassandra Cain stood opposite him, serene and unshaken. Her stance was flawless, her eyes calm but alert, ready to spring at any moment. She wore simple black athletic wear, a stark contrast to Danny's slightly too-big gym shorts and faded t-shirt. Every line of her body spoke of coiled power and effortless control. Danny, despite his nervousness and the impending physical humiliation, found himself admiring her. She was graceful, precise, and utterly captivating. He still couldn’t believe she was his girlfriend.
Danny swallowed, adjusting his ill-fitting boxing gloves. The air felt thick with unspoken potential. “Are you sure this isn’t a trap, Cass? This is exactly how horror movies start. Attractive girl lures dumb boy to an abandoned gym. Next thing you know, I’m the monster of the week, or worse, the first victim.” He tried for a lighthearted tone, a nervous tic. His heart was already doing a frantic jig against his ribs.
Cass smirked, a tiny, almost imperceptible curve of her lips that only Danny, after months of careful observation, could discern. She didn’t break eye contact. Instead, she gestured with one hand, slicing the air with effortless grace, an invitation. Come at me.
Danny sighed dramatically, trying to project exasperation rather than genuine trepidation. “Alright, alright, don’t mind if I do. Just try not to permanently rearrange my internal organs. I need those for, you know, living.” He charged forward, throwing a sloppy jab, more a hopeful lunge than an actual punch, that Cass easily sidestepped. He felt the faint whoosh of air as she moved, a phantom sensation that was almost as frustrating as the miss itself.
“Nice try,” she said quietly, her voice a soft murmur that was barely audible above Danny’s own heavy breathing.
He tried again. Punch. Dodge. Block. Danny’s form was… enthusiastic, but not exactly graceful. He moved with the raw, untamed energy of a brawler, relying on instinct and speed rather than technique. He was fast, surprisingly fast for a human, but Cass was faster. Much faster. She was a whisper of motion, always a step ahead, her movements economical and precise. He swung, she ducked. He feinted, she countered. He stumbled backward, rubbing his ribs where her foot had lightly, yet firmly, connected. It wasn't a hard kick, but it was perfectly placed, designed to remind him of his own clumsiness.
“Wow. Okay, that’s my spleen. I think it just sent a strongly worded letter to my brain,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Could you maybe say hi to it next time? Give it a heads-up?”
Cass didn’t laugh out loud, but the ghost of a smile, a genuine flicker of amusement, curved her lips. She moved around him, her dark eyes assessing, always assessing. He could feel her gaze, dissecting his every move, anticipating his next clumsy lunge.
“Do you come with subtitles?” Danny continued, trying to distract himself from the dull ache in his side and the crushing reality of his inadequacy. “Because I swear you moved and I didn’t see it. It’s like you blink-teleported or something. Are you secretly a speedster? Because that would explain a lot. And frankly, make me feel a little better about getting my butt kicked.”
Cass’s eyes flickered with amusement, but there was something else—an almost imperceptible softness in her gaze, a rare warmth that was reserved just for him. She liked his banter, his clumsy attempts, his sheer, unyielding spirit. She saw past the flailing limbs to the determination in his eyes.
Danny tried to hide his growing frustration behind a grin. He was a ghost king , for crying out loud. He could fly, turn invisible, phase through walls, shoot ecto-blasts. He fought interdimensional threats on a daily basis. But in a straight-up, human fistfight, he was getting thoroughly schooled by his ballerina girlfriend. “I’m clearly not built for this ‘non-ghost’ combat thing,” he mumbled, trying to sound self-deprecating rather than genuinely annoyed. “Maybe I should just stick to floating through walls and possessing inanimate objects. Much less painful.”
Cass paused for a beat, watching him. Her voice dropped to a softer tone, a rare moment of direct encouragement. “You’re better than you think.” She stepped closer, her hand moving to his shoulder, then gently guiding his elbow. “Elbow in. Hip turn. Follow through.” She demonstrated a simple jab, her movement fluid and powerful, yet slow enough for him to follow. “Power from ground. Not just arm.”
Danny nodded, trying to absorb the instruction, focusing intently on her movements. “Elbow in, hip turn, power from the… ground. Got it. Like… channeling my inner tectonic plate? Or maybe a really angry badger?” He tried the jab, focusing on her guidance. His elbow tucked in, his hip rotated, and he felt a surprising surge of power, though his follow-through was still a bit wobbly. He nearly overbalanced, but caught himself. “Whoa! Okay, that actually felt like something! Like I might actually hit something other than air next time!”
Cass gave a small, approving nod, a tiny flicker of pride in her eyes. “Good. Again.”
He tried again, and again, each time feeling a little more control, a little more connection between his feet and his fist. He was still clumsy, but there was a nascent strength emerging, a flicker of potential that even he could feel. He was actually learning .
Danny squared up again, a spark of determination igniting in his chest. This time he was going to land a hit. He dodged left, then right—then panicked as his body suddenly phased, slipping partially through Cass’s outstretched hand as she moved to block. His arm went transparent for a split second, passing through her, a cold, tingling sensation.
His eyes went wide, a cold dread washing over him. Oh no. Oh no no no. Not now. Not here. Not with Cass. He quickly pulled his arm back, trying to make it look like a clumsy stumble, shaking his hand as if he’d merely misjudged the distance. He forced a laugh that sounded a little too high-pitched. “Whoa! Clumsy me! Slippery hands, I guess! My grip just… gave out!” He forced another laugh, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. “Too much ramen, maybe? Or maybe I need to lay off the ecto-marshmallows. Uh, I mean, regular marshmallows. Yeah. Regular.” He winced internally. Smooth, Fenton. Real smooth.
Cass blinked slowly, her expression unreadable. Her eyes, however, lingered on his hand for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She noticed. Danny could feel it, even if she didn’t react. The faintest glint in her eyes said she’d definitely noticed the phase. And she wasn't going to let him off the hook for it. Not entirely.
Before he could panic further, she swiftly swept his leg and, in one fluid motion, had him on his back on the mat. Before he could even register the fall, she was straddling his hips, her knees lightly pinning his legs, her hands braced on either side of his head. Her body, warm and lithe, was pressed against his, the soft fabric of her athletic wear a thin barrier. Her dark eyes, usually so calm, held a spark of triumph, and a hint of something else entirely. The air between them crackled with a sudden, unexpected tension that had nothing to do with sparring.
Danny, gasping for breath, his mind reeling from the sudden intimacy and the surprise of the pin, groaned, “Okay, that was cheating. You blink-teleported. I swear you did. That’s the only explanation. You were there, then you were here . It’s a classic move, I’ve seen it in… uh… cartoons.” He tried to sound indignant, but mostly sounded winded and acutely aware of her weight on him.
Cass tilted her head, a familiar, knowing smirk playing on her lips. No words. But the faintest glint in her eyes said she’d definitely noticed the phase. And she wasn't going to let him off the hook for it. The unspoken challenge, and the undeniable romantic tension, hung in the air.
She leaned in slightly, her voice a low murmur, barely audible. "Again. Get up."
Danny groaned, the sound muffled by the mat. "Again? Cass, I think my soul just tried to leave my body. I'm pretty sure that counts as a win for you." He looked up at her, pleading. "Can't we just call it a draw? Or maybe I win for surviving?"
C ass's smirk widened. She didn't move. Her eyes held his, a silent, unwavering demand.
With a dramatic sigh that seemed to deflate his very being, Danny pushed against the mat. "Fine, fine! Tyrant. You're a tyrant, you know that? A beautiful, terrifying tyrant." He slowly, painfully, pushed himself up, still feeling the phantom pressure of her knees on his hips. He wobbled slightly as he regained his footing. "One more round. Then I'm officially declaring myself a pacifist."
Cass gave a small, satisfied nod. She dismounted him with effortless grace, stepping back into her ready stance. This final round was shorter, more brutal, a test of his endurance. Danny pushed himself, fueled by a mix of stubbornness and the desire to impress her, but his movements were sluggish, his defenses weak. Cass moved like a shadow, a blur of precision, landing a series of quick, light taps that left him breathless and thoroughly defeated.
Finally, she stopped, her chest barely heaving. Danny, on the other hand, was bent double, hands on his knees, gasping for air, sweat dripping onto the mat.
