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girls4keigo · 3 years ago

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A Bird Whisperer’s Guide to Fighting Villains and Falling in Love | Hawks x Hero!Reader

Summary: Hawks needs help to defeat an upcoming hero attack in Tokyo. What better hero to ask than the one he’s been crushing on for months

Warnings: F!Reader, Hero!Reader, Fluff, Cursing

Reader plays hard to get. Reader has a nature quirk and can control natural elements and talk to animals. Reader is a popular hero

a/n: hi! this is my first post i hope you all enjoy! :)

————

You sighed, trying to keep your composure while talking to a bunch of big name heroes. The fundraiser events that your agency made you go to were unbearable. Standing around for hours listening to the most mundane heroes try to impress you with their line of work. But hey, if it helps boost approval ratings I guess it’s not that bad.

For the past year you’ve slowly been climbing the ranks of the hero world. With a powerful quirk and unique fighting styles it was hard to go unnoticed. By now you were familiar with how the industry treated female heroes. It seemed as if the general public cared about anything but your hero duties.

It was all love, relationships, “Who are you dating?”, “What’s your skincare routine?”

You honestly didn’t expect any different but geez, it sure did piss you off. And now that you were in the top 3, you weren’t expecting any of it to die down. Might as well just get used to it.

You continued to chat when suddenly your ear twitched as you sensed a certain birdie approaching.

Oh God.

“Hey. Mind if I steal ya away for a little?” Hawks’ signature smirk appeared on his face as he approached you.

Hawks seemed to really be latching onto you for quite some time, well since the new hero rankings were announced. You were on your way to surpassing the number 2 hero and had gained a lot of notoriety in the past couple of months. ��

He was clingy for sure, always play flirting, inviting you to lunch, showing up at your agency unannounced. It was obvious that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. You’d be surprised if he admitted to actually having feelings for you. Well, not that you cared anyways. Your job was to save civilians, defeat villains, and do things that any other normal hero would. Love was simply not on your agenda.

Holding back a heavy sigh, you complied and stepped off to the side with Hawks.

He seemed delighted by your decision, using his feathers to fetch you a glass of champagne off of one of the caterer’s trays as you two walked over to the bar area.

“So your agency makes you come to these lame things too, huh?”

You didn’t answer, not very interested in the direction that the conversation was going in.

“You look nice.” He bit his lower lip, dragging his eyes vertically across your figure.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking a sip of your champagne.

After you both had made your way over to the bar he instructed his order to the bartender, asking you if you wanted anything and keeping the same dumb smirk on his face when you denied.

“Rarely ever see you in a color other than green. I mean, I guess it’s your entire thing but I really dig this red look you’ve got goin’ on” He mused, as he watched the bartender carefully make his drink.

He wasn’t lying. He’s been eyeing you since you walked in, you look good.

“What do you want, Hawks?” You asked, visibly annoyed.

“Damn.” He chuckled, “Small talk isn’t your thing, noted.”

You side-eyed him, getting impatient with his overly relaxed demeanor.

Catching the hint, he got straight to the point. “There’s some trouble going on in Tokyo.”

Now you were intrigued. You took another sip of your champagne, “Petty villain attacks like always, isn’t it?”

You turned towards him, he got a good look at your face before he answered.

Fucking pretty, he thought to himself.

“That’s what I thought at first but it’s getting harder to believe that as I do more digging.” He looks around before inching closer to you, trying to keep his volume to a minimum. “The League is planning something big next week. The ‘Rain of Terror’, they’re callin’ it. They’re trying to ease the amount of big attacks in the city to let our gaurds down. And frankly, I think it’s working.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know all of this?”

“I’ve got connections,” Was all he said, with a shrug.

Ok, whatever. You’ll confront him about that later. “And this ‘Rain of Terror…’ what does it entail?”

“Bombs.”

“Shit,” You muttered.

“Big ones. Huge ones, actually. I don’t know how the fuckers did it but they found a way to make these huge, bioengineered clouds that ‘rain’ bombs.”

You grew uneasy. Raining bombs? Over the entirety of Tokyo? The amount of destruction it would do to the earth, to civilians, made you panic. Hawks sensed your uneasiness but continued anyways, “I want us to team up. Your quirk would be useful with the entire controlling nature n’ weather thing.”

He loosened up from his serious expression, talking a bit louder and showing a teethy smile, “Plus I think we’d make a pretty good team. I’ve already got a plan so we’ll meet up at yours tomorrow.”

“As in my house? Why not anywhere else?” You questioned.

“Well,” He grabbed his drink and used his free hand to rub the back of his heck, “This isn’t really the typa thing we can talk about in public. Mass hysteria, panic, that type of thing. And my living situation is pretty…complicated right now.”

You felt a small tap on your shoulder, followed by the voice of your high school aged sidekick. You turned to the younger hero. “Uh..Y/N? It’s time to go. I gotta be back by 11.”

You sighed before turning back to Hawks.

“Kids and their curfews, right?” He commented.

“Fine. I’ll have my agency send you my address. Don’t come during the day.” That was the last thing you said before finishing your drink all in one quick sip and making your way to the exit. You could feel his eyes on your backside until you left the venue. And the singular scarlet feather rushing in front of you to open the car door for you was really the cherry on top.

You rolled your eyes.

“Woah.” Your sidekick mused, “He seems to really like you. You should give him a chance, he’s hot.”

You giggled at her comment, “He doesn’t really like me, y’know? He flirts with every female hero.”

—

You heard a slight tap on the window leading up to your balcony. You already sensed him flying towards you when he was about a mile away, but your bedroom? Reluctantly you walked over and opened the sliding door.

“Never heard of a front door?”

“Well that’s no fun, is it?” He said, displaying his signature smirk. You looked cute out of your hero clothes. Hair tied up and messy, and in big comfy clothes.

Adorable, he thought to himself. He walked in as if it was his own befroom, slipping off his shoes, gloves and jacket and placing them in the corner of your room.

“Make yourself comfortable I guess.” You deadpanned at him, “And we’re still going downstairs anyways.” He shrugged.

He couldn’t help but be taken aback by the layout of your room. There were plants in almost every corner, on every shelf. Vines growing on your walls, half read books strewn across your bedside table and dresser, your pet birds of all different shaped and sizes flew freely around your room, chirping every once in a while. “So you’re a bird whisperer, huh?” He said, looking around.

“I’m an animal whisperer.” You said, “That’s kind of like my entire thing.”

He let out a hearty laugh before making his way out of your room.

“Tea?” You asked, heading towards the kitchen as the winged hero made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Sure.” He picked up your remote with one his feathers, flicking through the channels.

He turned his attention to you a couple moments later as you took a seat across from him at your coffee table, setting down two mugs of green tea.

He explained his plan carefully, paying close attention to all details and pausing for any questions you might have. You had to admit, as much as an annoying asshole this guy could be, he knew what he was doing. You could tell he plans his strategies very carefully, as much as he likes to come off as lazy and laid back to the general public. He was a damn good hero. And you hated admitting it but he was right, utlizing his speed and your ability to control weather, it wouldn’t be all that hard to stop villain attacks.

Hawks also couldn’t help but admire you. You seemed attentive, always paying close attention to detail and asking a lot of questions. I mean he already knew you were good at your job, watching some of the viral videos of your fights with villains.

—

When the day finally came, it went as smoothly as planned, of course with a little bumps along the way. Still, the few civilians that were hurt only had minor injuries, and you and hawks made it so only a couple bombs hit the ground.

You, Hawks, and some other minor heroes who had joined mid-battle regrouped to talk about how to resolve the collateral damage.

“It’s not too much to be honest, I’ll have it all repaired by midni-“

“Wow! What an incredible display of courage from Hawks and Mother Nature, currently sitting at number 2 and number 3 of Japan’s Hero BillBoard Chart!” A loud reporter exclaimed, accompanied by a camera crew.

Of course.

You tried your best to ignore and keep talking to fellow heroes until a microphone was shoved in your face. The face of the reporter gleamed as she talked to you. “Tell me Mother Nature, how does it feel working with number 2 hero Hawks?” You winced at the question, but answered nevertheless.

“Hawks is a diligent hero with a lot of experience under his belt despite being so young. It was great working with him.” You answered, forcing a smile on your face.

“There’s speculation that you two planned this together..is this true? How were you able to predict this attack? More importantly, are you two dating?” Those questions hit you like a truck.

“Um..no comment.” Was all you could answer with.

Nevertheless, the reporter persisted, “Well there has to be something going on. It’s just my opinion but you two seem perfect for each other.” She giggled at the camera, “Please! The public is dying to know!”

Before you could even muster up an answer to the reporter’s overwhelming question, a giant scarlet wing came between you and the reporter, blinding both her and the camera from your view.

“Hey. She said she doesn’t wanna talk about it. Let’s respect personal boundaries, yeah?” Hawks said in a nice but slightly defensive tone.

You blushed, looking up at him. As nice we he was trying to sound, he looked angry. And damn right he was. How dare they talk to you like you’re no more than just some D-list celebrity? You’re a fucking hero, who cares about dating speculation when you just saved Japan’s largest city? And how dare they ask questions about him when you were the one doing most of the work. He was enraged, and it was his natural instinct to protect the thing he cared for.

Before you knew it, he latched his arms around your waist, pushing you into his chest.

You were flustered. “What are you-“

“Let’s go.” Was all he said before flapping his wings, sending you guys soaring through the air.

You held on to him for dear life, damn was he fast.

Hawks smirked to himself, feeling your rapid heartbeat against his chest. You were trying your best to hide your blushing by burying your face in his neck, granted that probably made it worse because he could already tell by how hot your face was.

God, she’s adorable

As soon as you two landed on top of a building, you pushed him away as quickly as possible.

He chuckled, putting both of his hands up in defense, “You’re the one making this awkward y’know? Plus you owe me for saving your ass.”

You were angry. Was it because of the downright rude questions that the reporter asked you not too long ago, was it because you knew tabloids would be posting all about you and Hawks for the next couple of days, was it because you were..warming up to that damned bird?

And then you started. “Just so you know, this..us..is not a thing. It will never be a thing. I wish you’d just stop flirting with me all the damn time. Just move on to the next female hero. I actually don’t care what you do. Just leave me alone. I don’t understand why you have to be so clingy, it’s annoying.”

Hawks did nothing but smile, listening to you ramble.

“You know…I-“ He interjected, only to be interrupted by you.

“And geez, you’re so goddamn entitled. I owe you? I don’t owe you anything. I didn’t even need your help. You’re no different from any other guy, you’re fucking insuffer-“

Hawks shut you up with a gentle kiss on your lips.

Oh.

“You talk too much.” He said in a low whisper, before pulling on your chin to kiss you again. You kissed him back, resting your hands on his chest, completely indulging in the moment.

Fuck. Your knees were weak. As much as you wanted to keep going you pulled away, blushing furiously and refusing to make eye contact with him.

“Oh? So now you’re shy?” He chuckled, pulling you closer to him. He tried to catch your gaze but you just moved your head away from him each time.

“Someone might see us. This is bad,” You were able to muster out.

“You’re so fucking cute.” He said, making you blush even more. He continued, “I don’t flirt with you for no reason, y’know? Sure, sometimes it’s just to tease..but I think you’re amazing.”

You felt like you were melting in his arms. Unable to find the right words, you panicked. You were gone in seconds, manipulating the wind so it could carry you back home, the same stupid blush unable to leave your face.

“Call me!” He yelled.

That damn bird.

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cyberrat · 3 years ago

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57th Batch Of Fics: 2nd Fill

Cole/? – Milky AU – Part 55 – milking; cow life – Cole gets that plan of his rolling. First time really alone with the bae :O.

---

Cole is still deep in thoughts about playing with his boyfriend when the machines do their last suck and begin to power down. Their bodies would get at least until the evening now for their next milking session, but Cole… he’s not done yet. He hasn’t come yet and that fuck hunger is still curling around his belly like a half-awake beast, making him antsy.

He follows Lúcio and Genji toward the breakfast house but he never gets there because he gets distracted asking a few studs lounging against the side of the building if they could gruntfuck him into the ground and satisfy him… which they certainly do; grabbing him by the horns and pulling him on their big dicks until he’s come until he can’t come anymore…

It’s almost midday by that point. He still gets something to eat and has the whole day to relax, yet now that he can think more clearly, he really really wants to get a day or two off… spend them outside the farm to get out of his head and, hopefully, into Schaefer’s bed.

So instead of going to his evening milking – yet – he wanders toward Reyes’ office. He doesn’t know why he is nervous going inside… but he kind of drags his heels for a while and just loiters around outside his door before he can finally make himself knock and move inside, heart thumping in his chest.

Reyes has been cool toward him most of the time. He’s a hardass about some stuff but he’s also been really helpful in pushing Cole toward his first tentative shootings for a little milk connoisseur magazine which had been really exciting… and as far as he knows, the dude got a lot more cooking behind the scenes that he hasn’t told Cole about yet.

“Evenin’, jeffe,” he drawls when he’s inside, trying not to seem too nervous… but he’s pretty sure that Reyes has sussed him out with just a small glance because he lifts one brow and puts his pen down to lean back in his chair and fold his hands over his stomach.

“You know, I’ve been thinkin’,” he continues quickly before Gabriel can say a word one way or the other. He reaches behind himself, grabbing his tail and playing with the tuft of fur at the tip of it while he hypes himself up to be more and more nervous. “I was wonderin’ if I could get a few days off… an’ like ask Schaefer if he wants to… do some stuff or somethin’-”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Reyes rolls his eyes, leaning forward again and grabbing his pen. “Had me nervous there for a second. I thought there was something going on.”

“Wait what? Really? Just like that?” Cole exhales a long breath, his fingers stopping their nervous fiddling with his tail.

“Yeah, just like that. You’re no fucking prisoner here, kid. You can take days off and spend them with whoever you want. Have you even asked him if he got time? ‘S far as I know the dude never stops working or something. Want me to call him right now?”

Cole relaxes further, moving closer to sit in one of the chairs that in front of Reyes’ desk; the one with the plastic cover that can be changed and wiped down from whatever liquids might run out of his sloppy, used hole.

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks, jeffe.”

Reyes grumbles something about not scaring him like that again but he does turn to see if Schaefer will accept the video call.

.oOo.

A few days later, Cole is sitting next to Schaefer in his private car and feels like he is about to die of giddy nervousness. He keeps glancing at Martin to stare at him in is civilian clothing. He looks so different without his labcoat… like some kind of soft dad or something; compared to his usual strict dad aesthetic, he supposes.

When Martin reaches over mid-drive and puts his hand on his thigh, he nearly jumps out of his skin… which does not go undetected.

“You are very tense. Are you feeling alright?”

“H-heh yeah… yeah I guess I’m kinda tense. I’m just nervous… been a while that I’ve been alone with ya,” he replies, maybe a bit redundant; it feels like Schaefer knows exactly what he’s feeling even before he himself knows it. The hand disappears for a moment as Martin reaches over and fiddles with the glove compartment, his eyes never leaving the road even though it is just a long, straight stretch of nothingness.

Inside the glove compartment are two newly sealed toys: one pocket cunt and one squat buttplug looking thing.

“There. Why don’t you take the edge off those nerves? We got at least another hour of driving before we are at the hotel I booked.”

“What? Are we not going to your house?” Cole asks, pausing in ripping open the pocket pussy and staring at the side of Schaefer’s head. For some reason, showing Cole the sex toys he brought has been not even a blip on his radar… but now he his clean shaven cheeks are starting to exhibit a few spots of color.

“My house isn’t really… good for this kind of things. I don’t have a safe room or anything. The hotel I chose has specific cow playrooms so I think you’ll have much more fun there.”

Cole deflates a little. “I see…” he murmurs. He can’t help feel a little disappointed even though Martin is being so very thoughtful about all of this. While he is undoubtedly horny – all the time and forever these days, it seems – he had also been looking forward to finally seeing just a bit more of Martin and what makes him tick. He still knows so little about him…

Maybe next time?

.oOo.

Cole never would have thought that the simple act of wearing clothes would feel so damn strange to him. It’s just been… a year or something since he started on this journey and already the feeling of loose sweatpants on his hips makes his skin tingle all weird. He keeps tugging on the fabric, too focused on it to help Schaefer pull the large trunk he had suddenly dragged out of the back of the car, or pay attention to him checking them into the hotel.

Everything is, as expected, nice and tidy and looking kind of high-class.

He feels immediately spoiled, walking through the nice hotel room and wandering in a straight line toward a room to the side that looks… really cozy and, for lack of a better word, fuck shaped. He licks his lips, abdomen growing nice and liquid warm. Being pregnant only has made him all the more sensitive to the fuck hunger pushing through his system. He can’t wait to make use of the room… and from the way Martin is pulling the trunk toward the room as well he can tell that he doesn’t have to wait long to try it out.

#cyberratting writes stuff #cole/?#milky au #boyfriends in love

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flutteringdreams-matw · 3 years ago

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Out of Time (17)

First/Last

Read on AO3 /FFN

Word Count: 8593

Previously: The aftermath of the fight scene. Danny's still unconcious and everyone tries to deal. Loads of angst. CW: Injury descriptions, swearing and angst.

Now: The aftermath part 2 - some flashbacks, some concerns and lots of guilt. One of my favourite Lancer and Clockwork moments too.

Please let me know what you think! Feel free to drop a reply or reblog whatever. WE ARE CAUGHT UP! I'm hoping the next chapter will be up on Sunday - depends on if I have a chance to edit or not. Regardless the link will be in the replies!

Sam was going crazy.

She was exhausted - the nightmares that haunted her kept her up most nights. The other nights? Her thoughts spinning out of control over one measly kiss by her best friend.

The same best friend she had a crush on for over a year.

The same friend who kissed her first.

And she kissed him back.

Nope. Not measly in the slightest.

She shook her head, clearing it as she neared the infirmary. She opened the door, a greeting at the tip of her tongue before she stopped with wide eyes.

Frostbite stood over Danny in deep concentration, his ice arm glowing a faint blue as it was stuck through the boy's chest. Ethelwulf nodded absently, eyes running over the core monitor's readings with quick precision. Danny laid motionless on the bed through the entire thing.

Danny's anguished screams as Dan taunted him, attacking his core.

"A little more Frostbite," Ethelwulf told him. "It's headed down."

The way he arched upward in the duplicate's grasp.

Frostbite's hand glowed brighter, engulfing the boy in blue. Eventually, it subsided, leaving the yeti ghost with a grim look on his face. "It should be maintaining its cold by now," he said softly. "Why isn't it?"

His head snapped to his chest, breathing heavily. She wasn't even sure he was conscious anymore.

Ethelwulf frowned. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "His injuries are healing, but slowly - even slower than what a human should be healing at - "

Sam turned abruptly, walking quickly up and out of the lab. She breathed hard, ignoring the memory flashes and the ghosts giving her a greeting. It was too much -she needed to get away.

He was going to get through this.

It's already been a week.

He's going to get through this.

He's not healing.

He's going -

Sam stopped her internal argument when she found herself outside of Danny's room. She blinked, suddenly frowning at where she found herself. She stood there for a few moments, debating whether she should go in before she realized something else.

She desperately missed her best friend.

She swung the door open. The first thing Sam recognized was that it still smelled like him. The second was no one was in here since probably Tucker when he grabbed his stuff last week. Sam smiled softly, walking toward the unmade bed - he probably didn't even sleep the night before. She touched it fondly, thinking back to the strategy meeting in the Ops Center. She sighed, deciding that she should perhaps find Jazz when she kicked something, making it slide under the bed.

With a confused frown, she peered under it, ignoring the dusty litter of old beaten thermoses, the boooo-merang and garbage. The only thing not covered in a layer of dust was a brown picture frame lying faced down. Sam grabbed it, sliding it across the floor and turned it over. It was a photo of Danny with his family in front of FentonWorks, with his arms around Tucker and Sam with a big goofy smile on his face. She remembered this photo - it was just before freshman year a few weeks before his accident.

Wasn't this normally on his desk? She wondered, eyes glancing toward the computer with a frown. Her frown deepened as she noticed that there was nothing on his desk but the keyboard and mouse. Bringing the photo with her, she walked to the desk, noticing the giant pile of stuff on the floor beside it. "Boys," Sam muttered fondly, picturing Danny just throwing things into a pile with a smile, saying absently he'd deal with it later. She put the photo on his desk, sighing slightly as she jostled the mouse.

The computer monitor came alive, the screen brightening the room giving her three options: play, save and discard. "What's this?" she questioned, violet eyes curiously looking the screen over. A video file? She frowned, looking at the computer for any sort of hint to what it was before she saw what it was called.

For Sam.

Why is there a video for me on Danny's computer? She wondered, grabbing his computer chair and rolling it over. She sat in the chair, drumming her fingers on the desk with a thoughtful frown. "I shouldn't watch this," she said to herself. But it's addressed to you her subconscious argued back. She debated for a few more minutes before coming back to the reason she was in his room to begin with… she missed Danny. Besides, she should see if she should save this file, right.

Right?

Biting her lip thoughtfully, Sam pressed play.

The date on the video said September as Danny's face came into view, looking a little uncomfortable as he stared into the camera.

"Hey Sam," he started with a sheepish smile. He rubbed the back of his head. Sam laughed softly, a sad smile on her face as he got settled. "This is kinda weird, but Jazz says it actually might help in the long run." Suddenly, his face was serious. "If you're watching this, it probably means… well I'm dead."

Sam paused the video, rolling the chair back with wide eyes as she stared at the screen. He's saying goodbye. He was recording this to say goodbye? She frowned as she looked at the date. September… apart from Vlad becoming mayor, nothing happened in September. So why back then? And why is it on his computer now?

She rolled closer, wondering whether she should continue the video. Curiosity got the better of her, pressing play again.

"Well -more dead I guess," Danny continued, shrugging. "Not now obviously - but Jazz will have all the files and give them to people. She thought it would, I dunno, I guess give me a way to say bye." He paused, again looking uncomfortable, opening his mouth to speak before the video skipped.

Sam frowned, watching a slightly older, tired version of Danny on the screen. The time stamp said eight days ago, pretty early in the afternoon. That explains why it's here. There was no sheepishness in his behaviour, dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep. "Hi Sam" he greeted softly. He smiled at the camera. "I just… I wanted to say…" he frowned, furrowing his eyebrows in thought. "If I don't make it back," he said finally. "I want you to know that I -" he broke off, eyes widening just a little as he stared at the camera. He stammered for a moment, before he sighed, looking down at the floor. He muttered something quietly that the microphone didn't hear. Sam waited with baited breath, watching Danny try to compose himself. He stiffened, looking at the camera determinedly. "Sam, I -" suddenly losing all confidence, he deflated. He sighed in defeat, looking up into the camera sadly, his arm moving toward the monitor.

The video shifted again, this time with Danny Phantom at the computer, floating in the air. Sam assumed he had pressed record. With a playful smirk, Phantom turned his back to the camera to the bed, where Danny Fenton's legs currently hung off of. Sam laughed softly, realizing that he had split himself.

"Oh come on," Phantom teased, hands on his hips. "This isn't like your facing down a legion of ghosts for the fight of your life. It's just a video."

"If you say that one more time - " Danny started.

"You'll what? Shoot a ghost ray at me? I have our powers right now idiot, I'm the one -" Phantom was cut off when a pillow hit his face. "Okay, fine, be that way."

"You think this is easy?" Danny asked angrily, sitting up on the bed. "I don't like doing these damn videos!"

"It's not about the videos," Phantom retorted smartly. "It's about this video."

Danny frowned. "What do you mean?"

Phantom made a frustrated noise. "You know what it means." Phantom floated in front of the bed, staring at his human self like they were in a mirror. "Why is it so hard for you to admit it?"

"Because I don't want to say it like this!" Danny said, his voice rising. Sam watched as his hands gestured wildly to the computer.

Phantom's eyes narrowed. "Say what?" he challenged, voice also rising.

"You know what!"

"But do you?" The question caught the human off guard, making him sputter a few excuses at his ghost half. Phantom rolled his eyes, pointing a gloved finger at him. "You need to come flat out and say it. To her face."

"I'm not sure -" Danny started.

"You are sure," Phantom said angrily. His eyes flashed. "You're so afraid of changing things! Why is it so hard for you to tell Sam you like her?"

Sam gasped softly, watching Danny Fenton's whole body tense as he stammered excuses. "I don't know!" he exclaimed. "It's Sam! It just is okay!"

"Because," Phantom pressed, gesturing for the boy to continue.

"Cause I -" Danny's voice cut off, looking at little unsure.

Phantom got in his face. "Because you what?" he asked.

"Because I think I'm in love her!" Danny exploded.

Sam gasped again, pausing the video as she stared at the screen. Her mind was racing at his admission, her heart doing backflips in her chest. She looked back at the screen, watching both Phantom and Fenton mid-reaction with wide eyes. I shouldn't - this is -he l-….what!?

Numbly, Sam pressed play again, desperate to see what happened next. Phantom had jumped backward at the boy's outburst, dropping out of the air and onto the floor. He stared up at Danny with wide eyes. Fenton had paled drastically, chest heaving and wide terror filled eyes stared back.

What. The.

They were quiet for several minutes, staring at each other in absolute shock as the admission settled in the air around them.

"You just…" Phantom said quietly, trailing off.

Danny nodded. "I know…" he breathed.

"Did you -" Phantom started again.

"I. know." The boy punctuated each word, breathing hard with wide eyes.

"Do…. Do we even know what that word even means?" Phantom finally asked. Danny stared at him dumbly. "I mean - we do, but like…. To say that…"

Danny put his elbows on his knees. "I dunno," he said. "I've never felt like this before." He sighed heavily silent for a few minutes.

Sam waited, every nerve on fire as she watched him swallow nervously on screen. "I… I like her" he said at last, shaken. "A lot."

Her heart burst as she heard him say those words.

Phantom grinned, punching the teen lightly in the knee. "Told you so," he teased. Danny glared lightly. "So what now?"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "Apart from going up against an evil version of us from the future, ignoring any glimpses of time that come our way and fight for our lives?"

Phantom gave him a pointed look. "I meant that revelation of a lifetime."

Danny frowned. "You want me to tell her, don't you?"

Phantom raised an eyebrow this time. "You want things to change right?"

Danny fiddled with his hands for a few moments. "I mean, yeah."

"Only way to do that is to tell her how you feel," Phantom told him earnestly, shrugging.

"But now?"

Phantom scoffed. "No, at graduation - yes now!" he said sarcastically. Phantom flew up, floating toward the door. "Preferably before we face Dan."

Danny didn't move, face suddenly clouding in thought. "Dan," he said quietly. Phantom turned, frowning at his human half's tone. Whatever light heartedness at their revelation was snatched out of the air. "What's he after?"

Phantom regarded Fenton for a small moment. "You mean other than revenge?"

Danny looked up. "Yeah," he said. Sam watched both their brains work, desperately trying not to yell at the screen in warning. "I just wish-" Danny broke off, grimacing as blue sparks wracked his frame. Phantom disappeared, leaving the boy stifling a scream as he weathered the abuse from his core. He doubled over, face turning away from the camera for a few minutes before they disappeared, leaving the boy breathing hard.

"Fuck," he said. "That one hurt." His brow furrowed, left eye turning green for moment before he rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he muttered. Danny rubbed his chest absently, frowning in thought at whatever vision over took him. Then he got up and left his room.

Sam sat watching the video play on, her mind reeling at what she just saw. Danny had not intended to record that conversation - nor anything that came after. His face after he admitted he liked her looked so terrified. Did he like her? Was it the time visions messing with him? It was -

It was hours before their conversation in the Ops Center. He was about to go downstairs and run into her. Where he told her he wasn't afraid anymore. And she shot him down.

What had happened in between? She had wondered later, staring at the monitor for some clue. Tucker had changed her mind, but what changed his? Why didn't he say anything - do anything - until that moment in the clearing?

Frowning, she watched ten minutes go by on the computer. Danny still hadn't returned.

"You don't get to say what you want to say and then just run into battle."

"What happens after this Danny? After you say what you want to say and go off to face Dan… would you regret it?"

She had told him those things- she didn't want to get her hopes up. It wasn't his regret that she was worried about.

It was hers.

Realizing Danny wasn't coming back soon, Sam hit fast forward, watching the timestamp speed by until his room door finally opened. Sam hit play, just as Danny entered.

His expression was unreadable, blue eyes dark in thought. Clockwork she realized, remembering the Time Master interrupting their conversation. Danny faltered, crying out as another set of blue sparks coursed through his body. Sam frowned worriedly, watching as he fell to the floor, writhing in pain. How many times did he go through this before he faced Dan? He breathed deeply, letting them subside before he let out a long shuddering sigh that seem to envelop his whole body. He stayed crouched for a few moments before he stood, hair covering his face. Then he transformed, flying out of his bedroom.

Sam fast forwarded the video again, watching the time zip forward before she saw Danny flew back into his room. It had been a few hours since he left. She pressed play, watching as his transformation slowed to normal speed and illuminated the room.

