#lost time

[schnee-gheist]

“Comfortable, right?”

I'd like to imagine that King Phantom from @ovletoak's Stardial!au has like a little pocket dimension in his cloak. Great for shoving little human mentors inside to keep them safe!

[bebebeep0v0]

Jazz, mom, dad...

[whumpacabra]

Perhaps a niche trope but I love when a character has just escape a years long ordeal and tries to get in contact with people they know, only to meet strangers.

Going to his childhood home to find his family moved away, or died, and the house was sold.

Blindly stumbling home only for the stranger sleeping in her old bed to wake up and scream at her to get out before they call the cops.

Contacting a best friend and finding their number has changed; either the line is dead or the stranger sends back a confused ‘you have the wrong number!’ text or answers the phone and immediately the character knows something is wrong. Something has changed. The world has changed. So have they. And they are lost.

[moonsart]

[zepskies]

Lost Time

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: When Russell takes longer than usual on a job out of town, you realize how hard it is to live half a life with him.  

AN: I’ve been wanting to get to this for a while now! Here’s a sequel story in the Every Second Counts world. Also, this is one of my entries for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”

Word Count: 4.9K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, fluff upon fluff, implied smut, mild spice.~ **DOES NOT contain spoilers for 2x02. This was written long before the new episode came out. But look out for the little announcement at the end. Some (smutty) bonus content on the way!

💜 Series Masterlist || Jacklesverse Bingo Masterlist

Wolfing down lunch alone in your office usually meant you wouldn’t be disturbed. That distraction tended to come in the form of either Dr. Goldstein, History Department Chair (AKA: your boss), or Chris Belmont.

The latter was a language arts professor who liked to pop in on you when you were alone in the teacher’s lounge, often trying to revive yourself with a cup of Keurig coffee. Or he’d sit down next to you (uninvited) and talk your ear off.

Today, however, you made time for your brother between bites of your admittedly sad ham sandwich. You held the phone to your ear while you ate and tried to resist the urge to answer emails. This was the first month that he’d gotten phone privileges. You wanted to give him your undivided attention.

Not to mention, you genuinely wanted to know how Charlie was doing in rehab. He told you that his leg was healing up well after the surgery to repair the damage from Eddie Mendez’s bullet. Charlie was also getting put through his paces in the substance rehabilitation program, but he sounded truly sober. He sounded like himself.

“I finally get visitors this weekend,” he said. “Dave and Manny are coming by.”

“Dave and Manny. They sound familiar,” you said, tapping your chin with a pen out of habit, even though you weren’t writing anything down. You brightened with recognition. “Oh! Didn’t they serve with you?”

“Yeah, they were in my unit on the first go-round,” Charlie said, with a tone of fondness that you recognized. You remembered now. Those guys were like his brothers during his first tour of Iraq. He’d come home for a few months afterward, changed. You saw it behind his eyes.

And then the second tour. That was what almost killed his spirit.

“It’s good that you guys reconnected,” you said. A smile graced your lips. Charlie needed all the support and familiarity he could get, and coming from his brothers in the Air Force, it was all you could ask for really. “You got time to see your little sister?”

“Ha. Younger maybe. Definitely not little.”

“Whatever, gimpy,” you teased. He’d told you that he hated his crutches, made him feel like an old, one-legged pirate.

“I think I can pencil you in,” he said. There was good humor in his voice. “How about the Mountain Man? How’s he doing?”

Your smile dimmed. You twiddled your pen between your fingers. “He’s…good. He’s on a job right now, so I don’t think he’ll make it back in time for this weekend. But I’m sure he’d wish you well. He asks about you every time he comes home.”

“Oh, yeah? How long’s he been gone for this time?”

Your lips pursed. “Couple weeks.”

Three, and counting.

“But he’s supposed to get back next week.”

“Have you heard from him?” Charlie asked.

“Here and there,” you replied, leaning to one side of your desk chair. “He’s not really supposed to contact anyone when he’s on a job.”

“Mhmm.”

“Charlie,” you warned. You knew what he was thinking, even by that placid tone of his voice. Your brother sighed on the line.

“Look, I like Russell. What can I say, after what he did for you? For me,” Charlie said. “But…I don’t have to like what he does, or what it’s doing to you.”

Your teeth clenched, but you tried not to bristle. You knew he was just looking out for you, for once like an older brother should.

“I know what you’re saying, but we’re good. I’m good,” you said. “I knew what I was getting into…”

You saw Dr. Goldstein peek into the narrow, rectangular window in the middle of your office door. He gave you a little wave through the glass.

“Hey, Charlie, I’m sorry but I need to let you go. My boss wants to talk to me,” you said.

Another heavy sigh. “All right, I get it. Evade an unsavory conversation by playing the ‘boss’ card.”

Despite yourself, you smiled. “It’s true! Look, I love you. I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Oh, fine. Evade away… Love you too,” he said begrudgingly, but in the kind of way that told you he was smiling too.

You hung up with him and beckoned Goldstein inside. He let himself in and closed the door behind him before he approached your desk. He didn’t have a stack of essays in his hand, so you counted that as a small blessing. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, however, he dropped a familiar bomb on you.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, sweetheart, but would you mind taking over my 5:00 p.m. class tomorrow? I have to step out early for an appointment,” he said.

You grated internally, for more than one reason. Primarily at the way he once again called you sweetheart. In your whole life, you’d only ever given one man permission to sweetheart you, and it certainly wasn’t Paul Goldstein.

“Well, my schedule is a bit tight tomorrow, but I think I can make that work—”

“Great! Thanks again, sweetheart,” he said, already getting up from the chair across from your desk to head out. Your voice stopped him at the door.

“Ah, you know…” You stood up from your desk. Part of you was hesitant, but the other part of you—the part that had survived nearly being shot and killed in the woods—stood firm. You rounded your desk but left a respectable distance between you and your boss.

“Paul, I would appreciate it if you would just…call me by my name. In a more professional capacity, just like I do for you,” you said. “Sweetheart, honey, that kind of thing just doesn’t make me feel very respected in the workplace.”

Goldstein blinked in surprise. He was taken aback, you could tell, as if what you’d said had never once occurred to him. Or maybe he just never thought you would call him out like that. You saw him mentally calculating though. After some recent sexual harassment allegations in the Sciences department, he likely didn’t want the headache and the red tape of an HR writeup.

“Of course. I’m sorry if I… Well, I hope you know I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said.

“I know, Paul,” you replied. But what you didn’t say was, It’s all right. 

The longer you remained quietly poised with your hands laced in front of you, the more Goldstein seemed to get the message. Eventually, he cast his gaze away and left your office with a parting nod. 

When the door shut behind him, your shoulders slumped as you let out a deep breath. You grabbed onto his vacated chair to steady yourself, smoothing your hand down the length of your pencil skirt. 

“Well, okay then.” You smiled to yourself and grabbed your phone and keys off your desk. That small win deserved an afternoon coffee break.

You ventured over to the faculty break room and started setting up an extra-large mug of coffee from the Keurig. Pumpkin spice, here I come. Finally PSL season. 

While you waited for it to percolate, you checked your phone and found no missed notifications, no calls or texts from your boyfriend. Biting the edge of your lip, you gave into the urge to check your text thread with him. 

Hey, just checking in. You okay? 

That was the last text you sent Russell, a few days ago. The fact that he hadn’t had time to read it worried you.

It had been three weeks since he left town on another job for the Horizon Group. He was able to reply here and there on some jobs, but often you had to deal with days of radio silence in between. This time, it had been a full two weeks since you last spoke to him–a five-minute call after he checked into his hotel, somewhere in Belize.