"Done," Cass stated, her voice calm, a hint of finality in it.
Danny straightened up slowly, rubbing his aching side. "Thank. Goodness. For. That." He managed to wheeze out.
Later, they sat on the bench, sweat-soaked and bruised. Danny, sweaty and flopped on the padded floor, groaned dramatically. “Okay. We get it. You’re perfect. You win. Again. My dignity has officially left the building.”
Cass, sitting cross-legged beside him with not a single strand of hair out of place, calmly handed him a water bottle. “You almost got me.”
Danny raised a brow, a skeptical look on his face. “Cass. You literally kicked the staff out of my hand, disarmed me, and then choked me with my own hoodie. I think ‘almost’ is a very generous interpretation of that sequence of events.”
“…Almost.”
He chuckled, letting his head thump back against the mat. “I think I sprained my dignity. And possibly a few other things. Maybe my will to live.” He took a long swig of water, then added with a dry chuckle, “Guess I should stop expecting to be good at everything the moment I try. My parents always said I was a natural at everything. Clearly, they were lying.”
“You are good enough for me,” Cass repeated, her voice softer this time, a quiet declaration that made Danny’s heart do a little flip-flop. She carefully dabbed at a scrape on Danny’s cheek with a cloth she’d pulled from her bag. Her touch was feather-light, almost imperceptible, but incredibly precise. A blush raised across Danny’s face at her casual words, a warmth that had nothing to do with exertion.
“How are you so good at this?” Danny asked quietly, genuinely curious. He looked at her, her calm demeanor, her effortless movements. “It’s like… you’re a professional. Like you do this for a living or something. Are you secretly a ninja? Because I’m starting to suspect you’re secretly a ninja.”
She shrugged, eyes distant for a moment. “Practice. Need it.”
Danny nodded. He knew she was a world-class ballet dancer, and that required immense discipline and physical prowess. But this felt different. More… dangerous. More intense. He let the thought go. He had his own secrets, after all, big glowing green ones. He couldn't exactly push for hers.
Before Cass could respond, the door creaked open, slowly, ominously.
Danny glanced over and froze. “Um. Cass. Why are there three dudes who look like they could be in a leather-jacketed boy band standing in the doorway? And why do they look like they’re about to drop a diss track on my life choices?”
Cass barely blinked, her gaze unwavering. “Brothers.”
“Oh cool,” Danny said, then did a double take, his eyes widening. “Wait, all three?! You have three brothers?!” He knew about Jason, of course, but three? He tried to remember if Cass had ever mentioned more. His mind was still a little fuzzy from the sparring.
Dick Grayson stepped forward first, the picture of charm in civilian wear. He had a sunny smile that absolutely didn’t reach his eyes, which were sharp and analytical, taking in every detail of Danny’s bruised, sweaty state. He crouched beside Danny, his gaze assessing.
“Hey there, Danny,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too friendly. “We heard you’ve been spending a lot of time with our baby sister. And apparently, she’s been trying to kill you.” He glanced at Cass, a playful accusation in his tone.
Danny sat up a little straighter, suddenly acutely aware of his sweat-soaked clothes, the faint bruise on his cheek, and the fact that he was currently sitting on a gym mat looking like he’d been run over by a truck. “Uh… yeah. She keeps trying to kill me. It’s going great. Five stars. Would recommend. Very… invigorating. Builds character, you know?”
Jason Todd leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression flat, but a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. He was observing Danny with an intensity that made the hairs on Danny’s neck prickle. “That a complaint, or a kink, Fenton?”
Danny blinked. “Too soon, man. Way too soon. We just met. And for the record, neither. It’s called ‘character building through extreme physical discomfort.’ Look it up.” He shot a glance at Cass, who remained impassive, though a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth suggested amusement.
Tim Drake , the only one holding a tablet, didn’t even look up from whatever he was typing, his fingers flying across the screen. He spoke with the detached air of a clinical researcher. “Statistically, anyone who dates Cass either disappears, changes their name, or transfers schools. Just letting you know. The data is fairly conclusive.”
Danny blinked again, a genuine chill running down his spine. “Wait, what? Is that a threat? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a threat. And also, rude. I’m right here. And I’m not changing my name. Fenton is a brand. A chaotic, slightly dangerous brand, but a brand nonetheless.” He looked from Tim’s impassive face to Dick’s too-wide smile. “And ‘disappears’? What does that even mean? Like, witness protection? Or… disappears disappears?”
Jason pushed off the wall, stepping closer, towering a bit over Danny. His voice dropped, a low, gravelly rumble that was meant to intimidate. His eyes, dark and piercing, fixed on Danny’s. “We’re just here to make sure you know the rules. You break her heart, ghost powers or not, we will find you.” The last part was delivered with a slow, deliberate emphasis, a predatory glint in his eyes, a clear warning.
Danny’s brow furrowed, but a mischievous glint entered his own blue eyes. He met Jason’s gaze, a faint, respectful smirk playing on his lips. He understood the ritual. He’d seen enough movies. This was the “shovel talk.” And honestly, it was kind of hilarious, in a terrifying sort of way. “Ghost—what now? Is that like a new band? Because I’m pretty sure I’m more of a rock-and-roll kind of guy, not… whatever ‘ghost powers’ implies.” He paused, then added, with a perfectly straight face, a hint of his inner troll shining through, “But hey, I appreciate the concern. It’s sweet, really. Very… protective big brother energy. I get it. My sister Jazz is the same way, only with more psychology terms and less leather. Though she does have a proton pack, so, you know, equal opportunity intimidation.”
Jason’s dangerous grin faltered, replaced by a look of bewildered annoyance. He ran a hand through his hair. “Figure of speech, kid. Just… a figure of speech. Don’t overthink it.”
Danny nodded sagely. “Right. Well, if I do break her heart – and let’s be clear, I have no intention of doing that, she’s amazing, and also terrifyingly good at hand-to-hand combat, so I’m pretty sure she’d break me – you’ll have to get in line behind my parents, three actual ghosts, a cafeteria ghost I accidentally banished, and my AP Calc teacher. It’s a pretty long queue, actually. So, you know, maybe bring a book. Or snacks.” He looked deadpan at Jason. “Good luck with that queue, buddy. It’s a real commitment.”
Tim, finally looking up from his tablet, blinked. “…He’s weird. I kinda like him. He knows how to deflect. And his self-preservation instincts are… surprisingly robust for someone so sarcastic.”
Danny sighed again, more dramatically this time, pushing himself off the mat. “I’m in college now, man. Can I not be bullied by my girlfriend’s entire family? I just wanted to learn how to throw a punch without dislocating a shoulder. Is that too much to ask?”
Dick grinned, a flash of genuine amusement in his eyes. “No. Welcome to the family, Danny.”
Cass appeared beside Danny, silent as death. The boys immediately stepped back like they'd been caught lighting fireworks inside the Batcave, their intimidating postures dissolving into awkward shuffling.
Cass looked at Danny, then at her brothers. “Done?”
Jason nodded solemnly, still looking slightly flustered by Danny’s last comment. “We said the thing.”
Tim added, “He survived it.”
Dick shrugged. “And he didn’t cry.”
Cass turned to Danny, a faint, soft smile on her lips. “Want ice cream?”
Danny stood, ignoring the lingering aches, and pointed at her brothers without looking away from her. “Yes. Let’s get ice cream. Away from these psychos. And maybe somewhere close? My entire body hurts.”
Cass nodded. “Okay.”
As she walked past her brothers, they all subtly moved aside. Danny followed, shooting a nervous glance at Jason. Jason just winked, a mixture of exasperation and grudging respect in his eyes.
Danny muttered under his breath, “Gotham’s so freaking weird.”
📝 Author’s Note:
I don’t own these characters—just borrowing them to play! This crossover is a love letter to both the Danny Phantom and Batman fandoms. Thanks for reading and letting me throw Danny into chaos with the Batfam 💥 If you enjoyed it, drop a comment or send an ask!
Eddie calls you up the morning after he took you out on the sweetest date. Was it a date? God you hope so. He asks if you're free to hang out and you are. After spending all night thinking about the forehead kiss you of course say yes. Where will the day lead to? A part of you wants it to lead to a real kiss. Will it?