Danny sighed, walking over to the computer desk tiredly. Blue sparks ran through his frame, making the boy stumble and grimace in pain. He clutched the edge of the desk, fighting the sparks and pain that was coursing through him. Suddenly, Danny's expression changed to one of anger, blue eyes turning green. With a yell of frustration, he swept all the items of his desk onto the ground with a large crash. Sam jumped at noise, glancing briefly at the pile of stuff next to the desk.

"That's enough!" he yelled, sparks suddenly disappearing and leaving the boy breathing hard. Danny's arms were shaking with effort as he gripped the desk for dear life, black hair blocking his face from the camera as he looked down. Phantom appeared behind him, hovering a few feet behind the teen watching him in pity. Sam reached out to the monitor, unable to help.

Neither spoke, only Danny's ragged breathing coming through the computer microphone as time ticked forward. Eventually, Danny broke the silence. "Why does it have to be me?" he asked, broken. Sam's heart broke at the words.

Phantom's green eyes softened at the question. "I wish I knew," he replied quietly. He ran a hand through his white hair and breathed out deeply. He floated closer to his human half slowly. "Clockwork did say there was one favourable outcome."

Danny snorted. "He also implied we weren't coming back alive," he snapped back.

Phantom held up his hands in surrender. "All I'm saying is: it's possible."

Danny sighed, back straightening slightly, but still not moving from place in front of the camera. Sam still couldn't see his face. "We could run," he whispered. "Let Vlad and Valerie handle this; get the GIW involved."

Phantom snorted this time, crossing his arms in disgust. "I can't believe those words came out of your mouth," he said drily. "Like you'd ever run from this."

Danny laughed bitterly, finally standing up straight and looked Phantom in the eye. "True," he agreed, a small smile on his face. The smile faded as he crossed his arms in thought. "Did you ever think we'd be here after almost two years of having these powers?"

Phantom rolled his eyes as he made a face. "Dude, you're proving that we do have some sort of hero complex."

"No, not like that," Danny told him, making the ghost frown. "I know we've faced big threats before and anticipated not coming back. This fight though..." Danny bent down and picked up a small picture frame. "Did you ever think we'd be ready?"

Phantom was silent, observing his human self searchingly. He made multiple attempts to speak before he sighed tiredly, just waiting for Danny to continue.

Danny gripped the frame determinedly. "I'm not going to tell them," he continued softly. "They'd talk us out of it; attempt to make a plan that might put them in danger. It's better if they fight in the city. That way they won't-" Danny's voice cracked as he broke off.

Phantom nodded readily. "Okay," he agreed softly. Green eyes drifted to the computer before they settled back onto the black haired boy. "Are you at least going to talk to Sam?"

Danny let out a shaky breath and shook his head. "She's right," he said softly. "I can't tell her how I feel and go face Dan. If I somehow make it back, then I'll tell her. It wouldn't be right otherwise."

Phantom scowled. "So you're going to make the decision for her? Somehow, I think she'd be even angrier at that."

Danny scowled back. "Don't you think I know that!" he argued, waving his arms emphatically. The frame in his hand went flying onto the bed, bouncing slightly at the two teens glared at each other. "It's easier if I don't tell her."

"For you," Phantom countered angrily.

"For her!" Danny shouted. Phantom raised one of his eyebrows as Danny sighed. "Look – if I tell Sam and don't make it back…" He looked down to the floor. "I can't do that to her… not… not now."

Phantom frowned as Danny trailed off. He floated over to Danny and put a gloved hand onto his shoulder. "I get it," he said simply, floating past the boy. They stood side by side, facing opposite directions as if they were two sides of the same coin. They were silent again for a bit, before Phantom started speaking again. "Being fifteen sucks."

Danny's laugh was cold and sardonic at the abrupt change of topic. "Tell me about it," he replied ruefully.

Phantom looked up at the ceiling wistfully. "What would you do if we got out of this?" he asked.

Danny smiled, lost in thought. "Same things I normally do," he said. "You?"

Phantom chuckled. "Probably annoy you a little more," he joked. "More of the same."

Danny and Phantom turned to each other, any sort of amusement sliding off their faces as the reality of their fate once again sunk in.

"You ready?" Phantom asked.

Danny nodded. "Let's do this."

Both boys turned to the opening door as Jazz walked into the room. "Danny, you in here?" She looked over to them, surprised, before frowning slightly. "Are you okay?"

Phantom disappeared, leaving Danny standing alone on his side of the room. He gave her a bittersweet smile. "Yeah," he replied softly.

"Good cause –"

The video stopped, the pop up window again giving her the options of play, save or discard.

Sam's eyes were wide as anger, fear, regret, guilt and sadness overwhelmed her as she stared at the screen. It had been a week since this video. So much had happened.

And Danny wasn't any closer to waking up.

More tears came to her eyes - she thought she had finished with them by now - as she sat at his computer.

"It's fine… This can wait."

"Let's talk later."

There wasn't a later.

It didn't wait.

She replayed the video.

:-=-:

"I don't know! It's Sam. It just is okay!"

Jazz stiffened, hearing her brother's voice for the first time in over a week. "Danny?" she breathed hopefully.

"Because?"

She frowned, cautiously walking down the hall to Danny's room. That was Phantom's voice. The door was opened a crack, a small glow of light coming from the room. Had her Mom or Dad finally gone in?

"Cause I -"

Danny's voice sounded again, making Jazz's eyes widen. "Oh no," she whispered rushing forward.

"Because you what?"

Jazz flung open the door.

"Because I think I'm in love her!"

"Sam!" Jazz exclaimed. The girl paused the video, turning slowly in the chair. She was breathing hard, like she couldn't get enough air, tears flowing down her face. Jazz moved quickly, rushing over to the girl and knelt in front of her. "Sam, what are you doing in here?" Jazz glanced at screen with a frown. "And what're you watching?"

Sam didn't answer, starting to hyperventilate. Realizing the girl was more of a concern, Jazz breathed with her, trying to get her to mimic her actions. Her breathing became a little more normal, hiccupping slightly as she continued to stare at the red head.

"That's it," Jazz soothed, nodding. "Breathe in and out." Teal eyes glanced at the computer again, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "That's better. Want to tell me about it?" She took in Sam's appearance, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced up close. Sam stayed quiet, making Jazz sigh. She stood, moving past the younger teen to the computer, dragging the mouse across the video clip and watching glimpses of her brother on screen. Jazz pursed her lips. "Did you watch all of it?" Jazz asked softly. Sam nodded. Jazz sighed again, moving back in front of the teen.

"I was wondering yours went," Jazz told her gently. Sam looked at her in confusion. Jazz smiled sadly. "It was my idea - after the whole Fear incident and my parents finding out… Danny was worried about, well, worrying about us blaming ourselves. That he wouldn't be able to say that whatever happened was on him." Jazz chuckled fondly. "Guess he took the whole 'saving people' thing too seriously huh? There's one for my parents, me, Tucker - I think he did one for the news too."

Jazz paused, sighing again. Sam looked at her expectantly. "After last week, I took these out again - just in case he-" her voice cracked. Jazz swallowed, shaking her head. "In case he didn't make it," she managed. "Sam, I'm sure he didn't want you to find out like this."

Sam scoffed, a hint of the girl's personality flying outward. "He didn't even manage to tell me," she said bitterly. Jazz looked at her confused. "He split Jazz - Phantom pressed record. They didn't even remember that it was going." Suddenly, her face softened. "He tried to - before he left. I… I thought he was just trying to tell me in case... It wasn't that, I see that now."

Jazz gave her a gentle smile. "He cares about you Sam."

She had said it as comfort, but Jazz's words made Sam upset. "We shouldn't have let him go out their Jazz," she said darkly. She pointed to the screen. "The Time Visions affected him more than we realized, he was… he was at his breaking point. And Dan? Dan -" her eyes scrunched tightly, a pained look on her face. "I still hear his screams. Still see Dan's hand through his chest. Danny twitching in between consciousness as Dan electrocuted him. All that blood. Now he's…."

"He will," Jazz assured firmly. "He'll get better Sam."

Sam shook her head. "I heard Frostbite and Ethelwulf," she replied. "He's not healing anywhere close to normal - not for him, a ghost or a human." Sam's eyes glistened with tears. "Did I do the right thing?" she asked hushed. "Giving him the Ecto-Enhancer?"

Jazz's eyes watered, realizing now what Sam had been going through over the last week. Sam blamed herself.

"Am I the reason he's still like this?"

:-=-:

Tucker closed his locker a little forcefully, eyes narrowing at the metal object.

"What do you want to do for your birthday honey?" His mom had asked him yesterday. "It's not every day you turn sixteen."

"If you miss my birthday caused you died, I'm running up your tab at the Nasty Burger."

"The Usual?" Danny had asked.

"With extra everything."

He fiddled with the lock, growing more and more frustrated with every second. Eventually, he growled, punching the thing angrily. He winced, wringing out his hand with a small string of curse words underneath his breath.

I want my best friend to be okay.

It was their first day back at school since Dan's attack over a week ago. Ten days since he last spoke to his best friend. There was still no word on when he'd wake up.

If he'd wake up.

"Remember Tucker, it was Dash who stuffed you in there, not the locker itself. Stop senseless locker abuse."

His head whipped up at Sam's voice. She grinned, rolling her eyes at him. "Happy Birthday you big idiot," she wished, leaning against the lockers in her best Danny impression.

He smiled. He and Danny had thought the birthday greeting was the best thing ever since they learned 'idiot' meant. "Thanks," he said. "I needed that."

Sam's grin morphed into a sad smile, her eyes dull with guilt and self-loathing. "I think I did too," she admitted. "Jazz said her parents had the school excuse them for the last few weeks. She's only coming in for her exams."

Tucker nodded. "They told Ishiyama and Lancer then?"

"Yeah," Sam said softly. She looked down the hallway, whispering teens surrounding them. "Wonder how long it'd take for the whole school to find out."

Tucker shrugged. "Beats me." He noticed the dark circles under her eyes and frowned. "Still having the nightmares?"

Sam scowled. "Are you?" she retorted with an eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," he admitted readily. Tucker gave her a searching look, daring her to lie. "And all I know is what I saw when I hacked into the school camera system. Sam - it's okay if -"

She held up her bandaged wrist. "I am," she replied sourly. "Happy? I admitted it." She sighed. "Between Dan's attacks and Danny kiss-" Sam stopped abruptly, eyes widening as she realized what she was about to say.

Tucker's eyes widened also. "The what!?" He exclaimed loudly, causing some students to stare. Sam turned red, glaring at Tucker. The boy grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "He - what? When? Why didn't you tell me this sooner!? Sam this is huge! He actually -"

A cough stopped his excited rant. Tucker and Sam turned.

Valerie stood, her hand on her hip watching them with an annoyed look on her face. She eyed both of them warily, green eyes glancing briefly to Sam's bandaged wrist before addressing them both. "Where's Danny?"

The two friends looked at each other.

"Still out sick," Tucker told her, shrugging non-committedly.

Green eyes looked him over. "Sure he is," she said bitterly. "Not what I heard."

Sam's eyes narrowed, stepping forward. "And what did you hear?"

Valerie shrugged. She took off her backpack, rummaging in it for a moment before grabbing a small envelope. She held it out to the two friends. "Nevermind. Can one of you give this to him? When he's up?" she asked.

Tucker eyed it suspiciously, paling slightly as he saw the name 'Phantom' written on the top. "Wait - which Danny are we talking about here?" he asked confused. Sam took the envelope, glaring at Valerie.

Valerie stared at them for a few moments, challenging them to do something. Her eyebrow rose again. "It matters?" she replied coolly. She turned, hearing the two friends gasp behind her as she walked down the hall. When she got to the end of the hall, she looked back, watching their wide eyed stares looking back at her.

:-=-:

Skulker phased into Plasmius' lab, frowning at the half-ghost's back. "You wanted to see me?" the hunter asked.

Vlad didn't turn around from the computer, nor did he transform from his human form. "Ah Skulker," he greeted. "Any word?"

The ghost landed, green eyes glaring at the man's dismissive tone. "The whelp's still not awake," Skulker replied. "Though why you insist on using me instead of just asking the humans is beyond me. Aren't you toying with the orange one?"

Plasmius scoffed, still typing away at the computer. "Jack only tells me the basics now that he knows who I am. You tell me what I need to know." Vlad got up, finally facing the ghost with a sombre look. "Do you think he'll survive?"

Skulker hesitated. "They still don't know," the robotic ghost replied, shrugging. "The young hybrid is strong, so it's possible."

The half-ghost sighed. "Best make contingency plans then," he said softly. He locked eyes with the ghost in front of him. "Can you retrieve the Infi-Map from the Far Frozen?"

Skulker blinked. "The Infi-Map?" he asked slowly.

"Yes," Vlad said, pacing. "I'm sure it will be easy to steal since most of Frostbite's people are tending to Daniel."

Skulker watched him, frowning in thought. "That would go against the truce."

"And?" Vlad said, raising an eyebrow.

"A truce against the Far Frozen and the Master of Time," Skulker replied, as if the answer was obvious. When the half-ghost didn't respond, Skulker let out a frustrated sigh. "Plasmius, you cannot do this. Messing with time and space is unwise."

Vlad transformed, floating above Skulker with a smug grin. "I didn't take you to be a coward Skulker," he challenged.

Skulker's eyes glowed at the insult. "I am more versed in Ghost Law than you, halfa," he growled. "Going against a truce lands you in Walker's prison. Going against a truce from Clockwork? I don't remember any ghost being alive to tell their tale."

"Daniel did," Vlad retorted flippantly. "And I am much smarter and powerful than him."

"Are you though?" Skulker rose in the air, staring his employer down. "Can you do any of what the whelp did?" he tested. "The boy defeated Pariah Dark and the abomination."

"With my help!" Vlad cut in.

"And yet it's Phantom who is victorious," Skulker stated with crossed arms. "You've heard the whispers, I'm sure."

Plasmius' eyes glowed. "I will not be ruled by a child!" he retorted angrily. "They're just rumours - they cannot be true!"

Skulker glared. "They may not be… but those rumours are why you're collecting powerful artifacts," he said. "Why you're trying to force ghosts to your side. Plasmius - the Master of Time sides with him. You will not win with war."

Plasmius laughed. "Who said anything about war?" His hand lit aflame, watching the swirling energy light up the robotic ghost's face. "If Daniel dies, then the throne is open."

The ghostly hunter eyes flew wide, letting out a sharp gasp. "You wish death on your own kind?" he asked suspiciously. "After everything you've done to get the boy to your side?"

Vlad's face fell slightly. "No," he replied softly. "But the boy's core is damaged Skulker. If he survives, I doubt he'd be able to take his place. Nor will he want to. I'm just preparing to step in for him. This is about protecting him." Vlad sighed heavily, red eyes looking defeated. "I do not want Daniel to die - but I cannot deny that with him out of the way benefits my plan. He's young - too young to make this decision."

Skulker watched the older hybrid start pacing again, regarding him carefully. "Somehow, I think he'll see it differently." Skulker sighed, shaking his head. He floated upward. "Do as you wish Plasmius," he said quietly. "But do so alone."

Vlad stopped pacing, staring at Skulker incredulously. "You would go against me?"

Skulker shook his head. "I will not go against Clockwork - even if it means siding with Danny Phantom."

Vlad watched him go with a frown. "Daniel…" he whispered worriedly in the silence. His eyes found the computer screen again, shifting his train of thought. "I guess I must do this myself."

:-=-:

Lancer fidgeted with the small pouch in his hand as he heard the doorbell echo throughout FentonWorks.

"We're not giving any interviews!" he heard Jazz's irate voice from inside the hallway. "Go awa-" The door flew open, the girl stopping mid-sentence as she realized who was in front of her. "Mr. Lancer?"

"Ms. Fenton," Lancer greeted. The star student held a broom in her hand in an attack stance. She looked down at the broom and sheepishly put it behind her. "Are your parents home?"

Jazz looked back inside. "I think Dad's asleep," she said with a concerned frown. "Mom's in the lab. I can get her?" She opened the door wider, inviting the teacher inside. He nodded in thanks, looking over FentonWorks with a small frown. The normally vibrant house was filled with a soft buzz, tension filling the air as soon as he settled himself in the living room. He fiddled with the pouch again, wondering what he could do to help.

"She'll be right up," Jazz said, returning with a tray and teapot.

The teacher looked her over, frowning. "Jasmine, are you alright?" he asked.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Haven't been sleeping much," she replied. "It's been a rough two weeks."

"I'm sure," he agreed softly. He changed the subject. "Decide on a college yet? I know Yale's deadline is fast approaching."

Jazz smiled. "Amity U," she replied. "I'd get more on the job training here than anywhere else." Lancer arched an eyebrow. "It's okay," she told him softly. "I'll head there for Grad school. My place is here - at least for a little while longer."

Lancer studied her closely. "Jasmine, you can't put your life on hold," he said.

"Mom and Dad said the same thing," she admitted with a sad smile as she poured him some tea. "And Danny will probably be upset with me when he finds out -" Jazz stopped, her eyes widening slightly as a deep rooted sadness washed over her features.

"I'm sure he's proud of you," he assured softly.

Jazz gave him a watery smile. "He is."

"Jazz?"

"In here!" the girl called to her mother.

Lancer watched as Maddie Fenton came into the living room, the same dark circles around her eyes as her daughter. "Sorry Mr. Lancer," she apologized, taking a seat across from the man. "Was working on something to help Phantom."

"Any luck?" Jazz asked hopefully.

Maddie caught Jazz's eye. "I hope so," she said. Jazz looked in between her mother and Mr. Lancer and nodded.

"I'll check on Dad," she said. She rolled her eyes. "He has another conference call with Vlad this afternoon."

Maddie pursed her lips, watching her daughter go.

"I thought your husband and the mayor were friends?" Lancer inquired, catching the girl's tone.

Maddie sighed. "It's gotten a little complicated," she told him. She turned to the teacher. "How can I help you Mr. Lancer?"

Lancer gripped the pouch tighter. "How's Daniel?"

Maddie tensed at the question before she sighed. "He's still unconscious," she said wearily. "There's been no change."

Lancer nodded, not quite trusting his voice in the moment. In all his years of teaching, this was a first. "May I ask…" he asked finally, his question trailing off.

Maddie watched him closely, lips pressed together before glancing at the stairs. "He's been ill," Maddie said, still staring at the hallway. "We thought it was a cold at first, then he started collapsing." She finally turned back to the teacher with a thoughtful frown. "Tucker told me you had a run in with Phantom?" Perplexed, Lancer nodded. "What happened?"

"Dan - that's what Phantom called him - came after me," Lancer said. After a moment's pause, he frowned. "Actually, I thought it was Daniel that came toward me; Said something about the Career Aptitude Test creating him. I thought he was possessed." Maddie nodded. "What does this have to do with Daniel's condition?"

"Everything," Maddie told him fiercely. "What happened next?"

Lancer's frowned deepened. "Phantom came and told me it wasn't Daniel, that he was safe at FentonWorks."

Maddie chuckled. "That boy," she admonished softly. Lancer gave her a quizzical look. "Did Phantom tell you about Dan?"

"Briefly," Lancer replied. "Something about a future that doesn't exist."

Maddie nodded. "Dan is… was an alternate Phantom," she explained. "A dark Phantom. Danny's decision to hand in the answers changed the events so that he never existed. That's why Dan targeted him."

Lancer's mouth hung open. Maddie continued. "Dan made him sleep deprived; paranoid. He made him relive parts of the alternate future over and over again… we thought it would be fine when Phantom faced him." Maddie sighed, taking a moment to compose herself and look toward the ceiling. "Dan and Phantom, they were drawn to each other in the worst ways. I think Sam saw that before any of us realized."

"So she went after Phantom," Lancer said, remembering the absurd phone conversation he had between Mr. Foley and Phantom.

"Dan trapped them both," Maddie continued, nodding. "According to Sam, it was a close call." Maddie gave him a sad smile. "Danny… Dan must have shown him something that made him go out there, something awful. He managed to push Sam out of the way and got hit with a large ecto-blast instead."

Lancer paled. "He what?"

Maddie's sad smile grew slightly, eyes radiating with regret. "We should have been there sooner," she admitted in disdain. "Then maybe both of them would be okay."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Lancer broke it. "Can I see him?"

Maddie gave him a small smile. "I think he'd like that."

Lancer smiled in appreciation. "Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly. He brought up the small black pouch and held it out. "I'm not sure, but I think this may help Phantom. He left it behind."

Maddie's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Lancer shrugged, unzipping it and holding it out to her. "He asked me to give this to him - to heal him."

Maddie gasped. "Is this…" she whispered hopefully. She swallowed, looking from the pouch to Lancer. "You administered one of these?" Lancer nodded. "What was the effect?"

"Phantom looked quite a bit better after a while," he replied. He frowned, watching Maddie's eyes dart back and forth as she did calculations in her head. She took the pouch from the teacher, staring at the last syringe as if it was her only hope. "Is this… helpful?"

She looked up at his with wide eyes. "If this is what I think it is," Maddie said slowly. "Then it could be the breakthrough we're looking for."

:-=-:

Lancer watched Maddie walk in first with a deep breath, a nod and a then a smile. He attempted to do the same, but stopped at the sight of his student lying in the bed.

When Maddie had told him Daniel was injured, he wasn't expecting this.

Daniel's chest moved steadily with the help of machines. His face was covered by a small mask over his mouth and nose. Lancer noticed the many bandages along his torso, almost covering the boy from shoulder to hip. He swallowed heavily; taking a deep breath as he finally stepped inside the makeshift hospital room.

"Hi sweetheart," Maddie whispered softly, touching the side of the face. "You have a visitor." She turned back to the teacher, waving the pouch at Lancer. "You'll have to excuse me; I need to give this to Ethelwulf." She glanced to the corner. "Clockwork, you coming?"

Lancer turned and jumped, seeing an old ghost with purple robes shaking his head. "I will remain here," he told her, his voice calm.

Maddie nodded. "Let Clockwork know if you need anything, Mr. Lancer," she said quietly before exiting the room.

Lancer approached the bed apprehensively, unsure how to interact with his unconscious student. He settled in a vacant chair, watching the boy's chest rise and fall. He frowned, noticing now that the boy sported many more injuries than he originally had seen. "How can one blast do this?" he asked quietly, green eyes finding the boy's bruised neck.

"It didn't."

Lancer jumped, turning to the old ghost in the corner as he spoke. The red eyes seemed to look through the man, making the teacher shiver. "What?"

Clockwork raised an eyebrow. "It didn't," he repeated, a small frown hidden underneath his long silvery beard.

Lancer's eyebrows drew together in confusion, expecting the ghost to elaborate. Clockwork merely stared back. "What do you mean? Mrs. Fenton said -"

"I'm aware of what you've been told," Clockwork cut him off. "But you're also a smart man, William."

"Come on - you're a smart man."

Lancer bristled, remembering the words the dark Phantom had said. "How… how do you know my name?"

"I am the Master of Time," Clockwork said. Lancer detected a bit of bitterness underneath his calm voice. "Or at least, I will be again when this is all over."

"Come again?" Lancer asked weakly.

Clockwork sighed, floating toward the bed. Lancer's green eyes followed him, confused and unnerved by his presence. "I cannot see the present or future currently, but I can see the events of the past." Clockwork told him softly, regretful red eyes bore into the teacher. "I saw what he did for you."

Lancer was thoroughly confused, frowning so intensely that he was slightly worried it would stay that way. "You mean Phantom?"

Clockwork didn't reply, instead turning to the unconscious boy in front of them. "Even I cannot deny fate for a moment of my choosing," he said apologetically, red eyes soft as he looked the boy over. Clockwork put a frail hand on the boy's injured shoulder, holding it there slightly before he sighed, floating back to his corner.

Lancer turned back to his student, taking in the strange conversation and looking at the boy again. The bruising on his neck looked familiar but he couldn't place where. "I never would have thought Daniel would be involved with ghosts," Lancer said after a while. "Ms. Manson, maybe. Mr. Foley even! But Daniel?" Lancer shook his head. "I was under the impression he was scared of them."

Clockwork smiled mysteriously. "You'd be surprised what scares that boy."

Lancer glanced nervously at the old ghost before turning back to the teen. "He could've died."

Clockwork's red eyes looked Lancer over again. "You're his teacher?" he asked. Lancer nodded. "I find teachers are the best to pick up on change and growth faster than most." Clockwork glanced in Danny's direction. "Does it really seem that strange that he wanted to save his family? His friends?"

Lancer looked at the ghost quizzically, before turning back to the student. Lancer's impression of Danny's freshman year was a lazy student, often skipping class, falling asleep or forgetting his homework. But he was loyal - fiercely so - to his friends and family. He understood the consequences of his actions, accepting of detentions with a brief nod of the head with a resolved expression on his face. This year he had hardly gotten in so much trouble, but that loyalty he displayed in freshman year grew. So did his confidence in the person he was growing to be. He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders - almost as if…

As if he had to save it himself.

"That isn't Danny Fenton. And it never will be."

"Nah - He found out what would happen on his own; realized it was too high a cost."

Phantom had told him that earlier. The teen who literally throws himself into battle with no regard for himself; Just as Danny threw himself in front of his best friend to save her life. "Clockwork," Lancer started, finding himself staring at the boy's neck. His mouth went dry. "Where's Phantom?"

Clockwork shrugged. "Here," he said flippantly. His red eyes sparkled in amusement at the question. "At FentonWorks."

Lancer frowned. Phantom's neck had been bruised too; he had remembered thinking the ghost's vocal chords being crushed. Danny's entire neck looked swollen, blue-purple blotches that look suspiciously like the boy was choked. But didn't he just jump in front of a blast? To save Ms. Manson?

"She's with Ethelwulf, safe and away from battle."

Phantom was friends with Tucker and Sam. Best friends he had said. Danny's only friends were Sam and Tucker.

"It was more how I said it rather than what I said."

Phantom has been seen battling ghosts all over town at all times of day. Danny regularly missed school.

"That isn't Danny Fenton."

Phantom spoke to Lancer as if he knew the man. Danny had Lancer as his teacher for two years.

The shield had been up for days before Phantom's first clash with Dan. Danny was at school for all of an hour before he collapsed.

"Do you see it yet Mr. Lancer? The resemblance?"

"The Strange Case…" Lancer murmured softly, eyes widening just a fraction. "Of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."

"Yes," Clockwork said with a hint of amusement. "I believe Stevenson's novella does apply here. Although, perhaps not in the way you may think."

Lancer swallowed, nodding as he remembered his interaction with Danny Phantom, playing it over in his head as he stared at the unconscious teen. "There's more to this story, isn't there?"

He heard Clockwork chuckle. "There's always more to a story than what is on the page."

:-=-:

Ethelwulf held the last Ecto-Enhancer in his disguised hand over Danny's unconscious body, glancing at the ground with unease. "There's no guarantee that this could work," he told them gently. He locked eyes with Frostbite, the latter shaking his head as he withdrew his hand from Danny's chest. "Are you willing to risk his life?"

Maddie and Jack shared a look briefly before sending an uncertain looks toward Sam, Tucker and Jazz. Tucker stared grimly at the heart monitor, Jazz nodded stiffly and Sam stared at the Ecto-Enhancer as if it would explode.

"What would happen if we didn't?" Maddie asked evenly.

"The Great One's core is shifting," Frostbite said gravely. "I have been able to cool it down, but after two weeks, it's starting to injure him rather than heal. If this continues, he'd either assimilate to the new core or…"

"Or he dies," Sam finished coldly. Frostbite nodded grimly.

"So what, he'd gain new ghost powers?" Tucker asked, shuddering slightly.

Ethelwulf shook his head. "The Halfling has been gravely injured - we have no idea how a new core will affect his mind. In an alternate timeline, it broke him." Ethelwulf paused, looking at them intensely. "This will help him heal physically, but if his mind is already gone, he may not be who you remember."

The weight of his words sank in, Jack grabbing Maddie's hand tightly. The mother swallowed. "Can he reverse it?" she asked curiously. Ethelwulf looked at her in confusion. "Danny, could he reverse whatever is happening to his core?"

Frostbite hummed thoughtfully. "If he can reclaim his self-generation of cold core energy, it's possible," he replied. "But for all the power the Great One possesses, I'm not sure if he's strong enough to pull that off." His paw glowed, showing a small smooth ice sphere with patches of snow. "This energy," he pointed to the smooth clear sections of the sphere, "is the Great One's normal core energy. The patches are whatever is growing around it. As it stands, we are not sure what has the upper hand."

"From what Sam and the teacher has told us," Ethelwulf continued, waving the syringe in the air. "It seems like this was an immediate reaction into his blood stream. For this to have a chance we'd need to dilute it; else we run the risk of an overdose or worse."