Despite your attempts otherwise, not a day had gone by where you hadn’t thought about him, worried about him, wondered where he was, and what he was doing. 

Even after four months, this arrangement hadn’t gotten easier. Sometimes, it felt like you were living half a life without him.

The coffeemaker chiming briefly broke you out of your melancholy, but you let the coffee sit there and cool while you deliberated with your phone in hand.

You tried to resist, since you didn’t want to bother him…but you ended up sending him another text. 

Hey. I don’t want to distract you. Just want you to know… 

I miss you.

“Oh, look who’s here.”

You looked up, already wanting to expel a breath of annoyance at the familiar voice. You plastered on a polite smile and turned to see exactly who you expected to see: your colleague Chris. There was really nothing wrong with the French and Spanish professor…except that he talked too much, and was often too eager to get into your business.

“How’s your day going?” he asked. After he grabbed a soda from the fridge, he parked himself in front of you and laid a hand on the counter. With one of the round dining tables so close, it ensured that you would have to squeeze by him in order to leave.

“Pretty good, just have one more class before I head out for the day,” you said. You intended to just make amiable conversation, but you didn’t realize you’d just given him an opening.

“You know, me too. Just my freshman Spanish 1 kids. Dumb as doornails really. They barely even look up when I talk,” he said. “Literally, I could be reciting Mein Kampf and they wouldn’t even know I was speaking German.” 

You couldn’t quite smile. You opened your mouth to reply, but he beat you to it.

“Hey, since we’re going to be clocking out soon, maybe you want to go for a drink with me. I know this bar. A little rough, but the price is right and the food’s not bad. This place called Howley’s,” he said.

Your non-smile dropped further. You really didn’t know where to start on this one.

“Ah, well—” you began, but again, he cut you off.

“To be honest, I’ve kind of been meaning to ask you for a while. I just uh, haven’t been able to find the right time. Since, you know, our class schedules don’t seem to match,” he added with a boyish smile.

He was cute, you could admit, with the dirty blonde hair down to his ears and the dark brown eyes. But it didn’t shake your resolve.

“Look, Chris. I’m sorry, but—”

“Is because we work together?” he said, once again interrupting you. “The whole workplace relationship thing?”

“No,” you said. It was sharper than you meant through your annoyance. “I actually have a boyfriend.”

Chris’s excited-nervous energy gradually deflated, his eyes dimming.

“Really? I’ve never seen you with anyone,” he said.

You quirked a brow at him. “Well, he doesn’t work here, so he wouldn’t really need to come to campus.”

You didn’t tell him that Russell was Dory’s older brother, and had in fact been on campus a couple of times. You shouldn’t have needed to explain it.

Chris gave you a wry look. “Sure. You really have a boyfriend, or are you just trying to let me down easy?”

You almost gaped at the man’s audacity. Instead, your lips pressed together, and your head tilted as you stared at him incredulously.

“Does it matter?” you asked.

He blinked. “Uh, what?” 

“Whatever I say next, are you going to believe it?” You finished dumping in a couple of tiny creamer cups into your likely lukewarm coffee, and you took the styrofoam cup to-go. “Good luck with the freshmen.” 

You slid past him and left the teacher’s lounge. Your path took you, brusquely and irritated, back to your office. You couldn’t help but replay every bit of your interactions with Goldstein, and then Chris, in your mind like a bad movie. 

Jesus Christ. If I have to deal with one more idiotic man today, I swear—

Speak of the devil, and he appears.

There was a man leaning against your office door, his hands in the pocks of his jeans. He looked up at your approach, and he smiled. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

This time, you paused…and you smiled too. There he was in all his rugged glory. Russell Shaw. 

You dumped your coffee in a nearby trashcan and hastened over as quickly as you could in your skirt and heels. Russell bent down to sweep you up into his arms, and you leaned up on your toes so you could wrap yours around his shoulders. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar mix of his cologne and spicy soap. 

“Missed you too,” he said, a deep rumble. It washed over you pleasantly. 

“I thought you weren’t getting home until sometime next week,” you said, trying to work past the thick well of emotion in your throat. Maybe he heard it in your voice anyway, because Russell soothed a hand over your hair and pressed a kiss near your ear.

“Got finished up early,” he said, with that familiar grin of his. You could hear it in his voice.

You slipped your fingers through his long dark hair. Then you leaned back enough to see his face. 

“How’d you know I wasn’t in class?” you asked. 

He raised his hand off your back to point up at the sign on your door. It displayed your office hours and the times you were in class. He shot you a wink.

“I might’ve called Dory too,” he said. “She invited us over for dinner tonight. I said we’d be there around seven.”

You tsked and smack his chest, making him flinch. 

“Hey!” he protested with a laugh. 

“Don’t agree to stuff without me! Now we’re going to be out all night the day you get back,” you said in annoyance. 

Russell smoothed down your proverbial feathers, namely by slipping his hands down your back and comfortably settling on your waist. 

“Now, come on,” he cajoled. “Need I remind you that she’s my sister, and your best friend, by the way?”

You waved a playfully dismissive hand.

“I know damn well, but I’m also selfish,” you said. You gripped the edges of his familiar green jacket and tugged him closer again. “I want you all to myself tonight.” 

Russell’s grin kicked up into high gear. “Oh, yeah? What for?”

You smiled and leaned up on your toes again, your lips approaching his. 

“I’m gonna—”

“Hey, Professor!” 

Just then, one of your students walked by with a gaggle of her friends. She gave you a little wave, and then an amused look when she noted how you and Russell were intertwined. You quickly set your heels back on the ground and dropped your hands from him. 

“Oh shit. Prof’s got game,” one of her friends whispered. 

“Yeah, a lumberjack,” she replied. 

“Hell, I’d climb him.”

The girls giggled quietly as they continued to make their way down the hall. 

Your hand rose to cover your mouth while your face burned hot in embarrassment. Russell, damn him, was smirking like the Cheshire cat. You shot him a little glare. 

“Shut up,” you said. 

He chuckled, and he allowed you to take his hand and lead him into your office. He closed the door for you, but that was where the chivalry ended. 

He hooked his arm around your waist and brought you flush against him. A stunned yelp escaped you. You grabbed onto his arms on reflex, craning your face up to meet him. A smile played on your lips, before he captured them in a kiss filled with heat, and the torture of longing, only broken by your shared relief.  

You had the presence of mind to reach behind him and lock the door. Russell took that as an invitation to back you up against your desk, knocking down a carton of pens in his wake. You held his bearded face and gave him as much as he asked for. Until the pace of his kisses eventually slowed and warmed into something more tender, with the brush of his hand against your cheek. You smiled a little against his lips. 

He ended up being the first to pull away. His thumb brushed your chin next, and then your thoroughly kissed bottom lip. 

“God, I missed you,” he said. You saw the sincerity in his eyes, all the heat and play and teasing aside.

“Me too, baby,” you replied, and your voice was heavy with the truth of it. You slid your hands down his arms. Suddenly you remembered your internal checklist for whenever he came home. “You okay? No hospital stays or checkups needed?”

Your hands continued their perusal over his chest and down his sides. Russell took your hands and un-busied them. 

“Completely fine. Everything went off without a hitch,” he said. 

You eyed him more warily. After a moment to try and discern if he was downplaying for your sake, you were able to take him at his word. For now. It wouldn’t be the first time he tried to hide an injury from you. You intended to complete a further examination later tonight. You smirked a little at the thought.

“Okay, I’ve just got one more class in a few minutes. Then I can get out of here,” you said.