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
You spent all night thinking about that little forehead kiss. That's why, when Eddie called at 10 a.m. sharp to ask if you were free today, you jumped at the chance and got ready faster than you ever have, even though he said he wouldn't be there until later. You picked out a white and blue striped dress with buttons all the way down. It used to be your mom's, from the '60s. You paired it with your little grandma loafers and that long army-green jacket. The weather is gross. Rain taps against the windows like impatient fingers, thunder grumbling somewhere in the distance, the sky swollen and gray. You wait near the front of the dorm building, umbrella in hand, though it's not doing much good. Everything feels a little damp. Your heart won't stop pounding.
When Eddie pulls up in the van, he jumps out and jogs toward you, hood up, curls plastered to his forehead. His grin is crooked and bright as he waves you over.
"Change of plans," he says, holding the passenger door open for you. "Rain kinda ruined what I had in mind."
You blink at him, rain running off your umbrella in streams. "Oh?"
"But we'll do it another time," he adds quickly. "Promise."
You climb in before your brain can catch up. Another time. That means he's already thinking about more than just today. The thought makes your chest tighten in the best possible way. You don't even ask what the original plan was.
The drive is quiet for a few minutes, just the low hum of music and the windshield wipers squeaking rhythmically. Then you pull up to a wide two-story house nestled between trees. It's not what you expected. At all.
"This is your place?" you ask as he parks in the long, cracked driveway.
He chuckles as he kills the engine. "Technically, no. It's Steve's. Well, it's Steve's dad's. But we all live here."
You raise a brow as you follow him to the covered porch. "We?"
Eddie pushes open the front door and steps inside, holding it for you. "Yeah. Me, Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Gareth."
Your eyebrows shoot up. "You live with the Brady Bunch."
He snorts. "Pretty much. But less wholesome. And more pizza boxes."
You step into the massive entryway. The ceilings are high, and the furniture is mismatched but comfortable looking. It feels lived in, warm, despite the storm.
Eddie toes off his boots and shrugs out of his damp hoodie. "Steve's dad bought this place for him so he wouldn't have to work during school. Just be a landlord or whatever. But Steve's got this whole complicated thing with his dad, so instead of renting it out, he let us all move in. Mostly rent-free. We just split utilities and buy our own food."
You stand there dripping slightly, staring at the spacious living room and open staircase. It's so different from your cramped dorm it might as well be a castle.
"Seriously," you say, "this place is huge. I thought you lived alone."
"God, no," he says with a grin. "You think I'd voluntarily vacuum a staircase?"
You laugh, and it echoes warmly through the house.
Eddie gives you the tour, room by room, making little jokes as you go, pointing out where Robin once accidentally set a dish towel on fire and the dent in the hallway wall from a misguided indoor skateboard trick. He saves his room for last.
The door is covered in stickers, a chaotic collage of color and slogans, band names, and sarcastic sayings. One in particular catches your eye a bright yellow with bold black lettering: "GAS, GRASS, OR ASS."
You tilt your head. "What does that mean?"
Eddie laughs, actually snorts. "Oh god. That's uh, that's not mine. People just stick stuff on my door. It's been a thing since I moved in a couple of years ago."
"But what does it mean?" you ask again, more curious now.
He rubs the back of his neck, clearly amused. "It's from, like, the '70s. Hitchhikers. It means if you want a ride, you have to pay with gas, weed, or… y'know."
You scrunch your nose. "Ew."
Eddie grins. "Right?"
He opens the door and gestures for you to enter. You brace yourself for something chaotic and messy. Maybe a little gross. But it's… not.
It's so uniquely him.
The walls are covered in band posters, tacked up with thumbtacks and corners curling just slightly with time. Polaroids are scattered between them, Eddie on stage, laughing with friends, one with an older man who has the same wild smile. Three guitars hang on the wall with care, polished and clearly loved. Stacks of D&D books are arranged neatly on a shelf. Vinyls and cassette tapes are alphabetized in tidy rows.
You don't touch anything. Just look. You've always been a look-with-your-eyes kind of girl.
The only real mess is his desk. Papers and notebooks lie scattered across it in a beautiful sort of chaos. Doodles in the margins. A coffee mug full of pens. But what catches your eye is the stack peeking out from between the desk and the edge of his bed.
Penthouse. Jugs. Hustler.
Your cheeks go hot. You glance away quickly, pretending you didn't see, but the thought lingers. This is where he takes care of himself. The idea settles warm and strange in your belly.
You clear your throat and let your eyes move again, this time catching on a pair of handcuffs hanging from the headboard.
You cross the room and hook a finger under the chain, lifting them gently. "Are you really into authentic costuming?"
Eddie chokes on air. "Mostly just for fun," he says, his voice casual but with a glint in his eyes you can't quite place. He steps over and gently takes them from your hand, returning them to their place on the headboard.
Then he pats the bed beside him. "C'mere. You can see the whole shrine from here."
You sit, and when you do, your knees touch. It's electric.
But he just smiles, settling in beside you. "I had so much fun last night," he says, and the way he says it makes your cheeks hurt from the dorky grin you can't suppress.
You glance over at him, heart fluttering, and say softly, "I did too."
You look around his room again, letting yourself sink into the calm of it. "I like your room," you say. "It feels cozy."
"Robin says it looks like someone who pretends to be tough but journals about his feelings."
"Do you?"
Eddie's quiet for a beat. "Only when I've got too much in my head and no one to dump it on."
Your eyes flick to him. "I could be your journal sometimes."
He laughs under his breath. "God, that'd be dangerous."
You start twisting your ring. Eddie notices and says, "That's a cool ring. I like the pearl and how the metal bends around it. Let me guess, was it a graduation present?"
You stammer over the answer at first. "It's a purity ring. Or… that's why I have it. It's kinda just a ring now." Your chest feels hot.
Eddie's brows furrowed. "They actually made you take one of those pledge things?"
You breathe out a sigh. "Yeah. Four years in a row."
He laughs and shakes his head. "So like… are you breaking rules by hanging out with me?"
You shake your head. "I don't have to follow those rules if I don't want to."
You change the subject, nodding toward his hands. "I like your rings too." You reach out to touch one, and your fingers brush his. His hand is warm and calloused. Solid.
You blink. "Your hands are so big."
Eddie actually giggles. A real, bright, unguarded giggle. He holds up his hand and spreads his fingers. "Here, give me yours."
You press your palm against his, and it's like your whole hand disappears under his. He curls his fingertips down until they close lightly over yours.
"Your hands are so tiny," he murmurs.
You laugh, a little breathlessly. "Tiny isn't a word I usually hear when being described."
Eddie shakes his head slowly, eyes still on your hand in his. "Well… when your hand's in mine, it is."
Then he laces his fingers with yours and gives your hand a gentle squeeze, like he's anchoring something between you.
When you both let go, Eddie shifts, turning to face you fully. His expression is softer now, a little more serious under the fringe of damp curls still clinging to his forehead.
"Tell me something you've never told anyone before," he says quietly. "Not ever uttered out loud."
You blink at him, startled by the sudden gravity in his voice. But he's not teasing, he's really looking at you, waiting.
You hesitate, then glance down at your lap, heart starting to thump again. "I used to sneak my mom's romance novels," you admit, chewing your lip. "Read them under the covers in the summer with a flashlight."
That gets him. His lips twitch, eyes lighting up as he leans in a little, intrigued. "No shit? Bodice rippers? Like the old paperbacks with the half-naked guys on the covers?"
"Uh huh," you nod, face warming. "Full-on corsets and longing stares and dramatic declarations."
Eddie chuckles, full and pleased. "What'd you like about 'em?"
You bite your cheek. "I liked that the guys fell for the girls because they were interesting. Not just beautiful. Like, they actually wanted to hear what they had to say. And…" You clear your throat, smiling sheepishly. "Okay. I liked the steamy parts too."
Eddie wiggles his brows. "Ah-ha! So you are a secret romantic and a perv."
You swat at his arm, laughing. "Shut up."
"You liked it when the heroine got ravished in a carriage, didn't you?"
"Oh my god. Don't say ravished."
"Fine," he says, grinning. "Enthusiastically undressed in historically inaccurate locations."