"What about a diluted dose to his core?" Jack wondered out loud. When Ethelwulf beckoned him to continue, he elaborated. "A small amount to restart some of his speed healing and cold energy regeneration - to monitor what his core does. Wouldn't that tell us if he could overcome it?"

"That could work," Frostbite said in thought. "Providing his normal core energy still outweighs the foreign one. "

"Which is a large if," Ethelwulf replied sombrely. "If we're wrong, we could be dooming us all." He looked from his hand to the group of humans around them. "Are you really willing to take that chance?"

Maddie didn't hesitate. "I believe in him," she said without any guilt or remorse. Jack nodded readily at her shoulder. "If anyone can do this, Danny can."

"Mom's right," Jazz said strongly. She looked at the two other teens. "Danny's been in similar fights before right?"

Sam's mouth was in a thin line, looking worriedly at Tucker. Flashbacks of Danny's injured body floated through her mind, vowing to return with a smile. "Tucker?" she asked.

The boy in question jumped. "I shouldn't be part of this," he said finally. "I nearly killed him -"

"Tucker," Jazz admonished, but the boy shook his head.

"No Jazz," he said softly, anger and self-loathing covering his words. "I told you all that I wouldn't put up the shield until I knew I had Danny's ecto-signature programmed. I promised. And I really thought I had it," he looked down at his hands. "I shouldn't have listened to him - we could have got to him in time!"

Frostbite and Ethelwulf frowned pitifully at the young teen. "Tucker of Tech," Frostbite said gently. "I watched you work on that shield, saw the gravity of what the Great One had asked of you." The ghost showed him the orb again. "I don't believe he knew how much his core was altered."

"It also makes you the most knowledgeable person to make this decision," Ethelwulf added. "Apart from myself, Frostbite and the Fentons. You know Danny's signature, do you believe you made a mistake?"

Tucker hesitated, looking at Sam for assistance.

She smiled. "Hey, you're the one who figured out what the Ghost Zone's destruction would do to our world," she said lightly. "And took down Nocturn with just your PDA - Tucker, I think you had it. I say we go for it. The bigger question is - do you think this will work?"

Tucker looked at the heart monitor again, watching his best friend's core reading beep simultaneously with a heartbeat. The core was cooling again. Not trusting his voice, he nodded.

Ethelwulf nodded, hand outstretched to Frostbite for another syringe. "Then let's try it."

#danny phantom #cartoons #fanfiction #danny fenton #action #adventure #cross posted on ao3 #no phantom planet #But his parents know #ecto storm series #Out of Time #multichapter #ANGST #family #friends #Lancer #we need some comfort after this hurt...

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onlysarah235678 · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Bit Part 12

Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x female reader

A/N: Wow so never listen to me when I say how long it will take to update… A lot of stuff happens in this one. Mind the warnings. Who made my gif this time? Illuminated-blue of course ❤

Warnings: Brief physical assault, use of homophobic slurs, vague mentions of domestic violence and vomiting.

When you wake up Sunday morning you are immensely grateful that you don’t have to go into work until 11. You had stayed up until almost 2 in the morning on the phone with Billie. She had gone home after your walk, but she’d called you after she’d taken care of the kittens to check in. You still seemed a little down when she left, which was understandable, but she didn’t like it.

For this reason, as soon as she could, she called you just to talk and keep your mind off certain things. You both ended up getting into bed and chatting about nothing in particular for a couple of hours. Things stayed pretty tame, and talking to her definitely helped you relax. Still, you woke up a little on edge as you just sat in bed for a while. Almost an hour had gone by of you just sitting in bed on your phone when you hear Milo start up the stairs.

As quickly and quietly as possibly you lie back down and throw the covers over you. If Milo sees that you’re awake, he’ll bother you until you take him on a walk. You close your eyes and try to feign sleep for a little bit, but when Milo jumps up on your bed you realize you’ve lost.

Usually, he’ll sit in front of the bed and whine a little, or paw at you. If he knew you were up though, he would jump on the bed and then on you.

You really needed to teach Milo about sleeping in on Sundays.

As expected, your dog is already climbing on you and searching for your head. He liked to lick your face to wake you up, and you had to push him away as you groaned in disgust and defeat.

Guess you were getting up.

After changing into clothes that you wouldn’t mind seeing yourself in later, you lead Milo outside and away from your apartment building. You decide to take him a little farther than usual since you have more time before you need to get to work. He of course loves it, but you end up regretting not taking the time to check the ‘news’ for any updates on you and Billie.

You were on your phone for an hour, but it hadn’t even occurred to you that you should check on that. You really should know better by now. You walk down a street you’ve become familiar with because it has the bakery that you love. You are already thinking about donuts as you walk through the front doors still only half awake.

You smile at the woman behind the counter, muttering a quiet ‘hi’ before glancing over the menu. You only decide on the pastry you want before she speaks up. You didn’t hear what she is saying because your mind was fully on what to have for breakfast, so you frown in confusion before making the mistake of asking her to repeat herself.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The redhead pulls her phone out of her pocket and presses a few buttons before showing you what she was talking about.

“Is this you?”

It takes you a second to realize what you’re looking at because the video isn’t very good. It was taken at night and it was kind of fuzzy and far away. Eventually you recognize Billie as she pulls away from you, and your eyes widen giving the woman the only answer she needed.

You leave without your pastry and you’re more than a little pissed as you pull out your phone to call Billie. You’re too distracted by the task at hand, that you don’t notice the car coming as you cross the road. The driver lays on the horn and you jump in surprise before scrambling back onto the sidewalk. You have a half grimace and half apologetic look on your face as the car passes you before you look both ways like an adult and try again. Luckily Milo was smarter than you and hadn’t even stepped out on to the street yet.

“Come on, Milo. Let’s try and figure out what’s going on.”

Billie is still in bed when you call her because it is Sunday after all. It’s Sunday and not even 9 am yet. Billie sighs before sitting up and reaching for her phone. Seeing that it’s you makes her smile, and she’s quick to answer it as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Good morning, Y/N.”

You smile immediately at the sleep you hear in Billie’s voice before sighing happily. You’re almost back to your apartment and Milo is picking up the pace because it’s breakfast time. Actually, it’s your breakfast time, but that doesn’t matter to him. He likes watching you eat because more often than not he gets some of whatever you’re eating. Not because you give it to him, but you tend to be an absentminded and messy eater.

“Morning, Billie. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You nearly curse yourself for the tension you can hear in your own voice. You know that Billie will pick up on it and you just wait for her to ask.

She doesn’t waste any time at all. Not that you expected her to.

“It’s not a problem, sweetheart. Is everything alright?”

You can’t help but smile at the fact that you were right about Billie picking up on your stress. You didn’t want to ruin her day with this, but you didn’t want to hide it either. It didn’t even occur to you that she might have heard it from someone else either way.

You and Milo walk into your apartment building and you press the button for the elevator impatiently. You hit it another few times before sighing in defeat. You turn toward the stairwell at the end of the hall and head that way with Milo in tow.

“Apparently there is a video of us on the internet.”

You wait until you’re sure you have Billie’s attention before you tell her what you saw. It was a video from Friday night when you and Milo went to Billie’s place. As you describe the short video showing you sitting on the kitchen counter with Billie standing in between your legs, you open the door to the stairwell and let Milo go through first. When Billie asks how you found out about this, you tell her about how you went on a walk with Milo to your favorite bakery.

“Yeah, the woman working there told me, and I was so weirded out I didn’t even get my donut.”

Billie laughs at this as she smiles sympathetically. She knows how important your sugar is to you and she realizes you must have been pretty thrown off to leave without it. She waits until you’re done talking to Milo, apparently he’s going too fast for so early in the morning, before speaking up.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That must have been uncomfortable.”

You laugh under your breath because it was very awkward for the three seconds you spend debating whether or not you should leave empty-handed. You opened your mouth to say this when you hear the door on the second floor open and you watch as someone walks out. You hold back your groan of annoyance because this person, your downstairs neighbor is a pain in the ass. He is a homophobic asshole who has no problem sharing his feelings with you every time you run into each other. Luckily this was only the third time since you started seeing Billie.

You start up the next flight of stairs until you remember that you haven’t responded to Billie. You smile before mentioning the end of your trip to the bakery.

“No, it was great. I--.”

Billie was just thinking about getting out of bed when you’re cut off mid-sentence. She frowns in confusion when she hears Milo start barking and a series of thuds as you drop the phone. You tumble down the stairs, hitting your head against the wall as you reach the bottom. You curse before looking up to see the blurry figure that just shoved you continue down the stairs like nothing happened. You realize a few seconds later that Milo’s following him.

“Milo, stop.”

It takes you a moment to regain your bearings and you cringe as you reach for your head. You’re sure you will have a nice bump forming pretty soon. With another groan, you get to your knees before you hiss in pain. Damn that hurt.

“Fuck you, Doug.”

You mutter this under your breath because your head hurts too much to speak any louder. You grit your teeth as you hear his response followed by the sound of Milo yelping.

“Screw you, dyke."

You sit up straight at the sound and feel your head swim as you look around frantically for Milo. You finally spot him shaking his head at the bottom of the stairs and you call him up quickly.

“Milo, come here, boy. Are you okay?”

You wait until Milo is close enough for you to reach out to him. You don’t see anything wrong with him, but you can’t be sure given how dazed you still feel. You sigh as you pull Milo closer to you until you can find where his leash is attached to his collar so you can grab it. You pull him closer before you attempt to get up.

The sound of Billie’s voice coming from somewhere reminds you that you were on the phone with her. You’d completely forgotten.

“Y/N? Are you there? Hello?”

You look around for your phone, but you don’t see it immediately. You move around Milo and frown when you still don’t see it. How far could it have gone? You manage to get to your feet using the wall for support before you take another look around. You finally find it down on the steps headed down to the first floor. You move too quickly to get it and you stumble over Milo before you manage to grab the hand rail with a curse.

“Fuck.”

You slowly kneel down to grab it before standing up again slowly. How it’s not broken you have no idea, but you’re not going to question it. You put the phone to your ear and tighten your hold on Milo’s leash. He’s leaning against you in a way that’s making you more unbalanced. You hurry to lean against the wall before you squeeze your eyes shut to try and recover enough to respond coherently.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Are you alright?”

You sigh again before you respond, your voice a little more telling than you were hoping it would be.

“Hi, sorry. I’m here. I just--.”

You’re not sure why you’re apologizing for someone pushing you down the fucking stairs and you roll your eyes at your stupidity. You don’t get to stumble through your explanation before Billie’s speaking again.

“What just happened, Y/N? Did you fall?”

You merely huff in annoyance as you start up the stairs. You decide not to take the next three flights and just make it to the second floor so you can take the elevator. You don’t trust yourself not to misstep. Especially since you’re on the phone.

“Yes. Well no. This asshole in my building pushed me.”

Billie isn’t sure that she heard you right. Well, no she knows she did because despite sounding ticked and winded, you spoke clearly. Instead, Billie’s trying to figure out who the fuck thought they could pull something like this. Looks like she had more than one person to sue.

“Are you alright? Did you get hurt?”

You finally make it to the top of the stairs and you groan as you lead Milo out into the hallway.

“I hit my head a little, but I’m fine.”

You walk down the hall and make it to the elevator before Billie speaks up. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed before her worried voice snaps your attention back to her.

“Do you need to go see a doctor?”

You’re already shaking your head because it’s past 9:00 and you have to get ready for work. You haven’t eaten yet and you feel yourself getting slightly cranky at the thought. You step into the elevator with Milo on your heels before pressing the button for your floor with a little more force than necessary.

“No, it’s okay, Billie. I’ll be fine. I have work soon anyway.”

Again, you don’t notice Billie’s silence because you’re concentrating on getting to your apartment so you can get something to eat. You don’t know that Billie is debating whether or not you are making the right decision. She doesn’t want to boss you around, but she’s worried that you’re more hurt than you let on. Finally, Billie sighs before she shakes her head in defeat. She’s reaching for a cigarette on her nightstand when she finally asks.

“Okay. Will you call me to check in?”

You smile despite the fact that you can’t promise when this will happen, but you’re all too willing to do this for her. Once your apartment door is opened you let Milo go before closing the door behind you with a nod.

“Of course, but don’t worry okay? I’ll be fine.”

After convincing Billie that you will call her when you get a chance, you get ready for work as you usually would. After making breakfast and drinking a little more than usual you feel pretty good. You take something for the headache you anticipate having before you get dressed and ready to go. Milo’s already waiting for you at the door and you put on his harness and leash before heading out.

You make it to work without incident. You put Milo in his kennel until lunch in a couple of hours before you head up to your office. You smile at the sight of the flowers still there before you put your stuff down and sigh in anticipation. The clinic doesn’t open for a bit so you have time to take a look and see what your day is going to consist of.

You sit down in front of your computer and turn it on. You kill time waiting for it to boot up by checking your phone again. You see that Billie texted you and you frown in confusion before just shrugging in indifference. You don’t know Doug’s last name, but you have plenty of descriptors you can give Billie. You’re too focused on figuring out your day to even think about why Billie would want that information.

Billie’s finally up and out of bed, ready to start the day. After checking on the kittens she hurries to get to work. She has Mickey in her lap as she’s working at the dining room table. She is emailing Jeff her media guru to figure out where this video came from. She assumed it was from the same tabloid that released the morning after story, but she couldn’t be sure. After she sends this, she double checks her phone to see if you texted back. She records everything you say about Doug, even the profanities in her computer in case she needs it for later.

Since she knows you don’t work tomorrow, she plans on dragging you to the doctor kicking and screaming if she has to. She can be just as stubborn as you are, and in this case, she doesn’t plan on giving in. Billie sighs in defeat before shutting her computer. She looks down at Mickey in her lap, and smiles as he responds to her scratches with a quiet purr. She hadn’t planned on doing much today, but now she feels like her entire day will just be worrying about you.

Against her better judgement, Billie decides to watch the video again. It’s only about 20 seconds, but she still finds it disturbing that someone had crept into her backyard without either of you noticing. As the video ends, she furrows her brows slightly as she recalls something peculiar that you hadn’t really explained to her.

You had just played off her concern with a smile and a joke as you normally did. However, Billie could tell that this was somehow related to something from your past that she didn’t know about. Something that had been significant enough for Milo to pick up on it. She didn’t know what to make of it, but she planned to find out. If there was something she could do to help you or reassure you, she would do it.

Lunchtime rolled around without anything too interesting happening in appointments or otherwise. You weren’t sure what to eat and were on your way downstairs when someone from reception came back to treatment with a box of donuts.

You eye them curiously when you notice the name on the box. They’re from that bakery you failed to get breakfast from this morning, but you don’t get a chance to ask before Erin arrives.

“Oh donuts! That’s awesome! Where’d they come from?”

Erin’s already reaching for the card before she realizes that it has your name on it. She and Marissa share a look that you miss as the latter hands the note to you.

“For you, Dr. Y/L/N.”

You only wonder for a second who it’s from before you recognize the handwriting. You smile at the sweet note before you open the box and your eyes grow dark.

You loved donuts.

You see a dozen of the most appetizing donuts you’ve ever laid eyes on and you almost reach out for them before you look to Marissa and Erin who are just watching you.

“Go ahead you two. I’ll get one in a second.”

You watch as the pair eyes the chocolate frosted, sprinkled and glazed donuts hungrily before you go wash your hands. You hear Erin groan from behind you and you smile once you finish up and turn back around to see her with only half a donut and satisfied look on her face that makes you want to laugh out loud.

“Your girlfriend is the best, doc.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you’re caught off guard by this. You still couldn’t help but smile at the thought before you moved to grab a donut too. You’ll have to get some real food before you eat too many of these donuts, but for now you were going to enjoy yourself. So you just nod in response to Erin’s comment before taking a bite of chocolate.

You can’t hide the smug little smile that breaks across your face at the thought of being able to call Billie Dean your girlfriend.

“She definitely is.”

Billie is on the phone with Michelle when you call her. After ordering yourself a healthier lunch you retreat back up to your office with a slight grimace. Your head still hurts and you had about an hour before you could take anything else. So to pass the time you plan on finishing up some work and calling Billie to thank her and check in.

“Michelle, let me call you back, okay?”

After receiving an ‘ok’ in response, Billie answers your call with a smile. She had been wondering how you were doing and didn’t waste any time.

“Y/N. How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You smile widely before you lean back in your chair and close your eyes. You weren’t sure why you thought you wouldn’t have to answer this question immediately.

“Hi, Billie. I’m great thanks. I’ve eaten too many donuts and my head only hurts a little.”

Billie laughs as she thinks about this. She knows how much you like food, and it’s so cute to see you get so excited. She wishes she could have been there to see your face.

“I’m glad you liked them, but are you really feeling alright?”

For the next few minutes, you and Billie talk about what your days have consisted of so far. You mentioned how work was a little hectic, but not bad at all. You also only have about 4 hours left. You were surprised to hear that Billie was talking to her assistant about the video. Rather, you were surprised by the attention it was receiving.

“Wait, what? People think you were...?”

You trail off as you think back to the short clip that you’d seen this morning. It was just you and Billie kissing in her kitchen. Nothing special. Well, you thought it was special, but you didn’t know why anyone else cared. You definitely didn’t get what Billie was saying about people’s reactions.

“They thought I was forcing myself on you.”

You nearly laugh at this but you stop short because you recognize the tension underlying Billie’s words. She seems more concerned about this than you would have thought. Sure, it wasn’t a good thing to have people believing things like that about you, but Billie could make it right. She could release a statement or just wait until her interview.

“That’s ridiculous.”

You say this absentmindedly as you look to your slightly wilted flowers. They still smell great and you breathe in deeply just to get more of them. It isn’t until you hum to yourself that you realize that Billie hasn’t responded.

“Billie?”

The medium sighs as she tries to figure out how to mention what’s really bothering her without being too obvious. She knows that Michelle and Jeff can deal with any bad press this video gets. That’s not what she’s worried about at the moment.

“I know, Y/N. It just doesn’t look good.”

You nod at this because you’d already decided that it didn’t. Whoever thought they saw you running away from Billie didn’t understand what had really happened. You weren’t too keen on sharing what that was, but if Billie was worried, you’d figure out how to explain it without revealing too much.

You weren’t really ready to talk about that yet.

“I know, Billie, but it will be okay.”

Both you and Billie sit in silence for a few seconds. She thinks about how her attempt to get you to confess what really happened failed, while you decide whether or not to even mention it. You eventually fall back on your decision to be as honest as possible with Billie. The decision is made easier by the fact that Billie hasn’t judged you for your past yet, and you trust her enough to share this.

“You know that wasn’t it. Milo just…he was going to try to get you away from me.”

That was the truth, but definitely not really an explanation. Billie was smart enough to figure this out on her own, you were sure, so you were really just buying time to see how she reacted to you saying, or rather confirming her belief. You sigh as you cringe slightly before getting to the point when Billie doesn’t say anything.

“He’s just really protective of me, and he didn’t like you touching me. Even if I did.”

Billie smiles to herself at your words, and her mind’s already wandering to touching you again when you speak up. Billie hadn’t been expecting you to be so blunt, but she had always known that you were full of surprises. Good and bad. This wasn’t one of the good ones.

“Remember how I told you I got him from an ex? Well, she wasn’t the nicest.”

Erin was sitting up front in reception with Lindsey for the first real break she’s had all day. She was finishing up her donut when she peeked out the window to see that the same car that was here when she arrived this morning hadn’t left. They were just waiting around like always and Erin rolled her eyes as she looked to the blonde sitting next to her.

“Do you think they’ll ever give up, Lins?”

The blonde in question turns to where Erin is looking and simply sighs. It had only been a week of this, but it was getting old quickly. She felt bad for you because you honestly were just trying to do your own thing. You had just moved here and barely had a month under your belt when all of this happened.

“I don’t know, but I hope so.”

They both look for a few more seconds before Lindsey turns back to Erin with a curious look. She knows how much of a fan the brunette is of Billie Dean, so she’s really only asking for clarification. She shifts a little in her seat so she’s facing her friend.

“Hey, Erin. Have you seen that video?”

She and Erin were the only ones up here for now since Marissa is on lunch, and Mina was in the back so she didn’t need to worry about being overheard. Erin turns to Lindsey with a slight grimace before she nods in answer. There’s no point in lying because she knew that Lindsey knew her better than that. She just nodded again before sitting up and crossing her legs. She listens briefly to make sure that you were still upstairs before speaking.

“Yeah, I saw it before work. I don’t really--.”

She pauses as she thinks about what she saw and how out of context, it didn’t make a lot of sense. She’d blushed heavily at the sight of you and Billie so intimate, but almost as quickly, she’d been confused by how fast it ended. You’d practically flown off the counter toward something. The video had ended before she saw where you went, and despite watching it an embarrassing number of times, she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Yeah, I get what you mean.”

Erin turns to Lindsey in confusion because she wasn’t sure that Lindsey would know where her hesitation came from. She was surprised; however, when Lindsey practically said what she couldn’t find the words to articulate.

“It looked a little sketch at first, but there has to be an explanation, right?”

Erin nodded in agreement smiling as she started to come to your defense, but she was interrupted by the front door opening. She sat up assuming it was a client, but then she saw the delivery bag and she knew what it was. She stood up in anticipation before nodding when the man said the fake name you’d started using. You learned the first time a nosey employee asked too many questions that it was best to be as incognito as possible.

“Order for Misty Gish?”

Erin has to stop herself from laughing as she takes the bag with an appreciative smile. She doesn’t know how you come up with these things sometimes.

After telling Lindsey that she’ll be right back, Erin heads toward the stairs and up to the second floor. She doesn’t hear anything other than Mina in the back cleaning until she’s at the top of the stairs. Since you’re the only doctor working today, it’s pretty quiet upstairs and Erin can hear you talking to someone.

“No, she didn’t hit me. She just pushed me around for a while and Milo didn’t—oh hey Erin!”

Your chair comes to a stop mid-spin as the brunette appears in your doorway with your lunch. You smile widely as you take it from her with a muttered thank you, watching as Erin smiles apologetically before she starts to back out into the hall.

“Here you go. Sorry to interrupt.”

Erin would be lying if she said she hadn’t been listening to what you were saying. It raised a lot of questions that she wouldn’t dare to ask you.

You smile as you set the bag on your desk, having to move your phone that you had haphazardly thrown down when you saw Erin. You shake your head before mentioning offhandedly.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just talking to Billie. Thank you for this!”

Erin nods before she heads back downstairs with a contemplative look. She thought about what you had said to Billie before shaking her head. It wasn’t her business, but hopefully Billie was taking better care of you than this nameless woman.

Once Erin’s gone, you sigh before reaching for your phone with a smile.

“Sorry about that Billie, but I have food now.”

Billie laughs at this before rolling her eyes at the excitement she hears in your voice. She was glad that you were getting fed because you still had a while until you were done with work.

“I heard. I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”

You’re too excited about your food to roll your eyes at Billie’s teasing tone. You instead sigh again as you take a peek into the bag and sniff your food like a dog.

“Should I leave you two alone?’

This time you do roll your eyes and you laugh dryly at Billie’s words. You push your food away before shaking your head as you stand up to close the door. You probably should have done this before, but it was a little late now. Either way you knew that you hadn’t quite finished your explanation.

“Ha. Ha. Thanks, but I can wait until I finish telling you why Milo is my favorite dog to date.”

When your next appointment arrives, you’re not feeling any better despite having eaten. Your headache was getting worse instead of better and you’d already taken as much medicine for it as you could. You just had to power through the next few hours then you could go home and fall asleep watching something mindless.

You don’t realize how tired you are until you almost get bitten by a cat with an ear infection. You smile and eventually make it through the rest of the appointment unscathed. When they leave at 3:30 you are dreading your next appointment. You still feel tired no matter how much coffee you drink and you find out, as you try to work on your records, that you barely write a coherent sentence. You groan in annoyance as you delete the gibberish you’d written yet again before Erin comes back to let you know the next patient was ready for you.

You hold back another groan as you nod in acknowledgement before closing the note in front of you. You’re not sure any of what you’d written is right, but you can’t worry about that now. Your brain is just not working correctly at the moment.

“Is everything alright, Dr. Y/L/N?”

You’re lying through your teeth when you tell her you’re fine, but you manage a smile before you stand up to follow her. Your head spins a little, but you just take a second to steady yourself before continuing on. You walk into the exam room and introduce yourself to the owner and the adorable old golden that greets you by covering you with fur. You are glad this is just a wellness visit because as you do your exam and continue talking with the owner you feel yourself fading. You give Bernie his vaccines and answer any questions that Bernie’s owner has before you send the pair on their way.

You leave the room at an uncharacteristically slow pace before shutting the door behind you. You lean against the wall and close your eyes as you listen to the pounding of your pulse against your skull. You force yourself to take a deep breath but somehow this just makes it worse and you grimace in pain.

Water.

Maybe water would help stop your raging headache.

You start heading back toward treatment, but the second you open your eyes you feel disoriented. You groan before stopping at the door and closing your eyes once again. You manage to pull it open and stumble inside before heading toward the sink without looking.

“Woah, are you okay, doc?”

You don’t hear Mina as you brace your hands on the edge of the sink. You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to will away the pain but even that doesn’t work. In fact, this makes it much worse. Your pulse is deafening and you feel so nauseous just from the sound you think you might throw up.

By the time Mina makes it over to you, you’re shaking from the effort of staying upright. You don’t hear what Mina says, but when she reaches you to steady you, you double over and throw up into the sink, and on the floor. Mina’s quick to grab you as you start falling, and she curses before calling for help.

“Shit! Erin!? Somebody help me!”

It’s only a few seconds before Mina hears the sound of hurried footsteps. The door to treatment opens to reveal a wide-eyed and confused Erin who practically screams when she sees you on the floor unconscious.

“Shit! What happened?”

Mina shakes her head because she has no idea. She saw you dragging your feet a little bit today, but she thought it was because you were simply tired. She tried not to get into your personal business, but she figured your new relationship was to blame for your fatigue. This; however, this was something completely different.

“I don’t know, she just threw up and collapsed.”

Erin was already running for the phone when Marissa arrived. She was quick to ask Mina if she could help, and she grabbed your arm to search for your pulse while Mina left to find a stethoscope. Erin was looking on nervously as she spoke with the dispatcher frantically.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“We need an ambulance at Sunset vet clinic. Our doctor just passed out and she’s not waking up!”

Part 13

#american horror story #ahs #ahs fic #my fic #ahs murder house #ahs imagine #Billie dean howard x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard #a little bit #sorry for the cliff hanger!#:P

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v-hope · 5 years ago

Text

Mint Choco

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Army!Reader

Genre: Fluff, fluff and more fluff

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Hoseok convinces you to go out in the middle of the night to cheer you up after having dealt with the constant hate coming from his fans, or the one in which you realise you might not dislike mint choco ice cream as much as you thought you did after all.

A/N: This can be read as a stand-alone one shot or as part 15 of my social media au “Hobi’s Girl”. Also, for this au’s purposes, Y/N doesn’t like mint choco ice cream, my apologies to all of you mint choco lovers but a girl’s gotta do what she gotta do 😔✊🏻 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy 🥰

You got this. You got this. You got this. You got this. You go—

Those three words kept repeating over and over in your head like a mantra as you took a fair amount of time walking down the stairs of your apartment complex; wanting with everything in you to believe you were indeed cool about the whole situation, when truth was, you were most certainly not.

Nervously tugging at the long sleeves of the light grey sweater you had settled for wearing after Yeonsu and you had made an entire mess out of both your wardrobe and hers, later matching it with a pair of dark skinny jeans and sneakers to complete the perfect casual outfit, you could not help but wonder if you had maybe underdressed. Hoseok had not really mentioned what the two of you were doing, if anything, you were pretty sure he had no idea either considering how late at night it was; yet it was still Hoseok. Jung Hoseok, the fashion icon. Not only that but you were also meeting him for the first time...

Fuck, you were most definitely underdressed, weren’t you?

Just when you were about to turn around and run back to your place so you and your best friend could once again go through pretty much all your clothes again, however, your phone buzzed in your back pocket — just like that feeling your heartbeats speed up, even more when you read the text Hobi had just sent you, letting you know he was right outside waiting for you.

Deciding not to answer him considering you were just about to go out, you took a deep breath; trying one last time to calm yourself before meeting him.

It would be alright. He was just Hobi, not J-Hope your bias from BTS whom you had been head over heels for ever since they debuted. No, this was Hobi. Seok-ie. Your self-proclaimed baby, for crying out loud. Not like that helped too much either, for let’s face it, although you had only been talking for a little over a month now, you were absolutely head over heels for him, too.

Nevertheless, with that thought in mind, the one of him not being this intimidating idol you had loved for so long, but the guy you had been talking and flirting with these last couple of weeks, the one who called you cute pet names and always wanted to be there for you, you finally made it out of your complex.

Simple as that, and even though half of his face was being covered by a black mask, you recognized his figure at the other side of the rather dark street, right in front of you. His back was casually leaning against his expensive car as his eyes remained focused on his phone; probably waiting for your answer, you guessed given his slightly furrowed eyebrows.