“All right,” he nodded. “I’ll meet you at home then.”

Your smile turned cheeky. You flattened your palms down his chest, plucking at the edges of his jacket.  

“Yeah? You gonna be waiting pretty for me?” you teased. 

“You bet,” he agreed. He leaned in close to say lowly in your ear, “But not as pretty as you’re gonna be when I get you all laid out for me. Get myself reacquainted with every sweet part of you.”

“Oh, really?” you said, trying to taper your blush. There was something entirely wrong and right about him talking dirty to you in your own office. You grinned as he began to press tantalizing kisses down your neck. “I guess I’m going to be the appetizer tonight.” 

His chuckle resounded in your ears. Russell squeezed your hips and brushed his lips against your skin. Damn him, he knew exactly what he was doing, making small volts of electricity zip down your spine. Warmth plumed between your legs as his beard gently rasped along your neck. 

“Sweetheart, you’re the whole damn meal,” he said, in that voice of his, smooth and baritone and perfect. 

Your blush intensified, even as your smile couldn’t help but brighten at his words. He nipped just under your ear, earning a stifled whimper from you.

“Are you trying to get us in trouble?” you whispered.

“Hey, I don’t work here,” he teased. His lips never left your skin. “I just reap the benefits.”

You fought against the urge to pinch his side. You grabbed your phone from your desk and checked the time. Shit. Almost 5:00 p.m.

All the while, Russell continued to torture you. His hands were no better than his mouth, caressing a path from your waist to your hips, then squeezing your ass as he pressed you more fully against him. He hummed against your neck.

“Oh, please don’t do this to me,” you whined, even as you clung to the front of his jacket and pressed your forehead into his shoulder. “I have to get to class in like, five minutes.” 

“I’ve accomplished quite a lot in five minutes,” Russell said. His nibbling along the shell of your ear was all too distracting as you laughed. 

“Oh, I know,” you dryly replied. “But if I let you get your hands on me now, I’m most certainly not going to be able to lecture on the ancient civilization of Mesopotamia.”

His smile grew. “I like it when you talk nerdy to me.”

Your laugh turned into a giggle. Still, your duty to your students won out. You had to press a gentle hand against his chest to push him back.

Russell let out a long-suffering groan, but he pulled away from you without losing his smile. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek. 

“I’ll see you at home,” he said. 

You agreed, though when he aimed to leave, you couldn’t resist the urge to smack his ass on his way out of your office. 

He stopped short and twisted back, pointing a knowing finger at you. 

“You don’t play fair, missy,” he said. 

You smirked and tossed a kiss at him.

“See you later,” you said.

You loved Dory. You really did. But after a day like today, you were happy to finally be home after dinner at your best friend’s house. You were happy to be where you were in this moment, lying in bed with Russell, wearing nothing but one of his old shirts as Speed played on the TV against the wall. 

“You didn’t leave me…I can’t believe it. You didn’t leave me,” you quoted along with Annie, Sandra Bullock’s character. 

“Didn’t have anywhere to be just then,” Jack (the beautiful Keanu Reeves) said on the screen. The couple shared a kiss, and you let out a happy hum, making Russell look down on you in amusement. He had an arm wrapped around you as you laid tucked against his side.

“I have to warn you,” you said for Jack. “I’ve heard relationships based on intense experiences never work.” 

“Okay,” Annie (and you) replied. “We’ll have to base it on sex then.”

Jack smiled. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

As the movie came to an end, you sighed and lowered the volume as the credits rolled. 

“How’d you like it?” you asked.

“Was good! Even though my movie buddy decided to quote half the cast,” Russell quipped. He prodded at your side like a pianist playing a Mozart cantata, making you flinch with a squawk of laughter. You grabbed his hand to try and stop him. 

When he finally let up, you sighed and caught your breath, leaning against him again.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never seen that movie,” you said. “Practically any movie, for that matter.”

“Hey, I’ve seen stuff…it’s just, you know, we didn’t really have much access to pop culture growing up,” Russell said. 

You sobered up; you were reminded that he didn’t have a normal childhood, even less so than yours. 

“That’s okay,” you said, resting a comforting hand on his chest. “I’m gonna keep helping you catch up, long as you want me to.”

Russell smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I appreciate that.”

You closed your eyes in content. 

“So,” Russell said, interrupting your peace. You heard the mischief in his voice before he even said anything else. “Am I gonna have to knock this Beaufort guy on his ass, or you got that one covered, slugger?”

You huffed in amusement. 

“Belmont,” you corrected, opening your eyes again to shoot him a wry glance. “And there won’t be any ass-kicking needed on that one. Just a typical hard-headed man with a slighted ego.”

“Oof, cut him some slack, baby. You’re a hard one to let go of,” Russell teased. You smiled.

“Hey. Don’t butter me up unless you intend to do something about it.”

“Oh, my apologies,” he said. He turned over and waylaid you with kisses along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, and further still, until he met the edge of your shirt. You felt his hands move under the hem of it, slowly bunching up the material as they slid up your body.  

Your first coming together when you two got home tonight was fraught, and a bit wild—the kind that nearly broke your headboard (again). 

Now, Russell seemed to want to take his time. He guided your shirt up, inch by inch as his lips explored whatever small expanse he bared, from the soft skin of your stomach, to the swell of your breasts. He stopped there, laying a sweet kiss in between them. You watched him with deeper breaths, but you softened when he turned his smile up at you. You saw nothing but affection in his eyes. 

“You know, the best part of my day is coming home to you,” he said.

You had to blink past the sting in your eyes, and swallow past another lump of emotion in your throat as you reached down to caress his cheek.

The hardest part of mine is watching you leave.

But you didn’t dare say that. You just guided him back up to your lips, and met him with a heated kiss.

You were nearly asleep when Russell finally came back to bed, after double-checking that the house was all locked up. He installed a more sophisticated security system a few months ago. It made him feel slightly better about leaving you alone. 

He padded back over to the bed and joined you on his side. You rested your head on his shoulder again, and he slid an arm around your waist. 

“Charlie’s doing well in his program, huh?” Russell asked. 

You’d been talking about your brother with him and Dory at dinner. 

You nodded. “Looks like it… God, I’m so proud of him. He’s really worked hard.”

Russell hummed deeply. “Glad to hear it.”

You glanced up at him, for a moment admiring his profile. He looked down and met your gaze.

“How long are you going to be home?” you asked, because you couldn’t stop yourself.

When you and Russell first started dating, he tried staying at a motel for a few weeks. You eventually invited him to just stay with you when he was in town. It made it easier to spend more time with him, since you worked a full-time schedule anyway. It was nice to come home to him, when he was here. After the surprise wore off, however, the fear always returned.

When is he leaving next?

“I don’t have another job lined up just yet,” Russell admitted. “Wanna take a couple weeks off, since this one lasted so long. I’m sorry about that.”

You were glad to hear it, so you nodded, but you had a feeling your true thoughts weren’t as well hidden as you intended. Russell searched your face.

“How’re you doing with all this?” he asked.

Your heart seized up, but you tried to play it off.

“What do you mean? We had some good food, good catching up on ‘90s movie magic, good making up for lost time,” you said playfully. You slid your leg across his lap. Russell welcomed you, drawing a hand up your thigh and under his shirt that once again hung loosely from your body. You had to reclaim it from somewhere between the sheets.

He still raised his brows at you. “You know what I mean.”

Slowly, your smile fell. Your gaze lowered. 

“Russ, I’m doing my best.”