You groan and bury your face in your hands. "Stop."
Eddie just laughs again, the sound warm and bright.
"Your turn," you say, peeking at him through your fingers.
"Fine," he says, puffing out his chest dramatically. "Yeah, I liked it when the heroine got ravished in a carriage. I did."
You scoff, staring at him. "Be real."
He exhales, quieter now. "Okay. I guess… I don't really take myself seriously."
You lower your hands. "Why not?"
He shrugs, eyes flicking to the floor, then back to you. "Because most people don't. So it's easier to beat 'em to the punch. Joke first, get ahead of it, y'know?"
You watch him for a long moment, and something in your chest pulls tight.
"I take you seriously," you say.
His dark brown eyes meet yours again, wide, unguarded, startled.
And for once, he doesn't have a quip ready.
His breath catches just a bit. He doesn't say anything right away, "That's dangerous, Tulip," he says again, but it's softer now. Honest.
You just smile at him. It's not a challenge, not even flirtation. Just a smile that says you're safe here.
There's a pause thick, but not uncomfortable.
"Have you ever done anything like in those romance books?" he asks, voice almost teasing but not quite.
You freeze for a second. The question floats there, daring you. Your face starts to burn. "No, not at all."
Eddie's eyebrow furrows. "Not even a spin-the-bottle or seven minutes in heaven type situation?"
You laugh, a little sheepish. "The game was always over before my turn in stuff like that."
He huffs a laugh. "I would've kissed you."
Your heart skips. It actually skips like a record does when you jostle the table. "Yeah, right."
"I would've," he says again, firmer this time, like he means it down to the bone.
You glance at him, brave enough to ask, "What about you? Ever done anything like in the romance novels?"
He's quiet for a moment. "Kinda," he says eventually. "Not the undying love confessional stuff. More like… random hook-ups. Out of boredom."
That catches you off guard. "Out of boredom?"
He shrugs. "Two idiots alone on a Saturday night, nothing on TV, maybe a little Jack Daniels. Sometimes boredom's enough to get people doing things that feel good, even if it doesn't mean anything."
There's something hollow in that answer that you don't know what to do with. Something you don't like. You're quiet for a few seconds, until–
"Have you…" He begins, then falters, eyes flicking into yours. "If not with someone… have you, like… done stuff? To yourself?"
Your breath catches. You didn't expect the question, not from him, not like that, gentle, not teasing. Like, he actually wants to know.
"I… yeah," you say, after a pause. Your voice wavers at first but steadies. "I have."
Eddie doesn't move. He doesn't smirk or joke. Just keeps looking up at you, waiting.
You fidget with the hem of your shirt. "I mean… I'm human. I have feelings like everyone else. Mine comes with more guilt."
That makes you wince a little. You weren't planning to say that part, but it slips out anyway.
Eddie's brows pinch, not with judgment, never that, but with something closer to sympathy. Understanding.
"You shouldn't feel guilty," he says softly, squeezing your knee. His palm is warm and steady, grounding. "Seriously."
You swallow the tight feeling in your throat, then try to lighten the mood. "Do you?" you ask, nudging him with your elbow.
"Do what?" Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow.
You smirk a little. "You know… do stuff. To yourself."
He blinks at you, then laughs, real and surprised. "Sweetheart, you can't just ask a guy that."
"You asked me first!" you say, mock-offended.
"I didn't say it that directly," he protests, shaking his head.
"You totally did," you tease.
Eddie groans, leaning back on his hands, laughing. "Jesus Christ."
You grin, cheeks warming, proud you made him squirm.
"Okay, fine," he says, sitting up straighter and meeting your eyes. "Yes, I do. I'm not a monk." He flashes a sly smile. "Happy now?"
You nod. "A little."
"You're evil," he says, eyes crinkling with amusement.
"And you're still in here with me," you say, nudging him again.
"Because it's cozy, warm, and dry here. You're dangerous," he murmurs, voice dropping, eyes locking on yours.
Eddie leans in a little, his voice low but playful. "Alright, what's the most trouble you ever got into?"
You let out a breath, stalling with a twist of your fingers in your lap. "I don't know if it counts as trouble trouble…"
"That sounds like something someone who definitely got in trouble would say."
You smile, sheepish. "Okay, fine. When I was in middle school, I used to sneak out at night sometimes. Not far, just a few blocks over to see my best friend. We'd meet at this old baseball field behind the school and just… talk."
Eddie raises his brows. "Scandalous. You little outlaw."
You laugh. "It wasn't that wild. We weren't drinking or vandalizing or anything. Just being kids. Once we skipped youth group to meet up instead. I lied and said I had a stomachache. Felt bad about it for days."
He grins. "You've got the soul of a nun, Tulip."
Your smile fades into something softer. "We actually made a plan to run away once. Packed peanut butter crackers, a flashlight, and even brought a bit of cash. We were gonna take her older brother's bike and just go."
Eddie's eyes light up. "Wait, really? What happened?"
You roll your eyes. "My mom overheard us talking on the kitchen phone. She picked up real quiet on the other end and listened in."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. She was waiting on the porch when I tried to sneak out with my backpack. I thought I was about to be sent away."
Eddie laughs, but it's not mocking. "So you've got a little rebel in you after all."
You shrug. "A very small one. Mostly, I just wanted to feel like I had control over something."
His smile goes soft around the edges. "That counts."
You nudge him with your knee, grinning. "I'd ask what kind of trouble you've gotten into, but… I've kinda heard about you already. You're, like, this local legend."
Eddie smirks, head tilting. "Legend, huh? That sounds dangerous."
"It is," you tease. "I heard you bite."
He laughs, low and amused. "Only if asked nicely."
Your stomach flips.
Then his expression shifts, softening just a little. "Truth is… I almost got into real trouble once. Like, life-ruining. Because of my dad. He's… not exactly father of the year material."
You blink, the playful mood dimming for a second.
"Haven't talked to him since," he says, more to the space between you than to you. Then his eyes meet yours again, mischief creeping back in. "But hey. I've been walking the straight and narrow ever since."
You raise an eyebrow. "Have you, now?"
He grins. "I mean. I still smoke a little weed. Break the rules under the right circumstances."
You lean in, your voice dropping a touch. "What kind of circumstances?"
Eddie's gaze dips to your mouth before coming back up. "The kind where there's someone cute. Real tempting. Sitting way too close."
You pretend to gasp. "Is this you breaking the law right now?"
"I dunno," he says, inching a little closer. "Am I?"
Your chest feels tight but not in a bad way. Like fizzy soda and anticipation. You glance at his hand where it rests on the comforter between you… And then you do it.
You reach for it. Grab it.
It's warm. Rough. Familiar.
"Does this count as breaking the rules?" you ask, not even trying to hide your smile.
Eddie's eyes flick to your joined hands, then back up to your face.
His voice is low, amused, a little hoarse. "If it does, I'm gonna need someone to arrest me." You laugh, and you don't let go. He shrugs a little, trying to play it cool, but you catch the faint pink in his cheeks, and it feels like a secret just for you.
You blink, heart skittering. Your mind's still on what was said before. "Eddie. Can I ask you something about something you said earlier?"
"Yeah. Anything."
"When you're alone… ya know. Do you think about stuff? Like, scenarios? Or is it more just... mechanical?"
Eddie lets out a breathy laugh. "Jesus, Tulip." He runs a hand through his damp curls. "You really don't pull punches, huh?"
You shrug, but your cheeks are hot. "You said 'dangerous,' remember?"
That gets him, his mouth curls up slowly, crooked. "Yeah. I guess I did." He tilts his head, eyes roaming your face in a way that's almost thoughtful.
"Okay. Yeah. I think about stuff. Sometimes made-up. Sometimes stuff that's happened. Sometimes stuff I wish would happen."
You fidget with the hem of your sleeve, then risk a glance at him. "Do you ever think about… people you know?"
He doesn't answer right away. Just watches you. You think he's going to deflect, make a joke, but instead—
"Yeah," he says quietly.
Your breath catches, pulse thudding like a drumline in your ears.
"Oh."
"Yeah," he says again, and there's something heavier in it now, an unspoken underline.
Your brain goes fuzzy at the edges.
"Is that weird?" you ask, your voice smaller now.