Not being able to hide the huge smile that had just parted your lips at the sight of him, and silently rejoicing on his all-black outfit being just as casual as yours, you looked to both sides of the street before making your way over to him.

“Should I have worn a mask, too?” you spoke up to catch his attention.

Before you could mentally punch yourself at the way your voice had betrayed you by breaking a little given your nervousness, his chocolate eyes were on you, quickly adopting the shape of two crescent moons the second he realised it was actually you.

Pulling down his mask just low enough for his mouth to show, you felt your knees go weak at the up-close view you got of his bright smile.

“Hey” he managed to say, followed by a blissful giggle as he gave you a brief side hug that left you longing for more. “No, no. Not at all” he answered your previous question, “I just wasn’t very familiar with this side of the city and didn’t know if it was too crowded, so…”

“Well, now you see it’s not” you smiled, motioning around to point out how visibly deserted the place was. “Great for sneaky moments like this. Awful for late nights out when you lose your wallet and have to walk back home all alone, trust me”.

Your words earned a small laugh for him. “Well, if there’s ever a next time just give me a call and I’ll go pick you up” he offered.

“Oh, yeah” you snorted, “because I would really disturb the small amount of sleep you get at night”.

He shrugged, unconsciously moving closer to you. “I wouldn’t mind. I can make time for you if you need me, you know?”

Your gaze abandoned his for a second, staring down to your feet and biting your lower lip as you tried your best not to let his words affect you as much as they were already doing right then, only to later fix your eyes on his beaming ones once again.

“What is it?” he wondered after a few seconds of silence, in which you had done nothing but look at him in pure adoration.

“Nothing, I just…” his head nodded reassuringly for you to go on, “I just can’t believe it’s really you”.

Hoseok laughed under his breath, tilting his head slightly back as he stared at you with squinted eyes and pouty lips. “So what, all those times we video called weren’t proof enough of it being actually me?”

“You know what I mean” you lightly laughed along with him.

“Yeah” his stare softened, “I can’t believe it’s really you either” he confessed.

Because never in your wildest dreams would either of you have thought you would respectively end up meeting your ultimate bias and the girl you had seen one miserable time at one of your concerts. But the world works in mysterious ways, and the two of you could not be happier about the way things had worked out for you.

“So, um…” he cleared his throat, finally breaking the eye contact as his eyes shifted to the passenger’s door before holding it open for you and motioning towards it. “Shall we go?”

“What a gentleman” you couldn’t help but tease with a small smile.

Rolling his eyes with clear amusement in them at your statement —which earned a giggle from you that made his heart jump—, he closed the door after you had gotten inside and rushed to the other side of his car to take his place on the driver’s seat.

“So what’s the plan?” you asked once he turned the engine on.

“I don’t have one” he sheepishly admitted — his eyes focused ahead of him as he started driving away from your place. “I was thinking maybe we could go for a walk somewhere nice, maybe to a park or—”

“Isn’t that...” you cut him off mid-sentence, “too risky?”

His shoulders moved up and then down as he sighed heavily. “Everything is kinda risky when you’re an idol, to be honest…”

“I’m sorry” you couldn’t help but apologize, even more at the way his mood had seemed to slightly drop at the thought of that. “It must be hard…”

“It’s okay” he reassured you, throwing you a small glance that was followed by a sincere smile. “I love my job, I really do. It’s just…” he fell silent for a second, turning left as he continued driving without a clear destination, “I just wish things would be easier when it comes to going out and dating… and us, you know?”

You smiled sweetly, not really thinking twice when you reached for his hand and held it in yours, yet knowing he appreciated that small act of yours when he gently squeezed it as a smile curved up his lips.

“Maybe we could just drive around like this for a while?” you proposed. “Or you could just park somewhere so you don’t have to worry about driving”.

“And you would be okay with that?” he cocked one of his eyebrows.

“Of course” your eyebrows knitted together in confusion at how utterly surprised he had sounded.

“Don’t you at least want to grab a bite or something?”

“Mm…”

The way your lips puckered up as you were deep in thought caught Hoseok’s attention, and he would’ve been lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel the sudden urge to lean in and steal a kiss from you right then.

“Something sweet would be nice…” your eyes trailed off to the window, as if the Seoul streets you were driving by would give you the answer. “Oh, ice cream!” you exclaimed excitedly, causing him to stare fondly at you and how adorable he thought you were, “and then we can just stay in the car listening to music and talking or whatever”.

“That’s really all you want?” he couldn’t help but wonder again.

“Why do you say it like that?” you pouted. “I just wanna spend time with you, I don’t mind what we do”.

“Ah, stop doing this to me” he said overdramatically, letting his head fall on his seat as one of his hands clutched at his chest and a smile curved up your lips. “One condition, though” his eyes went to you.

“Tell me”.

“This doesn’t count as our first date, because it is so not what I had in mind for it”.

Feeling the heat reach your face in a matter of seconds, you turned to look out of the window for a moment; collecting yourself before your eyes were back on him. “Okay, this doesn’t count as our first date then”.

That was how, half an hour later, Hoseok had parked his car in front of a lake that provided the two of you with the perfect view as you silently enjoyed your ice creams while Hobi’s playlist played quietly in the background — the moonlight illuminating the water in such soothing way that made the whole atmosphere feel even nicer.

As much as the sight ahead of you was beautiful, your eyes found themselves travelling over to the man next to you, quietly admiring his delicate factions and slightly long dark brown hair before they focused on the mint chocolate flavoured ice cream he was currently savouring.

“You want some?” he offered, having caught the way you were intently staring at it.

“Oh. No, thanks” you declined politely, feeling once again the heat reach your cheeks.

“You don’t like it?”

“Not really” you admitted, bringing your green tea ice cream up to your lips.

Hoseok’s mouth fell open in astonishment, staring at you without moving a muscle for a couple of seconds. “Okay, it was nice to meet you” he said once he ‘came back’ to his senses. “I can’t date a mint choco anti, I’m sorry” he joked.

Trying to hide your amusement —and also trying your best not to freak out over the way he had deliberatedly used the word ‘date’ right then—, you nodded understandingly.

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you, too” you dramatically reached for the door handle, “but I don’t want to date a mint choco lover either, so—”

Before you could even open the door to make your dramatic exit, you had him reaching over to your side and grabbing your hand to prevent you from doing so; pulling you closer to him as you both laughed wholeheartedly, almost enough not to notice how close you had ended up being to each other.

With your face being almost pressed against his chest while his face remained near your shoulder, you found yourselves staring into each other’s eyes, only inches away, once you straightened yourselves up.

As if snapping back into reality, he cleared his throat after having pulled slightly back and away from you — not being uncomfortable at all with how close you had been until then, yet not wanting to make you uncomfortable on the other hand.

“Have you even tried it?” he tried to initiate conversation again. “Mint choco, I mean”.

You nodded. “Once”.

And that had been enough for you to know it was not your cup of tea. However, Hoseok was not having that.

“Okay but you seriously need to try this one, love. It’s really good”.

Staring reluctantly at the ice cream cone he was holding up to make his point, you ended up agreeing with a small ‘okay’, mostly because the look he was giving you right there made it impossible for you not to give in to his wishes.

The way your nose scrunched after he had brought it up to your mouth for you to have a taste, however, was enough to let him know your perception had not changed much from the other one time you had tried his favourite flavour.

“You hate it that much?” the disbelief was clear in his voice.

“I don’t hate it” you corrected him. “It’s not bad, I just... wouldn’t choose it”.

“So green tea it is for you, huh?”

“Yup” you emphasized the ‘p’ for cute purposes, having succeeded given the way he was lovingly looking at you. “Wanna try?” you offered, bringing your cone up to his lips.

“Sure” he accepted immediately, having a small taste of it before his lips formed a perfect ‘o’ at the delightful taste. “That’s really good”.

��I know, right?” you smiled, bringing it back to your mouth so you could have another taste as well. “Much better than mint choco” you pushed it.

“Okay now that’s just crossing the line” he called you out, determinedly having some of his delicious ice cream as he dramatically glared at you.

Not being able to hold back your laugh, you ended up closing your eyes and throwing your head slightly back as you let it escape your mouth; only to find Hobi’s adoring eyes fixed on you once you opened them again.

“What?” you questioned shyly, feeling so little yet so secure somehow under his piercing stare.

With him moving closer to you, you felt a shiver running down your body when a smile curved up his lips; and you swore you could’ve melted the moment his free hand went up to cup one of your cheeks.

“I like seeing you smile” he confessed quietly. “You’re feeling better?”

“Yeah…” you said sincerely. “Thank you for not letting me sulk in my room for the rest of the night…”

“That’s what I’m here for, angel” he smiled sweetly, tenderly drawing circles on your skin with his thumb. “Again, I’m really sorry this is happening to you…”

You sighed, placing your hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not your fault, Seok-ie” you reassured him what you had already said over text.

“But they’re my fans…”

You shook your head to keep him from speaking any further. “Stop blaming yourself for it, baby”.

Somehow, hearing you call him that pet name for the first time in person, was enough for his heart to feel at ease and for him to drop the topic.

“You do know all those things they’re saying are not true at all, don’t you?” his hand travelled down to your chin, pulling your face slightly up so he could lock his dark eyes with yours.

“I mean…” you shrugged, trying to take importance away from it, “they are kinda right about a few things…”

“No, they’re not” he was fast to determinedly disagree. “You’re not delusional. You’re not desperate. You’re not annoying. And those who were saying you’re not attractive?” he scoffed, not being able to disagree any more than he already did with them. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, anyone would have to be blind not to see it”.

“I’m really not—”

“Y/N” he cut your off before you could even begin to deny his words, “you’re so fucking breathtaking you had me looking for you for weeks after the concert, just because I couldn’t bear the idea of that being the first and last time I’d see you”.

Feeling like your cheeks would burn up anytime by then at his words, you found yourself taking the closeness of your faces to your advantage — letting your forehead rest faintly against his, in a way of letting him know how much his words had meant to you.

“I really meant it when I said you’re the best, you know?” you mumbled, loving the way his eyes had lit up at that. “Even if you’re a mint choco stan”.

Hobi laughed lightly, gazing down to your lips as his thumb traced over them. “And I really meant it when I said I’m happy I found you” he referenced the first conversation you ever had. “Even if you’re a mint choco hater” he joined in your teasing.

Not saying another word, he leaned in just enough for his lips to press lightly on yours, getting just a small taste of them before pulling slightly away and looking into your eyes for some kind of sign of you being uncomfortable by his actions. When he found nothing but elation being displayed on them, he couldn’t help but smile softly; not wasting another second to close the space between your mouths once again, only this time with no intentions of breaking the contact between them anytime soon.

His hand still on your cheek managed to keep you in place for him to intensify the kiss, just as your free hand travelled to the back of his head so you could entangle your fingers on his brown locks.

It just felt… right. Everything about it. From the two of you being together, to just sitting in the car eating ice cream in the middle of the night, to the way your lips fit so perfectly with each other’s.

Everything seemed to have fallen right into place.

And so, when you pulled away a good couple of seconds later, letting your breathings mix as you tried to catch your breath, the two of you were wearing the brightest of smiles on your faces.

“What?” he wondered after hearing you hum something under your breath, which had only caused his smile to grow wider as he faintly bumped his nose on yours.

Biting down on your lower lip, your eyes gazed up to meet his. “I think I could start liking mint choco from now on…” you giggled shyly, still savouring the fresh taste of his mouth on yours.

A low chuckle abandoned his mouth, pushing your chin slightly up so he could softly brush his lips on yours. “Let me help you with that”.

Just like that, his addictive lips were back on yours and the melting ice creams in your hands were long forgotten. You would deal with that later.

tag list: @lets-keepit100 @aquietkerfuffle @hobicomeholla29 @hhhhwww7 @brinnalaine @thefickive @zxlla @dreamcatcherjiah @booklover240 @luneseok @randomkoalablog @seokssbagel @thestral-balerion @unadulteratedlyunique @pikapikaachuu @salty-for-suga @biaisezabini @extaevaganza @jennygracekent @nerdycookiemonster-1222 @btsxdoll @cvbachacbitch @dearest-sunshine @tirednation @shakes0peare @moralita76 @re-sugance @rosiegukk @yeontanie21 @notinmycomfortzone @slxtfortae @cherryjiminiee @creepysweet @hobi-love @betysotelo18 @zaryas @kpopgirlbtssvt @bubblegumcat229 @suga-bangtan @uxwi @lovelymultiwrites @rjsmochii @margaritafariasw @lilliaflurr @lidda @seoulgotmysoul @sunskook @jayhope88 @magicshop-myg @longlivebnc

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sunsetcurbed · 4 years ago

Text

every piece of you (it just fits perfectly)

Words: 4,139 Rating: G Warnings: none read on AO3

Summary: Ray Molina doesn’t really think much can catch him off guard.

Correction: he didn’t think much could catch him off guard.

When Julie’s hidden away in the studio, ignoring texts from him trying to get her to come in for dinner, he figures out quickly that he’s going to have to go out and pull her away from her writing. Except, well, when he does go out there, she’s not writing. She’s sleeping.

And see, that wouldn’t be an issue, but she’s—

Ray rubs his eyes and squints into the fading light of the room.

Yeah, his daughter is floating.

(*)

(or: 5+1 of Ray slowly coming to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, carlos was on to something with that whole ‘ghost’ thing.)

(1)

Ray Molina is a calm, collected person. He prides himself on that. He knows that it makes him a better parent, and when Rose was alive, it made him a better husband. His patience makes him better at his job, both in capturing and editing, and his gentleness gave him skills to handle every subject. He's levelheaded and thinks he's pretty adaptable, and he's flexible with what life throws him. It's how he was able to make so many adjustments for his daughter once Rose passed away, and how he was able to keep his emotions in check as he did so.

So, Ray Molina doesn't really think much can catch him off guard.

Correction: he didn't think much could catch him off guard.

When Julie's hidden away in the studio, ignoring texts from him trying to get her to come in for dinner, he figures out quickly that he's going to have to go out and pull her away from her writing. Except, well, when he does go out there, she's not writing. She's sleeping.

And see, that wouldn't be an issue, but she's—

Ray rubs his eyes and squints into the fading light of the room.

Yeah, his daughter is floating.

She's laying down, but she's hovering several inches above the couch, simply suspended in air.

And, well. That definitely catches him off guard.

He walks over to the couch skeptically and then sticks his hand beneath his daughter's body and—

Nothing.

He steps back, tilting his head at the couch and his daughter, ready to call her name when she startles awake, shoving off of the air that she's floating on to lift her torso. She blinks down at the pillow and her hand slips on—Ray's not sure what it slips on, but she goes tumbling back down to the same position she was in before and gasps. "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Julie says in a rush, looking at the bare space between her and the couch. She turns and curls her legs up and shifts so she's sitting now, still staring at the pillow in concern.

"Is who okay?" Ray asks.

Julie's head snaps to him and she drops her jaw. "Dad! I—what are you doing out here?"

"You weren't answering your phone," he tells her. He looks at how she's sitting now, and she's still floating. "Can you tell me why you're not touching the couch?"

"Uh—" Julie's eyes widen and she scrambles forward so quickly that she goes tumbling to the floor. "Oh," she says, reaching back to rub at her tailbone. She's quiet for a moment and then she shakes her head. "I'm fine, Lu—dad. Not that you asked, but I assumed you were going to, and I'm fine."

"That was quite a tumble," he says, ready to get back on point, about how she was literally hanging in mid air less than a minute ago, but she's hopping up and walking towards the door before he can even get a word out.

"So what's for dinner?"

Ray sends one more look to the couch before following his daughter from the room. They can talk about it later.

(2)

They still haven't talked about it the next time something… different… happens.

It's almost a week later when Ray gets home. He calls out a hello and hears Carlos call back, but there's silence on Julie's end. The lights in the studio had been out, though, so she must be inside. He climbs the stairs after setting his camera bag down. He stops first at Carlos' room, waving in at his son who's playing a video game on his Switch, and then he carries on further down the hall until he's at Julie's door. The door is wide open, resting against her back wall, so it's easy to peak in and see her lying on her bed, facing him. That's totally normal, but—well.

She's laying on her side with her arm tossed around… something. The air. Her arm is curled around the empty air to her right, and her fist is curled, looking like she's holding on to something. But she's not. Even with the spaces between her fingers, he can tell that there's nothing in her hand, even though it clearly looks like she's clutching someone's hand.

"Julie?" he calls into the room, hoping to prevent her from falling off her bed like she had the couch. "Mija?"

"Mmm?" Julie mumbles in her sleep. She curls tighter into the air and brings her hand closer to her face, still holding on to nothing.

"Julie," he says again, louder.

"Yeah, Dad?" she says back, and then stiffens. Her hand uncurls itself from around the air and she shoots up into a seated position. "Sorry," she gasps. "I know I was supposed to be watching Carlos, but I was up late studying—"

"It's fine, mija," Ray tells her. "He's about old enough to watch himself sometimes."

"Right," she nods, looking over at her pillow. Ray looks back to and—it moves.

Her pillow shifted on its own, right in front of his eyes. Her entire bed is shifting, as if there's someone else in it changing their position. "Julie—"

"How was the wedding?" she cuts him off. Her eyes flick to her left, shooting a glare at open air, before settling back on him with an open expression.

Ray sighs. There's that opportunity gone. "It was great. Very beautiful, the grooms were both more than happy to follow all my directions, so better than the last one I was at where the bride thought she knew better than me."

"That's great!" Julie says. "Tía brought over some chicken earlier, so that's down in the fridge if you want to heat it up."

"I'll… go do that," Ray nods. He turns on his heel and starts down the hall when he hears a harsh whisper from Julie's room. He can't hear a word that she says, but he can tell that it's meant to be a scolding. He freezes and turns back to her room. "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Oh! No, I was just yelling at my phone," she lies quickly, and he knows it's a lie because her phone is sitting three feet away from her on the edge of her bed.

"Alright," Ray says. "I'll be down stairs if you need me."

(3)

It keeps happening, and he keeps not being able to bring it up before Julie completely changes the subject. It's clearly something that she's not ready to talk about so he's trying to respect it, or maybe she isn't even aware that it's happening. She's hardly in control of her body when she's asleep, maybe it's—

He doesn't know what it could be. He doesn't even have a clue.

He remembers watching horror movies with Rose when they were younger, and all he can think about is the random possession that would cause a person or object to randomly float on its own. That's thrown out the window though because a) there's no such thing as possession and b) even if there were, his daughter is not possessed. But there's genuinely no other explanation that he can think of for how Julie managed to float.

About a month out from the first occurrence, he's starting to calm down. It hasn't happened again, not that he's seen at least, and he's starting to think that maybe it was all his imagination. Of course he vividly remembers the feeling of wrongness he got when he had waved his hand under Julie when she had been sleeping on—well, above—the couch, but. Stress could do that to a person, right?

So, it's all okay. Ray has just been dealing with excess amounts of stress and that's led to… hallucinations? Or something along those lines, anyways.

He's sure of that until he comes down stairs at two am one Saturday night and sees flashes of light from the TV in the living room. Thinking that Julie must have left it on before she went up to bed by accident, he holds out for his glass of water and turns to the living room. He freezes in the entryway.

Julie is fast asleep on the couch, facing the backrest, which, could be normal if it weren't for the fact that she's half way off the couch and some how not falling off. It's like she's got a hook connecting her to the back of the couch, holding her in place as she sleeps.

He makes his way over to her, reaching for the remote that's sitting on the coffee table. He hesitates turning it off, needing the light to see what exactly is going on. He bends over and studies the area between Julie and the back of the couch. Again, Julie's hand is resting in midair, but this time it's not curled around anything. Her hand is just laying flat on the air in front of her. Curious, he reaches out to poke it, but it doesn't budge, instead stays floating in the exact same space it had been.

Okay, not what he was expecting.

He's not exactly sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. It's too hard to ignore now that something is going on, but he has absolutely zero guesses as to what it might be. There's something solid there for Julie, but—

Double checking, Ray waves his hand behind Julie's hand. It passes through the air easily.

—it doesn't exist to Ray or, he suspects, anyone else.

Is her unconscious mind that powerful that it's controlling her muscles and keeping them in one place even against an outside force? Is—he can't believe he's thinking this—is it something supernatural? Carlos has been going on about ghosts, and even Julie had said she'd seen a ghost in the studio.

He blinks.

The studio. That's where it happened the first time.

Could ghosts move that easily? He always thought they were stuck haunting the place they died. But there hadn't been any deaths in the studio, not that he knew of. It's not like there's concrete rules to ghosts, as everything before has just been made up. Even these thoughts are ridiculous because it's all been made up, he's sure of it. There's a plenty reasonable explanation waiting for him.

Just… in the morning.

He turns away from his daughter and clicks the TV off and goes to get his glass of water.

He'll talk to her about it in the morning.

(4)

They don't talk about it in the morning, and Ray isn't even sure why he's surprised. This subject seems to be evading him in every way possible and while they need to discuss it, he's not entirely sure how to even bring it up, not unless it's actively happening.

So, that's his plan.

Wait for it to happen again and then confront her immediately. Don't give her the opportunity to change the subject or brush it off, but actually have a sit down conversation and discuss why his daughter can lay on air. And cuddle air. And hold air. And be held by air, too, really.

So, that is his plan. It just… doesn't go according to plan.

The next time something happens, he's looking out the window at Julie walking up the walkway from the studio. It's dinnertime and he was debating going to get her after he got no response to his text, but then out of the window he saw the studio door open and shut. He watches her make her way up the driveway and then the walkway, just taking the opportunity to see his daughter, calm and content. The only thing is, she's not calm. She's bouncing around, talking to the air and grabbing at it, too. On the middle step, she turns and laughs at something, and then—

She's floating again.

Her arms are wrapped around nothing, almost like she's hugging someone, but that someone isn't there. Her feet are dangling off the ground, hanging down like someone is holding her up.

Ray blinks, looks back to make sure Carlos isn't near, and then looks back out the window. She's swaying side to side in midair now, and he'd think this is an excited hug from someone who can't contain themselves from swinging her around if there was anyone there. But there's not. There's definitely not, and there's still no one there even as Julie is lowered back to the ground slowly. She stands there for a moment before she starts laughing again, head thrown back in joy. He's missed seeing her laugh like that, missed seeing her so full of mirth and contentment.

It's just—listen, it's really unsettling, okay?

Of course he's happy that she's happy, but he doesn't know what she's happy about. And she definitely wasn't asleep this time, so clearly she knows about this… thing that's happening. She had appeared to have known about it the first time as well, what with the staring at the pillow. The second time, too, with the annoyed glare at nothing and then the furious whispering after he left. He's willing to bet she knew about the third instance as well, even if he didn't get any proof of that.

This, however… there's no denying that something is going on.

Before he can decide what he's going to do, Carlos comes running down the stairs and into the kitchen, and Ray has to turn away from the window to keep his son's curiosity from piquing. "Hey, you," Ray says, snapping his fingers at Carlos. "Silverware, please."

"Got it!" he cries, and when Ray looks back out the window, Julie is gone from sight. He hears the front door opening moments later, and busies himself with setting their plates down.

Tomorrow, for sure.

(5)

Ray gets home from work, set on talking to Julie about the occurrences, only to be met with yet another. She's yelling when he opens the door, clearly not having heard him. Carlos is with Victoria at baseball practice, so Julie has had the house to herself since she got home from school almost two hours ago. Of course it makes sense that she'd mess around, but this—

"Luke, stop!" she yells, a twinge of frustration there, but that's mostly drown out by the laughter in her voice. "Reggie, Alex, make him stop!"

There's no reply, but as Ray rounds the corner, he can see his daughter's feet off the ground again, her back curled into something behind her. It looks like someone is lifting her up from behind.

"I did give it to you!" she laughs, hands reaching down to pry at the air around her waist. Her feet meet the floor again and she spins around, smacking the air. Another moment and she whirls back around. "Shut up, at least you can see both of us—I have to listen to you moon over Willie when I can't even see him," she says, and it sounds like she's complaining. "Besides, we all have to listen to Reggie flirt with everyone who crosses his path." More silence. "I know, we still love you, Reg."

Ray blinks.

He stands there for a long minute, listening to Julie bicker with the air, until—

"No, I don't think—what?" Julie freezes and spins around to face him, finally. "Dad!"

Ray tries to smile, but he thinks it comes out as more of a grimace than anything else. "Hi," he says.

"How long have you been here?"

"I see you learned how to levitate."

"Oh my god," Julie breathes out. "I can—I can… explain?"

"I sure hope you can because I'm not letting you get away without an answer again," he nods, setting his bag down finally. "So—care to explain?"

It's silent for a long moment, and then Julie looks up over her shoulder, as if someone is standing right behind her and talking into her ear. "Right, you're right," she sighs. "Dad, can we do this in the studio? It'll make a lot more sense out there."

He narrows his eyes. "Fine. But as soon as we get out there, you're talking."

(+1)

Ray Molina is calm, collected, patient, gentle, levelheaded, and adaptable, yes.

But he feels none of those things right now.

Not as he follows his daughter out to the studio where he'd first caught this phenomenon. Certainly not as she opens one door but doesn't touch the other, yet the door swings open on its own. Definitely not as she bursts into laughter at nothing, and turns to her right to make a snippy comment of "you really think he'll appreciate that?"

"Appreciate what?" Ray demands.

"Right," Julie says, walking over to her keyboard. "Dad, look around the room."

"Why am I doing that?"

"To see that there's no projectors in here."

That's not what he was expecting her to say. "What do projectors—"

"Dad," she says, voice firm. "Look around the room."

So he does, looking in every corner of the ceiling and along every wall to see that there's no projector. "Okay," he nods. "There's no projector."

"Now," she says, sitting down at her keyboard and turning it on, "just know that I didn't tell you because I was worried you'd send me back to Dr. Turner."

"Tell me what exactly?"

Julie sighs, and looks over at the empty space in the studio. She nods once at the air, and then plays a chord on her keyboard.

"Julie, I don't know what you think you're doing—"

He doesn't get to say anything further as her entire band materializes in the middle of the studio, instruments and all. He drops his jaw and looks frantically around for where the projector is hidden, coming up short no matter where his eyes land.

"You're not going to find it," the guitarist says. "It's why Julie asked you to look before she started playing."

Right. Ray doesn't think the holograms are supposed to be able to interact with him. There's no way they'd be able to see him, let alone know what he was going to do, so—

"Julie?" he says, voice edging into a panic.

"Meet the band," she says. She nods at the guitarist. "That's Luke." Then to the drummer. "Alex." And then the bassist. "And Reggie is your bud."

"Hi, Ray!" Reggie grins excitedly, and Ray imagines he'd be waving if it weren't for the fact that he was still playing bass.

"They're my phantoms," Julie finishes.

"Yes, Julie, I know," Ray says. "But how are they—"

"Dad," she cuts him off. "They're my phantoms."

"She means her ghosts," Alex says from behind his drums. "But 'Julie and the Ghosts' didn't sound as catchy."

"Is Carlos in on this, too?" Ray demands, looking at Julie.

Julie frowns. "You mean does he know about them? Yeah, that's what he wanted to talk to me about after the Orpheum."

"I think he still doesn't believe us," Luke tells her.

"I don't," Ray immediately jumps in. "There's no such thing as—"

Luke takes a step forward and drops his guitar. He bends down and picks up the coffee cup that's sitting on the coffee table in front of Ray. "Would a hologram be able to do that?"

"Luke," Reggie huffs as Luke sets the glass back down and picks his guitar back up to start playing again, "give the man some time, this is a very stressful situation to be in. We all remember how Julie reacted."

"Hey!" Julie frowns. "You promised not to bring that up again."

Reggie's eyes go wide. "I mean—we all remember how Flynn reacted."

"Flynn?" Ray asks. "What does she have to do with this?"

"Oh, she totally freaked when Julie showed her who we actually were," Alex says.

"Goggle Sunset Curve," Reggie calls.

"It's Google," Julie rolls her eyes. "But yeah, that's not a bad idea. Dad, do you have your phone?"

Hesitantly, Ray reaches for his pocket. He unlocks his phone and swipes over to find the internet app, and then opens Google. He types in 'sunset curve' to the search bar and frowns at the title of the first link. Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Tragedy. He clicks on it before he can think better of it, and after the page loads, he finds four boys staring at him from his screen. Three of which are also staring at him from ten feet away. He frowns. "Julie?"

"Before you and mom bought this house, the people that lived her let Sunset Curve use the studio as theirs. They're connected to this place. After twenty-five years of being stuck between the living world and the dead, they showed up here the night I first came in to clean it out. I wasn't lying to you when I said I'd seen a something. People can hear them when they play, but they can only see them when they play with me."

"It's rad," Luke says, "but Julie can see us all the time. And as of a few months ago, she can actually touch us, too."

"Ay, dios mío," Ray murmurs, looking back down and staring at his phone screen once more. "Ghosts."

