#marty said 'hey what if' and i did it it was that simple

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Cop Dad Swap

I made my way to the kitchen, expecting some good alcohol since Brittney was rich. Holy shit! There was a huge variety of everything! Now THIS is what I expected at a college party! Who fucking cared if I wasn't even in college yet, or old enough to drink? This shit is crazy!

"What would you like my good sir?" asked some random guy at the table. I didn't think he was an actual bartender, since he was wearing normal clothes. Probably just some weirdo.

"Oh I dunn-" I didn't even finish my sentence when he put something into a shaker and poured it into a red plastic cup. He then handed it to me. Well, I guess if I'm at a college party, I gotta act like a college party guy. I chugged it all down in a second. Suddenly my throat burned like hell.

"Fuck man, one step at a time! Save the chugging for cheap beer. These drinks are classier." He poured me another. "This time baby steps my man."

I was kinda mad, but accepted the drink anyway. I walked back into the living room where people were on the dance floor. I saw my buddy Trent dancing with yet another random girl he just met. I swear that dude solely exists to break hearts.

"Hey! Garrett! Did you get the drinks?

"I got one. If you want one, go get it yourself."

"Ah fuck you! But seriously though aren't you scared your dad's gonna show up? I mean he IS a cop around here."

"Probably not. I'm sure there's lots of parties going on right now. What are the chances that he'd come to this one?” I noticed someone started talking to Brittney. It must've been bad because she widened her eyes and turned the music off. With the new silence in the room, we could hear the blaring police sirens outside.

"Shit who called the cops?" Someone said. The door opened and none other than my stupid dad appeared. His ugly bald head reflected the multicolored lights and he looked around at everyone, while I tried to hide myself behind the crowd. Beside him was the sheriff, Marty. My dad may have been good friends with Marty but he didn’t have to bring the fucking sheriff for something as simple as this.

"Allright allright, party's over. Nobody's getting arrested as long as you cooperate." Everyone started walking out the door and I was exposed. My dad widened his eyes when he noticed me.

"Garrett?! What the fuck are you doing? You know better than that!" He just HAD to start the lecture NOW out of all times, embarrassing me in front of everyone.

"What? I can't come to a party now?"

"Don't try excuses on me! I saw that cup in your hand. What? You expect me to believe that's water? Get in the car. Everybody else move it!” We both started walking outside while Marty stayed to lead the others.

Inside the police car, we were silent for a while until he blew up on me once again.

"I can't believe you were fucking underage drinking! Do you have any idea how irresponsible you are?! You're in your senior year of high school. Do you really think that’s going to be a good habit when you go to college?! You're grounded until graduation. I don't care how harsh that sounds. Graduation you hear?” I knew that nothing I said would change anything so I kept my mouth shut the rest of the car ride. 

Back at home, we said nothing to each other as I walked up to my room and slammed the door. About an hour went by and I heard a knock, followed by my dad coming in.

"Hey."

"Go away."

"I just wanted to say that I overreacted a bit back there. It made me so angry seeing the type of person you might’ve ended up as." He was fumbling with his wedding ring. I don't know why he keeps it on anyway. I never knew my mom, and it's clear my dad is divorced so why does he wear a damn wedding ring? He needs to find a girlfriend or something!

“You have no idea how stressful it is! Why can’t I go to some little party just to unwind?”

“I was young once too! I just don’t want you to go down a bad path. You have so much more to learn. This isn’t a good habit to form when you go to college.” It was then that I blew up on him.

“Hey at least I am going to college! Unlike a certain dumbass cop…” His eyes widened and I saw nothing but pure anger on his face,

"I was going to shorten your grounding sentence, but after that attitude not anymore!" He then slammed the door once again.

Trent texted me a bit later, asking if I was going to be able to go to Brittney’s homecoming party. Shit! I forgot about that! There was no way I was going to miss it so we devised a plan for me to sneak out.

The night arrived and I had my plan all set. Trent was going to call the cops on some other party to lure my dad away. When he leaves, Trent will come and pick me up and it's party time! I was in my room pretending to be bored, when right on schedule, my dad came in.

"I got another dumbass party to shut down so stay here, and don't even think about leaving this room. You're still grounded." He had a serious look in his eye.

"Sure sure. I'll be good," I said sarcastically. I looked out the window and as soon as his car was out of sight, I texted Trent. Within minutes he arrived. I quickly got dressed and he picked me up.

"Dude, you're either the bravest guy ever, or the stupidest."

"Hey, I won't stay too long. Just enough to see what it's like really. And then I'll be back in my room before he comes home."

The house was easily twice as packed as the last party, it was incredible. Brittney came down the stairs and approached me with a confused look on her face.

"Hey, wait I thought you were grounded or something. Aren't you afraid your dad is gonna come back? He better not."

"Nah, relax. He's doing some other stupid police work. I won't stay too long anyway."

"Allright, if you say so."

I went to the kitchen, like last time, to find an even bigger variety of drinks! Nobody else was in there so I thought I'd experiment myself this time. I picked up the shaker and started pouring drinks, even though I didn't know what the hell they were. But I didn't care! I'm just glad I was able to sneak away from my dad. I tried the drink and…well it was actually awful. Oh well. I headed to the dance floor and started showing off my moves. I could hear everyone cheering me on until I felt a bit faint. The last thing I remembered was falling over and a couple people looking at me concerned.

When I opened my eyes, I was outside in the dark. What happened? Was I that drunk and they kicked me out? I felt pretty normal though. I walked back up to the door. When I closed it, a draft flew in, which was especially cold on my head for some reason. I let out a deep breath and when I turned around, everyone was staring at me. But it wasn't the type of confused stare I expected; it was a terrified stare. The music stopped and it felt like they were staring into my soul.

"Uh, I'm ok now.” My voice sounded really weird. There was an awkward silence until someone shouted in the back.

"Well party's over…AGAIN!" As everyone started walking out, I noticed Brittney was yelling at someone on the floor.