“I know you are, sweetheart, and I appreciate that. You don’t know how much,” he said, stroking your back. “I just, uh…I know this is hard on you.”

He understood Tracy, Doug’s wife, even better now. He had been better able to sympathize with Doug too, because for the first time in his life, he had someone to come home to. Someone who was actually waiting on him to come home. It was a bigger responsibility than he thought it would be. 

You sighed. 

“Look, I’m not going to lie, this…it’s been hard as hell,” you began, closing your hand around his. “But I love you. I love you, and I still think we have a good thing here.”

That warmed him, reminded him why this was worth it. Russell nodded in agreement, and he crossed the few inches of distance that allowed him to kiss you, good and slow. 

“I love you too,” he admitted. He could count on half a hand the number of times that happened in his life, but even though it hadn’t been all that long…he thought you might be the one that finally stuck. 

Your pretty smile was just one piece of evidence. You gave that to him, and you reached up for a kiss. He obliged you in turn.  

“How about we put a timeframe on it then,” he said, after parting softly from you. 

You tilted your head in confusion, tinged with disbelief. “What?”

“How about you give me…’til the end of the year,” he said. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of jobs lately. It’s because I’m pretty close to my goal. I’ve almost got enough to find some good real estate and start working on that bar.”

Your drowsiness fell away completely as your excitement grew for him.

“Oh my God. Russ, that’s amazing!” 

Your support softened him that much more, deepening his smile. He framed your face with a hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb.

“Here’s a promise,” he said. “Six months, and no more missions. No more jobs. You’ll be stuck with me, so much that you’ll probably get sick of me.”

Your smile grew to radiant proportions.

“Hmm, maybe a little,” you teased, “but I’ll make that sacrifice.”

He grinned and drew you into another kiss. You paused, holding his bearded cheek. 

“Thank you,” you said. Russell shook his head.

“Aw, sweetheart,” he said. “You never gotta thank me for that.”

AN: Let me know if you enjoyed this little addition to ESC! 💜

Bonus Drabble:

After watching 2x02 yesterday, it gave me...feelings lol. So I ended up writing a new (very smutty) drabble to fill in a small gap in this one-shot! It's called More of This:

Summary: Welcoming Russell home, where he belongs. (18+) 

▶️ Keep Reading: More of This

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@hobby27 @iloveyou2mia @deadlymistletoe @smoothdogsgirl @fanfic-n-tabulous

@deanwinchestersgirl8734

[spammingloveletters]

lucy via twitter courtesy of bgsource - alternate lyrics for lost time

[fanfictiondramione]

Even if you don't fall for my flirting Even if you meet another guy A fling, like that Unfunny

Even if you get married without loving each other And after six months One looks at the other And then, well, I don't know

Even if you put up with this marriage For the sake of the children, for a long time Ten, twenty, thirty years Until you get scared by your white hair

One day you'll sit in a rocking chair You'll remember me and wonder Where must that guy be?

And I'll be Waiting for you Widower, alone I won't care I'll be Waiting for you

Te esperando by Luan Santana (music translated)

Art Credits: dracodormiensss (Instagram)

[fangirlingpuggle]

Danny Phantom AU/fic prompt with reveal of eldritch Danny.

Danny knowing that he's not just a half ghost anymore, knowing that he;'s getting less human as well as less ghost, more something else. He knows the more powerful he gets more he draws form his power the more he'll change.

Clockwork letting him know once transformation fully starts once that barriers broken it can't be remade or reversed even with time powers.

The other ancients managing to keep any to powerful ghosts from going after Danny, no actual threats from the ghost zone so Danny won't be pushed further, he's already on the precipice ... he's close to falling off.

The problem is they can only do that via ghost zone, they can't stop threats from earth. The observants don't want them messing especially because a new ancient forming...that’s going to be a lot a huge shift and they don't want clockwork messing with anything.

So when Vlad next deices to pull a scheme to turn more people against Danny which results in an all out fight in front of most of amity with GIW, Fenton parents and red huntress as well as Plasmius messing with Danny riling people up as Vlad.

He can't get away he's overdoing it he's been fighting for so long and he knows, he knows he's pulling into that power but he doesn't have a chance to not. He can't get away and losing to the ghost hunters humans it's worse than losing to ghosts especially because everyone will know and well...The GIW won't care much about being half human probably just want to dissect him more. Though he can feel the human side...the ghost side changing.

He can't get away and then suddenly a shift... suddenly he's glowing form cracking as it flickers between human and ghost and...something else.

His space powers manifesting gravity shifting everyone, everything is pushed down held in place as they are rendering speechless, can't form worlds can barely breath and just watch.

They watch Danny's form start to fall apart as Clockwork appears hear him sob ask if there's anyway to get more time (Danny thinks they're frozen with clockworks power...he doesn't even realize it's his power) everyone can just watch realizing of Danny's identity slowly sinking in.

They watch Danny fall apart..into something new something they cant even comprehend and then... as Clockwork uses timeout...he's gone just shattered earth under the force of gravity and space.. a scar on the earth and nothing else.

[tsubaki94]

Happy Truce and Happy New Year @auroraphantasma I'm your gifter for the Truce this year. XD

I liked the idea of found family and Danny having role models he can look up to and learn from so I went with the first prompt:

Lost time (mentor/parental Clockwork + Danny), (all my prompts are kinda found family themed bc i love this scrunkly teen ghost getting adopted by increasingly weirder/more powerful beings); i love them interacting, hanging out and joking doing pranks.

Couldn't decide how to illustrate this relationship either so it turned into three moments when Danny appreciates having the master of time around. (Being saved in the nick of time) (Getting help with his history homework) (Finding that Clockwork has taken his time to ensure Danny gets a good night's sleep.)

Now onward to a new year. ^^

[lovehigher]

[darkagesincorrectquotes]

Danny Phantom: Am I in trouble?

Clockwork: Take a guess.

Danny Phantom: No?

Clockwork: Take another guess.

[vampireharpy]

I guess it's about time I talk about the fact that uhh hey! I wrote/drew a whole graphic novel that's getting published this year! Wowee! It's coming out October 3rd but you can preorder it right now wherever books are sold.

I put a lot of love into this one!! Evie gets lost in the Cretaceous and has to survive on her own, with the help of her big Quetzalcoatlus friend, Ada. It's basically a horse girl story, if the horse was a giraffe-sized reptile that can fly.

(Also I naturally enlisted @g0d-play to help me out and do the inks! THANK THEM FOR MAKING THIS WHOLE BOOK POSSIBLE)

[chaotic-orphan]

Vendetta (X)

Read part one // Continued from here

Strap in lads, this is gonna hurt.

*~*~*~*~*

Supervillain walked with purposeful, basking strides back towards the stage, villains parting like an honour guard for him as he walked. Villain walked behind, parading Hero after him, the whip cutting into Hero’s wrists and yanking them stumbling forward. Hero felt the coldness of Villain’s shadows possessing them, keeping them upright even as they longed to just pass out.

They didn’t want to fight anymore, they wanted to lie down and die with Superhero. They longed to plunge their… their sword that killed…

Tears somehow had the energy to keep streaming down their faces in bursts. They could still see Grieves striding forwards and grabbing the sword from Supervillain’s hands.

If Hero… if Hero never got caught then Superhero would be— they’d—

Villain dragged them up on stage and kept them by his side this time, letting Supervillain take centre stage. Grieves stood on the other side of the stage, next to Crow and the other boy from before who looked a little paler now, a little less relaxed.