"Yeah, it's pretty sick," Reggie grins.

"So—you're not cuddling air, you're cuddling a ghost?"

Julie's jaw drops, and her eyes flick to Luke in panic. Luke looks back at her and shrugs helplessly. She stares him down for another few seconds and quirks an eyebrow. Luke nods. It's an entire language that they'd developed together, being able to speak without speaking. Ray thinks he knows what she's going to say before she says it.

"I know this isn't exactly traditional, but Dad… meet my boyfriend?"

"I should have saved that 'ay, dios mío' for this," Ray murmurs. He crouches forward and rests his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in his hands. "You're dating a ghost?"

"So is Alex!" she throws in, her voice defensive.

"I am a ghost!" Alex throws back. "It makes sense for me."

"I mean, it makes sense for Jules and Luke, too," Reggie points out. "They oo—"

"Don't say it," Alex glares.

"—ze chemistry," Reggie finishes with a triumphant look at his drummer.

"Guys," Julie huffs. All of them straighten up and look to her. She shakes her head at Reggie and Alex. Luke moves nearer to the piano as he plays and she looks to him with a soft look in her eye. He murmurs something to her and she breaks into a toothy smile. She shakes her head at him but doesn't lose the affection in her eyes. Ray feels uncomfortable watching, and shifts in his seat and looks away.

"Yeah, we feel the same," Reggie says. "And we have to see them all the time. They're good together, though."

He thinks they must be. Julie hasn't been this happy since before Rose's diagnosis, maybe even longer. He can tell that she's safe with Luke, and that she feels safe with him. With all of the guys, really. She looks at all of them like they're the best thing she's ever seen, like they're the reason she still gets up every day. And, well, they are, he realizes. The timing, he's worked out, is that she played the morning after she met them. Something about these boys pushed his daughter back to her passion and they're the reason that she got back into the music program. They're the reason for a lot of things, he assumes.

He doesn't understand it. He can't fathom it right now, even with all the proof sitting in front of him, but he knows once he processes this, his world will be changed for good. It already is, even though he hasn't full accepted this new reality. But he's not upset about it. How could he be? This was out of Julie's control, everything from their presence to her relationship with Luke. He knows she didn't plan on any of this, but it's here and happening, and the only thing he can do now is adjust.

He looks over to Julie, where she's looking at him with hope in her eyes, and he can't do anything but smile. This earns him a beaming smile in return, one that lights up her eyes in a way he hasn't seen off the stage for… years, probably. He wants nothing more than to keep that smile on her face, so he looks around the room once more and nods at each boy individually.

"Welcome to the family."

(+1.5)

When he finds Julie asleep, hovering over the down stairs couch the next day, he smiles.

"Thank you, Luke."

A cup on the table lifts and raises, tilting in acknowledgement.

He'll get used to it.

#juke fic #jatp fic #juke fanfic #luke patterson x julie molina #juke #palina #my writing

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fantasticstoryteller · 3 years ago

Text

Adopt Me

“Because you’re pathetic!” roared the man.

Wade blinked rapidly at his (former) boyfriend.

{I told you we should have killed him.}

[We still can.]

No. Wade had fought the voices for a long time. There were only a few people he refused, no matter what, to kill. The voices didn’t like that; they didn’t like restrictions.

But he had to draw the line somewhere. It was his body, and they were just sharing it with him. He had the final say—even if he did, sometimes, wonder if they were right.

{Ha!}

Wade had apparently been silent for too long. He looked up into the rage filled face of the man in front of him before he was grabbed, towed to the door, and flung outside. “You useless piece of shit,” snarled the man. “Get out! See if you can find someone else to take care of you.” He slammed the door.

{Now can we kill him?}

[Forget that. We need a place to stay. A base. Those pretty little weapons of yours that are still in the bottom of that bastard’s closet.]

White had a point. Whatever happened in the future, Wade was going to need those babies—they were how he earned a living, after all. So Wade, ignoring the boxes, waited for his (former) boyfriend to leave the house before slipping in, grabbing his gear and some clothes (not a lot of clothes; he had a lot of gear), and slipping out again.

{So…where are we going to go? Weasel’s?}

[The fucker does still owe us.]

He did—but he wouldn't be happy to see Wade. He always knew that Wade coming around was a bother. In fact—in fact Wade couldn't think of a single person who would actually be happy to see him.

[Why would anyone be happy to see you? Everyone knows what you do for a living.]

{And you’re hideous. Seriously—think about all those poor people who recoil at the sight of you. It’s sad.}

Wade sniffed. It was sad. It wasn’t like he’d asked for this (well, certainly not the fucked up appearance part). Was it wrong to want someone to just—want him around? An image flashed briefly in his mind.

[I didn’t quite catch that.]

Wade ignored White as he scrambled to find some cardboard. And a marker. Definitely a marker.

[This is a bad idea…]

***

Peter fought to keep a blandly amiable expression on his face as the host of the show apologized—to the other guest. Not a word of apology to him, and he was the one who’d been insulted. Of course, he was merely an author on this week’s top-selling list. (Actually, every top-selling list for the last two years, but that would require admitting to his other pen names.) The other guest was the lead of whatever the parent-group-of-the-week was called now, and had gotten four shows canceled in the last month. Of course she was fawned over.

And Peter was very, very careful not to take his temper out on the poor people who were responsible for actually getting the talk show to run. None of this was their fault, and he cordially said his goodbyes (to them, and not the host) before he left. Without the “security” that the studio thought he needed (honestly, did they think he was five?).

Peter was smart enough to realize that most of his irritation came from his loneliness. Sure, moving had seemed a good idea at the time—he was closer to the publishing agency, had a more central base for these stupid publicity rounds his agency forced him to do to “brand” his image. (Seriously, most of his books didn’t even have his name on them, and they were selling perfectly well. Why was the “brand” so important?) So, in the interest of having a much shorter commute, he’d moved to a condo (soundproofed which—actually hadn’t been needed, but he was forever hopeful), and left his home behind him. Not entirely behind him; he still had video chats with Aunt May every weekend, and got phone calls—occasionally—from his old friend MJ (who was now in Paris managing her own brand)—but he had no one here. He couldn't even have a pet; the condo didn’t allow it.

He passed the usual bunch of people on the street with cardboard signs—begging, playing music, the usual—when a new one made him stop. He backtracked and read the sign again. In bright, shiny letters (not sure what it was written with), were the words, “Adopt me.” His eyes tracked from the sign to the large, scarred man behind it.

“All right,” said Peter looking at the sign as wheels turned in his head. “What does it mean to adopt you?”

“Well, you take me to your home, and we spend time together, and you’re happy to see me,” the scarred man said. A pause. “Well,” he growled, “it’s not like you had a better plan!”

Someone else might have cut and run—but no one had ever accused Peter of making smart life decisions. Not twice anyway. “Are you talking to yourself?” he asked curiously.

“Just the boxes,” the scarred man said cheerfully. “I have two,” he admitted. “One’s white and one’s yellow, so I call them White and Yellow.”

Not the strangest thing he’d ever heard. Back in high school MJ had sworn that Peter had a soft, silky voice, so he figured that assigning a color to a voice wasn’t that strange. And the guy was entertaining. “My name’s Peter,” he said. “Peter Parker,” he added as he picked up the cardboard sign.

“Wade Wilson,” introduced the strange, intriguing man. “Eee! We’re alliteration buddies!”

Peter gave the happy man a lopsided grin. “Is that a good thing?” he asked.

“It’s a great thing!” enthused the man—Wade.

“Great! Grab your bag,” Peter said as he noticed the duffel bag behind the man, “and let’s go.”

“Go?”

“I’m adopting you,” said Peter with a smile. He couldn't have a pet—but there was nothing that said he couldn't have a human.

The large man scrambled to his feet with surprising agility as he slung his duffel over his shoulder. “You’re taking me home?” he asked with an odd, pained hopefulness in his voice.

“First I was going to take you for something to eat,” Peter admitted as the large man (almost twice his size) fell into step beside him. “I don’t have a lot of food at home,” he admitted.

“I can make pancakes,” Wade offered.

Peter felt a grin stretch his face. He was not going to be lonely, and his new roommate (adoptee?) was offering to make pancakes. Life was good.

***

[I still think this is a mistake.]

{Yeah, why’d he choose you? You’re not exactly cuddly.}

Wade tried his best to drown out the voices by talking. True to his word, the guy (Peter) had taken him to a diner. It was a strange, hole-in-the-wall place, but Wade was not complaining. The food was good. “And you would not believe how many people just glare, or kick at, or pretend they don’t see someone on the street—holy cow! These are great! What nut got the bright idea of putting eggs on nachos? They don’t even sound like they should go together, but holy fuck these are good!”

Instead of being grossed out, or complaining about his terrible table manners, Peter just smiles. “I know,” he said. “I asked Mary Anne, the woman who owns this restaurant about it the first time I had them and she told me she first had them Down South.”

The waitress, a blond young woman about the same age, came over and refilled both their drinks. “Yes,” she said. She turned to Wade who froze mid-bite, wondering if he was going to be thrown out of the restaurant. It had happened before. A lot. Instead the woman simply jerked a thumb towards Peter. “First two weeks we were open he was here every breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Worked his way right through the whole menu.” She snorted. “Had questions about every dish. ‘What made you decide to make this?’ ‘What was your inspiration for that?’ ‘Can I please have some tea that doesn’t taste like someone dropped half a gallon of sugar into it?’ Drove us all crazy.”

Peter simply smiled. “What can I say? I used to work for Foodies Unite.”

Wade gave a low, appreciative whistle. “That magazine that tracks the best food across the city?” he asked impressed.

Peter flashed a grin. “I put the really good ones,” he said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, “on my blog.”

Wade burst out laughing as the waitress gave him a friendly swat. “You,” he said waving an egg-crusted fork at his dining buddy, “are an absolute trip.” Peter simply grinned and sipped his coffee.

[Careful Wade. You’re going to make him run.]

{We could kill him first. Then we won’t have to see the disgust later.}

No, thought Wade firmly, desperately. No killing.

{Not yet…}

Wade shoved the voices back as he realized that Peter was speaking. “… so there should be plenty of room in the closet for your clothes,” Peter said.

“I—uh, don’t really have clothes,” admitted Wade sheepishly. He had what he was wearing and his work suit—but nothing else. Peter’s gaze drifted to the huge duffel on the seat beside Wade.

[Still can’t do anything right. He’s going to ask, be horrified, and then what?]

{Out on the streets again!}

Yellow sounds obnoxiously cheerful about that. To his surprise Peter—doesn’t ask. Instead he simply nods. “Then,” he said with a sly smile, “it’s my job to get you clothes.” He paid for the food and the next thing Wade knew he was in a store with lots of mirrors, a plush couch that Peter was reclining on (with the duffel bag to his left) wearing a small smile as Wade was swarmed by what he swore were midgets.

[I don’t think that term’s politically correct.]

{Can we call them Munchkins? I mean, they’re about the same size.}

“I think the deep azure,” one Munchkin said to another.

“Violet,” argued the other.

“Azure will bring out the eyes.”

“Hmm.” Both little people turned to stare at him with a clinical expression Wade was more used to seeing on the other end of a scalpel as more of the little people swarmed around him getting measurements.

“Peter,” said Wade anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” reassured the other man. “You’re doing great.”

The first little person smacked Wade on the arm. “Come,” he ordered. “Time to try on clothes.” The tiny humans lead him off to a room, shove clothes at him, and leave him to change. He does, shakily, and then looks at his reflection in the mirror.

The deep blue shirt does bring out his eyes—and stands as a stark contrast to his mottled skin.

{Ask for a mask. A mask might help.}

[Oh, he’s beyond help.]

Shaking slightly he walks out to see Peter standing, pacing, and talking on the phone. “I just told the truth.” A pause and Peter sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony Stark,” he said viciously, “is an alcoholic womanizing vampire having issues with his sexual identity. There is no part of that description that says, ‘Hey, I’m safe for kids, bring the whole family!’” Another pause. “Well, maybe it’s high time someone did.” He hung up, turned, saw Wade and—unbelievably—smiled. “You look good,” he said approvingly.

[He’s lying!]

{Aw! He cares enough to lie!]

Peter turned to the dwarf in charge. “I want four of those, another two in short sleeves, and—”

“And the dress suit will be ready in three weeks,” finished the dwarf, “all billed to your account.”

Peter grinned. “You know me well,” he said. The dwarf snorted as another one of its kind handed Peter a series of bags. Peter took the bags, slung them over his shoulder, and then hoisted the duffel in the air and towards Wade.

[Holy—twig-boy here is stronger than he looks!]

Peter smiled at Wade. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

***

Peter couldn't help but grin at how enthusiastically Wade ran around the condo, poking his head into almost every nook and cranny as he almost knocked the flat screen off the wall. “Baby Boy, you’ve got everything here!” the large man rambled as he wandered. “TV, state-of-the-art kitchen, bookcases and The Spider!” he exclaimed suddenly as he grabbed a book off the shelf. “You’ve got The Spider series!”

Peter chuckled as he pulled up and booted his laptop. It was an older model without internet capabilities, but it worked and he didn’t have to worry too much about hackers. “I have the whole series,” he said to Wade’s obvious delight as he settled down to work.

Wade gasped as he pressed the book to his chest. “Even the first three? No one has the first three!”

That was because no one had believed The Spider would be popular. Peter chuckled at the irony. “The early issues on the shelf to your left,” Peter said as he brought up the relevant file. Nothing soothed Ned like a new chapter.

Wade slammed himself down on the couch, hooking his legs over Peter’s lap. He managed to get his laptop out of the way just in time. “Oh, man, I’ve loved these since they came out,” Wade babbled. “There’s just something so wholesome about a guy working among killers and not killing anyone, you know?”

Peter smiled as he got to typing, words coming faster now that they weren’t stifled by loneliness. “Glad to hear it,” he said absently working on the newest chapter of his Stark novels. Wade’s constant commentary was soothing to hear in the formerly empty apartment.

The knocking came a shock. Even more shocking, was the way Wade was suddenly tense, in front of Peter, and pointing a gun at the door. Peter saved his work, printed the latest chapter (he was well into the next one), and gently pat Wade’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s probably just my agent.”

“Okay,” said Wade, gun not wavering in the slightest.

“That I should probably let in now,” hinted Peter.

“Sure.”

“Wade? Put the gun away.” The man blinked and obeyed and only then did Peter get up to let Ned in.

“You’ve really done it now,” Ned said as he came into the apartment. He fiddled with the edges of his scarf in agitation. “You’ve gone and upset the entire group! They’re calling for your head Peter!”

“And in doing so bring my books to the attention of whomever hasn’t heard of them yet,” Peter said as he walked over to the printer. He picked up the chapter and then walked back.

Ned came to a stop as he saw Wade, leaning against the couch with a book in his lap and the gun to his right. “Who are you?” he asked with a little trepidation.

“Ned, this is Wade, my new roommate. Wade this is Ned, my agent.”

Wade waved a single finger. “Hiyas,” he said cheerfully.

“Um. Hi.” Ned turned to Peter. “Where’d he come from?” he demanded.

Peter sighed. “I adopted him.”

“What?”

“Well, he was on the side of the road with a sign that said, ‘Adopt Me,’ so I did,” Peter explained.

“Peter,” sighed Ned as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses, “you can’t just take random people home. It’s irresponsible. It’s—what’s this?”

Peter grinned as Ned finally took notice of the typing paper. “My latest chapter,” he said smugly. “Unless, you don’t want it?”

Ned glared at him before snatching the paper and beginning to read. His expression quickly changed as he flipped through the pages. “Ugh! What? Oh…” The muttering sounded almost similar to Wade’s muttering as he flipped through The Spider books. “Holy shit!” Ned whirled to look at Peter. “For real?”

Peter smiled. “See what happens when I’m not lonely?” he asked mildly.

Ned turned to Wade. “I’m sorry for every bad thing I thought about you,” he said earnestly.

“Uh—”

“I see you have a gun, do you know how to use it?”

Wade was clearly on firmer ground. “Guns, knives, swords—if it can kill people I can use it.”

“Excellent,” said Ned with satisfaction before jerking a thumb towards Peter. “That idiot pissed off the head of Parents First this morning.”

Wade, to Peter’s surprise, winced. “That bitch?” he asked.

Ned reached over and pat Wade’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you to keep him alive. The new book must be published.”

“Hey!” protested Peter.

“I will do my best,” said Wade. “What? No, I wouldn't do that!”

Ned sighed. “Only you, Pete. Only you.”

***

After Peter left to go do Author things (it’s just an interview—they’re not going to tie me to a stake and watch me burn on live television unless the stake and flames are metaphorical Wade, and I can handle that) Wade decided to take it upon himself to make sure that his new bestie didn’t get killed.

[I’m not sure you can call the two of you “besties.”]

{He certainly doesn’t seem to have a lot of self-preservation. In one day he pissed off one of the most dangerous fanatical non-religious groups in the world and took us home with him. It’s almost like he wants to die.}

Wade frowned as he paused outside his old haunt, back in gear. Did Peter have a death wish? No, the guy was too happy for that—but he did seem rather lonely. Wade shrugged. He was just going to have to make sure that Peter wasn’t lonely, that was all. He waltzed into the bar and ducked as several knives were thrown at him. “Oh! Mean!” he complained as he made his way to the bar. “Gosh,” he said as he levered himself into a stool, “you’d think that people wanted to kill me!”

Weasel, the bartender, snorted. “Everyone wants to kill you Wade,” he said calmly as he filled someone’s liquor order before putting the glass on a tray for the waiter to take to a table. “It’s just that no one can.”

Wade nodded. “True that,” he agreed as Weasel slapped a beer in front of him.

“New micro-brewer,” he said. “I’m thinking of signing a contract with ‘em.” Wade made a show of tasting the beer by taking a sip and swishing it from cheek to cheek, even going so far as to gargle with it. “And?” asked Weasel.

Wade burped. “Tastes like beer.”

“Fuck you Wade.” Weasel calmly continued to make drinks. “Heard Nate threw you out. Surprised you didn’t come crash on my couch like usual.”

[I know I keep saying the whole thing with Peter is a bad idea, but not crashing with Weasel was a good one.]

{Why didn’t we kill the ex again?}

[Because Wade has limits, and he’s one of them.]

Wade ignored the voices as he glanced up at the bounty board. Most places had a digital website. Weasel insisted that was too easy to hack, hence the blackboard. (Everyone else called him cheap.) There, at the top of the list, was the name Peter Parker. The bounty was, of course, insanely huge.

Wade hummed before he grinned at Weasel. “Well,” he said brightly, “I got tired of people not wanting to see me, so I got a cardboard box and wrote ‘adopt me’ on it!”

“Sounds like the crazy kind of shit you’d do,” admitted Weasel calmly. “Then what?”

“Then someone did!” said Wade cheerfully. “A sweet, innocent little guy named Peter.”

Weasel paused in what he was doing. “Wade—” he said half in warning, half in fear.

“Peter Parker,” continued Wade. The bar was suddenly silent as he kept talking. “And if anyone,” he sang, “tries to lay a hand on that sweet, naive piece of ass, I will destroy theirs with a cheese grater.” A soft snort got his attention and he turned to look at the young woman at the bar next to him.

[Oh. My. God. Is that who I think it is?]

{Kill her! She’s after Peter!}

Karen Wishstone. The weirdest, strangest person he’d ever met. She was almost invisible—until she wasn’t. Her skill set would have made her a good assassin if she hadn’t made it a point not to kill.

{Oh! You think The Spider was based on her?}

Weasel sighed. “What are you doing here, Karen?” he asked warily.

Karen rolled her eyes as she swished the liquid in her bottle around lazily. “Relax Weasel,” she ordered. “I’m just in town to visit friends, and I thought I’d take a look at the bounty board while I’m here. See if there’s anything small to Stalk while I’m in town.”

“And?” demanded Weasel warily.

She held out placating hands. “It’s all too grand for me. This isn’t my town.”

[She could be lying. You know what they say about her. The first you know she’s there is when you wake up in Retrieval.]

{Kill her!}

Wade paused. Everyone knew that Karen was so good at what she did because no one saw her coming. If someone knew she was in town, that person was safe. “How do you feel about meeting my roomie?” he asked.

“Peter Parker?” she asked. He nodded. “The writer?” He nodded again. She sighed. “I’m not sure he’d want to see me,” she told him. “Last time I was in town we didn’t—exactly part on the best of terms.”

[Wait. She knows Peter?]

{I don’t like that she doesn’t want to see him. Can we kill her now? Please?}

“Why don’t I ask?” Wade thought the request was reasonable, but was checking to see how she took it.

To his surprise she seemed to mull it over. Then she smiled. “Okay,” she said. “Let me know what he says. I’m sure Weasel here’s already found out what hotel I’m at, how long I’m booked to stay, and where my dog is.”

Weasel doesn’t deny it. “I still haven’t forgotten what happened the last time you were in town,” he growled.

“And if you had proof that was my fault; I would be banned,” said Karen with a grin and a salute of her bottle.

***

Peter tried not wince as Wade mentioned Karen. He remembered the last time the two of them met. It certainly could have gone worse—but not by much. He looked over where Wade was shredding lettuce for their tacos. “I remember Karen,” he said evenly.

Wade chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “that’s how she said you’d react, but I thought you’d want to see the person who inspired you to write The Spider.”

Peter paused. “You know I wrote that?” he asked looking at Wade in surprise. His name wasn’t the one on the spine of the books.

Wade instantly looked bashful. “Well—it fits,” he said nervously.

Peter grinned. “I’m shocked,” he said. He gave a low, happy hum as he sliced the olives. “You’re the first one to figure I wrote them,” he said. “I don’t think Ned even knows.”

“Who publishes them?” asked Wade as he grabbed a block of cheese and began to scrape it against the grater.

“Same people,” admitted Peter. “They’ve just never met me, as the author of The Spider. As far as they know the author of those books is a weirdo freak that always mails in his manuscripts.” He paused. “Actually, from listening to the gossip opinions seem pretty split on whether the author is male or female.” He reached over for some of the cheese and his hand brushed Wade’s.

Peter wasn’t sure what he was expecting—but it wasn’t Wade’s reaction. The man paled between his scars and then flung himself in a corner as he tried to use his shirt to cover all his exposed bits of skin. “Wade?” he asked as he looked at the shivering figure in confusion.

“—rry. Sorry,” whimpered Wade.

“What?” asked Peter. He gentled his voice as he turned off the stove burner before going over to Wade and crouching by him. “For what?” he asked softly, gently.

“Know it’s bad,” Wade whispered.

“Wade?” Peter reached out and the other man flinched. He paused, not certain of what the best thing to do was. His instincts told him to comfort the man—but how? He reached out a little further and rested his palm—gently—on Wade’s scarred cheek. “Wade? Are you okay?” Wide, frightened eyes looked up at him. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, Wade.”

Wade blinked as tears began to roll down his cheeks. Suddenly he threw himself into Peter’s lap, gripping the smaller man as though he was about to disappear. Peter, hoping he was doing the right thing, gently rubbed Wade’s back. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “See? Everything is all right.”

“…not,” Wade’s voice was soft, fragile—hurting.

The change in attitude bothered Peter more than he let on. He kept rubbing Wade’s back as Wade pressed his face into Peter’s stomach. “Everything is all right.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” said Wade a little more clearly. He held Peter just a little tighter.

“For what?” asked Peter. Wade mumbled something. Peter could only make out a single word. “Wade? What’s disgusting?”

“Me,” whined the man.

If Peter hadn’t been on the floor already, if he hadn’t been holding Wade, he would have stumbled in shock. What had happened to make this cheerful, happy man think so little of himself? Peter’s mind flashed back to finding Wade on the street with the cardboard sign. He should have asked more.

“Wade,” said Peter gently, “you’re not disgusting.”

“I am,” cried Wade. Peter was startled to see that the larger man was actually crying. “Disgusting, revolting, horrifying.”

“No,” protested Peter. He stroked the back of Wade’s head, fingers running along the scarred tissue. Wade didn’t even look up. “You’re not,” Peter said again.

Wade gave a dry, broken laugh. “I know what I look like,” he said bitterly.

Peter’s heart broke for the man. “Hey, Wade. Look at me. Hey,” he said as he pushed Wade’s head up to force the man to look at him. “Look at me. I don’t think you’re disgusting. I don’t think you’re revolting.” He snagged one of Wade’s hands and interlaced their fingers together. “You’re wonderful just the way you are,” he said firmly.

Wade looked into Peter’s eyes and the smaller man would swear he was trying to find the lie in the words. Suddenly he chuckled—but it sounded at lot less broken. “You must be blind,” he said wearily.

“No,” argued Peter firmly. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Wade’s head. “I just see better than other people,” he said. As Wade slowly calmed down Peter wondered: just who had taught the man to hate himself so badly?

He also wondered if he had enough to put a hit out on the person responsible.

***

“So this is where you get off to.” Peter turned, not particularly surprised to see Karen behind him. She shrugged. “Between books.”

“Karen,” he said warily as he faced one of two people who knew all his secrets. He wasn’t worried about it; Karen probably knew everyone’s secrets. She didn’t talk much.

Karen pat the seat of the bench next to her. “Have a seat. Jogging isn’t going to help,” she added knowingly.

About to ask how she knew he was trying to jog some sense into what happened with Wade, Peter sighed. She’d never tell. And she might not even be talking about Wade. “What brings you to New York?” he asked as he took a seat.

“Seeing old friends. Meeting new ones. Watching a familiar idiot get a bounty of almost four million put on his head.”

Peter didn’t assume the sentences were unconnected. “No one’s going to Stalk me, Karen,” he said wearily.

She watched him from the corner of her eye. “No, they’re not. Wade got in front of the whole bar and told them all they’d have to go through him to get you.” She chuckled. “No one can get past Wade, so it doesn’t matter how big the bounty gets; no one will be willing to try.”

“Wade did?” asked Peter. He felt a confusing combination of flattered and worried.

“Wade has his own secrets,” Karen said simply. She looked at him. “You might consider sharing some of yours. He’s one of three people who won’t judge you about what happened, Peter.”

Peter snorted. “You don’t judge me.”

“I don’t count.” When Peter opened his mouth to protest she added, “I don’t count, because you don’t care what I think.” She smiled—small, knowing. “You care what he does.” She stood up. “Keep it in mind,” she advised before walking off.

Peter sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache. There was really no point in asking more questions of Karen. Not only was she gone, but she wouldn't answer. He’d have to figure out what she meant on his own.

***

Wade was worried. It was one thing for Peter to be okay with seeing his skin on a daily basis—

[The horror show that it is.]

—but it was another for the guy to actually have to touch it.

{Why do you think he was apologizing? It wasn’t his fault our hands touched.}

[Because Peter’s a nice guy and we were upset. That’s the only reason he said we weren’t disgusting to touch.]

{How far do you think that niceness goes? I mean, he did kiss us.}

[On the FOREHEAD Yellow. The same place parents use to check if their kids are running a fever.]

“Yo, Wade!” impact to the back of the head made it impossible to ignore. He turned to see—Karen?

“What’s up duck?” asked Wade curiously.

She rolled her eyes. “You wanted to introduce me to your author friend,” she reminded him.

[Didn’t she say that wouldn't go well?]

“I thought you said he wouldn't want to see you,” said Wade.

“One way to find out,” said Karen as she poked him again. “So? Where do the two of you lovebirds live?” she asked.

Wade and the boxes sputtered. “They’re—we’re not lovers!” he protested.

“And I’m not a spine,” said Karen agreeably.

{… Was that supposed to make sense?}

“I don’t understand,” complained Wade as he walked towards the condo building.

“Clearly. Have you told Author Boy what you do for a living yet?”

{Tell the writer of those sweet little books that we kill people for a living? I don’t think that would go over well.}

[I hate to agree with Yellow, but why don’t we kill this bitch?]

“Because I’d kill you and then disappear while you were fixing yourself,” she said calmly.

Wade paused. That was new. “You didn’t use to be able to hear the boxes,” he said slowly.

She shrugged. “I didn’t used to be able to do a lot of things. Now hurry up; my time in New York is coming to an end and I want to get this done.”

“You’re not Stalking Peter, are you?” asked Wade nervously as they entered the building.

“No, I’m applying the Hammer.”

“What?” They reached the condo and went inside.

Karen ignored him. “Hi, Peter,” she said calmly. She shut the door behind them, pulled a gun and blew Wade’s brains out.

***

Peter stared in shock before staring at her. “You don’t kill people!” he hissed shrilly.

She shrugged as she pocketed the gun again. “And I didn’t,” she replied calmly. “But this was taking too long.” She met his eyes as wet noises began to emanate from Wade’s prone body. “Both of you have secrets, Peter. It’s time to tell them.”

“Holy fucking shit-turds!” snarled Wade as his head visibly knit back together. “That hurt.”

Karen gave him a nudge with her foot. “Stop whining,” she advised him. “We both know you’ll be fine.”