"Nah, fuck you Garrett. You're not allowed here again. Get up!" Weird coincidence that there was a guy with the same name as me on the dance floor too. As the crowd cleared, I felt a chill down my back as I found “Garrett” looked exactly like me! He seemed to be unconscious. When I approached him and Brittney, she looked up at me…which was weird because we were the same height. Did she get shorter or something?

"Oh uh, he didn't get beat up or anything bad. Just had a few drinks I guess." She spoke so compliantly, unlike the normal way she gives me attitude with every sentence. I noticed the guy on the floor was wearing my clothes too. He didn't just look like me, he WAS me! Was he a clone or something? What's going on? A breeze came through the still-opened door and hit my head again. Why is it so cold up there? I touched the back of my head, and felt a smooth spot. What the fuck? I searched around for my hair…for ANY hair! But all I could find was a smooth bald head. It couldn't be…I looked down at myself and found I was wearing a police officer's uniform, complete with the badge and full utility belt. Brittney stared at me, concerned.

"Is uh everything all right, officer?" No no! Don't call me that!

"I uh, can I use your bathroom?"

"Uh yeah, it's up the stairs and to the left."

As I made my way up and through the hallway, I stared down at my hands, noticing eerily similar things - a wedding ring and a watch that looked exactly like the one my dad wore. I opened the bathroom door and quickly locked it. I gazed into the mirror to find my fears had come true. I turned into my dad!

I grabbed my cheeks and tried pinching them, to make sure it wasn't all a prank and I was just wearing a mask, but nope. I could feel it all. It was real. Fuck! I saw how smooth and shiny my head was; I knew he shaved his head every morning, but I didn't realize how smooth doing that actually made it. It's like a fuckin bowling ball. I hate this! I had long hair before and now it's just all gone! It was freezing up there! I hated cops, so it was really uncomfortable wearing an officer's uniform too.

"Hey are you ok in there?" It was Brittney. I faked a flush and washed my hands.

"Is Garrett still asleep?" It felt weird referring to myself in the 3rd person.

"Yeah he won't wake up."

"I'll just carry him to the car."

Brittany walked to the kitchen, probably to clean up the alcohol before I saw the amount of it. When I got to the living room, I found Marty standing there. He looked up when he approached me and pointed at me. 

“Hey you! What do you think you’re doing?” Shit. Does he know?! 

“I’m sorry I-” He turned his fake frown into a smile.

“Don’t be. Sometimes we just can’t let anything else come before our duty. Even me.” He leaned over to kiss me. What?! What’s going on? “I guess we’ll have to reschedule that date to some other time.”

A date? Does this mean the whole time, my dad was gay? And for Marty? Was the whole wedding ring thing a facade? Marty actually had one too so maybe they both did it to prevent a scandal within the police department or something? I snapped back to reality when I noticed Marty was still waiting for an answer.

“Uh yeah, sure. Of course!”

“Good! Let me know!” He rubbed my bald head. It was then that I started getting hard …my dad's cock was getting hard. Marty wasn’t my type though! But suddenly the thought of him was making me feel good. Is this because I'm in my dad's body or because he's flirting with me? 

I picked up..myself..off the dance floor and put him over my shoulder. I walked over to my dad's police car, and reached into my pocket for the keys to open it. I placed…myself inside, buckled him in, took my phone out of his pocket, and sat down in the driver's seat. I always hated my dad and hated cops in general but it felt pretty awesome actually sitting in the driver's seat of a police car. Like one of those movies where they have to steal one to save the world or something. The flashing lights were still on, but luckily I knew how to turn them off. I pressed the button and began driving home.

When I got home, I picked up my body once again, and carried him. It didn't really occur to me earlier, but if I'm in my dad's body, does this mean he's in my body? Fuck, I can't stand the thought of my dad going around embarrassing me in front of everyone! But he still hadn't woken up yet. What if whatever magical spell made us swap was keeping him asleep? But if he does wake up I need somewhere to put him at least. I walked upstairs and towards his room, and placed him on his own bed. I guess that'll do. I went over to my own room and plopped onto my bed, the pillow feeling extra comfy touching my bare head. I rubbed it again, actually kinda enjoying how it felt. Even though the body belongs to my dad, I'm still borrowing it right now. So I guess I have the freedom to touch myself anywhere. Not that I would want to go…down there. That's my dad's cock, gross! But I'm gonna need to jerk off eventually; I'm already feeling kinda horny now…but why? The thought of Marty crossed my mind and I suddenly was imagining him naked. Shit, not this again. He kinda was cute though, in like a lame cop kinda way. Man, I honestly wanna fuck him now.

At this point my cock was getting so stiff that I could barely take it. I started stripping, taking the heavy utility belt off first. Each garment came off until I was just in my dad's boxers.

I can't believe I was about to do this. I felt around my new dad bod, then peeled the underwear down to see my dad's cock. It was actually pretty big, maybe like 10 inches or so! So nasty…but I had to focus on the thought of Marty to stay hard. I took the underwear off so I was fully nude, laid down on my bed and started jerking it. I imagined Marty cornering me against the wall, kissing me until he grabbed my cock. He then got down on his knees and started sucking it until…I was pulled out of my fantasy and came. The white load shot all over my bed, much further than I could ever do in my body! After the climax wore off, I realized how gross it was that my dad's cum was all over my bed. But it felt so good! Actually, I have no clue how long I'm gonna be like this, or how long my dad is going to stay asleep so I could definitely take over his life for a bit. I'm not grounded anymore! Even better, I guess I'm a cop now so I have power and authority! I took my dad's phone - I mean MY phone - and called up Marty.

"Hey Marty, I have an idea…”

[thespiritssaidso]

Movie Night

Summary: Shawn loves watching movies at Lassiter’s house, always at night. Usually, Shawn leaves once it’s over to go back to his apartment. This night is different, however. 

Notes: Had this idea for a while, lol. Enjoy!