"No." His answer is immediate. "God, no. It's not weird. It's normal. Especially when it's someone who… makes you feel good. Makes you feel seen." He hesitates, eyes trailing down your figure, then back up with something softer in his expression. "Especially when they're kinda stupid hot."
You glance at him sharply. He's not smiling anymore, not the goofy, teasing grin. This smile is softer, quieter. Reverent, almost.
He shifts again, cross-legged like you, knees brushing yours. The space between you is practically buzzing.
"You ever think about someone you know?" he asks, voice low. You swallow. You want to look away, but you don't.
"Yeah." Eddie's eyes flick to your lips, just for a second. "Do I know him?"
You smile, barely. "Maybe."
He lets out a shaky breath. "Fuck." It's not a curse. It's a prayer. The rain is still tapping against the windows, but you barely notice now. The thunder's gotten closer. So has he.
You tuck your hair behind your ear, heart hammering so loud you're sure he can hear it. "Eddie. I, um—" you start, then laugh nervously. "I'm really bad at this, but I kinda sorta maybe want you to kiss me? Like, a lot?"
You wince immediately. Smooth. Real smooth.
But Eddie stares at you like you just ripped the sky open. "God, Sweetheart," he murmurs, and there's a crooked smile spreading across his face. "I thought you'd never ask."
And still, he waits. Still, he gives you room to change your mind. But you don't. You lean in first, bumping noses slightly before finding the right angle.
And when his lips meet yours, soft and sure and real, it feels like every dog-eared paperback you ever hid under the covers has come to life in a way no story ever quite got right.
Because this time, you're the girl.
And he wants you.
Not because you're perfect.
But because you're you.
The kiss deepens, slow and heady, until you're easing back onto the bed beneath him. His hands start to roam, deliberate like he's trying to memorize every soft curve with his fingertips. The press of his weight on you feels grounding like gravity, like home.
Eddie tastes like cherry cola and summer heat. His scent is musky, earthy, something a little wild that sinks into your skin and clouds your head. One of his hands slides up your dress, fingers curling into the softness of your thighs. His rings leave cool, thrilling impressions as he grips you like he means it. The sensation is so new and so electric, it pulls a quiet moan from your throat, and Eddie hums in response, like he felt it too.
He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth down your throat, lower, until he finds the nape of your neck. When his tongue meets your skin there, it sends a jolt through your whole body another moan spills from your lips. Hearing yourself enjoying him sends a thrill through you and a bit of embarrassment.
Thunder hits. It shakes the house, lightning flashing so bright it paints the room white for a heartbeat. In the silence that follows footsteps. Heavy and hurried, coming up the stairs.
"Eddie?" A voice calls out. "Dude, the power's about to—"
The door swings open without warning. Steve stands in the doorway, flashlight in hand, mouth dropping open when he sees you both.
"Oh. Oh." His eyes go wide, and he immediately backs up. "Sorry, man. I didn't—"
The lights flicker once, twice, and then the room plunges into darkness.
"—blow," Steve finishes lamely.
You gasp and immediately scramble to sit up, nearly knocking your forehead against Eddie's chin in your haste. Your face burns so hot you're surprised it doesn't light up the room. You tug your dress down frantically, mortified that Steve, a complete stranger, just caught you making out with Eddie Munson on his bed.
"Oh my god," you whisper, hands covering your face.
Eddie pulls away with a groan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for just a moment. You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and unsteady.
"Thanks for the heads up, Steve," he mutters, voice thick with frustration.
"Yeah, no problem. I'll just..." Steve gestures vaguely to the hallway, already retreating. "Sorry again."
When the door clicks shut, you and Eddie stay frozen for a moment, your hearts racing for entirely different reasons now. Even in the dark, you can't bring yourself to look at him, your embarrassment a palpable thing between you.
Eddie finally sits up fully, running a hand through his curls. In the dim light filtering through his curtains, you can see his silhouette, shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath.
"Well," he says softly, "that was..."
"Mortifying?" you offer, smoothing your dress with trembling hands, still not meeting his eyes.
A low chuckle rumbles from his chest. "I was gonna say 'terrible timing,' but yeah, that works too."
You let out a nervous laugh, "So," you start, staring at your hands in your lap, "I guess we should go check on the power situation?"
Eddie hesitates. "I should, yeah." But he doesn't move. Instead, his hand finds yours in the dark, fingers intertwining gently. "But I don't want to leave you up here alone feeling embarrassed."
That makes your heart flutter despite your mortification. "I just—I don't usually... I mean, I've never actually..." You trail off, unable to find the right words.
"Hey," Eddie says softly, squeezing your hand. "It's okay. Steve has terrible timing, but he's cool. He's not gonna make a big deal out of it."
"It's not just that," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "I've never... done this before. Any of this. And then suddenly we're— someone walks in", you let out a shaky breath.
You feel him shift beside you, and then his arm wraps around your shoulders, not pulling you closer, just offering comfort.
"I'm really sorry about that," he says, and there's genuine regret in his voice. "Not about kissing you. That was—" He pauses, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice. "That was pretty amazing. But I'm sorry about the interruption. And making you uncomfortable."
"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say quickly. "The kiss was..." You feel your face heat up again. "It was nice."
Eddie laughs softly. "Nice? That's it? I'm wounded, Tulip."
You playfully swat at him in the darkness, some of your embarrassment easing. "Shut up. You know what I mean."
"I do." His voice is gentle now. "And for what it's worth, I think we should probably slow down anyway. Give you time to get your bearings."
Relief floods through you. "You don't mind?"
"Mind?" He sounds genuinely surprised. "No. Of course not."
There's something so careful in the way he says it, so genuine, that you find yourself leaning against him, head on his shoulder.
"Thank you," you whisper.
"Hey, nothing to thank me for. We've got time."
Time. The word settles around you like a blanket. Not a one time thing. Not just a heat of the moment mistake. Time implies future, continuation, more days like this one.
"I'd like that," you admit quietly.
Eddie's hand comes up to brush your hair back from your face, and he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. "Me too."
A loud crash from downstairs breaks the moment, followed by cursing and laughter.
"I guess we should go down," you say reluctantly. "Before someone else comes looking for us."
"Yeah," Eddie agrees with a sigh. He fumbles around on his nightstand until he finds a flashlight. "But before we face the Spanish Inquisition down there..."
The beam clicks on, and he points it downward, illuminating your joined hands rather than blinding either of you. In the soft glow, his expression is earnest, a little vulnerable.
"I just want you to know that was the best first kiss I've ever had," he says. "Even with Steve's impeccable timing."
Your embarrassment melts into something warmer. "Mine too." You bite your lip, then add shyly, "And, um, my first kiss, so... the bar wasn't super high or anything."
Eddie's smile turns soft. "Even better. Means I get to be the one to show you how good it can be." He gives your hand one last squeeze. "When you're ready."
The promise in his voice makes your skin tingle. "We should probably go downstairs," you say, though you don't make any move to get up.
"Probably," he agrees, equally reluctant. "Or..."
"Or?"
"Or we could hide up here until the power comes back on and pretend we're not home."
You laugh, the tension breaking. "Eddie! We can't just—"
"Fine, fine," he grumbles good-naturedly, standing and pulling you up with him. "But if Steve makes one smart comment, I'm pushing him into the coffee table."
As you follow him toward the door, he pauses, flashlight beam pointing at the floor. "Hey, Tulip?"
"Yeah?"
"Just so you know, your face is still really red." He grins, the flashlight catching the mischief in his eyes. "It's cute."
"Eddie!" you protest, smacking his arm lightly as your blush intensifies.
His laugh echoes in the darkened room as he opens the door. "Come on. Let's go face the music."
The living room flickers with soft candlelight, casting warm shadows across secondhand furniture and scattered throw blankets. A battery-powered radio hisses low static between crackly notes of some '70s slow jam. Outside, the storm rages on—rain rattling the windows, thunder rumbling in the distance like a warning shot.
You follow Eddie into the room, his flashlight guiding the way until Robin turns toward the sound of your footsteps.
"Oh my god," she blurts. "You're Tulip."
You freeze in the doorway, startled. "…Yeah?"