“That hurt!”

“And you were dithering. I don’t have much time left in New York. And now,” she added firmly, “that the Hammer has been properly applied, I have a woman to see about a dog. Oh,” she said pausing before she opened the door, “there’s a chance the woman responsible for the bounty on your head might be dead tomorrow. Do with that what you will.” She turned and left.

Peter, watching the man he had just watched die get up from the floor and start muttering about bloodstains, collapsed to the couch. “What?” he asked, confused.

Wade began pacing. When Peter could see his back he could see that the back of the other man’s head was literally knitting itself together before his eyes. “No, that’s a terrible idea!” Wade complained as he rubbed hands over his head in agitation. “He’ll hate us!”

And again, Peter’s heart broke for the man. He got up, got into Wade’s way, and hugged the larger man. “I won’t hate you,” he promised.

“Peter, you can’t say that,” Wade protested. Despite his words his arms went around the smaller man and Peter quickly hugged him back. “You don’t know.”

“Then tell me,” Peter challenged. “Tell me everything.”

Wade took a deep breath. “After the Dark War,” he began, “my unit was called for some—some experiments.”

Peter could feel how Wade was shaking. “What kind of experiments?” he asked.

“They said they could make me unkillable. Impossible to defeat. Immortal.” He clutched Peter tighter. “I was young and stupid and didn’t ask—” He took several deep breaths as Peter began rubbing the man’s back, trying to soothe him. “It was—I’ll just say it was Hell. Every step of the way and when it ended—when it ended I looked like this.” Suddenly Wade gave a dry, broken laugh, eerily similar to the one he’d voiced before. “I killed them all,” he admitted flatly, no emotion coloring his voice. “But—I was trapped like this. Forever.”

“Oh, Wade.” Peter pressed his face into the man’s chest, feeling the rough scars beneath the thin fabric of the shirt. “I’m sorry you feel trapped,” he said softly. “I’m glad you’re here,” he added.

Wade hugged him tighter and pressed his face into the crook of Peter’s neck. “You’re the only one who’s ever said that,” he admitted.

***

[I can’t believe he’s still here.]

{I can’t believe we’re still here. The stick boy didn’t kick us out! We don’t have to crash with Weasel and hope the bastard forgives us!}

[We should kill him.]

{That’s what I’ve been saying!}

No, Wade thought firmly, careful not to speak. Peter had (miraculously) fallen asleep in Wade’s arms. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had. Peter was a lot of firsts for Wade. The first to purely enjoy his company, without any monetary incentives. (Even the ex had demanded partial payment of Wade’s bounties—but Peter didn’t care.) The first to make someone else happy to see him. (He still remembered the happy, accepting look on the agent’s face after thinking that Wade was a danger to Peter to realizing he would protect Peter.

{The first not to think we’re disgusting.}

Yellow seemed to be coming to like Peter just as much as Wade was. As much as Wade did.

[There is something seriously wrong with this man. We should never leave.]

Wade blinked. Those two statements didn’t seem to mesh. Before he could try to interrogate White, Peter stirred gently. “I’ve got an idea,” the smaller man said.

“What is it?” asked Wade curiously.

“Wade, exactly what happens when a bounty is brought in to Retrieval?”

[I take it back. Ditch him. Ditch him now. This is a bad idea!]

“Why?” asked Wade curiously.

Peter shifted his head so that he could grin up at Wade. “Because I’ve got an idea,” he said smugly.

***

Peter grinned as he looked around the noisy, messy room. There was a high number of corpses, but that was to be expected. People were watching the two of them warily, but that was also to be expected. After all, it wasn’t every day that the most famous (notorious) Stalker in New York brought a living bounty into Retrieval. Even rarer that the bounty and the Stalker were flirting.

The woman working the desk sighed. “Deadpool,” she said wearily, “what are you doing?”

Peter looked at the costumed man next to him with curiosity, which was fairly normal, and no fear—which, given people’s reactions, was not normal. “Deadpool?” he asked his red leather-clad friend.

“Aw it’s—it’s just a nickname,” Wade said bashfully.

The woman at the desk snorted. “He,” she said pointing at the Stalker, “once filled a pool with dead bodies. Claimed he wanted to see if it really was possible to fill a pool with blood.”

“They deserved it!” protested Wade as he remembered the incident.

“What happened?” asked Peter curiously.

Wade stilled completely for a moment. “Something bad,” he said grimly. “Trust me—death was the least they deserved.”

“They were traffickers,” the woman at the desk explained. “I don’t know the full details, but Deadpool here killed them all, piled them into the dry pool at one of their homes, and got his moniker.”

Peter nudged Wade with his shoulder. “So you were protecting people,” he said.

“Kind of. Maybe. Almost?” said Wade. “They just—all three of us were really pissed off.”

All three of them. Wade and the two voices in his head, White and Yellow. Peter leaned against his friend again. He couldn't see through the mask that the other man was wearing, but he was willing to bet that he was nervous. He wanted Wade to know that it was okay, that Peter wasn’t going to abandon him.

And, once again, Peter felt a surge of rage at whomever had.

His musings were interrupted as a woman, the woman, sauntered over to where they were. He could tell, from the smug look on her face, that she was expecting to be identifying his corpse. She was about to be in for a big shock; it was high time she learned that the world wasn’t hers to run. Peter was more than happy to be instrument teaching that particular lesson.

The woman came to a shocked stop as she looked at Peter, still breathing, sitting on the bench next to one of the most infamous Stalkers in the city—maybe, if what the woman at the desk had been hinting at all afternoon was correct, the world. Her eyes began to narrow and she opened her mouth to speak.

Peter spoke first. “Hi,” he said brightly, in the over-the-top tone that most people (stupid people) used on small children and animals. “I’m Peter. This is my boyfriend, Wade,” he said gesturing to the costumed man to his right. Wade froze again. Calling him a boyfriend hadn’t been part of the plan, and Peter would figure out if he’d offended the man later. Right now the problem was that he had to do something about this woman. Peter stood up and put his hands in his pockets as he rocked from the balls to the heels of his feet. “You know, he told me that someone had put my name on the Bounty Board and you know what I said? I said, ‘Why don’t you collect it, Wade?’ And here we are.” Peter gestured to the Retrieval warehouse that they were in. “And you know what? Each and every single time that someone puts my name on that board, we’ll be here. So he can collect his payment.”

He knew; of course he knew, that it was impossible to insist that the person on the board being brought in be dead when they arrived. She knew, and he knew that she knew, that he now had a plan in place for when that happened to him. She couldn't use the Bounty Board to kill him.

She paled, paid, and left.

Wade and Peter left shortly after, giving her a little bit of a head start on them (they didn’t want to risk running into her). Wade walked in uncharacteristic silence for a moment. “You called me your boyfriend,” he said softly.

Peter peered up at him. He wished that Wade wasn’t wearing his mask; he would like to see the expression on his face. “Do you mind?” he asked anxiously. “If you do, we don’t have to—”

“Mind?” asked Wade. He hugged Peter close. “Of course I don’t mind! I’d love to be your boyfriend!”

Peter grinned and hugged back. A slight tingle of his spine had him throwing the two of them to the side as a large fist slammed into the ground where they’d been. Wade leaped away and pulled one of his swords (was that one of the things that had been in the duffel bag?) as Peter ducked another punch and landed on a tree.

The man glared at Wade. “I see you’re keeping busy,” he snarled.

“Had to leave,” said Wade.

Peter frowned. Wade didn’t sound happy, or quippy, or sarcastic—but defeated. He glared at the large man. Was this the reason why Wade had been on the street in the first place? Why he’d been so terrified of being touched?

The man opened his mouth to growl something—and his face went slack as he suddenly toppled over. Karen popped out of the bushes behind him and pulled a dart out of the man’s butt. “You still don’t have any survival sense,” she said calmly as she tied the large man up. A puppy, it looked young but came up to her knees, danced out of the bushes and towards them, yapping. “He’s been following the two of you since you left the condo this morning. Probably thought now would be a good time to make a move.” She tightened the leather restraints.

Peter looked at her. “Being a hammer again, Karen?” he asked. He still wasn’t entirely certain what she’d meant by that.

“No,” she said absently as the puppy danced around the man as if it was showing off a kill. “If I was, I’d point out to your shiny new boyfriend there how you’re sticking to the side of an oak tree by your hands and feet.”

A chill rushed through Peter’s veins as he realized that she was right. The danger had been familiar and the move so natural that he hadn’t even thought twice about it. Of course not. Why would he? He hadn’t been in that position for a long time now. He turned wide eyes to Wade to see the whites of the mask staring at him. He assumed Wade was looking at him behind the mask, but he wasn’t sure.

Especially since Wade addressed Karen. “So—are you taking him to Retrieval? What do you get out of it?”

Karen turned to grin at the two of them as the dog lifted a leg and peed on the unconscious man’s face. “Bragging rights,” she said smugly. “I was in the bar last night, trading verbal spars with Weasel, when this idiot came in bragging about how no quote, ‘prissy little bitch who can’t even properly kill’ could get him.” She wrapped the man’s legs with another leather strip. “Best part is, I won’t even have to stay in town. No one in that bar will let him forget it—he might even end up infamous on the ‘net if he’s not lucky.”

“And you hope he’s not lucky,” said Wade with insight.

Karen looked up at them again and Peter could see the amusement glinting in her eyes. “He’s an ass,” she said bluntly before pulling something from her pocket. It unrolled into a contraption with wheels and she maneuvered the large man (almost twice her size) onto it. The puppy jumped onto the body and sat, wagging its tail.

“Who’s the dog?” asked Peter as he climbed down from the side of the tree.

“Brucie. I’m training him to replace Brutus.”

“Ah—”

“He retired.” She grabbed a handle of the folding wagon and then waved at the two of them. “Nice to see you got your relationship stuff sorted out. Have fun you crazy kids.” She pulled the wagon and left.

Wade waved back and, without turning to look at Peter again, asked, “You—do you want to talk about it?” The words were tentative.

Peter sighed. It looked like it was his turn to talk about his past. “Wade I—you know The Spider?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, he wasn’t based on Karen.” There was a moment of silence and Peter sighed again. He wondered if Wade would decide to leave after this revelation. Not that Peter could blame him. “Everything in the books are true.”

“So, there really was an evil scientist trying to recreate the Dark War?”

Peter winced. He’d looked up to Norman as a father for years and it still hurt to hear the man called that. Norman hadn’t been evil—but he had been insane. “Yeah,” he said wearily. “When—when it all happened I had to write it down. I changed the names,” he added. He hadn’t thought changing the names would be enough to fool people—but he’d been wrong. “And I wanted everyone to know what had happened so I pulled three jobs and paid to get the first three volumes published. Everything after that was older stuff, remembered stuff.”

“Oh.” Wade sidled a little closer to Peter. “Are we—are we still boyfriends?” he asked.

Peter looked at the larger man and then smiled. “Only if you want to be,” he said with a smile.

***

No one knew why Deadpool suddenly joined The Spider on his adventures in the world of fiction. And, unlike his Stark novels and despite Deadpool’s attitude, they were still made for children. They were also, to no one’s surprise, popular.

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool #Stalkers

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happymetalgirl · 4 years ago

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Album Chronology - Death

The whole ranking-albums-from-worst-to-best has been done to death to the point of staleness at this point, but mostly due to the format, at least to me. I’ve read so many damn worst-to-best lists at this point that they’re all kind of predictable even when they’re seemingly trying to force some kind of novelty or surprise factor by putting a fan-favorite or highly revered album really low in a ranked list. It’s all gotten pretty dry at this point, plus, to me, I can’t help but see a little bit of futility in compiling lists for active artists whose next release will render such a list so quickly obsolete. I honestly had the idea of doing something tier-related to make it less rigid a year or so ago, but lo and behold, tier-list videos are the newest horse getting beaten to death. So rather than jumping around an artist’s catalog and tossing in some spicy hot takes, I figured why not take the chronological approach and trace the story of the artist’s creative trajectory, and not spoil the #1 spot by revealing the #2 spot.

So why do these kinds of lists? Also, why Death?

I make this little chronology to offer my insight into Death’s discography partly for the reason so many others have made similar rankings: to appreciate Death’s music and the huge legacy Chuck Schuldiner left through it. But I also make this because I do think my perspective on Death is a somewhat unique one, at least among Death fans. Chuck Schuldiner was an incredibly talented musician and a beloved figure within the world of metal, and that aspect of his legacy has undoubtedly been enhanced by the untimeliness and unfairness of his passing. The guy certainly had a strong presence on the stage and a certain charisma off of it, and his cherishing of animals surely resonates with me as well. Death was also hardly my first death metal band, so I do think that gives me a bit less of a nostalgic perspective on their legacy. I still enjoy a lot of the same things about Death that most fans do, and at the end of this list, it might not really end up being all that shocking or controversial, just a slightly tempered version of what most fans would make. I’m pretty long-winded, so I’ll cut the intro and get into the music: Death.

1987 - Scream Bloody Gore

I have to reinforce my position right from the get-go about having a more measured view of the band’s catalog because the spicy takes come right out of the gate with Death’s debut album, Scream Bloody Gore. The sour really isn’t all that sour and it comes with a little bit of sweet right afterward too: I think this is Death’s worst album. But that just means it only gets better from here, and I do still really like it. It’s a classic in its own right that started Death on a more solid footing than the average debut project in very new territory at the time and I again do genuinely still like it a lot; I own it, along with the rest of the band’s catalog, on vinyl. But it is, as I mentioned, a first step into new territory, and rather naturally primordial, which indeed has its own appeal in the context of the era it came from and for which it deserves tremendous appreciation. There is indeed a lot to appreciate here. I love the persistence of the bass line in the title track, the hooks of songs like “Zombie Ritual” and “Baptized in Blood”, and the amped up Slayer-inspired extremification of thrash metal that would only snowball further as the band and the genre they helped pioneer progressed. But the primary role Scream Bloody Gore served was to lay the groundwork for Death to expand upon in that early era that would itself later become the groundwork for their more ambitious progressive tilt during the second half of their career. I’ll throw it out right here just to get it outbid then way, it’s not exactly a hot take, but some Death fans are partial the other way; it’s probably already evident, but I prefer the band’s second era from Human to Perseverance. Personally I think bands like Morbid Angel and Cannibal Corspe were more suited to this primal gory form of early death metal, and I think Death would have wound up being seen as merely a pretty good band in a tier below those guys if they had stuck with what they were doing with their debut and the two albums that followed for the rest of their career. Again, Scream Bloody Gore is by no means a bad album, or even a rough start, kind of a Kill ‘em All sort of debut that laid solid foundations and allowed for greatness to follow but indeed stands well enough on its own.

7/10

1988 - Leprosy

The band’s sophomore release just a year later showed immediate signs of improvement. The trimmed track list with more meticulously groomed songs (and a greater density of sick riffs) produced several live staples for the band, like the title track, “Left to Die”, and especially the ever-traditional concert-closer “Pull the Plug”. But there was more than just better riffs and more focus on perfecting the songs here. The production on Leprosy was clearer than the band’s debut the year before, and the writing was generally more sophisticated too, incorporating a bit more flashy technicality that would soon escalate to an echelon that would end up characterizing their sound more comprehensively. Soon-to-be vestigial characteristics of the debut album still remained: tons of wailing Slayer-sequence guitar solos, thrashy blast beats, the focus of palm-muted tremolo riffing, and more fantastical, brutal lyricism. But Leprosy presented these more mid-brow elements in a more impressive arrangement than its predecessor.

8/10

1990 - Spiritual Healing

My personal favorite of the band’s grittier first half of their career, Spiritual Healing was really just a more consistent continuation (to my ears at least) of the refined early death metal sound of Leprosy. The band were starting to develop a more signature style of riffing, as well as soloing that they would take with them into their next four albums. By now most of the gory detail was taking the backseat to Schuldiner’s psychological analysis of certain “Defensive Personalities”, parasitic religious manipulation by televangelists, and prenatal cocaine exposure. The more high-mindedness of Spiritual Healing also ushered in another ramp up in the band’s technicality that made the progression into the heady technical death metal of Human a rather natural one. The band’s last album in their so-called “traditional” or “brutal” or “classic” death metal era played around a lot more with the dynamic range of the genre and it really ran the gamut of what Death had done up to that point within that style of death metal and beyond, the title track being my personal favorite example of this ability the band had to contort the genre to fit their more expansive needs while keeping everything in the confines of death metal. It’s my favorite song on the album and of this era of Death’s career. At this point, Death had pretty robustly demonstrated their ability with the genre in its more primitive form, and evolved it along the way quite a lot at that, to the point where they really had nothing more they had to say with the style, an impressive feat after three albums. Sure they could have probably spun their tires in the mud for a few more albums (knowing now that Chuck Schuldiner sadly only had a little more than a decade left), but the direction this album had the band heading in was pretty apparent. The only question was if the band would take the leap into the upper echelons of technicality and explore the new frontier that they were headed toward. Thankfully for us, the band had plenty of ambition left in them. As for the last album of their first half of their career, it’s hard to find many complaints with, and one that capped off this era of Death in complimentary fashion.

9/10

1991 - Human

After reaching their peak with bruntly aggessive death metal, Death’s fourth album began a second act for the band, one that sought to elevate their style to a more progressive form of death metal. It was a change that was pretty strongly indicated by the direction the band had been heading in and the step up in technicality on Spiritual Healing. Human takes the solos and the fast-paced guitar passages and bass lines to new extremes that the genre had never seen before, and the lyrical shift to more heady, cerebral, existential themes fit well with the significantly increased musical complexity that the album introduced. The technically dazzling yet infectious riffing of “Together as One” and “Flattening of Emotions”, the still-tasty hooks of the former and “Suicide Machine”, and the tasty percussive rhythm of “Lack of Comprehension” made those songs live staples. The band were still kind of finding their footing with the compositional aspects of this new realm, but the grounding in the aggression of their previous work with the voyage into the techy unknown was a good thing to start with and a good way to explore some new sonic territory while safely tethered to what was effective for them previously that produced some pretty impressive results.

8/10

1993 - Individual Thought Patterns

Carrying forward the ambition for significantly increased technicality that began with Human on to their fifth album, Death were still getting the hang of things with Individual Thought Patterns, which isn’t all to surprising or something to impugn the band for given the difficulty mode that had selected to play the creative game on, and the band still made some significant improvements with the integration of the hyperspeed technicality into their sound. Even more than the subsequent Symbolic, Individual Thought Patterns made the technicality so much more of a focus where, to me, this was Death’s first bonafide technical death album. Human was definitely pretty technical, but on Individual Thought Patterns, Death cut the cord and let themselves float off into the dizzying cosmos of instrumental technicality and tailored their compositional practices to fit that need. If there was any contingent of fans struggling to keep up with Death’s progression or hoping for a scale-back to the more brutish early albums, they were left behind with Individual Thought Patterns, save perhaps for the consolation of more traditionally groovy closing track, “The Philosopher”, but rampant speed-fests like “Overactive Imagination” and odd-timed melodic groovers like “Trapped in a Corner” quickly became fan favorites. If there’s one thing Individual Thought Patterns lacked, it was balance, but that wasn’t going to be a problem for very long...

8/10

1995 - Symbolic

Ah, Symbolic, there’s not gonna be any surprising bucking of the trend or “bold” underrating here. In a catalog that so many fans regard as perfect, Symbolic stands out as the most common fan favorite, and for good reason. The album synthesized everything that had made Death such a force to be reckoned with in the death metal world. Weaving together the early era’s delicious primal grooves, the elevated technicality that had become a solidified facet of the band’s style, and their newly blossoming progressive inclinations, Symbolic remains the band’s most comprehensively representative and accomplished work, the best place for any newcomer to the legendary act to start, and the best album in their acclaimed discography. The song-writing is tight and interesting from start to finish, seasoned with both tasty riffs and captivating displays of technicality that enhanced the songs rather than the players’ appetites for indulgence, and kept consistently interesting with frequent tasteful dynamic shifts and surprising twists and turns. I would undoubtedly go on forever if I were to detail the brilliance of every song on here, the majestic melodies and winding structure of “Crystal Mountain”, the catchy commentary on mass surveillance of “1,000 Eyes”, the invigorating double-bass of “Misanthrope”, and the iconic riffing of the opening title track. Instead I’ll quickly highlight two songs that seem to go unnoticed that I find particularly beautiful for the unexpected compositional moves Death makes on them. The first is the song, “Without Judgement”, which abruptly drops its techdeath winding to hypnotize with a gorgeous and emotive melodic solo that seems rather uncharacteristic for Death that I just love, and the second is the closing track, “Perennial Quest”. It’s the longest song in the band’s discography up to this point, only to be just marginally eclipsed by “Flesh and the Power It Holds” on the subsequent album, and it embarks on a similarly proggy and melodic odessey to that of “Crystal Mountain”, but it’s the somber and mournful electric/acoustic outro that would soon become all too tragic for Death fans to listen to that concludes the album on such a heartfelt note in such beautifully fitting fashion. There’s no other moment like it in Death’s catalog, and it’s always a solemn, conclusive reminder of just how much light Chuck Schuldiner and Death brought to this world and how lucky we are to have albums like this. I’ll end my sentimental bit here and conclude by briefly summing up my thoughts on the album. Symbolic is Death’s magnum opus and a masterpiece among masterpieces that captures nearly everything that makes Death and death metal appealing and that had made the genre so predominant for decades since, and beyond being their best, to me, it is a perfect album.

10/10

1998 - The Sound of Perseverance

Death’s final album seemed to set them on yet another new musical course after the second run through the steady improvement over the course of a three-album cycle. The longest album of the band’s seven and including the longest songs in their catalog on average, The Sound of Perseverance took Death on quite the progressive joyride, and surprisingly (to me at least) it kind of split and confused some fans who had just gotten used to the band’s digestible technicality on Symbolic. Granted, I was just a little baby bitch boy when this came out, but personally I don’t see why this was such a shock to the system for so many fans (apparently), the band had always been pretty ambitious and this was a pretty logical next step for them to expand their continually expanding sound. The structures on the band’s seventh album are less conventional and more packed with extensive technical passages, and the band do pull out a good few more surprises than they ever did in any album previously, like the acoustic/electric guitar-solo instrumental “Voice of the Soul”. But The Sound of Perseverance is by no means any kind of contrived over-indulgence in ideas grander than what the band could accomplish or frothy wank-fest. The band was already developing a bit of a progressive bend in the previous three-album arc and they simply took it to the next level the same way they did with their instrumental technicality on Human. And fans did indeed vibe with plenty of songs on The Sound of Perseverance, with the impressively vocally high soaring “Spirit Crusher”, the angular and unpredictable “Scavenger of Human Sorrow, and even the lengthy, and indeed structurally confounding, prog-techdeath monolith “Flesh and the Power It Holds” making their way into the band’s setlists on their last tours. And of course the album ends on the well-earned, fun, high-octane cover of Judas Priest’s “Painkiller”, which finds Schuldiner incredibly nailing the songs high melody with his high-pitched death shrieking style (and finishing with never-before-heard clean vocals). For the reputation it has for eschewing balance for high-minded progness, The Sound of Perseverance is by no means a hard pivot from or unrecognizable from Symbolic. Its bold expounding upon aspects of their sound that already seemed pretty evolved while remaining musically engaging and not sacrificing what made their previous work appealing, and sheer magnitude and impressiveness of the band’s third venture into new territory again do sometimes make me question whether I like it more than Symbolic. While it did seem to pave the way for another new mind-blowing era of Death that death took away from us, The Sound of Perseverance has become a glorious and aptly titled swan song and a testament to the band’s and Schuldiner’s relentless ambition and, indeed, genius. Eternal cheers to Chuck and to Death.

9/10

And that’s it, eleven years and seven albums that continually revolutionized death metal and paved the way for so much of what we hear today. Anyone reading this of course probably knows most of all of this, but it’s still astonishing to think about how much Death did for the genre in such a relatively short time, and, for me at least, even having already been a pretty big fan of Death, listening to these albums from Scream Bloody Gore to The Sound of Perseverance, it reminded me more viscerally of the quality of the music and respected legacy of the band that I have always intellectually acknowledged and agreed with, which I figured I’d share here. If, somehow, you’ve come across this and you’re not into Death or death metal but you’re open to it and interested, you’re in for a treat. Put on Symbolic and just enjoy the trip down the rabbit hole.

#Death #Chuck Schuldiner #metal #heavy metal #death metal #Scream Bloody Gore #Leprosy #Spiritual Healing #Human #Individual Thought Patterns #Symbolic #The Sound of Perseverance #Death band

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morgansyorkie · 5 years ago

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Too Afraid of Losing You ~ Nolan Patrick

Summary: You’re a med student and you had to graduate early due to the Corona Virus pandemic happening in the Philadelphia area. You have been working insane hours and the exhaustion from it all has definitely took a toll not only on you, but on your boyfriend Nolan Patrick well. You both have come to realization on truly how each of you mean to one another and how much you need one another during this difficult time.

Word Count: 3,660

Disclaimer: this is my first writing that I am posting, I hope that you all in enjoy it and would love to get any kind of feed back. Thank you :) Also thank you to @quinny-boy-hughes and @kravistonecny for giving my the courage to write and post this!

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Who would have thought that two months ago your normal life as a med student was going to change, but change in a way you never thought could happen. Sleeping was starting to become more and more difficult nor it never came at all. You frequently found yourself tossing and turning throughout the night or during the day depending on your crazy schedule. The world as you knew it was changing and not in a good way, your school decided to let all medical students graduate early if they chose to due to the pandemic that was happening here in America.

Sixteen hours...sixteen hours later you were finally walking into your apartment in downtown Philadelphia feeling completely exhausted and worn out. Your shift was only supposed to be from 7 pm to 7 am a normal twelve hour nurse-based shift, but with the amount of cases that were pilling in overnight, your team had to work overtime to make sure there was enough room for everyone coming in. You quickly kicked your shoes off and headed straight to the bathroom so you can remove your uniform and jump into the hot scolding shower. As you were removing your clothing you noticed a note and a single red rose laying on the countertop of the sink. “You’re so amazing and I’m so proud of you” Love always Nolan

As exhausted as you were, you couldn’t help but smile at the little gesture that your beyond amazing boyfriend Nolan has done for you. Nolan is your absolute everything in this world, he has seen you go through so much while attending med school and knowing that your graduating year had to be cut short due to the Corona Virus outbreak put a toll on the both of you. He was looking forward to watching you walk across the stage and finally getting that diploma that you’ve worked so damn hard for. He was looking forward for after graduation to settle down some and enjoy sometime together and maybe start planning your guys future together before you landed your official nursing job at University of Penn. He was even in talks to the guys about proposing to you when the time was right, but now that’s all thrown out the window due to this insane virus that no one has control over.

Once you got out of the shower, you changed into some sweats and one of Nolan’s hoodies that he totally sprayed his cologne with overnight to make sure that it smelled exactly like him. You walked out of the bathroom and was surprised to see Nolan still spread out in your guys bed peacefully sleeping. Must have been a long night of video games, if he is still sound asleep at this time of the day. As much as you desperately needed sleep you didn’t want to disrupt your boyfriend so you headed towards the spare bedroom and crawled under the blankets. You turned to lay on your side but the scarring on your face made you jolt some, but after a while the cooling of the pillowcases felt good against your beat-up face.

Nolan rolled over and looked at his phone which had a bunch of notifications that he could care less about, he saw that it was almost noon. He opened his text’s and saw that the last text from you was around eleven in the morning stating you were finally clocking out and heading home. But it’s almost been an hour since that text and he doesn’t understand why you’re not home lying in bed next to him. He got up and walked out of the room “Y/N? Y/N you home”? He asked in a low mumble tone. When there was no response, he got worried, he was about to grab his phone to call you when he noticed the guest bedroom door slightly closed and the bag with your scrubs in it laying out in the hall way. Seeing the bag out in the hall way made his nerves calm down a bit, he softly opened the guest bedroom door and saw you peacefully laying in the bed sleeping. He was glad to have you home safe, but he would be lying if he wasn’t a little hurt for the fact that you were sleeping in the guest bed instead of next to him in your guys bed.

You were finally getting some good sleep for once until you heard the loud ringing coming the night stand next to you. You sat up and rubbed your eyes a few times before answering the phone.

“Hello?” You answered still half a sleep.

“Y/N” I am so so sorry to wake you; I know how worn out you must be but I need you to come in for another overnight shift tonight. We just got about another 100 or so cases that rolled in from the time that you left and it’s getting out of hand here. We are going to need all hands-on deck tonight and tomorrow.” Your boss explained to you.

You had no choice, you had to go in this is what you signed up for. Well not this exactly, but you knew that becoming a nurse meant you were going to have some really tough days and nights.

“Yes, of course I’ll be there for shift change at seven tonight” You said in mid-stretch and getting ready to hop out of bed since it was just pass three thirty in the afternoon.