Also, I’ve been falling behind and I think I might be getting slightly overwhelmed. I think I’ll just go ahead an finish up to day 19 and call it quits. Sorry guys

Flufftober day 17: Only One Bed

—————

Lassiter sat on his couch facing the tv, one arm slung comfortably over Shawn’s shoulders. A bowl of popcorn settled in his lap, considerably less full than it had been at least an hour ago. No thanks to the detective. He took a few nibbles of it here and there, but didn’t risk any more. Too much salt would’ve been bad for his already questionable blood pressure (being a cop had its cons, not so surprisingly. 

Shawn was nestled cozily next to Lassiter, all of his weight practically boring into his boyfriend’s side – not that Lassiter was complaining, he liked the pressure. He had been taking huge handfuls of popcorn and shoving them in his mouth every five minutes. 

Currently, the movie playing was Back To the Future, at Shawn’s insistence. They had just gotten to the scene where Marty had to play the guitar part for the song ‘Earth Angel’ so his parents would get together. At first Lassiter had objected to the movie. But after a good fifteen minutes of disagreement, he caved to Shawn’s request. 

Lassiter stealthily checked his watch to see what time it was. 12:52 a.m. It was getting pretty late. Normally they’d be done by now, but Shawn had come in later than normal — something about Gus, Lassiter couldn’t remember — and had taken forever to pick the movie that they had bickered over. 

He wasn’t sure why, but Lassiter didn’t feel like it was right to just send Shawn off so late in the night. Which was weird, considering they were both grown-ass men. But he couldn’t shake the feeling. Maybe he just wanted him to stay the night. 

But that would be a big step in their relationship. A step that Lassiter was most certainly ready for, but he didn’t know if Shawn was as well. The psychic was unpredictable, jumping headfirst into some situations while hesitant about others. 

It was something Lassiter noticed about Shawn. He could be so impulsive, throwing caution to the wind. And yet… so tentative when it came to something big or important. 

So he did his best to be patient, keeping himself from trying to rush his boyfriend. It was difficult, but Lassiter was managing. 

He was startled out of his thoughts when Shawn, without looking away from the screen, said “Hey, Carly.” 

Lassiter hummed in response. 

“What’s for breakfast tomorrow?” 

Such a simple question. A simple question with so much meaning behind it. Breakfast meant waking up here, at his house. And that meant he would have to spend the night, at his house.

Lassiter could practically feel his heart beat faster. He wanted to stay. Stay here and sleep here and wake up here and eat breakfast here. 

He blinked, and answered, “Uhm… eggs. And toast.” 

“And coffee?” 

“…Yeah, I’ll brew a pot.” 

“Cool.” Shawn snuggled deeper into Lassiter’s side, if that was possible. 

Silence, save for the sound of squealing tires and a roaring engine coming from the TV as Marty gunned it down the road. Then- 

“I don’t have a guest bed.” 

A big grin on Shawn’s face grew instantly. “Ooo, so there’s only one bed.”  

Lassiter rolled his eyes, even though he knew Shawn would see it. “Well I might just make you sleep on the couch-”

“You wouldn’t!” 

“Do you want to find out?” 

Shawn mock-grumbled. “Noooo.” 

———

It was definitely well past midnight now, and Shawn and Lassiter were both cuddled up under the sheets of the king-sized bed. The detective had offered a pair of his pajamas to his boyfriend and was immediately taken up on it. 

Shawn himself was out cold, passing out almost the second his head hit the pillow. 

Lassiter was still awake. It took a lot longer for him to actually fall asleep. He had no idea how Shawn had done it. If he was in a different bed than he was used to, it would’ve taken him at least an hour to simply familiarize himself with the new setup. 

Looking over at the fast asleep Shawn, Lassiter took in the vision of him wearing plaid flannel pajamas. His pajamas. And he didn’t mind. In fact, he loved how Shawn looked wearing them, all cozy and the like. 

Quietly, Lassiter turned over, allowing himself to be the little spoon, and fell asleep, the feeling of Shawn’s arms wrapped around him comforting him.

—————

Notes: suuuuper duper short this time, but it’s whatever. Next one shall be longer, I promise <3

ao3 link

[weisserose-comic]

✨Meet The Characters - Weisse Rose✨

Martin Hagen

Oh, it all started with him, Marty my beloved 🖤 so a few of his ~important~ character sheet things below, and later I'll list some personality traits/characteristics!

This is the first study I did of him in full color, with decent linework and a ~final~ design!

Age: around late 28

Height: 1.75 (5'7)

Astrological Sign: Chaotic Sagittarius

Languages: Russian, German, English

Heavenly Virtue: Undeniably loyal, wants to see the people he loves happy

Hellish sin: People pleaser, has a hard time saying no and establishing boundaries - is made a mop by most people because of this

Current Occupation: Pâtissier Assistant and sometimes a Chef Assistant at the same high-end Hotel his friend Diana works at

Now, a little list of things I wrote down when first thinking about his character that have remained to this very day which is quite a rare thing tbh

Looks like Diana out of coincidence, but his hair is more pale blond and has tanner skin (compared to hers)

That Billy Idol hairstyle

A good hearted punk :)

There you go, now I'm picturing him as Nero (Devil May Cry)

STING STYLE

Has strong opinions but avoids conflicts

You know, "a gentleman will walk but never run" - will walk away from fights but if the situation calls for it, will fistfight with grace and burning anger (I can't run away from Sting)

Very chill and friendly vibe

But also "don't mess with said vibe or I'll fucking kill you :)"

Noisy. Gets easily evicted - that's how the story begins

Super skilled guitarist but enjoys a more practical, grounded and simple approach

What works, works. He won't argue and he doesn't want to make his life difficult

Just wants to vibe with his music

Connects easily with people

Very friendly and chatty - can and will talk with the first animated object in his line of sight

Heart of gold, must be protected at all costs

Has neglectful parents who never really cared about him

He tried his utmost best to impress them, but it never worked

Hence why he became such a huge people pleaser

And that's it for Marty... For now. We'll get to know him better in the comic ;)

He ended up being that precious little character I got super attached to and didn't even see it coming. These little illustrations were my first try at presenting a character, exploring different angles, poses and how to show personality through simple and subtle things - I still have to get better at drawing the same face in multiple angles, but the best way to learn is by doing it!