“Superhero is dead. The heroes are scattered. We won!” Supervillain yelled. The shouts and cries of joy and laughter, the stomping and clapping and hollering and whistling, all of it sounded so far away to Hero who just sat staring at stage in front of them. They lost.

They actually… lost.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The good guys were supposed to win! The good guys won in every book and movie and— it can’t end like this? With Superhero dead, Hero on their knees immobile. Surely, surely someone else will come? Surely… Teleport? Or Medic? Or… or… Hero’s hands balled into fists as a fresh wave of sobs overtook their body.

It was pathetic and childish, and so, so tone deaf to the imminent life altering moment that was before them, but all they wanted in that moment was Vigilante. He’d know what to do. He’d hold them and hug them close and tell them everything would be alright.

Hero wanted them, longed for them, with every ounce of their soul. The grief was like a quilt, dulling their senses and making everything quiet, everything except that ache for the one person they loved; the one person who loved them most. The person they’ll probably never see again.

“The time has finally come for a world where we don’t have to hide our powers, where we can walk free from the shadows. Where the powerless will know who we are, and not fear us, but respect us.” Supervillain continued. He spread his arms and indicated the crowd to quiet down. “I know I promised a world where we would rule, but if I make that world then this cycle of violence will start again.”

Hero looked up, eyes on Supervillain as he spoke. What? Did Supervillain actually want peace all this time?

“I can see your faces, but fret not, friends. We will all be on the right side of history, and it will be the Heroes who suffer in the new world!”

Another burst of claps and cheers. Supervillain turned and gestured at the boy on the other side of the stage. Crow walked the boy up to Supervillain who smiled encouragingly. The boy couldn’t have been older than sixteen, dressed in a black hoodie and jeans. He glanced over his shoulder at Hero who stared at him, too tired to offer any compassion.

“I want to thank each and every one of you here for helping us win this war, forging a new world order, know you will have my gratitude eternally.” Supervillain grabbed the boy’s hand and Hero felt the pull of power at the contact.

Their eyes widened and their stomach drooped. “No,” they breathed. Hero tried to push against Villain’s hold but Villain tightened the collar of shadows around Hero’s throat and squeezed. “No! Get back!”

But their warning was lost in the sound of cheers and applause. That boy… he must be some kind of magnifier, extending Supervillain’s reach of his power but how far Hero didn’t know.

A ball of light erupted from Supervillain and the boy, burning so bright that Hero had to turn their face away to shield themselves from the glare and the light was warm, pleasantly so, and it seemed to get closer and closer Hero. They heard bodies drop around them and people’s cries of surprise and fear and then nothing but a single, searing ringing that echoed everywhere; so loud and clear it was as if Supervillain had dropped a bomb on the battlefield and all that was left was silence and bright, white light, and that ringing.

Hero woke up in the light, stretching for miles around until it was out of sight, encompassing everything. The sky, the horizon, the earth, the ground, nothing was safe from its entombment.

Hero walked along the white ground, footsteps repeating coldly back to Hero’s ears, Villain’s whip and the shadows no longer a concern. Their hands were free. They reached up to touch their face but it was still flakey with blood from the battle, and Hero was in their same clothes. Hero frowned down at their hands.

“Confused?”

Hero whirled, eyes wide as they settled on Supervillain grinning in front of them. He stood casually, one hand in his pocket, his head tilted to the side, icy eyes focused on Hero.

His voice echoed off the expanse of emptiness. “What did you do?”

Supervillain let out a pleased sigh. “I changed the world Hero,” he said. “All I wanted was for the powerful and the powerless to live in harmony with each other. I didn’t want all the bloodshed.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Believe what you want,” he replied with a shrug. He started towards Hero, and Hero braced themselves, lowering their centre of gravity, ready for a blow, but Supervillain just put a hand on Hero’s shoulder. Hero stiffened, straightening. Supervillain’s eyes were sympathetic and kind. “It doesn’t matter anymore now. I won, Hero, and I’m finally ready for you to see my new world.”

Hero blinked. “What?”

Supervillain continued walking past Hero, and Hero turned to follow them. “I had you in stasis for a few months,” Supervillain said. Hero paused, frowning, and the expanse wasn’t just white anymore. There was a black dot faraway that Supervillain was walking towards, leading them towards. “Just while I crafted the new world to my liking.”

“What!” Hero demanded, panic gripping their chest. “But you just— we were just at the stage, at the—”

“Heroes Guild?” Supervillain asked with a chuckle, shaking his head almost fondly. “That was months ago now, Hero. Or was it a year?”

A year.

A year?

Supervillain looked over his shoulder, blue eyes capturing Hero’s in his. “Grieves kept you alive here. I didn’t want you to suffer so I asked him to make sure you wouldn’t remember anything until I was ready to release you.”

Hero swallowed the lump in their throat. Supervillain was beside the black dot now, but it was a door. How did they get here so fast? When were they moving? Wasn’t Hero standing still? Hero’s frowned deepened.

Hero shook their head. “I don’t want to go. I— leave me here, please. Leave me so I don’t remember anything.”

Supervillain shook his head sadly. “I want you to see my new world, Hero. See what you fought so hard to stop, see that the fighting wasn’t worth it at all.”

The door was open. Supervillain was stepping through. “No! No!” Hero protested as Supervillain grabbed Hero’s wrist and dragged them through the open door into more whiteness. “No! Leave me! Leave me here! Please!”

Hero woke gasping, shooting straight up in their bed and clutching at the sweat soaked sheets. Their eyes darted around the room, looking for Supervillain, but they didn’t have to look far. Hero skittered back on the bed, shivering as they stared at Supervillain’s icy, smiling eyes.

“Hello Hero,” he said with his friendly voice. Hero swallowed, their eyes shooting to the door but there Grieves stood, glare fixed on Hero.

“Sleeping beauty finally awakes,” Grieves grumbled. Hero gasped, their chest beating in fretful staccatos, jumping and falling and plunging and pushing.

It’s a nightmare. This is just a nightmare and Hero will wake up and they’ll— they’ll—

Superhero’s face flashed behind Hero’s eyes. Hero’s eyes blew wide and they lunged forward, gripping the edge of the bed and threw up everything in their stomach which wasn’t much. Mostly bile and water.

They heard Grieves moan in disgust distantly as Hero shuddered, another wave of warmth climbing their throat as the battle came back to them in terrifying, vivid clarity.

The war… Vigilante… Teleport… they had lost. They— they lost, and Supervillain— a hand on their back and Hero flinched but they couldn’t move, afraid that if they did it would anger their stomach again and they didn’t want to throw up on the bed.

“That’s it, Hero,” Supervillain said warmly. “Get it out.”

Hero couldn’t reply before they were getting sick again, and then, somehow, they knew they were finished. They wiped their mouth with the back of their hand and sat up, shaking. Supervillain smiled at them.

“Here, sip some water. I’ll get someone to clean that up.” Supervillain said, pushing a glass to Hero’s lips. Hero blinked rapidly, steadying the glass with their two hands and tentatively taking a sip. The water was cool going down their throat, and pleasant. It washed away the taste of bile and acid and Hero wanted to swallow the whole thing, but Supervillain pulled the glass away. “Easy, Hero. If you gulp it down you’ll just throw it up,” he told them.

Hero sat back away from Supervillain’s outstretched hands, away from the water and glared at him.

“Come now, Hero. You could hurt my feelings with that look.”

“I will kill you,” Hero promised, their voice croaking from disuse, but the words were heavy, weighted with a vow that Hero would follow until their dying day. Or until Supervillain’s, whichever came first. Supervillain chuckled and leaned away, setting the glass of water on the table beside the bed.