“Ugh thank you so much Y/N see you later hun.” Your boss said quickly and hung up

You walked out of the bedroom and headed towards the living room and kitchen area. You might as well start planning on cooking a big meal since you don’t know when the next time you will be able to eat a proper meal next. You saw Nolan sitting on the couch with his gaming headset on, trying his best not to yell into the mic at the person on the other end which was most likely Travis and maybe Carter.

“Dude Trav what the fuck are you doing? You just shot me I am on your team you stupid idiot, such a dumbass, god you are so fucking bad at Call of Duty.” Nolan said into his headset.

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself and shake your head at the site of Nolan. You walked over and leaned over the back of the couch to run your hand through Nolan’s hair and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading into the kitchen.

“Hey guys, I gotta go.” Nolan said as quickly as he could before shutting down the game and throwing his headset onto the coffee table.

You’d just finished getting out some pots and pans to start preparing a meal of spaghetti and meatballs when a pair of familiar strong arms wrapped themselves around your torso and a nose nuzzled into your neck.

“Done your game already.” You said giggling.

“Why were you in the spare bedroom?” Nolan questioned, as he spun you around so he could properly kiss you.

“I slept in the guest room because you took up the whole bed and you looked so damn cute and peaceful that I didn’t want to disrupt that. It's been so hard for me to even get a good night’s and in this case a good day’s worth of sleep lately so when I was done showering and found you sprawled out, you looked so peaceful. That I didn’t have the heart to ruin your beauty sleep in case I couldn’t fall asleep.”

I appreciate that babe…but I missed you.” Nolan breathed. “Was worried that something happened to you or that something had happened at the hospital.”

“Nah…never.” You insisted. “Not when I have you here to come home to after a long exhausting shift at work.”

With Nolan’s arms bringing you closer to him and him resting his head over your shoulder you sighed softly.

“Baby, what’s wrong and why are you cooking now? I thought that we were just going to snuggle and relax tonight and order some take out.” Nolan said as he played with your hair

“Plans changed...” You said barely above a whisper

“Y/n? What’s going on?” Nolan asked while stepping next to you so he can get a good read at the expression on your face. He knows how exhausted, worn out and beat up you have been lately. Seeing all of scars on your face every time you walk through that door reminds him how serious this virus actually is, it reminds him how scared he is that you are on the front lines during this time and how he doesn’t exactly know what you are battling every day, hour and minute.

“My boss called...hundreds of more cases came flooding in after I left the hospital, we need all hands-on deck. So, I have to head back down to the hospital later for another overnight shift.” You spoke softly as you pour the pasta into the boiling water and went to the freezer to grab the bag of meatballs.

“Y/n...no you were supposed to have the rest of the evening off, you weren’t supposed to go back into work until tomorrow morning. We were finally supposed have a relaxing night together, I feel like I don’t get to see you anymore.” Nolan said grabbing your hand squeezing it tight afraid that he might never get another relaxing night with you again.

“Patty, trust me I more than anyone in this world want that. I just want to crawl onto the couch and in your lap and just wish this horrible nightmare of a virus away, but it’s not like that. It’s getting worse by the hour and minute it seems like now and I just can’t say no. I just can not just not show up when there are higher doctors and nurses out there who never really get chance to go home and see their families and loved ones.” You said squeezing his hand back and kissing his soft lips to reassure him how much you love him.

“Here why don’t I finish dinner and we can sit outside on the balcony and enjoy some fresh air…” Nolan said picking up the ladle. “Then we can have a little cuddle session before you have to leave for the night.”

“‘Deal.” You said in agreement, while quickly rising up onto your tippy toes to plant a kiss onto Nolan’s lips before grabbing the place settings for outside. Being a med student wasn’t easy, but it was certainly easier with Nolan by your side the whole entire time. Now being a freshly new nurse isn’t easy either especially during this pandemic time, but again it was certainly a lot easier with Nolan by your side.

Nolan brought out dinner and you two just shared the moment that you were in. Eating a great dinner together while enjoying each other’s company and looking off into the cities sun. Every now and then you would glance over and give Nolan an adorable look and smile. He would try to give you the same reassuring glance back, but you knew there was something off with him. His eyes didn’t have that sparkle or shine to them like they normally do and it worried you.

After dinner, you joined Nolan in the lounge chair that he was sitting on and crawled in between his legs so your back was snuggled up to his chest and he could tightly wrap his arms around you.

“I can’t wait for this new normal to be over. I can’t wait to actually get my diploma and hopefully have an actual ceremony or at least party to celebrate my hard work with our friends and family. I can’t wait to see what an actual regular day of work is going to look like, a day where I don’t have to wear protective gear 24/7 and have to social distance myself from everything and everyone that I love.”

“Can’t wait for that too...” Nolan said barely above a whisper

Nolan’s voice alarmed you, you spun around so you were facing him. You looked up at Nolan and could see a sea of tears forming in eyes and a few slightly falling down his face.

“Nolan, baby are you okay, baby what’s wrong you’re worrying me.” You said grabbing onto his shoulder and running your hand through his hair.

“No..I’m not okay y/n... I’m scared...I’m scared as hell.” He said mumbling

“Scared about what Nols? Baby please talk to me; you’re really worrying me here. I have never seen you like this.” You said wiping a tear away from his face

“I’m scared to death of losing you Y/N. Ever since this virus has gotten more and more out of control it has frightened me more each and every single day. Every time you walk out of our door it kills me not knowing if that will ever be the last time that I get to see your face, hold you and kiss you. I’m so damn afraid that one of these days you aren’t going to be walking through those doors again and right into my arms. I can’t imagine my life without you Y/N, I’m so incredibly proud of you don’t get me wrong you’re a fucking super hero in my eyes but you’re also my girlfriend who I’m madly in love with who one day I hope to make my wife and the mother of my children. It’s like I need that reassurance to know that every time you leave to fight this virus that you’ll be able to come home back to me. It's why I have arguments with my mother on daily occasions about why I decided to stay here instead of flying back home because of the season being postponed. It’s because in reality I could never live with myself if I did that and god forbid something happened to you and I wasn’t here and I couldn’t get to you! It’s why I leave you little notes with a rose in the bathroom so when you come home you know that I was thinking about you the whole entire time you were on the front lines at work. As much as you hate not being able to sleep properly lately, I kind of love it because I can be there to protect and comfort you through it all y/n. I feel better when I have you tightly in my arms, I feel better when I’m able to look at you from a far, I feel better when I can play with your hair and kiss your lips. Over all I’m a better person when I am with you, if you don’t believe ask Travis and Carter, they have heard it all.” Nolan said full on breaking down at this point

You have never seen Nolan this vulnerable before, in all the years that you have been dating. It killed you to see this side of him, you never realized how much this was also affecting him until now.

You grabbed his face with both of your hands and kissed him like you have never kissed him before. You pulled away and leaned your forehead against his and wiped away a few more tears. “Nolan Patrick, I promise you I will always come back home to you.” You said looking straight into those gorgeous eyes that you love so much.

You looked at the clock and saw that it was 7:05 in the morning, you were hoping to run into your boss so she can give you the all clear to head home. Unfortunately, that doesn’t happen until a few hours and a break down alone in the hall way later. Your one coworker made sure to give Nolan an update every so often to let him know and that you were alright even though you weren’t. But she didn’t want to worry him anymore than he already was, plus she did it since you were too busy running around and forgot to leave your phone on the charging station to charge.

One O’clock...One O’clock in the afternoon that is the time that the clock read when you were able to finally clock out for the day. An eighteen-hour shift was way more than enough that you could ever possibly handle. You looked into the mirror and could barely recognize the woman staring back at you. It wasn’t you, this woman had dark bruised circles and lines around and under her eyes. This woman had broken and cracked lines on her cheek bones, where her mask had laid and dug into her. The only good thing that is coming out from these past horrific days is that your boss was giving you the next few days off to rest and compose yourself.

You drove yourself home and the moment you parked your car in the garage exhaustion took a new total on you. You didn’t member the elevator ride up to your floor, you didn’t remember walking down the hall to your apartment door and noticing all of the lovely and cute little notes that the children on your floor made for you and hung on the front door for you to see every day. You didn’t remember walking in and taking off your shoes and heading straight to the bathroom to take your routine hot shower. The only thing that brought you back to normal thought and time was the strong arms of Nolan wrapping you up tight into his arms while leaning next you on the cool bathroom floor.

“Shh, let it all out baby. It’s okay y/n I’m here..I’m here. Just please talk to me.” Nolan said while kissing your hair and rubbing your shoulder

“In the eighteen hours that I have worked I have seen way too many deaths than I ever wanted to see in my life Nolan. People are dying alone..because their loved ones aren’t allowed to come in contact with them. Its people of all ages young and old. Some I stood by their side because it broke my heart that they were dying alone. I broke down in a hallway at work, because I don’t understand how we are going to continue to fight this. You aren’t the only one who is completely scared to death, I am too. I am scared just as much as you are about not being able to return home and being able to crash into your arms. Nurses are already starting to get tested for the virus in different departments and floors and I’m so worried that soon we will have to be tested. I’m trying not to think of the worse, but what if I get tested and I’m positive I can’t imagine never being able to see or talk to you again. You deserve so much better”

Nolan brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, brushed the falling tears away from your cheek with his thumb and turned your face so you were looking right at him. “Don’t think like that baby, you are one strong woman. Each and every single day I find more and more reasons to fall in love with you. This pandemic made me realize to appreciate and love the little things in life more, to hold and adore your loved ones a lot closer. I can’t imagine what you and your staff are going through day in and day out but know that I will always be here waiting for you, so I can ease your mind and try my best to take it all away from you. If anyone deserves better it’s you y/n, I’m just a bonehead professional hockey player. But you, you are a talented young woman changing the world every single time you out walk of this apartment. Here come with me, I have something I want to show you and I think that it will make you feel a lot better.” Nolan said picking you up and carrying you into your guys bedroom and placing you onto the bed.

Nolan took out his iPad and handed it over to you and started playing a video for you. It was a video that the entire Flyers team put together thanking you for everything that you are doing during this crazy and difficult time. Even Gritty made a special appearance for you in the video which told made you light up and giggle. They even went on and talked about how such an amazing person you are and how much you mean to not only Nolan but to them as well. They were so grateful and thankful for you and it warmed your heart so much to hear them say it. The video ended with Nolan obviously getting emotional about much he is so proud of you and how he can’t believe that you were willing to get your degree early and risk your entire life just to save others without any hesitation.

Once the video ended you looked at Nolan and thanked him, this is what you needed to help you get through these times.

“I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us, if we can get through this together than we sure can get through anything in life together.” You said leaning in and closing the gap between you with a kiss

“As long as I have you in my arms, I don’t care where life take us. I realized that as long as you’re in my life that I have officially won no what matter. You’re my absolute everything y/n and I wouldn’t change it in a heartbeat.” Nolan said cupping your cheek and kissing you passionately

Nolan was right, as long as you had each other you knew you were always going to be safe and have strong arms to come decompose home too.

#Nolan Patrick #Philadelphia Flyers #Nolan blurb #nolan patrick imagine #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #flyers hockey #thank you nurses and doctors

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

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Errare Humanum Est - Pt.12

Alice in Wonderland

Type: series, soulmate AU series (part 1, part 2) x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?) Word count: 3500

Summary: The cat’s outta bag and ‘Nat’ really isn’t sure she likes it. Perhaps she prefered it the other way around. There’s a lot more emotions in the air now.

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood and death, amnesia, swearing, bit of a metafiction, mentions of tumblr-like sites ;) ...and possibly messed up format

Story masterlist

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Sam and Dean seemed more than a bit dumb-struck when you finally emerged from the bathroom, which had you shift uncomfortably. Now they were looking at you like the rest of the café and wasn’t that just perfect. You were regretting choosing to dress like the Winchesters now; maybe that was why people here kept staring at you. Except it didn’t explain why Dean and Sam were staring too all of sudden.

Despite their expressions, Sam shook his head as if snapping from some kind of daze, his eyes again displaying concern for your well-being, asking about it. To be fair, it was a very valid question.

“Hey. You okay?”

No. “Yeah. Just… dunno. The staring doesn’t make me feel good,” you muttered, taking the seat next to Sam.

It was only partly the truth. While you didn’t have any solid lead on your soulmate, being here, possibly closer to him… it made you as excited as nervous. Restless, definitely.

“Well, it helped a lot,” Sam announced, sounding almost cheery. It got you shift your gaze to stare at him, your expression no doubt as puzzled as you felt at such statement. Huh? Sam smiled softly. ”We might have found your soulmate.”

“Really?!” you yelped, quickly covering your mouth when you realized how loud your voice went. But frankly, you didn’t care much about that. Because… WHAT?! When? How? “How is that possible?”

Sam’s gaze travelled to the counter, where the orange-haired girl who had welcomed your trio was smiling your direction subtly. You lowered your eyes, your mind racing. What did that woman had to do with it? Had you known her? From… before? Did she know your soulmate?

“Yeah. He’s Captain America,” Dean dropped the bombshell bluntly.

You saw clearly that they expected you to have a flash of recognition in your eyes at least, but it wouldn’t come. You had no clue what they were talking about. Was that some kind of a… special army rank? Or… a stage name for an artist or something?

God, you hoped it wasn’t a stripper’s name.

That idea made blood rush into your cheeks, only a dumbfounded noise leaving your mouth.

“Huh?”

“Right,” Sam cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. It took your eyes from slightly disappointed Dean.

“He’s a superhero-“

What.

“-he kinda is around hundred now-“

WHAT. ‘Kinda?’ What did that even mean?

“-so that would explain the… peculiar soulmark you have. But don’t worry, he doesn’t look hundred, he isn’t really, it’s complicated…”

Nope, still not following.

A superhero? your mind echoed again, not even the tiniest bit helpful. Kinda hundred, but not really…?

“Anyway, even the way you were when Cas brought you in? It all checks out with the story. Even the last name you picked. His name is Steve Rogers,” Sam added, his voice dropping in both volume and tempo, seeing your brain momentarily fried.

You stared blankly ahead, trying to process all the new information you were given, letting it merge with what you had already knew – which wasn’t much. Sweet ‘doll’ caressed your ears, Dean’s joke about time-travel and a mafioso kind of soulmate, about Rowena talking the strong bound with the man you had met but hadn’t met.

You didn’t realize you had closed your eyes and how long you had remained quiet until a warm hand landed on your shoulder, Sam’s voice calling out your given name.

That was funny, wasn’t it? You chose Natasha, not knowing why. But you also chose Rogers – because clearly, that was your soulmate’s name. A soulmate who was sort of hundred years old and a superhero.

You blinked your eyes opened, still unable to let the supposed facts sink in.

“Nat? You okay there?” Dean joined his brother in mother-henning you and you couldn’t help but try and charm a slight smile on your lips at their care.

Sam gently squeezed your shoulder to ground you.

“I… I guess. It’s just…I-- … a lot. This is a lot. I’m… I’m not sure I get it,” you stuttered finally. Judging by their expressions, they didn’t trust you that you were okay, but didn’t push you. It was a lot to process. How was such thing even possible? “You really need to explain further. What even made you think I’m some… superhero’s soulmate?”

“We will explain it all,” Sam promised, removing his hand only to motion toward the latté and cake on the table. Why was here a cake? And why only one? Was this about Dean making you eat more again? You didn’t even need an answer. “But first, eat. Then we might have a trip.”

You honest to god would have raised the tea spoon to start eating, but his Sam’s later words had you frozen in mid-motion. A trip?

“To where? To find this… Steve Rogers? You know where he lives?” you blurted out, shocked. The sinking feeling in your stomach, the nerves working, nudged you intently.

“Yeah. Kinda. Though maybe we could stop by in a church first.”

You frowned at Dean, your confusion spiking. Was there anything at all that actually made a freaking sense?!

“A church? Why?”

“To light a candle for you,” Dean hummed, almost indifferent as if he was talking about weather and not about visiting your grave or whatever.

“…what?” you squeaked, earning an eye-roll.

“Just eat, Nat.”

Right. They probably knew your actual name now. That was why Dean made the point of… articulating it so pointedly.

Upon that, you dug into the cake obediently. Something told you that you’d need that sugar rush.

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It was a good thing that Dean had forced you to eat first; if you had been eating when being shown the pictures of Steve Rogers, you would have choke to death and that would be embarrassing. Not to mention ironic.

Sam was introducing the man known as Captain America in a hushed voice, clearly not wanting to attract attention. He explained that the man was the Second World War hero (what?) and how he had become one.

You saw a black-white picture that had been taken around 1942, showing a handsome light-haired man, maybe too skinny and short, but with a determined spark in his eye, lop-sided soft smile gracing his lips. For some reason, a warm feeling pooled around your heart – he looked adorable. A man would probably punch you if you told him he was that, but it was how you felt.

The very same year, only few days later, actually, had been taken another photo. You could tell it was the man still, but he was… bigger. Like… bigger. You weren’t sure you were buying the fact that some sort of a serum had made him like this, but… angels were a thing. So you didn’t voice your disbelief.

You did though when Sam got to the pictures of him in a ridiculous costume – and there it was, Captain America being his stage name. You were quickly explained that his performing to raise money for weapons had been a very short-lived gig. He had soon earned the rank of a Captain for real.

You couldn’t believe your eyes when the current pictured appeared. Steve Rogers, who had apparently been trapped in ice for seventy years, still looked the same and was still saving the world.

It was too much.

It had become too much about half an hour ago.

You stared at the device in your hand, a close-up picture of the man in question on the display, the very same spark you had seen in the old picture of him pre-serum now flashing in beautiful blue eyes.

He was a special breed of a man from what you saw and heard and for some reason, Sam and Dean believed your soulmark led to him.

How?

“That’s… you think… you think that this is my soulmate?” you whispered, voice weak, laced with uncertainty. Hell, doubt even.

How could this be?

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, a playful smirk playing on his face as he lost the let’s-break-it-to-her-slowly attitude. “That’s what we said. What, you’re not into blonds?”

You scoffed, resisting the urge to massage your temples, suddenly bone-tired, a headache starting to build.

“That’s not… are we seeing the same pictures?”

“I sure hope so,” Sam noted, head tilted to side in confusion, begging you to elaborate even without words.

“He’s… just look at him. And he’s some kind of a hero, a superhero? Again or… still? How could a guy like him be paired with someone like me?”

Was this man even real? You weren’t sure about it. If he was, there was no way you were his soulmate. Right? That would be insane.

“I’m not even sure what that means and what to say to that,” Dean replied, his brows knitting together. You were confident he knew exactly what you meant. “Just… look, we have a video evidence-“

“I beg your pardon?!” you squealed, jumping in your seat and tossing the tablet to Sam’s hands.

“Not like that!” the taller man chimed in instantly and you gripped at your chest, your heart beating rapidly under your palm. Christ. You having certain kind of video evidence online was really the last thing you needed – or even wanted to know. “It’s from when you… died, well alright, when you were killed… it was sorta by a supervillain? He broadcasted the whole thing to every channel in US. There’s a footage of you… dying and Captain here running to your rescue. Would you- eh, would you like to see it?”

I bet you would prefer the porn kind of evidence now, a low solemn voice mocked you in your head, while your ears started ringing, your stomach making somersaults, your head pounding.

“I… I don’t know. Definitely not- not here.” And now.

Or, you know, ever.

Sam and Dean nodded in sync, expressions solemn all of sudden. They slowly rose from their seats so you followed their suit. You weren’t you sure wanted to or that your trusted your body to stand upright without passing out; however, you chose to trust the brothers to catch if your brain suddenly decided this was even more than too much and you’re sending your body vessel to the ground.

It didn’t feel like you had a choice anyway.

…

As they gathered their belongings, none of them saw their barista smile for herself and being nudged by her friend. The orange-haired girl smirked, but couldn’t keep her excitement contained. She spilled the beans about the woman; along with the fact that two days ago, she had already seen them all coming here.

That shit happened when one was a psychic after all.

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Sam and Dean decided to take a walk; more precisely, Sam had made the decision and dragged Dean away in a way that was everything but subtle. You didn’t pay any mind to that as they left you in the car with a burner phone (a gift from Dean that earned the man an appreciating look from Sam) and the tablet to go down the rabbit hole – whatever that meant. It kinda felt like it though, surfing through the net again.

First, you learned your actual name. It felt almost foreign, you had got used to Nat now, but it still had an air of it being right and you knew it was the truth.

Only then, you watched what Sam prepared for you.

The so-called video evidence caused tears to fill your eyes, soon flooding down your cheeks.

There was no faking it. There was no doubt it was you strapped to the chair. There was no doubt it was your soulmate’s voice, even when modified by the unclear record – you had heard this voice in your dreams. There was no doubt that what you heard in his words was a desperation worth losing a person he loved.

Seeing your fear and resignation-filled expression had you known that once you had felt the same about him. There was no mistaking that at least part of the fear was for him as he rushed towards the bomb instead of sprinting away to save his own skin.

A pain so sharp it made you gasp expanded in your chest, burning sensation on your skin for a fraction of second and you had to wonder if it was the last memory of your past life. Being blown up.

You had been blown up. And your soulmate witnessed it. What a twisted way to go.

What a twisted way to return, echoed in your skull and if you hadn’t been already pre-occupied with the record, you might ask heavens why you were brought back from death.

But you weren’t sure you wanted to know anyway.

To take your mind off the horrifying pictures flashing behind your eyelids, you searched the web again in attempt to find anything else.

And there was a whole new rabbit hole to find.

People indeed lighted candles for you, built altars with what you assumed was a picture of you; there were all around the United States, but mostly in New York City, near places where the explosives had been planted, where many people would have died if Captain America ran for your rescue first.

It only brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Fanfiction was a new concept to you – but what wasn’t these days. You read a few summaries, very few stories which focused on Steve after your death. It was so surreal.

Some plotlines had Steve Rogers die in the battlefield soon after losing you, often including your souls reuniting in Heaven. Those were beautiful, but also incredibly sad. Others had you resurrected somehow – which… good guess, whoever wrote that. You weren’t confident the reunion would go that smoothly though. Or, well, that passionately, as in jumping-to-bed-with-him good. All of those had a ‘fix-it’ tag. The amount of hits with those was dizzying.

Another tag that caught your eye was ‘dark!CaptainAmerica’ and dark!SteveRogers’ ; naïve, not knowing what it meant, you read summaries at least. It had your insides clench in the worst possible way, reading about the clearly good-natured man turning into a twisted stalker, sometimes even a rapist, in better cases a guy looking for a mindless fuck each night. When the element of the stalked girls looking like you joined in, you had to leave the site.

It was simply too much.

Hoping to move on, you went to click on something else entirely.

There was a website dedicated to… peculiar offers, suggestion to the hero. Basically, many people were offering to suck captain’s sorrows through his-- yeah. Sometimes, the posts were accompanied by naughty pictures and it made you ridiculously angry on both captain’s behalf and yours (not that you would ever admit it, because there was no way you were jealous, right?).

It was almost a relief to read some posts from people who had lost their soulmates too and simply were looking for a new connection. Was that how it worked? Was this what people did, drowning their sorrows together? Did it work? Was there someone who caught the captain’s eye? Or was he hoping to meet his soulmate, having a new set of marks like she – possibly you – did? He must have, right?

You shook your head and sighed, absentmindedly going through some comments on what was called Tumblr. A long post with many reactions caught your attention and you had decided to read it, rather not trying to figure out what exactly possessed you to do so when many things seen today had already made you sick from your stomach.

He used to come to our coffee shop sometimes. I was trying to woman up and flirt with him for weeks. Never got to it and now I’m kinda glad. One day, he didn’t order and just sat there, clearly waiting for someone – and looked super-impatient, I swear he was tapping his foot. I didn’t call him out on it despite how annoying it was. I couldn’t even tell him to order or get out – try to say that to a national icon! And then… then she came in. You know, I read a lot of chickflics, not gonna lie. But for the first time, I actually saw someone looking at another person as if ‘they hung the moon’. Seriously. He had hearts in his eyes. I would wish everyone to find themself a better half that looks at them like that. She wasn’t any different, but that’s implied – she was dating a gorgeous man and a hero on top of that. They were so obviously in love and while they were polite all the way – that woman was super-nice, alright, – it was clear the rest of the world disappeared when they were together. Just wanna say: stick your disgusting offers to cure his heart by sucking his D to your arse. That man is mourning the woman he clearly loved with his whole heart and he has every right. I want to thank him for the lives he saved. I want to thank her for not spending their last moments yelling accusation to his face to make him feel guiltier than he already had, no doubt. I hope her soul is in a good place and one day, they will reunite. Rest in peace, sweetie. I hope you get see the way he was looking at you every day.

→ Amen, sister.

→ That’s equally heart-warming and heart-breaking. Poor girl. Poor guy.

→ Has anyone actually seen him outside since it happened? I hope he’s handling it. As much as a person can.

→ So what? You think he should just be alone for the rest of his live? Grow up, girl. Guy needs to get laid on regular basis. And yes, I’d gladly offer when given the opportunity. → Jeez. She didn’t say anything like that. But it’s kinda soon to get laid, don’t you think? This is clearly a note exactly for people like you. Let the poor guy have his peace. Let him mourn and come to terms with what happened before offering him a BJ. Excuse me while I go throw up…

→ God let her rest in peace indeed. My daughter was at school at the time, few feet from one of the bombs. She’s alive and well. I won’t forget this woman, ever.

→ Can we talk about how a person can date Captain America and be actually a nice person, not bragging all the freaking time? Like, even I might gain a superiority complex or something tbh. → I hear you. Same.

→ She sounds cool. Seems like they were amazing together. Life can suck. RIP.

→ This is so sweet and heart-breaking I’m crying.

The person writing the last comment wasn’t alone in their misery, having their heart breaking and warmed up at the very same time. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes and you vainly tried to blink them away as you sniffled and covered your mouth with your palm to muffle your sob.

You gave up then. You tossed the tablet on the driver’s seat and hid your face in your palms, letting the tears stroll down your cheeks as your loud sobs filled the car.

You had no actual reason to cry, you reasoned with yourself, but it was all in vain. The many confusing and overwhelming emotions swirling in you finally found a proper out – and it was in the form of salty waterfalls on your face.

So be it. God knew that good cry might be exactly what you needed. Better now than in front of your soulmate.

Something told you it wouldn’t be too hard to find him.

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“Well. You look like shit,” Dean exclaimed when he opened the door, effectively causing you a heart-attack. Your tense shoulders slumped and you melted into the seat, looking up at him with your no doubt red-rimmed eyes.

Still, his compassionate eyes somehow smiled at you, warm and open and you couldn’t help attempting a smile in return. You were the luckiest girl on Earth to be taken care of by them.

Thank God for Sam and Dean.

Or thank angels? One in particular? You didn’t know and perhaps you never would.

“Thanks, Dean. You know how to sweet-talk a girl,” you rasped, blowing your nose in an unladylike manner (not caring).

“Ha! Sassy mouth is back. Sam, she’s good!”

Sam peeked to the car, his tall form nearly bending in half to do so. He offered you an apologetic expression along with a ‘hi’ and a pointed look at his brother, but you mouthed it was alright. Dean actually lifted your spirit.

“So… what now?” you asked in a small voice, which caused the brothers to exchange a look.

“Well. Two things. First, we have lunch-“

“Not really hungry, honestly-“ you interrupted Dean, only for the younger brother to interject.

“A small lunch then, even if it’s only the cake you had earlier,” Sam offered with a wink which would have made you laugh, because health-freak Sam suggested a cake for lunch, but you were dreading the second step in their plan.

“And then?”

Instinctively, you knew the answer. It was the writing on the wall, really, the only logical step. The cause of the knot in your stomach of which you weren’t sure was nerves, nausea or excitement.

Dean confirmed your suspicion of course.

“Then we go to the Avengers Tower to find America’s sweetheart.”

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Part 13

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Thank you for reading!

We really are getting close now, aren’t we? :)) Yay?

P.S. - if anyone wants on the taglist - or out - shoot me a dm or an ask, it’s (usually) no problem :))

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kingreywrites · 4 years ago

Text

A love like ours

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 1309

55. “I’m not jealous!” (prompt list)

Summary: Still, now that Rapunzel was aware of her surroundings again, she realised that it had been a while since Eugene last teased her about her tongue poking out with concentration. Looking above her screen, she spotted him fully laying down on the sofa, and she nearly asked what he was doing before she understood that he had fallen asleep.

[Lockdown AU]

Note: It gets a tiny bit spicy towards the end? But nothing much. Also, sorry anon but I can’t write actual jealousy ahah

Read on ao3

Biting her lips in concentration, Rapunzel was slowly checking over her calculs before pressing entry. She knew she was being a little too intense about a video game but… Professor Layton was very serious business and she refused to lose a single picara on a math related puzzle. She was good at riddles, yes, but she was even better at math, so it was a question of honour truly, and she wasn't going to risk it all by rushing.

Rapunzel sent in her answers. The cinematic started and…

"Yes!" she exclaimed loudly, pumping her fist in the air, before suddenly remembering herself. She would accuse the lockdown of making her too invested in a video game, but actually, she had always been that competitive.