Face consistency/likeness is a bitch to be honest, but hey, at least you know all the art here is human made then, not AI hahahahaha

[stormlit]

every time marty posts about something that happens during inq i’m like oh yeah that happened i vaguely remember and anyway it’s good that my only da character was less than 6 during that time bc she wouldn’t remember much either

[mediocre-writerr]

lost boy [toni shalifoe]

toni shalifoe x fem reader

requested: Could I request a the wilds Toni x reader they knew each other before the island cause reader was the first girl wrestler at the school. When Toni was reading down the fort she ends up throwning the axe down and it hits the reader, who turns out to have a prosthetic leg

*not my gif*

You knew Toni had anger issues. But you didn’t know how bad.

When you first heard of Toni she was all over the morning announcements and the school newspaper. 

Toni Shalifoe: Starting Point Guard Brings Home First Ever State Championship Win!

She was hotshot all over school after that. Posters were brought to every game just to support her.

No one really knew what happened for her anger to reach a peak. Everyone knew about her home life: she couldn’t go on field trips and she was living with Martha. No one actually knew the story, but they knew it wasn’t good.

Yet, even then her anger wasn’t terrible. Just one day she threw piss at a girl during one of the games. And when she got cut she was no longer hotshot. But rather damaged goods with anger issues. 

You see there were similarities and differences between you and Toni from back home. 

Similarity: you were also in the school newspaper and morning announcements. 

Y/N Y/L/N: First Ever Girl Wrestler

Difference: No one cared or rather everyone cared and made fun of you for it. 

No matter how many matches you won, everyone thought it was weird. You let the team grow and become better. Their record got better, but still everyone made fun of you.

Calling you gay slurs and just a bunch of toxic masculinity.

Boys threatened because a girl was better than them. 

And when you got into your car accident, you quit the team and became homeschooled. If everyone bullied you for something as simple as a joining the boy’s wrestling team, you knew this would cause some more. 

But back to Toni, you were experiencing her anger first hand. And just how bad it could get.

“Nora I got it!” Toni yells, trying to pull the wood away from her.

Martha and Shelby both stood up at the girl’s yelling, “I’m just trying to help.” Nora says meekly.

“I don’t need your fucking help!” Toni pulls on the wood hard, causing the wood to fall. 

“Hey you need to calm down. She’s just trying to help.” you speak up from where you’re sitting, trying to protect your new friend.

Toni scoffs, “I don’t need help! Don’t you guys see that?! I’ve been on my own for so fucking long. I don’t need help now!” 

“I think you do.” Shelby whispers and it was not a good time for her Texas accent to come in.

And it was as if something flipped in Toni’s mind. Her humanity turned off or something because she went haywire. Taking the axe from off the ground and breaking the fort we worked so hard to build. 

She screamed out as if she was in pain. Constantly hitting the structure we built with all of her might. All of the wood falling onto the ground like a domino effect.

Finally with one last grunt, Toni threw the axe down. Her eyes were clenched shut, not looking at where she was throwing it. 

Gasps ring from the other three girls. Toni opened her eyes to see what all of the gasps were about.

“Y/N!” Dot yells from their fort not too far away.

Her, Fatin, Leah, and Rachel came running towards all of you. Leah holding the medicine bag in her hand. 

“Oh shit Y/N! I’m so sorry!” Toni says, beginning to pace back and forth. 

You look down to see what they’re looking at. The axe was sticking out of your dirt covered jeans. The rest of the girls were freaking out at the sight of the axe in your jeans. 

But you weren’t phased. How could you be? 

“Stand back!” you say to the girls who hover around you.

“We need to help you!” Fatin argue, both her and Dot trying to get a closer look.

You yell at them yet again, “Stand back! I can do this myself!” 

The eight other girls took a step back. Concern sweeping all over their faces. None of them knew what to do. 

You reach for the handle of the axe pulling it out of your jeans with a bit of force. All of their mouths open agape shocked at how you weren’t screaming out in pain. 

“How is she not in pain?” Rachel asks.

Nora shrugs softly, “Maybe she’s just in really deep shock.” 

But Toni gains composure rushing to your side immediately. Guilt settling in the pit of her stomach. All of them were preparing for the nastiest wound ever.

“Take off your pants.” Toni says sternly.

“Kinky.” Fatin whispers under her breath, earning a glare from Toni, “Not the time? Got it.” 

“I don’t understand the-” you started to say before she cut you off.

“I need to tend to your wound. Take off your pants.” she practically begs, trying to rush to help your wound.

You unbutton your jeans pulling them down slowly. Feeling a little embarrassed at what everyone is about to see. You thought you could hide it from everyone while on this trip, but everything that was going to happen, didn’t. 

When your pants are fully down it revealed your prosthetic leg, “You had a prosthetic leg this whole time?!” Dot yells.

“You could’ve just fucking said that instead of giving me a heart attack!” Toni adds on. 

The rest of the girls let out a sigh of relief, but Fatin just starts laughing. 

“Why are you laughing?” Shelby asks, looking at her with furrow brows. 

“She just played the best prank ever!” Fatin high fives you as the two of you start laughing at the girls.

Most of the girls join in on the laughter. Finally happy that after many days of restlessness and stress they could finally laugh with one another. 

“Yeah, real fucking funny.” Toni mumbles angrily, storming off onto the small cliff that overlooks the water. 

Everyone’s laughter dies down and Toni’s small outburst. All of you looking between each other to see who will go check up on her. Or if we should check up on her at all. 

“I got it.” you say standing up, throwing on a pair of Fatin’s shorts from her suitcase.

You carefully walk up the hill until you finally take a spot next to Toni. The two of you sitting in tense silence as you watch the waves crash upon one another. 

“You know when I got into my car accident, it shredded my leg. Literally a million pieces. My car was so beat up that it caved in causing my leg to get stuck. They needed to cut it out while I was still in the car to get me out.” you say, breaking the silence. 