"I knew you were real." She elbows the boy next to her on the couch. "He talks about you all the time. Guitar lessons, mixtapes, mysterious girl he disappears to see twice a week."
Eddie lets out a groaning, "Rooobiiin…"
"She's right," the boy adds with a grin. "I'm Gareth. Don't worry, we've all heard about you."
You blink, heart pounding, unsure if you want to melt into the floor or laugh.
From the kitchen, a soft voice cuts in. "It's really nice to meet you, Tulip." A girl with neat hair and a flickering candle in a jelly jar steps into view. "I'm Nancy."
"Hi," you manage, voice small but steady.
Then Steve pokes his head around the doorway near the radio. "Okay, wait. This is Tulip? Like the actual Tulip? From the cassette tapes and the guitar lessons…… and you know, Eddie being way less annoying twice a week?"
Eddie sighs and plants a hand on his face. "You're all so funny."
Robin cackles. "We know."
You let out a nervous laugh and rub your arms, the embarrassment still prickling under your skin.
Eddie glances at you then, just for a second.
It's not a dramatic look, just his eyes catching yours, a flicker of concern there, like he's checking in without saying a word.
You give a tiny nod and a smile. You're okay. Really.
His shoulders ease.
Robin pats the couch cushion beside her. "Come sit. I promise we're only a little weird. We've got cocoa, a pathetic amount of popcorn, and a strong chance of accidental candle fire."
Eddie guides you toward the couch and drops down beside you, thigh pressed to yours. He slouches into the cushions like he's done it a hundred times, like this, you and him together is the most natural thing in the world. You sit close but stiff, still a little rattled from earlier.
His knee nudges yours lightly.
You glance over, and in the dim candlelight, Eddie meets your eyes. No words. Just the tiniest tilt of his head, the question there in the space between you.
Steve tosses you a blanket, and you catch it awkwardly. "Storms freak you out?" he asks, tone light but not mocking.
You pause. "Used to. Not so much tonight."
Robin leans over with a grin. "That's 'cause Eddie's here. He makes people feel less like the world is ending. It's deeply unfair."
Gareth nods solemnly. "Unfair and statistically accurate."
Eddie throws a popcorn kernel at him. It bounces off Gareth's knee and lands in Robin's lap. She pops it into her mouth with zero hesitation.
Nancy chuckles softly and settles cross-legged on the floor, lighting another candle. "It's nice having a full house."
You look around. The laughter. The warmth. The blanket draped over your lap. The soft brush of Eddie's hand as his fingers find yours again, hidden from view.
He doesn't look up.
You don't need him to.
Because somehow, without saying a word, you both already know: you're okay.
And more than that, you're wanted here.
"So," Robin says, tucking her legs under her. "We've been getting Eddie's version of you for weeks now. What's your side of the story?"
You raise an eyebrow. "My side?"
"Yeah," Gareth says, leaning forward with a grin. "Like… why'd you stick around? He bribes you or something?"
You glance at Eddie, who's already trying and failing to look offended.
"Definitely no bribes," you say, playing along. "His mixtapes, maybe."
"See?" Eddie says, pointing dramatically at Gareth. "She has taste. You all could learn a thing or two."
"She's clearly too polite to tell you that your guitar solos are an acquired taste," Robin mutters.
"They are innovative," Eddie fires back.
You're laughing before you even realize it, really laughing, and it spills out of you like something uncoiled. The tension in your shoulders eases. You're still clutching the blanket to your chest, but it doesn't feel like armor anymore. Just comfort.
Nancy sips from her tea. "What are you studying, Tulip?"
"Oh. Um… literature. I've been here since September."
"Transfer student?" she asks, her voice warm.
You nod. "From Tennessee."
Robin perks up. "Ohhh, I can hear it now."
Your cheeks warm, but not in the bad way. It's more like the way your chest feels when someone laughs at your joke.
"I like it," Steve says unexpectedly. "It's kinda charming."
"Don't let him flirt with you," Eddie deadpans. "He thinks a southern accent is an automatic date invitation."
"I do not!"
Everyone bursts out laughing again.
The storm rumbles outside, lightning flickering behind the windows, but the room feels insulated from it like all that wildness has stopped at the walls. The group chats about nothing and everything: classes, a guy in their stats course who keeps trying to sell people encyclopedias, the microwave that almost caught fire last week (again), the way Steve once accidentally drank paint water during an all-nighter.
You don't say much, but no one seems to mind. When you do speak, they listen. And when you don't, there's no awkwardness, just Eddie's thumb brushing back and forth across the back of your hand like he's grounding you, steadying you without saying a word.
Someone's mid-sentence when it happens—
A loud click, a soft hum, and then the living room floods with warm, overhead light. The microwave beeps weakly from the kitchen, and the old stereo whirs to life with a static crackle.
Everyone blinks at the brightness, blinking like they've just woken from a dream.
"Well," Robin says, shielding her eyes. "There goes the mood lighting."
Gareth groans dramatically. "I liked it better when we were mysterious shadows telling ghost stories and deep truths."
"You mean embarrassing stories and conspiracy theories," Eddie mutters.
You laugh, but your gaze drifts back to Eddie's hand resting close to yours on the couch.
The storm might be letting up. The lights are back on. And for the first time in a long time you’re truly happy.
“Dani…are you sure about this?” You ask hesitantly.
“Of course! I cut my hair all the time!” She giggles.
“Your hair doesn’t grow!” You scowl.
“True…but I’ve read a lot of books on it! Plus, you practically buzz your hair off anyway so this won’t be any different.”
“We have to cut the mats off first, Daniela.” Intercepts Bela.
Your head lays against the warm tile of the bathtub, above you stands Daniela with a pair of scissors and a straight razor in her hands. After a begrudging sigh you nod your head to give her the go ahead and shut your eyes. Daniela squeals and plops behind your head, her hands comb through what hair she can by using the bath water to wet it. The scissors cut away the matted hair and thin it down to where it is easy to shave.
“Okay, I need you to stay absolutely still. I don’t want to cut you.” She warns.
“It’ll heal.” You quip.
“It’s the principal!”
She smacks your head lightly with the tips of her fingers before lifting your head. Your shoulders tense as the razor grazes over your scalp, she collects the hair on the side of the tub and goes agonizingly slow. When she finishes you hear the razor softly clatter off to the side and her cold hands brush through the short cut length that's left. The sides and back are shaved down to nubs, which leaves less than a fourth of an inch of hair length left, but she managed to save more hair on top so your hair isn’t completely shaved down. You open your eyes and lean your head back to look up at her, she smiles at you lovingly before bending over to give your head a kiss.
“Thank you princess.” You whisper.
“Mm I like it when you call me that.” She teases.
You chuckle and lift your head to look at Cassandra who runs her fingertips over your hand while resting her head on your shoulder. Bela steps into the water and carriedsa wash rag in her hand. She pours an intoxicating scent over it then approaches you and begins to scrub the months of grime off.
“I can wash myself Bela.”
“I don’t think so, you need to save your energy. It’s like trying to scrape off the dried blood down in the cellar. ” She groans.
“That could be it, or I think you’re using it as an excuse to touch my body because you like bathing me.” You tease.
Bela glares at you but says nothing and pours water over your head to rinse off the soap, Cassandra lifts her head away in time and laughs. With a smile you lean over and kiss her head, she wraps her arms around you and holds you tighter. Bela finishes scrubbing your face and upper body then washes herself as Daniela stripped and joined all of you. Daniela eyes you with a smirk as she floats over through the water and slips one knee between you and Cassandra, and the other on the other side of you to straddle your lap. Cassandra hisses at her making Daniela roll her eyes while her arms snake around your neck and kisses all over your face.
You wrap your free arm around her waist and keep her against your body. Bela scoots to your free side and cuddles up to you. You rest your head back again, tears spill over and down your cheeks. Their purrs vibrate your chest and despite their cold bodies, they radiate warmth and love over every inch of your being.
“What’s the matter?” Asks Daniela.
The other two look up at you, you hiccup and gasp softly as you tried to catch your breath. After failing miserably to hold your feelings back, the flood gates open. They shoot up, making the water from the tub overflow over the edges onto the floor. Daniela moves off your lap thinking she hurt you but you manage to chuckle through the tears.