“You can try,” Supervillain said with a shrug, crossing one leg over the other and clasping his hands on his thighs. Comfortable. Relaxed. As if Hero wasn’t a threat like this.

Because you’re not.

As if they were two friends catching up on lost time. Hero was new to Supervillain’s changed world. They didn’t even know what he did, let alone what his power was. This new world he promised, Hero wouldn’t be able to navigate it properly if he didn’t show them around. All they knew was that Supervillain killed Superhero and Hero would kill him for it.

Eventually.

After a brief adjustment period.

“No?” Supervillain asked, dipping his head to catch Hero’s eyes again. Hero swallowed the dryness in their throat. “Well then, perhaps we can have breakfast together. I can show you around.”

“How lo—” Hero’s voice broke and they coughed, trying to clear the clog. Supervillain grabbed the glass of water off the table and reached it towards Hero. Hero shook their head initially, but their throat was raw, burning and they took the glass from his hands. They almost dropped it immediately, and would have too, if not for Supervillain’s hand catching the bottom on his open palm.

“Sip,” Supervillain said, scoldingly. Hero gripped the glass with two shaky hands. They continued coughing and they couldn’t lift the glass from Supervillain’s hand, so Supervillain moved leaning forwards as Hero hacked. He was beside them in the bed, a hand on the back of Hero’s neck, cool and clammy against Hero’s burning skin and Hero hated how good it felt.

Hero leaned in and sipped some of the water. It settled the burning slightly and all too quickly Supervillain pulled away. Hero cleared their throat as best as they could, and Supervillain waited, patiently, until Hero nodded and Supervillain brought the glass back to Hero’s lips and they repeated the process.

They felt disgusting having their enemy so close to them, having to need his help to fucking drink water because their body was weak. Their muscles atrophied.

“Enough?” Supervillain asked and Hero nodded. Supervillain’s thumb ran over the back of Hero’s neck. “Good.”

He moved on the bed, getting off and letting his contact with Hero drop which Hero was grateful for. Their body was exhausted from that little exertion. They leaned back against the wall and watched as Supervillain placed the glass on the table again.

“How long?” Hero asked, their voice a little stronger than before. Supervillain smiled a little, as if Hero told a stupid joke.

“It’s coming up to the year anniversary since the world changed.”

The confirmation hit them like a train to the chest, like a bowling ball was dropped from the empire state building into their stomach from their ribs, far too heavy and crushing to comprehend.

“What?” Hero asked with a breath, tears pinpricking the backs of their eyes. “You left me in stasis for a—” they swallowed back a sob, “a year?”

Supervillain shrugged, turning his back to Hero and walking to the wardrobe beside the door. “It was necessary, Hero. I needed to solidify my hold on the world, make sure the memory was ingrained deep enough that it would take, and work to destroy records and such.” Supervillain continued, hangers clanging together as he looked through the clothes.

Hero swallowed. Was their brain slow or was Supervillain talking nonsense? “What do you mean ‘make sure the memory was ingrained?’ What did you do?”

Supervillain paused in his movements. He cast a glance back at Hero who was barely hanging onto their threads of consciousness and he started to laugh. Hero wished he were dead in that moment. They longed to grab their swords and spear them through his stupid throat and his lungs, and keep stabbing until he stopped breathing.

“Oh, Hero. I completely forgot. I never did tell you my power, did I?”

Hero blinked at him. They wouldn’t give Supervillain a show. They refused.

Supervillain smiled and turned to face Hero, two hangers with clothes in his hands. His smile was wide and dashing, and pleased and friendly. “I have the ability to alter memories.”

Hero stared. “What?”

Supervillain continued towards Hero, laying the clothes out on the bed. A hoodie and a tracksuit. Neither of which were particularly interesting to Hero at that moment. Supervillain set the clothes down and sat down on his chair again beside Hero’s bed.

“I altered the world’s memories of Heroes and Villains, of powers and the powerless. I made it normal for some people to be born with powers, and didn’t try and hide it from the world like Superhero wanted.” Supervillain said, his eyes glinting with corrupt pleasure, like he was enjoying seeing Hero’s entire world shatter on their face.

“And you know what, Hero?” He said leaning in. “Nobody batted an eye about it.”

“No fucking shit!” Hero seethed, leaning forwards despite their body groaning at them for the effort. “You altered their memories so they wouldn’t bat an eye about it, you dick!” Supervillain chuckled. It chilled Hero to the core.

“No, Hero,” he said softly, shaking his head. “You don’t understand. It’s hard to implement memories that people don’t already want to accept. Well, granted, it’s harder but still do-able. Although, you’ll be happy to know that Superhero’s idea of revealing powered individuals while maintaining their secret identities, made it an easier pill to swallow.”

Hero glared at him, clenching their teeth to stop themselves from screaming, their fingers curling into fists by their sides.

“You can’t just make the everyone forget about our past! The war, the heroes—”

“Oh, yes I can, Hero. Not alone. That’s what the amplifier was for.”

Hero frowned. Amplifier? Their mind scratched back to yesterday— no… it wasn’t yesterday. It was only yesterday to them. But Hero remembered when Supervillain was on stage, Villain keeping Hero on their knees at the back and the— “the boy.”

“Yes. The boy. We had to look high and low to find him, but find him we did. Everything had to go to plan otherwise the war would be for nothing.”

“Why would he help you?” Hero demanded.

Supervillain leaned back into his seat. “Because he wanted to protect his family from it.”

The two of them fell silent. Hero was struggling to fight back tears at Supervillain’s casualness. They wished they believed that Supervillain was lying. They wished they could hope that he was, but Hero knew. They knew that Supervillain was telling the truth, and that fact was attempting to swallow them whole.

“Did you protect them?” Hero whispered.

“I did.” And Hero knew that was true too. It didn’t make them feel better about it. “But that’s not the important thing I want to show you, Hero,” Supervillain continued with a small smile. “I’m sure you’re wondering about what happened to the rest of your heroes, hmm?”

Hero’s heart lurched in their chest. No, they weren’t, and they were horrible for nothing thinking about them, but their mind was so focused on Vigilante, would he remember them? Would he still… would they still?… Fresh tears pricked Hero’s eyes, both from guilt and an overwhelming amount of pain at Vigilante’s possible altered state.

Could Supervillain make him forget about their relationship? Their love? Icy eyes drank in Hero’s obvious hurt and helpless grief. He couldn’t imagine waking up after a year and being told the world has changed.

“Please…” Hero whispered, tears falling down their cheeks as they raised their head. “Please make me forget.”

“No,” Supervillain said softly. Hero fisted their hands in the bedsheets.

“Why?!”

“Because Hero, I need someone who doesn’t agree with me to keep me in check.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you murdered Superhero!” Hero seethed. Supervillain’s expression darkened.

“Hmph, yes. Well, Superhero would be far too meddlesome. He would have found a way to undo all my work.”

“And I won’t?”

Supervillain smiled. “No, Hero. You won’t. I have you tangled in a web that you don’t even realise yet. But, don’t worry, I am willing to show you. As soon as you are dressed.”

Hero glared at him. They weren’t ready to see the new world. They didn’t want to go with Supervillain.

“Can’t you put me back in stasis?” Hero asked, their voice a harsh, breathy wish. Supervillain’s smile turned sad. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat, their nostrils flaring as their eyes drifted to the stupid, ugly tracksuit bottoms and hoodie.

“I want a shower.”

“You can have a shower.” Hero nodded. “I had a wet chair placed in the shower for you. I don’t want you fainting on me.”