Toni just hums in response, not really wanting to talk herself. But she wanted to let you know that she was still listening to whatever point you were trying to make.

“Ruined my future wrestling scholarships. I knew people at school were gonna make fun of me for it. I mean just being on the team was a living hell. Having a prosthetic leg...wouldn’t have been fun.” you whisper, “That’s why I play it off as a big joke because if I make fun of myself for it, no one else will. I was hoping no one would find out, but it’s plan B.” 

“I think it’s cool. You’re part robot.” Toni says and the two of you share a small chuckle, “I wouldn’t have made fun of you for it.” 

“I know, but we barely talked then. I just knew you as the starting point guard.” you add.

“True.” 

“Why did you get so mad that we were laughing about it?” you ask.

She laughs, but it’s filled with emptiness, “I was worried. I thought I hurt you and I don’t want to hurt you. You’re one of the only people I actually stand besides Marty.” 

it seemed liked there was something more to her answer though. Something that she was holding back.

“There’s more to it,” you reply and it comes more out of a statement, rather than a question.

Toni sighs softly, “Because I like you. I thought my anger got the best of me and again. And I hurt someone I like again.”

You smile to yourself softly and her soft answer. No matter how tough of a demeanor she shows, she’s a real softie on the inside. 

“I like you too.” you say, nudging her shoulder.

She shakes her head, but a small smile appears on her face, “I’m scared I’m gonna hurt you.” 

Toni finally looks at you. You take her face in your hands softly. Slowly guiding yourself closer to her. Her eyes flick to your lips and back up to yours. Both of you shut your eyes as you close the distance. A soft sweet kiss resulting in it.

“As long as you don’t throw piss at my face. I think we’ll be okay.” you whisper as the two of you pull apart.

[randomfandomimagine]

Struck By Lightning (Marty McFly x Reader)

Characters: Marty McFly, Doc Brown

Fandom: Back to the Future

Tags: Time travel, friends to lovers

Warnings: Spoilers for the movies!

Word Count: 4k words

Requested by @kikikittykis: Hi I want to request a Marty Mcfly x Female reader ficlet where the reader is from Marty’s time and she can Time Travel because she has powers or something maybe she could be related to Doc. But they both get stuck in 1955 but she stays in the shadows to let Marty fix the timeline since he’s the one that got them stuck there. Maybe she has to use the DeLorean with Marty on the way back because her powers are malfunctioning. Thank you if you have the time to complete this request

A/N: I made up some new stuff for time travel, so for the sake of enjoying reading this just ignore how absolutely crazy and not scientifically accurate it is 😂 This is my first Marty and BTTF ficlet and it might have been a bit complicated, so I’m a little insecure about it. I hope you all still like it! 😙

Marty McFly x Female Reader

_

You paced up and down, nails drumming against the little box that you held in your hands. The town square was lonely at that late hour, and only the lights of the posts kept you company in your anguish.

Trying to distract yourself while you waited, you stared at the box in your hands. It was somewhat small, as it only occupied a little more than both of your hands put together as you cradled it in them. It was made of small metal planks reinforced with oak wood, hiding a complex unit of wires connected to the core of electricity. On one side there was a small screen with a keypad filled with numbers. At the top of it was a round red button, shining and enticing. The outside of the box was covered by a thin layer of black rubber.

Knowing every centimeter of the box by heart, you impatiently clicked your tongue. Where was he? He was always late. For someone that had time traveled several times, Marty had no actual sense of time. You were pretty sure that his watches always broke too.

When you heard the sound of skateboard wheels gracing the pavement, you turned around and sighed in relief. It was hard to contain the nerves that upset your stomach, but they subsided slightly at the sight of your best friend.

“Y/N” Marty said, kicking down on his skateboard to stop it and throw it up in the air, where he easily caught it with one hand. You rolled your eyes with a smile at the cool movement.

“I bought you a new watch, McFly” You only replied, to which he grinned in response.

“What’s going on?” He asked you, walking closer. “You sure have your uncle’s sense of mystery”

The nerves stirred in your stomach again when you remembered that time your uncle Emmett gathered you and Marty for the great reveal of his time machine. The DeLorean was the most incredible thing you had ever seen, and it only became greater during your time travels. The thought of it made you jittery again.  

“Um…” You shook your head, trying to focus on the reason why you called him. “See this little box?”

Marty nodded, holding his hand out to take it, but you protectively moved it away from him. He frowned at the gesture, but you explained before he could complain.

“You need to be careful!” You warned him. “This right here is my first invention: a time machine”

You proudly grinned at him, but he only squinted in confusion. It took Marty several seconds to say anything else as you stood there before him, beaming at your reveal.

“Wait a minute… wait a minute, Y/N” He fidgeted, wildly gesticulating with his hands. “Are you telling me you build a time machine from that tiny box?”

“Yes! You see…” You started pointing to the different parts that made the box. “It carries a circuit of electricity in it that shocks the mechanism, giving it enough force to make time travel possible”

“Is that like Doc’s flux capacitor?”

“In a way”

“That’s heavy…” Marty uttered, fixing his blue eyes on the box that you so gingerly held in your hands. “Does Doc know?”

“No, I haven’t told him yet”

“Why didn’t ask him to help you?”

“Because he would!” You exclaimed anxiously. “I wanted to do this myself”

Marty fondly smiled at you, nodding his head in understanding.

Much like your uncle Emmett, you had grown fascinated by science. You studied and learned to idolize great people like Albert Einstein, Marie Curie, Isaac Newton and Thomas Edison. It had always been something you shared with your uncle, which reinforced your bond as he was the only family you had left. This connection only grew after he introduced you to the DeLorean and you joined him and Marty on their time travel shenanigans. Even now that he had a family of his own, him and Clara as well as your cousins Jules and Verne welcomed you and often invited you for dinner.

“Well, let’s go back” Marty said after a moment of silence, taking your wrist. “Let’s show Doc what you invented, he’ll be so happy!”