“I’m so happy to be home. I missed you all so much that I keep thinking that this is all just a dream…” you choke out.
Bela reaches out and cups your face before she gently pulls you forward to kiss your lips. You sigh into it and push into the kiss. You both linger there for a moment until she moves away and brushes your tears away with her thumbs. Carefully she aids you in standing up so she can fully embrace you. Your body relaxes, using her as support as every inch of her body melts into yours.
“This isn’t a dream, little one. We’re right here and we love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
Daniela, who is too impatient, throws herself at you the second Bela clears the way,. She traps your waist with her legs while you hold her up by gripping her thighs. She kisses you multiple times until you laugh, she goes over your face and neck and when she's satisfied with the amount of kisses you received, she let's go.
“I love you.” She beams.
“I love you too.”
Cassandra looks at the water while hugging herself, you approach her slowly and tilt your head down to meet her eyes. They're wet but no tears have fallen yet. She sways her hair to hide her face but you still see her lip quiver ever so slightly. You embrace her as tightly as you can muster, she muffled her sobs with your neck as her hands trace over the indents of your spine and ribs. Quietly you shush her and rub her back soothingly until she settles down, she grabs your face hard enough that her nails dig into your skin. She slams her lips against yours and keeps them there for an eternity. You don't ’t pull back, instead you lean into it and push against her. Your breaths quickened but you're interrupted by Bela tapping your shoulder. Turning your attention to her, Cassandra hides her face on the other side of yours.
“Easy tiger. Once you’re recovered we’ll each have our turn with you.” She winks.
Heat rushes your cheeks but you nod in agreement. After the bath you eat, they drink some cups of wine with a few meaty strips from your plate. With a full belly, you stretch out onto the bed that feels like a cloud from paradise. The exhaustion from the months and especially the last day has caught up to you and you no longer want to fight it. Daniela spoons your side, Bela spoons the other, and Cassandra carefully lays on top of you with her head tucked under your chin.
The next couple of weeks pass in a flash compared to the sluggish pace they had previously gone. You avoid Lady Dimitrescu at every cost, unsure if she's still upset with you or not. The second you hear her heels you dart off in the other direction until you find safety with one of your loves or inside one of their rooms. They have gotten back to their duties, but whenever one is free they follow you around like ducklings, you tease them but secretly love every second of it. One morning you and Daniela are in the library, you're working out under her watchful eye so you don’t overdo it. Thanks to your mutation, you're almost back to normal from consistently having meat, blood, and actual food rather than leftover scraps. However, your body mass and muscles may have returned, but your stamina and endurance are still shit. Climbing up a single flight of stairs tires you out.
Daniela rests on your back with her elbow on your head and her feet by yours as you do push ups and planks, she purposely made herself heavy enough for you to feel her but light enough she won’t cause much resistance. This is your routine: you haven’t gotten any word about returning to work, so you spend your spare time running away from Lady Dimitrescu and gaining back what you lost. Daniela sighs dramatically and flails on top of you with her arms outstretched on either side of your head as you continue to move.
“Something on your mind princess?” You ask.
“How much longer are you going to avoid Mother?”
“Forver if I can help it. I can only imagine how she’s feeling. She finds out I’m dating all three of you, then I go missing and break your hearts, then I attack her and then I go right back to dating her daughters. If I were her I would be pissed.” You reply.
She groans, “this castle is only so big. You cant hide from her forever. Yeah she's probably mad but, she won't hurt you. The longer you drag it out the worse it'll be.”
“See, you say that, then I end up disemboweled and strung up in the garden.” You retort.
She snorts and shifts in her swarm so she's on her belly on your back, she props her elbows on your shoulders and hums softly. She swings her feet back and forth as she comfortably touches you.
“That’s reserved for stupid man-things. I don’t actually know what she'll do to you. Maybe she'll come up with a whole new punishment. "
Your eyes widen and you drop to your stomach with an audible thud, Daniela yips and appears in front of you on the ground as she looks over your face. You release a heavy groan from the impact but slowly raise your head to look at her beautiful, golden, eyes staring right back at you.
“I…I’ll talk to your mother when I’m ready to face her again. I promise. I just want to enjoy my last moments on Earth."
Eventually the girls allow you back into your old room after some major sucking up and hefty promises. After you're certain Lady Dimitrescu is on the other side of the castle you sneak your way through the courtyard and up toward your room. Your room is how you expected it to look, everything covered in a thick layer of dust, even the spiderwebs on the ceiling have dust on them. When you open the closet your heart sinks when moths flutter out and you're left with the crumbs of your old uniforms. Luckily Cassandra had hoarded a few of your other outfits but you're a bit upset to say the least, you really liked those uniforms and Donna put a lot of effort into them.
You push the sleeves of your collared shirt up, and sneak down to the supply closet to gather some cleaning supplies. At least that is still the same. The mops still hang on the right, the brooms on the left, the buckets neatly stacked in the corner and the shelves lined with towels and cleaner. A few hours later Cassandra strolls by and startles you when she coughs to get your attention. You clutch the mop handle against your chest as you stare at her and clear your throat. Her golden glare sends a shiver down your spine, if you weren’t dating her she probably would have killed you just from her angered look alone.
“It’s not what it looks like.” You start.
“Oh it’s not?” She asks sarcastically.
She stalks inside the room, stepping over the bag of garbage and around the mop bucket before she halts in front of you. She leans forward and yanks the mop from your hands before effortlessly throwing it into the bucket of water. She crosses her arms and you gulp but maintain eye contact with her.
“Because to me, it looks like you’re cleaning when you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“Um…old habits die hard?” You shrug shoulders.
“Oh Mother Miranda it's a good thing you're cute." She rolls her eyes.
You chuckle and reach up to kiss her, she returns the kiss happily as she presses into you. You constrict your arms around her and hold her close to your body, breathing in her comforting scent. Suddenly she jerks away and you whimper, she giggles mischievously and bops your nose with her pointer finger.
“I missed you an awful lot Y/N. You have no idea how much I want to show you, but not now. Please don’t overdo it.” She warns before disappearing.
You huff and run your hand over your head to wipe the sweat away. Much later you finish cleaning your old room, it looks good as new, well…it looks good. You toss the bag of garbage into the bin outback near the kitchen, then pause on your way back. Instead of going back to your room you decide to take a detour through the kitchen. To your surprise there are a lot of servants running around in it. They have different uniforms than what you were familiar with and they don’t have the Dimitrescu crest on them. You expected there had to have been someone working down here, your girls bring you food every day and they certainly didn’t cook it. One servant approaches you with a genuine, kind smile.
“Happy to see you up and about my lady. What can I do for you?” She asks.
You shake your head and blink, surprised by the formality “oh nothing I was just curious to see who was down here, and thank them for making me meals. They were delicious. May I ask, who are all of you?”
The woman smiles broader, she looks around your age with vibrant green eyes and bronze hair, but the lines around her face give her a much older appearance. She wears a bright red blouse with a full white apron and a long green skirt that covers her ankles. All the other staff members have similar outfits with variations of pants vs skirts, button ups vs blouses, and some staff have full aprons while others only have waist aprons.
“Oh! Please excuse me for not introducing myself, my lady.” She bows, “I’m Lilla, the personal servant to the Baroness and we are her traveling staff. We were invited by Lady Dimitrescu after your unfortunate accident, and will be here until further notice.”
You stare at her perplexed, “I see. Why do you keep calling me ‘my lady’?” You ask.
Lilla opens her arms to move you out of the kitchen area as other members of the staff scurry past. Back in the dining room she flattens out her apron then looks back up at you. From the close proximity you catch an unusual smell, it doesn’t smell like anything you recognize. However a deeper part of you somehow knows it's not human.
“I apologize if I used the incorrect pronoun to address you by. Lady Dimitrescu informed us that you are to be treated and addressed with the same respect as her daughters. However, if you do not wish to be referred to as ‘lady’ then I would be happy to accommodate whichever title you deem fit.”
“No, that's fine but there's really no need for such formality. I would much prefer that you just use my name.” You answer.
Lilla nods and bows to you again, “ understood. Now, I don’t mean to come off as rude or offensive but I do need to help finish dinner.”