The forethought that Supervillain had put into Hero’s awakening turned their stomach. Why had he thought of everything? Considered every possible discomfort and ensured Hero wouldn’t feel it? How long had he been planning this?

“Are you ready?” Supervillain asked, standing and extending his hand to Hero. Hero didn’t look at him, didn’t reply, but they grabbed his hand and let him help them towards a door in the corner of the room. He opened it and helped Hero in, and Hero didn’t apologise or care that much that they were leaning all of their weight on Supervillain. Their legs were numb and unused to carrying the load of their torso.

Hero saw the chair eventually, alert eyes scanning the shower, searching for a razor or something g that would let them hurt themselves but of course, there was nothing. Hero shrugged the thought away mentally, they could always slam their head against the ground until they were dead.

Supervillain set them down in the chair. “I won’t insult you by staying, so I have made a couple other safety measures.”

Supervillain pulled a pair of cuffs from his pockets and Hero recoiled, but their body was too slow and weak to respond, to fight against Supervillain as he cuffed their left arm to the right arm rest of the chair. He did the same with Hero’s ankles and Hero didn’t fight him anymore. They didn’t have the energy to fight a battle they knew they wouldn’t win.

“How will I take my clothes off genius?” Supervillain smiled. He held up a scissors and Hero rolled their eyes. “Of course.”

“I won’t look,” Supervillain said kindly, as if that made a difference. As if it would be less humiliating for him to cuff them and cut their clothes just enough so Hero could shimmy out of them in their current state with only one hand free.

“I can’t do anything like this,” Hero said through clenched teeth.

“You needn’t worry, Hero. Grieves made sure you were clean, he let you do the essentials like drink water and use the toilet.”

“Couldn’t have let me eat during that time, no?”

Supervillain dipped his chin back. “You and I both know how resourceful you are. What if you accidentally brushed Grieves and his power failed? You will be fine with just this for today. You’ll understand more about your time in stasis later, but you can rest assured, you’re not dirty.”

With that Supervillain turned the water on and left. It was refreshingly warm, not too hot or cold. Just enough that it returned some heat to Hero’s body that seemed to be seeping from every pore. Slowly they removed the shirt, which was hanging only by the loop of the collar, up and over their head and let the water touch their bare skin.

They sat in the water motionless for they didn’t know how long, long enough for their fingers to prune and only then did they open their eyes. A shelf was near their left hand and on it some shampoo and conditioner and soap. Hero rubbed it everywhere, too tired to try and fight to take off their trousers, they just slipped the soap bar underneath and scrubbed until their skin was red raw.

A knock at the door after Hero was done. “Are you finished?”

Hero thought about not answering him. “Hero?”

“Yes.”

Supervillain walked in and turned off the tap, his eyes closed and wrapped the towel around Hero’s chest. Hero wrapped it further, and told him it was okay to look when their modesty was satisfied. Supervillain unlocked their cuffs and escorted the dripping Hero back to their bed, the towel wrapped firmly around them now. It was soft, white and fluffy.

“I already laid out your clothes. I’ll turn around,” Supervillain said once Hero was sitting on their bed again.

“I assume you can’t make yourself new memories.”

“In the same way I doubt you can negate your own abilities, no. Why?”

Hero picked up the tracksuit, their nose scrunching with disgust. “Shame you can’t just make yourself memories of being stylish.”

Supervillain laughed. Hero glared at his back as they pulled on the half zip hoodie. “Of all the things you have to be angry at me for, Hero. I didn’t think fashion would factor into it.”

“Don’t worry,” Hero answered, yanking their trackies up their legs and tying the drawstring. They were annoyingly comfortable and soft. “I have plenty of anger to go around. And fashion always comes into it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Do I get shoes?”

“Are you finished?” Supervillain asked. Hero half expected him to turn but he didn’t until Hero said, yeah, I’m done.

“You won’t need shoes for the time being.”

Hero stared at him. “Do you seriously think I’m in any state to run away?”

“Hero,” he said, gently scolding. A tone that set Hero’s teeth on edge. “You can’t even stand up by yourself. I have a wheelchair for you.”

Hero paused, frown drawing their features down. “I am not going around in a wheelchair!”

“It’s either that or I carry you like a child, Hero. It’s your choice.” Supervillain shot them a look and Hero glared back. They didn’t need a wheelchair. They could— Hero could stand up on their own! And they would fucking prove it.

Hero didn’t break eye contact as they grabbed the headboard of the bed and pushed themselves up to shaky feet. Supervillain watched them, saw their shaking muscles and weak legs and their determination as they took a step.

Their ankle folded and Hero almost fell but they caught themselves and let out a startled: “wait!” to stop Supervillain from swooping in and saving them from falling flat on their face. Hero swallowed and pushed themselves back up, sweating from the effort as they pulled themselves to their full height, wobbling only slightly as they lifted their burning gaze to meet Supervillain’s.

“See? I’m fine.”

“I’ll carry you then,” Supervillain said with a shrug, starting towards them. “It makes no difference to me. I just thought you’d want to retain some semblance of dignity.”

Hero backed up. Fear immediately wiping away the determination from before and Hero stumbled back, falling onto the bed and kicking up a leg to keep Supervillain back but he kept coming.

“OKAY! OKAY! Fine! I’ll— the wheelchair,” they said, trying to smother their panic with rage. They hadn’t felt this weak in… well, ever, and it scared them more than Supervillain did. “I’ll take the wheelchair.”

As if on cue there came a knock on the door. Supervillain straightened with his chilling, friendly smile, his eyes twinkling with an awful knowing that turned Hero’s stomach.

“Enter.”

The door opened and a wheelchair rolled through. Supervillain stepped out of Hero’s line of sight so they could get a full view of the door as Grieves walked through, grinning at Hero, followed by a familiar head of jet black hair.

“Medic?” Hero whispered, surprised they could get that word together with the lack of oxygen in their chest. Medic looked at Hero and no recognition flashed across his face. He was wearing an apron, with a bucket and a mop. His eyes narrowed when he saw Hero.

“Who are you?”

“Medic,” Grieves chastised and Medic winced. Grieves turned and placed a hand on Medic’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude.”

“Don’t touch him!” Hero growled, shooting to their feet. The world swam and they grabbed the headboard for support, but Supervillain caught them and started pulling them away, towards the wheelchair.

Medic’s eyes turned quizzical as they caught Hero’s, frowning as Supervillain turned Hero and shoved them into the chair. Hero’s lips curled back into a snarl, about to curse Supervillain out of it when Supervillain shot them a look, his icy eyes freezing Hero in their defiance.

“Would you like the same treatment as the shower or will you behave?”

“You’re a fucking monster,” Hero spat, tears welling up on their lower lids, blurring edges into colours and shapes. Supervillain didn’t move, his expression didn’t change.

“Will you behave?”

Hero grabbed the arm rests of the wheelchair, arms shaking from their white knuckled grip. They couldn’t answer, not verbally, so they nodded stiffly. Once up and once down, almost imperceptible, but Supervillain saw.

“Good,” he said, and Hero could hear the smile in his voice. Medic walked past Hero towards the vomit by the bed and set the bucket down, dunking the mop in. That’s all Hero saw before Supervillain turned their chair.

Grieves was by the door, arms behind his back, a grin on his papery face. Hero glared at him as Supervillain wheeled them out the door, their face flooding with shame. Only when they saw that the hallway was empty did they let the helpless tears fall.

Hero would right this, they vowed.

They would fix everything. They’d kill Supervillain and Grieves, and Villain and all other villains that were conscious to the change— the ones that remembered the old world — but first, they needed to get their strength back.