“Not yet, that’s why I called you” You bashfully averted your gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I wanted to try it first… and I didn’t want to do it alone”

He paused, and his fingers loosened their grip around your wrist. Returning to that fond smile, Marty nodded again, this time in determination.

“Great, let’s do it!” He clapped in anticipation. “How does it work?”

Your face lit up in excitement as you held the box up to demonstrate.

“You see this big red button at the top?” He hummed in affirmation, and so you continued. “You press this to activate the circuits and introduce the digits on the counter”

“Is that it?” Marty gawked at you in astonishment.

“Yup! Then you only point it at whoever is going to travel and voila!”  

“Wow… that’s really heavy, Y/N” You recognized the pride in his eyes as he looked at you, impressed that you had done it on your own. “It’s so simple too!”

“Thanks” You nudged him with a smile, which he gladly reciprocated.

“So where are we…?” He interrupted himself, grinning. “When are we going?”

“I think we should go one minute back in time…” Trying to get over the nerves in your stomach, you took a deep breath. “Do we concur?”

“Right on” Marty leaned a hand over the big red button and stared at you.

Before doing anything else, you inserted the digits that should allow you to travel one back in time. Then, you proceeded. Shaking from head to toe, you hesitantly lay your hand over Marty’s. Between the two, you pressed down and pushed the button. With the device pointed at both of you, it was only a matter of time until you confirmed if it worked or not. As you waited, you shut your eyes tight in nervous anticipation.

A strange magical force seemed to surround you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes yet. Marty’s arm wrapped around you, protectively and uneasy. Only when you heard him gasp, did you dare to open your eyes.

At first glance, you didn’t notice any changes. You were still at the Hill Valley square, and it was night still. Before you celebrated your success, however, you needed to confirm it. A quick glance at your wrist watch told you that the hour hadn’t changed.

“There’s something different…” Marty whispered, letting go of you.

Internally agreeing with him, you took a quick look around you. The streets seemed different. There was something strange about Hill Valley all of a sudden.

Just as your friend was about to take a step, you held on to him in realization.

“Marty!” You tugged at his jean jacket. “Is this…?”

“1955…” He completed, looking around him. After all, he had spent enough time on that year to realize it was so.

The untouched ledge of the clock tower was clue enough, but so were the closed shops that surrounded you and even the old-fashioned cars parked in the streets.

Disappointed, you peered down to the device in your hands. You had miscalculated. There was a big mistake somewhere in your invention, a great margin of error. How could you have traveled so far back in time when you had only set it for one minute?

“Well…” Marty piped up, noticing your mood. “It worked!”

“No, it didn’t…” You sighed, repressing the urge to hurl the device at the floor. “We’re in 1955, not one minute back in 1985”

“Don’t you see, Y/N?” Marty gently took you by the shoulders. “You still invented a time machine, Doc would be proud!”

You showed a sad smile, partly agreeing with him. Your uncle Emmett would be proud, and he would offer to help you fix the problems. If only you could show him a perfect time machine that didn’t have such a big margin of error.

“Now, let’s go back” Your friend patted your shoulder before letting go of you.

Once again, his hand leaned against the button. Yours hovered above it as a terrible hunch reached your gut. If it had thrown you so far back in time, who was to say that you would be returned to 1985 safe and sound? Nonetheless, you pressed your hand over Marty’s and pushed the button together again.

“Uh… Y/N?” He uttered, looking into your eyes. “Nothing happened”

He was right. As you feared, that magical force didn’t surround you this time. You felt absolutely nothing, and so you urgently pressed the button again. It was for naught.

“Marty…” You stared at him with pleading eyes, feeling utterly helpless and miserable. “I’m sorry”

“No… no way…” He nervously passed his hands through his hair. “Not again, Y/N…”

Why was Marty McFly cursed to get stuck in a time away from his own? Was it his friendship with the Brown family that condemned him to such a fate? Just when his adventures with your uncle seemed over, you walked in. Y/N Brown, failed scientist and crappy time traveler.

“I’m a failure…” You hung your head low as tears arrived to your eyes.

“Hey, no” Marty tenderly took your hands in his. “It’s okay, Y/N, we can fix it”

“How?” You exclaimed, quivering with sobs as you forced yourself to look up into his kind blue eyes. “We have no resources here, and even if we did there are no guarantees that I would be able to fix this stupid device!”

Marty frowned. His eyes grew sad as he saw you start crying. Not knowing what to do to comfort you, since he was feeling just as lost, he only rubbed his thumbs against the back of your hands and squeezed your palms.

“There’s gotta be a way” He tried, shrugging to lessen the tension. “We got stuck here once, maybe we can…”

You sniffed through your nose, attentive to his words. However, when he stopped talking, you watched him in alarm. Marty had grown distant, absently letting go of you and taking a few hesitant steps back.

“Marty?” You muttered, not losing sight of him. “Where are you going?”

“There’s a DeLorean here” Marty was about to start walking, but you pulled at his jacket again.

“You’re right!” A spark of hope ignited in your chest, although it vanished soon. “But need I remind you our other selves are here too?”

“Alright, but…” He licked his lips, and you could almost see the wheels in his head turning. “What if we take the DeLorean when we… they… are not looking?”

“They won’t leave the car…” You objected, biting your lip. “Besides, if we took it from our other selves it would cause an abysmal paradox!”

“There must be something we can do!” Marty threw his arms into the air.

“Yes, let’s think for a moment…” You paced up and down, going over all your scientific knowledge. Your time traveling device worked in a similar way to your uncle’s DeLorean. There had to be a way.

You mentally sought inspiration, going over what you did with Marty in 1955. It took your uncle Emmett some time to figure out how to send you back to the future without plutonium, but…

“Eureka!” You exclaimed, startling Marty a little. “The thunderstorm!”

His eyes went from the night sky to the little box you clung on to. When they returned to yours, his expression lightened up at the sight of your recovered excitement. On the 12th November you could harness the storm’s electricity to power your time traveling device.