Still, now that she was aware of her surroundings again, she realised that it had been a while since Eugene last teased her about her tongue poking out with concentration. Looking above her screen, she spotted him fully laying down on the sofa, and she nearly asked what he was doing before she understood that he had fallen asleep. The book he had been trying so hard to read for his work was laying on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing; his glasses were sliding from his face in a way that had to feel somewhat uncomfortable; one of his hands was hanging limply from the couch, brushing the ground - and yet, he had never been more adorable. Rapunzel couldn't contain the smile that grew on her lips, the sight enough to make her heart melt.

She saved her progress and put the game away, stretching her muscles as she got up from the armchair. She wouldn't usually stay in one place all afternoon, but though he hadn't asked it of her, she knew Eugene had desperately wanted quiet company today, and she was more than happy to provide. Rapunzel was lucky because, since the beginning of the lockdown, her workload for uni hadn't increased half as much as Eugene's did - so she could play games, and paint, and entertain herself more or less how she wanted while he spent hours studying. Or, well, trying to, but he had obviously lost the fight for today. Honestly, he had been so tired recently that she didn't have the heart to wake him up right now - one nap wouldn't hurt, surely.

The peaceful expression she saw when she approached him cemented her in that decision, because she was actually pretty sure that he wouldn't remember anything if he was running on no sleep.

Gently, she took the book from his left hand's loose grasp, making sure to keep the page for when he would pick it up again. Her next step was a little more delicate, but she had practice in taking his glasses off. He only wore them while he was reading, but she happened to think he was quite cute with a book and let's say that sometimes, glasses got in the way of kisses and simply had to go. As she was sliding them off, Eugene scrunched his nose and she froze mid-movement but, thankfully, he settled down again.

When the glasses were put away next to the book, she kneeled in front of his face and pushed his hair tenderly from his eyes, feeling how soft it was under her fingertips. Even asleep, he looked exhausted. She knew he pulled one or two all-nighters this last week and, even if it was nearly invisible because his skincare routine was impeccable, she could always notice. She... might have spent a lot of her time looking at his face, but she knew for a fact that Eugene had spent a lot of his looking at hers, counting and naming the freckles on her skin, so she couldn't be too embarrassed about it. Maybe she was a sap, but she loved him - and the exhaustion she could slightly perceive made her certain that Eugene definitely deserved his rest.

Rapunzel was ready to get up again, when she felt the arm she had forgotten about wrap around her back suddenly - the push wasn't very strong but she wasn't expecting it either, so it made her fall half over his chest with a yelp. Eugene cracked one eye open, a tired smirk on his lips.

"You should stay here," he mumbled, yawning, and she could only laugh, kissing the tip of his nose before climbing up fully on the couch. He shifted to the side so she could be comfier, and immediately enveloped her in his arms, until she was pretty much lying down on him.

"You should sleep," she answered softly, one of her fingers tracing the faint dark circles under his eyes. "You can't work well if you're exhausted."

He hummed softly, eyelids falling closed, somehow snuggling closer to her. She could see her hair lightly touching his cheek as she watched him, and feel his legs move as she tangled hers with them, and… Yeah, she could take a nap too, she realised with a smile. She clearly didn't want to move now.

"Did you win your game?" Eugene asked, eyes still resolutely closed.

"I haven't completed the story yet, but I did solve all my puzzles today," she laughed softly.

"You were very cute," Eugene said, shifting again, and putting one of his hands the small of her back, his voice deep from his tiredness. He opened his eyes, looking a little more alert as a smile grew on his lips, making Rapunzel laugh again. "Sadly you weren't looking at me, but you're adorable when you concentrate."

"Aw, is someone jealous?" she joked lightly, enjoying the puppy eyes he was giving her.

"I'm not jealous!" he protested, and she could feel his chest move as he laughed. "Especially not of Professor Layton. After all, I'm the one cuddling with you now," he smiled, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, I'm not jealous of your book either," Rapunzel teased, "but I'm glad to be the one in your arms for now." She lowered her head above his, until she could see every detail of his pupils as their noses touched. "I missed your eyes," she murmured, enjoying how it seemed Eugene was holding his breath because of her proximity.

"We've been stuck here together for weeks," he answered in an exhale, but his gaze kept going to her lips. "You can't miss me."

"Maybe," she chuckled, "but I love you."

Strange, how one simple sentence that they never hesitated to share could still have such an effect on them. Rapunzel said I love you, had said it before and would say it again, and every time Eugene would watch her with wonder in his shining eyes, before drawing her in a kiss that left her lips tingling. Today was no exception. His right hand slipped under her shirt, making her shiver slightly - mostly because she didn't expect it. Eugene was warm under her, and his pleased expression made her feel even warmer.

"Weren't you tired?" she asked, even though she was already moving her legs to go around his, enjoying the blush growing on his cheeks as she peppered kisses along his jaw. One of his hands cupped her head, guiding her gently to his mouth again.

"Sleeping can wait," he whispered against her lips, and she could only agree with this statement as she buried her hands in his hair and lost herself in that kiss.

She would still insist he take a nap later, since he desperately needed one after weeks of working non-stop. Even now, she could feel the sleepiness clinging to him in his movements - she had kissed him enough to know how he reacted to her, and today, he was slower than usual. She wasn't against taking their time, though.

And, after all, sleeping wasn't the only way to relax.

#tangled #Rapunzel #Eugene Fitzherbert #tangled the series

41 notes · View notes

srl541 · 4 years ago

Audio

youtube

Week 3: Stars

Two months late, but I finally got this done! I started this back in mid-May but got a little overwhelmed (making music like this in a week was a bit much I guess orz). I gave up on the musical references to DP because they felt forced and instead wrote a short one-shot:

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The beginning (drabble)

"3, 2, 1, . . ."

With each count voiced over the comms, Danny felt his heart pound harder. His core was a tangled mess of excitement and worry, amplified by the agitated state he could sense in his crewmates.

"Blastoff!"

The shuttle quivered. He felt as if a weight pressed his whole self toward the floor, even as his anticipation soared through the ceiling.

His dream, at last. Humanity was another step further in space exploration, and he would directly contribute.

When the weight disappeared and congratulations were passed, he let himself relax. He was glad they hadn't required his unique "skills."

1 month later (one-shot)

"Danny, when you have the chance, can you come check this out? The ecto-scanner is giving some odd readings."

"Sure, give me a minute." Danny carefully secured the glowing-green flask he had been inspecting and jotted a few notes in his lab notebook. In seconds, he was heading toward the cockpit.

Scott waved him over. "We're approaching an area with higher ecto-readings, but it doesn't look dense enough to be a formed entity. What do you think?"

Danny rubbed his neck as he scrolled through the readings. "Yeah, the ecto-energy looks a little weak. But I'd say the pattern is a little strange. See how it's clustered in a path and not spread out evenly? I'll prep and be on the lookout in case."

"Good point. We still have an hour, so you have some time." Scott gave him a friendly shoulder pat and turned back to the navigation instruments. He conferred with Commander Kay and announced a warning over the comms.

Danny checked the Fenton thermos clipped to his suit and headed back to crew quarters to change, as well as to hand out backup ecto-blasters.

When he returned, he stared at the view out the front. Even weeks into the journey, the stars looked too clear to be real.

He almost hadn't made it to space. Not because of what he'd initially feared. When NASA had found out about his ghost half, they had instead been ecstatic about the new scientific possibilities his powers introduced. No, his struggle came from his crewmates. NASA wouldn’t let a contentious crew on a mission.

"You feeling alright?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, I'm good."

The emotions picked up by his core confirmed Scott's calmness. He had come a long way from his fears.

"You know, I'm really glad you're here to deal with this ghost stuff. I don’t think I’ve said it enough.”

“Well, that’s my gig. Semi-professional ghost hunter here,” Danny quipped. “Of course, my real job is jar-opening. Can’t forget that.”

Scott chuckled. “Right, you helped Jenny with her stuck jar this morning. Intangibility really seems handy.”

Danny grinned. NASA particularly didn’t mind having someone who could make things intangible on hand. Flight was also an invaluable tool.

He was beyond fortunate; his crew had mostly been understanding about his secrets. Mostly.

It took a long time, but patience and a lot of conversation helped mitigate fears about the supernatural and repave trust. All that work led to a closer friendship. Scott was one of the easiest for him to approach now.

Danny felt a rush of cold air come up through his throat. He squinted at the view, now glowing a slight green, and pressed the button for the comms. “Actually, I think there is something. Kay, do I have permission to leave the ship?”

An affirmative was returned. He re-checked his gear, gave a jaunty salute to his friend, and phased out of the cockpit.

The wide expanse never failed to amaze him, but he had a job to do. He zoomed ahead of the ship and reached his senses out, following paths that looked slightly greener than others.

There. Danny floated closer. A bare wisp of a ghost, a faint echo of what must have been a powerful being to get so far from Earth.

Or at least, that was what he assumed. Theoretically, the ghost world was a reflection of the human world.

He spoke into his comms. “There actually is a ghost here. They’re too weak to do anything, though. Must have wandered too far away from Earth and ran out of energy to figure out a way back.”

“Alright, so there’s no danger. What is your recommendation?” Kay asked.

Danny unclipped his Fenton thermos. “I’m taking them back home. The ectoplasm they left behind is really cool, too. Some of it is stable enough for testing. Might give some great data for the energy source experiments.”

“That sounds great. Be careful.”

Sucking the ghost into the Fenton thermos was as easy as breathing. With oxygen, at least. He gathered some samples by the time the ship caught up, and then he phased back in.

Scott gave him a thumbs up. Danny smiled back, content with how helpful his skills were for the mission.

It was as if his space journey was written in the stars.

Extra

An invisible shape loomed, observing the earthlings. The ectoranium asteroids would shield it from detection until it was too late for the small crew. It was true that the ghost wisp had once been powerful, but its fall hadn’t been straying too far from Earth.

----------

More notes: I tried to add more instruments to make the sound fuller, but maybe it was too much? Or maybe the reverb blurred things together excessively? I had liked the echo-y sound, but it might have been the wrong choice. I still have a lot to learn about mixing/mastering, haha (and I’m not even recording stuff yet I’m just using VSTs).

Inspiration for this piece was mainly from the Space theme from Overcooked!. The hyper-space travel background of the video was from #AAfvx (https://www.youtube.com/dvdangor2011).

On the short fic, I don’t really sci-fi and I still feel super rusty with writing, but hopefully it tells a story that can go along with the musical piece. The extra didn’t fit with the music but I think would fit more with DP fanfics, maybe? XD

I’m really glad this event was held since it really motivated me to create things again! There was a ton of talent in the fanart and fanfic I saw. But, I’ve realized that though I still enjoy the fanworks I’ve mostly moved on from the Phandom. I might go back to leaving anonymous reviews here and there. <3

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #My Music #My Writing #Instrumental #Soundtrack #Fanfiction #Should I still be using the dannymay tag it's so late haha

35 notes · View notes

rayadraws · 5 years ago

Note

end of an era

Oh my gosh anon, our waiting is OVER. Patiently, not so patiently yearning… wishing… hoping… dreaming… we have IT.

I gotta talk about it, because of course I do, ahhh! This will be long, sorry…

I got my hands on the OVA this morning, about half an hour before work. I watched it, yelled on Discord and then went to work, practically vibrating the whole day until I could go home and watch it again and write down my thoughts!

Before release I had seen what available video clips and screenshots we had, plus a summary given to me by a Japanese mutual, in somewhat limited English. I was unsure what to expect but I ended up enjoying it a lot more than I thought I might! I understand that there’s a lot one can be confused or perhaps even put off by in the OVA but. Well. I enjoy seeing a vulnerable Genos (if like 90 % of the fanfic I’ve written wasn’t an indication lol) so I just ate it all UP. And since I’ve written a fic about him getting amnesia specifically, I was very curious to see how off the mark I was.

I won’t give a proper summary, there’s a good one by Nysh for that. Nor the animation. JC Staff is what JC Staff is. I’m instead going to just… muse and compare and go wild with my own personal headcanons - in that regard, this OVA was excellent, because it does give some hints about what makes Genos tick. Hold on to your butts…

Oh, and need I say that there will be SPOILERS? XD

—

Before I wrote my own amnesia fic, I did some research. So, what is amnesia? Well, the popular TV show version is one thing, of course RL is another. There are several kinds of amnesia, with different causes and different treatments. But the two main categories are longterm memory loss, where you can’t recall past memories (often up to what caused the amnesia) and short term memory loss, where you have difficulty forming new memories. You can get one or both. In my fic, Genos deals with both. In the OVA, he appears to have longterm memory loss only, as he tries to find Fubuki again to help him defeat the monster (if only he knew Saitama would by far have been a better choice!), so he remembers her. Not to mention at the end, when he’s trying desperately to apologize…

There is no instant cure for amnesia. Emotional support is important, medication (if it’s caused by underlying disease, which it can be) and psychological therapy can also be useful. Saitama is doing the right thing in the OVA by remaining calm and trying to avoid agitating Genos or pushing him to remember.

After he first wakes up, Genos is very lost, he only remembers his name and that he’s a cyborg - but not why! It’s really heartbreaking when you think a little more about it - imagine waking up in a cyborg body and not remembering why/how that happened… We actually discussed that on Discord before we had the OVA, what if he wakes up and doesn’t remember… but nahh, that’d be too dark, right? APPARENTLY NOT.

I can’t explain why Genos would be so heavily influenced by media around him as he is. That’s just made up for the humour… but if I were to try to find an actual in-world explanation, hm… Well, we do know he can be a Drama Boy. We also know he tends to be very standoffish and reserved towards most people, which I think is related to his trauma, in a few ways (he doesn’t want to get close to people due to the risk of once again experiencing the pain of losing them - and spending four years more or less on your own during your late teenage years is not an ideal environment for learning how to socialize…). We also know that when Genos finds something or someone he considers important, he latches on. So you could see it as being part of that, perhaps. Lost and confused he looks for anything that would make some kind of sense, trying to find a sense of direction or idea on whom he might be.

What exactly did you forget? Your quest for revenge or the sale you briefly remember later? Knowing Genos, it could be either…

He reacts in confusion to his body telling him that there’s an elevated energy signature nearby - I LOVED this. I wonder if he saw it as a note on his HUD, or if it’s more ingrained, more subtle. The way he got antsy and couldn’t sit still… it’s like his proximity sensors act as an extra sense, like Spiderman’s spider sense…. An extra sense that’s probably saved his life on more than one occasion.

He takes off, feeling like it’s his body moving, not him. I don’t think his body has an separate will of its own, but I have always hc:ed that he probably has systems that can calculate stuff for him mid-fight - how to move, where to release his weapons and at what strength etc. A little helpful internal computer. It’s a LOT for one little monkey brain to keep track of, so it wouldn’t be crazy to think he has some help with that, I think. And here, I don’t think his body is truly moving on his own without him having any control of it… more like muscle memory? Like there are times where I think I’ve forgotten a password to my work computer if I’ve been away for a week but then I sit down and my fingers remember the typing motions on their own. I imagine it’s something like that. He doesn’t know what to do, so he’s going where his instincts tell him.

Fubuki, ah, ever the scheming one. I enjoyed her showing up and being casual at Sai’s place because that’s how I like to write her in my fics. You can see the exact second when she goes into Business Mode, playing hard to get to lure Genos closer. Too bad she didn’t consider just how much his personality changed too, came on way too strong in the end…

And!!! A couple of times Genos puts his hand in defense, without seeminly knowing why, or doing it intentionally really. Hmmmm where…. have I seen this before…

He jumped when a warning flashed at the corner of his vision. It was his proximity sensors going off, his HUD informed him. On instinct, he ducked down behind the nearest tree. He should go back. Kuseno would keep him safe. But if he moved, the stranger might see him too. Don’t turn your back on an enemy.

His sensors told him the direction and the general size of the approaching being, but he couldn’t actually see it between the tall trees. It was moving very fast. He ducked lower, ferns brushing softly against his cheek. On instinct, he held his palm out in front of him, open and pointed at whatever was approaching him.

I am SO glad that I called this in my fic, it’s a small detail but it adds a lot I think! Raising his palm as a threat is second nature to Genos, even when he doesn’t consciously know why he’s doing it…

It’s interesting that throughout, Genos keeps referring to himself as “boku”, which is usually reserved for a male who is younger than 16 (though there are exceptions - Amai Mask also uses it, probably as part of his charming idol persona). Usually Genos refers to himself as “ore”, which is mostly used by adult men, more informal and can be viewed as disrespectful, depending on circumstance (Genos is not typically respectful towards people, if they are not Kuseno or Saitama). Combined with how meek he is, man… Okay, ONE said that before the mad cyborg attack, Genos’ personality was about the same as it is now. So why is he so different? Well… I don’t think that’s too shocking, really. I mean, if you lost all your memories and sense of self, realized you were a cyborg for some reason???, ended up alone in a weird city, not knowing where you were or what to do, and suddenly people pointed at you asking you to fight a terrifying monster even though you have no idea how to fight… you’d probably be terrified too! I think we can assume his personality change is caused by his amnesia. But we can probably also assume that a Genos who never had his village attacked and never got involved with fighting/being a hero would not grow to be exactly the same as canon, anyway. He’d probably be a rude brat… but yeah. At least a few degrees less aggressive/ready to throw down!

Again with the hand!

A thought I had reading the exchange between the monster and Genos… it reads almost like how you might expect Genos’ meeting with the mad cyborg might have looked like, only in a sad, reverse kind of way. These lines - “I’m not ready yet… I’m not ready to die here… not yet!” - like, dude… that sounds exactly what might have gone through his head back then. Maybe the first inkling of his past returning to him at that second…

He feels something, remembers something, is shocked.. and it comes back… “I cannot win like this!”. And then he remembers Kuseno, and Saitama…

Once more, those lines together: “I’m not ready yet… I’m not ready to die here… not yet! I cannot win like this!”

We’ll probably never get it verified, but I find it very, very likely he used more or less these exact words, or something very similar, after meeting the mad cyborg.

Also, as much as I appreciate the closeness between Genos and Saitama, I AM glad that he remembered Kuseno first - he’s known Kuseno for four years, Saitama for less than 2 months, when this takes place. It’s only right and it fits very well with his character introduction too, where he thought he was dying and his last thought was an apology to Kuseno. A nice nod. I enjoyed that animation sequence a lot too!

When he remembers who he is, Genos feels so bad about his actions but he still can’t deny what he said before… Saitama’s face… omg… Bless them both.He brings Saitama wild/game meat - d'ya figure he bought it or, um… got it for free? I mean, that’s… exactly the kind of creature he fought… maybe he’s learnt Sensei’s ways…

And Saitama is happy he’s back. He cares about Genos! He likes him like he is, as intense and blunt and socially awkward as he is! What a sweet note to end the OVA on!

#opm s2 #ova 3 #anime spoilers #ova spoilers #amnesia #ahhhhAAAAAHHH

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hangfiretales · 4 years ago

Text

I found one of my short stories from a few years ago and was trying to figure out what needed to be polished up. And after spending the last few months complaining about the difficulty I have with using present tense, I discovered (with unfailing irony) that this story needed to be written in the present tense, of course.

*************************************

Anatomy of the Heart

‘That you, pet?’

‘Yes, Nan.’ Who else has a key? I add, but only in my head. She's pretty old. I can afford to be indulgent.

I shut the front door, and the dusty quiet of home and cats and autumn collapses onto me.

The lounge room curtains are closed against the afternoon sun but I can see her, sunk in her chair and dressed in something purple and polyester. Reading, of course, eyeball-deep in a comfortable romantic cliché of unbuttoned shirts and thrusting. There’s always thrusting.

‘Library day, Nan?' I bend and kiss her hair, close enough to smell talcum powder and spearmint.

‘Narelle had a stack ordered in for me.’ She half-closes the book to glance at the front cover. ‘I think I've had this one before, with the duke. He’s got a limp. That's alright, mind, I don't remember all of it so it's like new.’

It might have something to do with a certain sameness of plot amongst her chosen genre, but I say nothing.

‘Long day, pet?’

And it has been, actually, so I tell her; enough to get a bit of sympathy, not enough to bore her.

I’m rewarded with a pat on the arm and a clucking sound.

‘Fancy him saying all that when you've spent so much time on it. Bloody professor should give you marks for effort, is what I think. Tea?’

And at my nod she straightens in slow motion and patters to the kitchen.

I follow her to the bench. ‘Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. I wish it did. I put in more effort looking busy than anyone I know.’

Nan acknowledges my attempt at humour with a nod but I know she doesn’t think of me as the funny one. That's always been my brother's gig.

I open the fridge and get the milk out while Nan conveys sugar from jar to mug. One spoon. Two spoons. Pause. Another little bit of a spoon.

‘I still don't know why you have to get a degree just to read books,’ she says. ‘Why can't you just read them on your own?’ She sniffs twice; once at the education system and once at the milk carton in her hand. She pours it.

‘There's reading and then there's- like a deep critical understanding.’

But Nan shakes her head. ‘If you're not enjoying it, what's the point.’ A statement, not a question. ‘I've read hundreds of books. Thousands, probably, and nobody ever asked me to get a degree first. Waste of time with your degrees for reading, and degrees for making video games, and music and what-not. Here you go, pet, carry those out. I'll get biscuits.’

I take the brimming mugs back out to the lounge room and set them down on the coffee table. My usual seat’s piled up with The Last Cowboy and his horny friends so I sit down on the orange couch. At least one cushion stirs and becomes a cat.

‘Don't sit on Valerie, she doesn't want your bum on her head.’ Nan puts a tray down next to our mugs: biscuits from a home-brand cream assortment; a jam-jar lid, for discarded teabags; two tea spoons. One’s a sundae spoon, actually, longer and handier for stirring a tall mug. I reach.

Nan bagses it smoothly.

‘Sit here. Sit in your spot, love. Move those things-’

I put the stack of books at my feet.

‘And how is Alex going?’

Which is the real question, isn't it, even when she leaves it unasked. The endless questions, filling in her days with thrusting dukes and shirtless cowboys and endless curiosity over other people's boyfriends.

‘Yeah, well, he's- yeah. No, he's good.’

She gives me a look. And harrumphs. ‘What you need is a real man. One who treats you properly and makes a bit of an effort with himself.’

‘Like Jack the Excessively Groomed Cowboy?’ I pick him up and read the back cover. ‘Sorry, Chuck the cowboy. The brooding rancher next door is about to change Gillian's quiet life forever. Can she tame his wild bachelor's heart? Blah de blah.’

‘Don't you be a snob. There's nothing like a good romance to pick you up.’

I put it down. ‘It's a bit different from the novel I'm reading for this assignment.’ I say it more breezily than I should.

‘Oh? Go on then. What’s your one about?’

‘Well.’ I sit back. ‘There's this girl who's in rehab for her broken back and her father is being blackmailed. He's a drug dealer. It's Danish. It’s-’

‘Any romance?’

‘She falls in love with her boyfriend's brother, who's a detective, and she-’

‘Ah, torn between two men. Any sexy bits?’

‘Uh, kind of.’ Thinking quickly, because it's tricky to explain the Scandinavian Noir context of the nude ice-fishing scene. ‘Just, you know, frustrated but not going anywhere.’

‘Hmm. Mine sounds better.’

‘Chuck the Impossibly Tanned? Or this one, the Duke of--’ I check-- ‘Really? Notchester?’

I flip it open. ‘Sheba arched her back luxuriously as the Duke ran lascivious fingers down her flushed throat towards the boundless promise of her bountiful breasts.’ She's going all out, this-- Mirabelle Thorne? That's a terrible pen-name.’

‘I've had a few of hers. She does nice historical ones with lords and that.’

‘Aha, look at this bit. Thrusting with gasping impatience between her yada yada. Thrusting, I told you.’

Nan looks at me, waiting. I haven’t told her.

So I tell her.

She raises a sparsely pencilled eyebrow. ‘You judge the whole lot on one bleeding word? Snob.’

‘I'm not a snob.’

‘Snob.’

‘Don't say that, romances just aren't my thing.’

‘Well, what does that say about you? Can't appreciate the budding love of two young people.’

‘Two or possibly more young people. This one has a heart-wrenching choice between the man who adores her and the man who desires her. One of them's a doctor. Oh. Anatomy of the Heart. I see. And the other one's-- really? An alpaca breeder. What kind of a choice is that?’

‘The doctor's job is to be the rich bastard and the other one's her true love.’ Nan glares over her mug.

‘No, actually, I think the doctor’s poor. The alpaca breeder's fairly well-off.’ I’m skimming through it.

‘Well, that's probably true. You seen what they're charging for an alpaca cardigan? Bleeding rip-off merchants.’

‘She shivered at the memory of his efficient fingers. Efficient--'

‘What you need to do is, you need to sit your Alex down with a couple of nice romances and give him an idea of what you want. Give him a role model. Young lads these days don't have any role models, all these single mums and feefo workers.’

She might have meant FIFO. Which may or may not have been a snipe at both my brother and my mother in one handy package.

‘Who says I want this?’ I look down at the cover artwork, which shows both the devilishly rumpled doctor and the rosy-cheeked alpaca man. Which one has the efficient fingers?

I put the book down. ‘Thanks for the tea, Nan. I'd better get a move on with this assignment. Do you want me to cook dinner tonight?’

Nan finds her place in The Duke of Notchester, picking up the story mid-kiss. ‘No thanks, pet. We've got some spaghetti bol left from last night. If leftovers aren't beneath you.’

‘Sounds fine.’

I take the last chocolate cream biscuit when I leave.

When I come out of my room later to get my reheated spaghetti, I’m not that much further along with my work. I’m still replaying Dr Chase's critique of my draft: unfocused and derivative, showing only a surface understanding of the criteria required.

Yeah, well.

Nan’s watching some cooking show on TV; a wok full of hot prawns and a posh summery voice.

I contemplate the gap between the dinners we all tell each other we're eating and the actual dinner, the one in my hands.

And take the plate back to my desk to eat.

It isn't a desk, it's a card table in the corner, below the clock and the Johnny Cash calendar. I've wasted plenty of time on this assignment already. It’s time to get serious.

I contemplate the gap between the romances that we read and the actual boyfriend, who’s totally committed babe but just super busy right now.

Does the novel's idiosyncratic narrative style add interest to the text, or is it a distracting literary conceit? 1200 words. Use examples.

I go back to the kitchen for a biscuit. All the chocolate creams are gone.

Nan’s watching something about celebrities eating cockroaches.

When I get back to my desk I discover that the assignment still hasn't written itself.

Twenty-four and a half minutes or so later, I find myself chewing on my pen and I’m swearing because it's an expensive one-- I bought it for myself in the hope that it will inspire me to write better. Or more. Or more better. I can't tell if it's worked yet, but the pen’s starting to look ratty.

She shivered at the memory of his efficient fingers. Was his mind elsewhere, as he performed with admirable though robotic fervour?

I go back out to the lounge, which is empty of either cats or Nans. I find Anatomy of the Heart sitting on top of Holiday in Heaven and open it somewhere in the middle.

He watched her through narrowed eyes. Does he find her as one-dimensional as we do? She raised her face, lips parted in surprise, closer to him than--

‘Pet?’

‘What?

Nan’s calling from the kitchen.

‘Tea?’

‘No, thanks.’

I go back to my room. The book is still in my hands.

This one wasn't written by Mirabelle Thorne, I don't have to check the cover to know that.

I check the cover.

April Winter. There’s a definite touch of dryness to her humour; the pseudonym, the title. Or is it a him? It could be. It could be anyone. I've heard a few tales of prestigious authors who churn out romances to stay busy while they wait to get famous. Or to pay bills, between critically acclaimed works that nobody wants.

I sit down again and open it. It’s a romance, yes. The strong-willed city girl who thinks she’s in love with the wealthy country-boy alpaca farmer until she meets the handsome, serious, magnetic, penniless local doctor. Small town. Impossible choice. Whatever. The plot’s predictable and the woman isn't worth the Chapter Eight punch-up over her.

But there’s something about it. Something sly, indefinable. The alpaca man is so smug, and the woman so exhaustingly feisty- when the doctor finally wins her, the town rejoices but I am left uneasy. The doctor has a coolness, a detachment. Even as he's declaring his love to her in the moonlit garden behind the old pub he's keeping something back. He's playing a game.

I wonder if a sequel would unravel this, but of course: romance novels don't have sequels. She gets her man and there's no more to say.

I get out my phone and do an internet search for April Winter, author. Anatomy of the Heart is her only book. Maybe she has other pseudonyms. Other names, under which she slips strange and unsettling love stories into the world. Or is it a he?

The clock says eighteen past two in the morning.

I pick up my pen and begin to write 1200 words on the gap between the type of text that makes a writer look intellectual and the actual books that keep you sitting up reading at your card table, far into the night.

I use examples.

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#original writing #original work #short story #anatomy of the heart #writerblr

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