They needed to learn how the new world worked. They had to play nice with Supervillain while they learned exactly what this world they had woken to was. What a world looked like in Supervillain’s image.

If Grieves had Medic, he probably had Teleport too, but Hero couldn’t know until they saw her with him. And if Grieves had them, then Villain probably had…

Hero swallowed. Surely Vigilante would remember them? Medic and Hero were friends, but— but isn’t love supposed to survive every trial? Hero stared at their knees dejectedly. If Supervillain wiped everyone’s minds… nobody, none of the heroes or Hero’s friends would remember who they are. They’d just think Hero’s another of Supervillain’s generals.

“Does anyone remember me?” Hero asked. Their voice came out so quiet that even Hero wondered if they had asked a question out loud at all.

“No,” Supervillain replied, just as gentle as before. “Superhero is a villain in their eyes, the darkest days of our lives, so I wouldn’t try and cosy up to them by throwing his name around either.”

Hero sucked in a breath. “Did you enslave every hero?”

Supervillain chuckled. “Not all of them. My generals got their first picks. You can guess who Grieves chose.”

Hero clenched their jaw. “You did that on purpose.”

“I did.”

“Why?!” Hero demanded, slamming their palm on the arm rest of the wheelchair.

There was a pause. Supervillain stopped walking. Hero’s heart thumped loud in their chest. They felt Supervillain remove his hands from the chair, and he walked around to the front of Hero. Hero refused to look at him, but it didn’t matter. Supervillain tilted Hero’s chin up with the pads of his index and middle finger, until Hero’s eyes met piercing blue.

“I want you to acclimatise to your new life quickly Hero. Superhero would have run around and tried to form connections and rally his friends in vain to revolt against me. I want you to know that that idea will not be tolerated.” Hero felt their eyes burn with hot, frustrated tears that they refused to let fall. “And it won’t be you who is punished for your insolence.”

Supervillain leaned down, his hands going to the armrests of the chair, fingers wrapping around Hero’s wrists and pinning them as Hero shrunk back in the chair. Supervillain stopped a hair’s breath away from Hero’s face.

“It will be your friends. Medic and Teleport, and the little traitor Vigilante.” Hero struggled against Supervillain’s grip in vain, their blood rushing like a waterfall in their ears, deafening. “And I’ll make you watch as they are hurt for your petty defiance. Do I make myself clear, Hero?”

Hero was shaking. Their lips shut resolutely. Supervillain squeezed their wrists in warning. “Hero.”

“Yes.” Hero hissed. Supervillain smiled, leaning back. Hero swallowed the lump in their throat, grabbing their wrists and putting them in their lap when Supervillain pulled away.

“Good,” he said, chipper and happy. His mood changing as suddenly as a day became a year for Hero. “Let’s get some breakfast then. All this excitement has me working up an appetite,” he said, and he was pushing Hero’s wheelchair through the halls again, as if he didn’t threaten everyone Hero loved.

Everyone Hero loved. People who didn’t remember them anymore. The only person they had vaguely on their side right now was Supervillain, much to their chagrin, but that’s the way it was and would be until Hero was strong enough to fight back.

First, breakfast.

Then they could figure out a plan.

Find Vigilante and they could fall in love all over again, if that’s what it takes… Hero was ready to abandon being a hero during the war for Vigilante, they could do it again now. Stop being a hero and just find Vigilante and be happy.

It would be what Supervillain wanted. What Supervillain asked of them; Not to be an upstart like Superhero, not to fight back futilely. Hero closed their eyes and let Supervillain push them through unfamiliar halls.

They could do this. They would survive this.

End of Arc 1

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call: @micechomper @aarika-merrill @silentpotat0 @dutifullykrispyland @gloriousqueen101

GUUUYYYYSSS!!!! It’s finally gotten to the part of the story where the title makes sense now~ hehe, also, would recommend for those that want little tidbits/sneak hints/easter eggs I would listen to Jann’s song Gladiator on Spotify for the clues to the next arc of the story

Thank you for reading my happy fic, I love you all so much cause this one’s special, my poor lil baby, Hero is all alone :( with only their nemesis for safety and comfort :(

[moonsart]

Practicing some shooting poses with Danny

Plus bonus Lost Time cuz I cant help myself- (featuring Glockwork):

[drymushroomfics]

Reminiscing

Sandor Clegane x Female Reader

Next

Chapter One

"Sandor."

"You don't want this, girl."

"It's all I want."

You take in a breath, thoughts drifiting back to what you lost... To who you lost.

Your brain drifts to him less and less as time goes on. The pain of what happened hurts less and less as the time passes too.

You'd never been one to trust or love anyone.

You kept to yourself when you worked in the kitchen at the Red Keep.

He always waited until there was no one left in the kitchen, then he'd come in and ask for dinner. It became like clockwork. You'd finish all your cleaning duties once everyone had left and he'd walk in and sit at the table. You never understood why he never ate with the other Kingsguard but you never bothered asking. For at least a month, you never spoke to each other; just sharing silent glances.

When you had spoke to him finally, he only gave small responces. He was not one for social situations and you were almost glad for it because you were just the same.

Everyone was always so scared of him but you never felt that fear. You only felt curious toward him. You wanted to know more about the King's guard dog and you had learned more than you expected all those years ago.

•○•◇•○•♡•○•◇•○•

Taking a break you step down from your horse. After tying her to a tree off the trail, you move to find anything to ease the ache in your stomach.

You're greatful to whatever gods looking down at you when you manage a rabbit and two apples.

You feed the apples to your mare, relieved to see her not hungry anymore.

Moving to the fire you'd started, you began skinning and cooking the small rabbit.

Digging into your small find, you let more memories play through your head.

  One day while working the kitchen, you had heard the servants talking of King Joffrey. He had apparently been rather cruel to Sandor. He had been the object of Joffrey's amusings all day. You knew it was bad if the servant's had thought it was cruel treatment to Sandor.

You expected him not to show that night but there he was, right on time.

You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when he walked in. You pushed the plate toward him and gave him a small smile. He looked you right in the eye. He never did that and you felt sometime shift inside you.

When you turned your gaze away out of embarrassement, he scoffed.

"Can't stand to look at me either, girl?", he had asked you.

"I have not a problem with you.", you had told him, moving to continue your duties.

"Don't lie to me, girl."

"Just because you've had a shit day, doesn't mean you can can come down here and be crued towards me, Clegane."

You had watched him stand up and move toward you. He had you pinned against the counter, trying to intimidate you.

"You don't scare me.", you told him.

"Why's that?", he smirked.

"If you're a dog like everyone says, then all dogs can be tamed by certain people."

"Think that'll be you just because you set my supper aside and I don't yell at ya every time I walk through the fuckin' door?"

"May be... But I'm not sure if you deserve to be a tamed dog."

"Have no need for being tamed. Especially by a little bunny like you."

That's where the nickname he gave you started. You remember it all too well as you eat the meat from the rabbit.

It was weeks before you saw Sandor again. You always left him food anyway, just in case.

When he did come back, you could see his surprise that you still left out his dinner.

"Starve?", you asked with a smirk on your face, "Figured you'd have to return to eating down here some time."

He didn't reply as he sat and scarfed down his food.

"Why'd you call me little bunny?", you had asked me a few moments later.

"You're always hopping about the fuckin' kitchen like a rabbit.", he had told you.

You had laughed and nodded in aggreement.

That's how your friendship with Sandor Clegane had started. From that night on, you did start talking and the romantic feelings had seemed to just seep into the both of you.