“That isn’t until…” Given that his watch still didn’t work, he took your wrist to look at yours and see the date. “Next Saturday”

“Well, we can hang out for a bit, it’ll be fine…” You sighed in exhaustion, already knowing you had to go through that all over again. “I’ll be easy, we just need to be careful not to…”

“Not to run into our other selves and disrupt the space time-continuum?” Marty completed for you.

His sarcasm suddenly made you feel even more tired. Of course you wouldn’t be that easy. Not only did you had to avoid running into the other Y/N and Marty, you also had to make sure not to get in the way of Marty’s parents falling in love as well as Marty’s successful travel back to 1985 the other time.

Exhausted, you hid your face in his shoulder. When he kindly wrapped his arms around you, at least you were glad you hadn’t done it alone.

_

You had discussed your plan many times. Unfortunately, you couldn’t talk to your uncle as he was already dealing with the other Marty and Y/N from the other timeline. Likewise, you couldn’t let any of them see you or disrupt their endeavor if you wanted to guarantee your own wellbeing.

Given that thunderstorms were unpredictable and the only spot where you knew a lightning would certainly strike was occupied, it was hard to tell what to do. Although reluctantly, you had admitted that your best chance was catching a lightning that would power your device and send you back to your time. Chances were slim, and you felt at the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Even as you walked, your eyes were glued to the clock tower, minutes away from being destroyed. Hill Valley citizens were completely oblivious to the thunderstorm, as well as they were oblivious to the activities that were taking place. There were two time travels to happen that night: one had already been successful, the other… well, it was yet to see.

“Y/N” Marty stopped walking to put your hands on your upper arms. “Don’t worry, it will be alright”

“But what if I’m wrong?” You averted your gaze, fiddling with your thumbs. “What if it doesn’t work and we’re stuck here forever? Or… or…”

“You’re just as smart as Doc is” He reassured you, showcasing absolute determination in his expression. “I believe in you, you’ll get us back”

“I just…” Instead of looking at him, you glanced at the other Marty in the distance. “I’m scared”

“I’m a bit scared too…” Marty pushed you against him in a much needed hug. “But I know you’re right, this will work”

His warmth embrace comforted you in the chilly night, as your hair moved with the breeze just like his was. His bangs tickled your cheeks, but you didn’t move.

“Breathe” He playfully told you, making you realize your shoulders were tense and you were definitely holding your breath. “We’ve done this before, we can do it again”

You let out a shaky exhale, nuzzling his shoulder. While you still felt bad that you had gotten him into that mess, it was a relief that he was by your side. Marty made everything feel alright. Just as you started to calm down, you noticed something and grew tense once more.

“No… Marty, what are you doing?”

“What?”

“No, not you… him” You pointed at the other Marty, who was stepping away from your uncle’s younger version. “I don’t remember you doing that…”

“That’s why” Your Marty lifted his arm, pointing a finger at a figure that walked your way and that had gathered the other Marty’s attention.

Biff headed your way, no doubt enticed by your feminine figure. You rolled your eyes at him even as he approached. Marty, on the other hand, stiffened and refused to move an inch.

“I don’t think he recognized us”

“Do you think he confused me with Lorraine?”

“Maybe… although you don’t have to be my mum to have that pig’s attention” You caught a hint of jealous protectiveness in his voice, but ignored it.

Biff was walking closer, and with that so was the other Marty, alarmed by Biff’s presence. You had time traveled so many times that all those different events were overlapping.

“We have to do something before he sees us!” You urged your friend. “And before my uncle and the other you walk over here!”

“Hey!” The other Marty called, leaving the DeLorean for a moment.

“Quick, Y/N, what do we-?” You cut Marty’s words as you moved on an instinct.

There was only one way you could think of that would have everyone’s attentions off you. You took Marty by the lapels of his jean jacket and pushed him against the streetlight behind him. Immediately after, you smashed your lips against his. That way, the intimate nature of the moment would drive them away as well as hide your faces for them to recognize.

Frozen by shock, Marty held his hands up in the air. When he realized that he was supposed to sell the moment, he cautiously put them on your hips. It was surprisingly comforting and pleasant given the stressful situation.

Without breaking the kiss, you opened your eyes to glance at them. Biff had faced his back to you, waving his hand in the air in annoyance. Luckily, he didn’t bother the other Marty as he returned with your uncle and the other you.

The kissing sound seemed to echo on the streets as you and Marty separated. Your faces remained close, mere inches away from each other, so close in fact that your noses touched. For a moment, the two of you could only stare into each other’s eyes as you breathed heavily. That had been… interesting.

“That was close…” Marty gulped as he glanced from your lips to your eyes.

“Sorry…” You gasped, letting go of him and taking a step back. It took his hands a second to lift off your hips and let you move. “It’s the first thing that came to mind”

“I mean… it worked” He chuckled, which distracted you a little from the blush on his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry…” You felt terrible, having embarrassed him and made him uncomfortable.

Marty was your best friend and you hoped he didn’t take this the wrong way. You had only done it to save yourselves, to… to avoid a catastrophic and earth-shattering paradox! You told yourself that, but found it hard to ignore how it had sent tingles down your spine and how you had been glad to have an excuse to do it.

“No, it’s fine…” Marty reassured you, distracting you from your thoughts. “It’s fine…”

His voice broke, and you knew that was a sign that he was nervous. You had definitely made him uncomfortable. Trying to forget about it all, you distanced yourself from him with the pretense that it was best to walk away from Biff, the other Marty and your uncle.

“Um…” You forced yourself to steer your thoughts back to the task at hand. “We need to…”

“Right” Marty nodded and awkwardly cleared his throat. “Yeah, the uh… the lightning”

Mortified by what just happened, you continued walking as you were before it. You had to find a place where you wouldn’t be seen, as that Marty, Y/N and Doc were still in the town square and there was another version of them at the entrance of Lyon States before it was built.

Just when you were distancing yourself from the town and reaching a more isolated spot, the storm broke out. Your stomach churned in anticipation, knowing this was your only chance to go back to the future.