You say goodbye to Lilla then ponder yourself as you venture into the main hall. Clearly you have a lot to catch up on and a lot to get used to. More importantly, you need to know why Lilla and the others don't smell human. You pause in your tracks at the sound that you’ve successfully avoided since your return: those infernal heels. You peer down the stairwell toward the Hall of Four, standing in the doorway to her quarters is Lady Dimitrescu and the baroness. The Lady kneels to the same height as the baroness, giving her the briefest kiss upon her cheek. Upon standing you and the Lady lock eyes; your muscles tense, sweat instantly manifests, your legs feel glued to the floor.
Yet, she says nothing. Instead she gives a final look down to the baroness then disappears down the hallway. You unclench and start to breath again while watching the other woman walk away to the hallway that leads to the carriage gate. She briefly takes a look at you, and you her without exchanging a word. No point in delaying now that she saw you. You walk down the steps, open the door, through the hallway and stop in front of the door to her seating area. It feels like only yesterday you were hauling fire wood in the early hours of morning. You raise your first to knock but before it strikes you hear her voice coaxing you inside.
You click the handle and open the door, stepping through and closing it behind you with a soft click. She's sitting at the couch in front of you with her back facing you, she brings a glass to her lips and takes a slow sip from it. You eye the hole in the fireplace as a way of reassuring yourself it's still there at least should you need to escape.
"I'm not going to hurt you, but if you are ready to talk then sit down. If you're not then you may go. I won't push you to discuss anything you don't want to."
Cautiously you walk to the love seat across from her and sit down. She stars at you for a moment, her eyes examining your reaction, your body language, she probably even reads the micro changes in the air around you. After her staring contest she reaches for the side table where her cigarette holder and cigarette box lay. When she decides and put one in the holder, she brings up her lighter and lights it to life then takes a long, deep inhale. The smoke blows out her nose at a creeping pace, it travels from her nose and down her chin before evaporating into nothingness.
“Do you want to talk about the events that have transpired recently? Or the factory?" She asks softly.
You perk your head in confusion and surprise, the sound of her voice is genuine and riddled with concern. Your heart starts to race and you pick at your fingernails subconsciously, you have barely mentioned anything to anyone, even your girlfriends. It’s not that you don’t trust them, but you know they have their own feelings and issues to tackle without having yours added to them. Lady Dimitrescu tilts her head as she watches your anxiety rise to the surface, your breathing get faster, you become fidgety, and avoid looking in her eyes.
“You don’t have to if you’re not ready, but you should talk to someone about it.” She reassures.
“I…I know and I do want to talk about it but truthfully, I don’t remember much. I blacked out for most of it because I was starved, dehydrated, exhausted, and in constant pain.” The vulnerability manifests into tears, shakes, and quiet sobs.
“He, he chained me down to a chair and I remember being in excruciating pain from being electrocuted. I would shift in defense and I only remember bits and pieces after that. He used those hallucinogenic flowers that Donna grows, so it’s difficult to say what was real and what was fake. He did keep me in this locked room and chained to a wall. I tried to escape the first month. So many times. Each time he caught me faster and faster because I was growing weaker, eventually I became too weak to fight back and gave up. He would throw me scraps from his dinner to keep me alive and….” you choke back another sob, “made me drink out of a bowl like a dog.”
You don’t notice through the blur of your tears, but the sudden pressure around your body and the surrounding smell of smoke snaps you to attention. Lady Dimitrescu is hugging you, not only that, somehow she scooped you off your seat and is holding you tightly to her chest. The dam burst and everything flooded out. You bury your head against her shoulder and sob uncontrollably, your fingers clench onto whatever fabric is nearest and you shake violently. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t move the entire time, she keeps you close and breathes unnecessary breaths in rhythmic time until your breathing matches hers.
“I’m sorry.” You mutter as you pull away from her shoulder to see the tear and snot stain.
The Lady pulls a handkerchief from her bosom to wipe your swollen eyes then holds it against your nose.
“Blow your nose.” She orders.
Your cheeks flush from embarrassment, you feel like a child but do as she ordered and blow your nose into the handkerchief. She takes it away and puts it behind her next to her cigarettes then looks back at you. The look in her eyes you have only seen once before and it was toward her daughters. They are sympathetic, loving, and most importantly, they show a personal level of understanding.
“Never apologize for showing your emotions cel mic. I know you have been avoiding me because you thought I was angry. I admit I was at first, then I realized you had no control over your actions and once you regained control, you did what you always do: protect your family. I told you before, I will never punish loyalty.”
You sniff and nodd, “thank you My Lady.”
She stands to her full height and brushes a caring hand over your head, her fingers tangling through your hair. While she did you wipe the tears from your face and fully control your breathing.
“You told the head maid that I was to be treated as one of you. Does…does that mean you’re okay with me dating your daughters?” You ask hoarsly.
“If I wasn't, I would have killed you already. Do not think that it did not cross my mind though, I was furious to discover that you were in a relationship with not one, but all of my daughters. That was, until I saw how the news of your…departure affected them. I knew then that you meant more to them than what I thought. That being said..”
She bends down in front of you again, this time her eyes are their usual cold, calculating, and predatory manner.
“I do not want to see them heartbroken again.” She threatens.
Even though she is threatening you, it makes you feel a little better inside and somehow lighter. You even chuckle to which she raised an eyebrow.
“Is this your way of giving me your blessing?” You ask with a sheepish grin.
Lady Dimitrescu stands back upright, she looks you up and down and gives you a mischievous grin flashing her teeth as she does.
“I will call Mother Miranda tomorrow to inform her that we will be visiting so you may update her on your recovery.”
With that, she turns away from you and exits the seating area. You remain there until you can no longer hear her footsteps.
It's very strange to start learning the violin (or, in folk terms, the fiddle), just because it's an instrument that anyone around me actually plays. Honestly not entirely sure what to do with that. Everything else I've learned it's been me and THAT'S ALL (for the most part) and so I'm all kinda "...huh" and not sure what I think about it.
The other people at the Qualicum Beach workshops were pretty much "...well you're jumping straight into the deep end, aren't you?" at me, and I'm all YES BUT IT'S OKAY I AM A SHARK. A SHARK WITH A FIDDLE. APPARENTLY.
Wow, I’m making another super lengthy text wall about things I shouldn’t worry about again. Well, what else is new, right? Anyways, yeah. I don’t wanna talk about the reboot anymore, at least on here. (Close friends are excluded because I know it’s bound to pop up again and again haha.). Seriously, what’s done is done. Continuously taking about it, giving our own perspective on it is cool and all, but personally for me, I don’t really care to think about it as much as everyone else does. I’m just going with the flow of things.
Granted, I have my own views on the whole situation (funny how I can even call it a situation), I’m really not in any place where I feel the need to constantly worry about it like many do. I think what people need to realize is that although Zoophobia is an amazing comic, there are so many other things to entertain yourself with, especially in terms of webcomics. I mean, guys; Dreamkeepers, Lackadaisy, Cucumber Quest, Circus of Freaks, Alice and the Nightmare, etc. There’s so many other amazing webcomics out there worth the read. Zoophobia isn’t the only webcomic out there y'know? Not to mention, it’s not like Viv is killing the comic or anything. It’ll come back when it comes back. She literally tweeted that out like… A day ago, man. She’s also up to other things too. Most people who like ZP also have a mutual interest in HH and Timber, and even her Allison short. Some of the fans (not just here), are going nuts. The whole movie deal Viv was talking about? That’s simply wishful thinking.
Anyways, in regards to the controversy behind the reboot of ZP, this’ll be my last post on the matter. I love ZP like many others do, but I have other things that peak my interest also. ZP isn’t the only thing I enjoy. Most of y'all know I fucking love Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, and I’m currently reading Part 6: Stone Ocean. (I really just wanna skip to part 7: SBR because it looks like such a fun read xD.)
The ZP community won’t die either. Even if it does slightly diminish, there’ll always be someone making fanart, headcanons, memes, Shitposts, YTPs (someone finally fucking made one), and other things too.
I’m still down for doing fanart, rereading the current comic for inspiration, making headcanons and doing silly things in terms of ZP. However, I don’t wanna think or really be bothered about the reboot that’ll come when God knows when. I would rather prefer to just let it be. It is what it is, guys.