Then all of a sudden, you knew. Call it destiny, or call it a stupid and irrational hunch. Whatever the case, you could feel it in your bones as you peered up at the dark night sky: a lightning bolt was about to strike. You had to catch it, and so you ran for it.

“Y/N!” Marty shouted when he realized what you were doing, and followed after you.

You prayed to all those scientists your uncle taught you about and that you had grown to admire as much as he did, nearly as much as you admired your uncle Emmett. Shutting your eyes tight, you hoped that the lightning bolt hit exactly the box and not you, and that you could turn the gadget in time to point it at Marty.

The lightning struck, making you flinch and cringe in anticipation. Just as it touched the box and the powerful electric force vibrated against your hands, you felt Marty hold on to it and tilt it up. Then everything happened very fast, as the familiar sound of your device surrounded you.

The force of Marty’s movement, however, had thrown you back. You felt yourself falling backwards albeit with one of his arms wrapped around you. There was a commotion of yelps and groans between the two of you as you landed on your backs, holding on to each other.

As the magical force that surrounded you faded away, reality settled back in. The night was cold and the air was humid. You didn’t know if it was the cold or the wet pavement underneath you, but you felt yourself shaking.

The box buzzed in your hands before dying down. When it did, you weakly glanced around you. Everything seemed in order, just like you remembered it. It seemed like you were at home in 1985.

“Y/N!” Marty, who had landed next to you, rushed to kneel by your side. “You okay?”

Out of breath, you found it impossible to respond. You only looked at him, struggling to breathe. Everything hurt, and it was hard to talk and even moved. For the time being, you focused on calming your accelerated breath and racing heart.

“Hey, talk to me” Carelessly throwing the time traveling device away to keep your hands free, he held them in concern. “How are you feeling?”

“Like…” You gulped, slowly recovering the ability to speak. “Like I was just struck by lightning”

Marty laughed, dropping his head forward in relief. Without dropping your hands, he tugged at them to pull you to your feet. Your brain felt slow and foggy, and you swayed as soon as you had to hold your own weight. Luckily, Marty realized your weakness and tightly held on to you, letting you lean against him.

You took a deep breath, trying to settle your dizziness. Honestly, you just were glad you had been cautious enough to cover the outsides of the box with rubber… it might have saved your life.

“Hey” Marty gently folded a finger under your chin, slowly lifting it up so you looked at him. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah…” You smiled, although you clung on to his shoulders for support. “Now I know why Uncle Emmett always says time travel is dangerous”

You expected Marty to laugh again, but he didn’t. Trying to focus your eyes, you peered up at him. He was staring at you. As you stared back at him, you knew. Somehow, even though neither of you said a word, you knew. You knew that something had struck you along with that lightning: a realization. You were struck with the realization that the kiss had been more than just pretend. So much more than that.

Finally, Marty laughed. You did too, letting out a chuckle of happiness and relief. At least your little adventure wasn’t in vain.. it made you realize Marty was much more than just your best friend.

“Uh… we better get back” He said, lovingly rubbing your arm. “Before anything else happens”

“Yeah, we’ve got plenty of time” You grinned at him. “Now, in the present”

Marty smiled and slowly separated from you, as though he was as willing as leaving that endearing closeness as you were. Sneaking playful yet timid glances at each other, the two of you started walking.

Your hands brushed together with how close you were again as you headed back home. A smile had taken over your features, and it only grew when Marty’s fingers gently tugged at yours. Without losing another precious second, you took his hand too.

“We have one hell of a story to tell Doc” Marty muttered, smiling as much as you were.

“Yeah, I don’t know what will surprise him more” You held your intertwined hands up, making Marty laugh.

Not only had you invented a working time machine that, while flawed, had successfully sent you back in time. You had also returned safely to your year without your uncle’s intervention and while avoiding several of your other selves without getting in their way. As well as that, you had realized you had fallen in love with your best friend, and it had been shocking an unexpected. Just like being struck by lightning.

Tag list: @call-me-harley-quinn​ / @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ / @fortheloveofbenyandtom​ / @caswinchester2000​ / @bravelittlesunflower​ // If you want to be added or taken off the tag list for these fandoms or characters, send me an ask!! // Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[kinglazrus]

Until Death Do We Part

Truce gift for @anthropwashere! Sorry I'm late, but I hope the wait was worth it!

Summary: For someone who fights ghosts, literal dead people, on a near-daily basis, you would think Danny could handle death better than this. He faces mortality every day, every time he goes ghost. So why can't he face this? Why is this any different than any other day? Because it was his Valerie, and he saw it, and he couldn't stop it. Because it was his fault.

(links to ffn and ao3 on my bio)

Warnings: gore and blood, panic attacks, murder

Word count: 24011

By the time the ambulance arrives, Valerie is already dead. The fight is over, Spectra and Bertrand long gone, and Danny—in human form—cradles her head in his lap. He doesn't know who called the ambulance, or when. Everything after Valerie's fall is a blur. He remembers a scream, his own most likely, and Spectra's victorious cackle, but not her retreat. The citizens had fled at some point near the start of the battle. How long was he holding her before someone returned, saw what happened?

After years of dealing with ghosts, the people of Amity Park had formed a simple routine. Run from the fight, don't get in the way or put yourself in danger, wait for the noises to end, wait a few minutes more, then trickle out of hiding once you know it's safe. The entire city knows the choreography by heart, follows every step with military precision. It's one of the main reasons no one has died during a ghost attack before. At least, until now.

The ambulance's wailing sirens cut out abruptly. Danny barely registers their absence, focused entirely on Valerie's face. If he lets himself get distracted, he might be tempted to look lower, at the wound that took her life a gaping mess of blood and shredded organs in the middle of her chest, covered by his jacket. Don't look at it. Don't think about it. Keep your eyes up.

People talk about peace in death, but he only sees agony on her face. Blood smears her lips, fills her mouth. Her wide eyes stare up at him, dull and empty. Shaking, Danny passes a hand over her eyes, trying to close them. As soon as he removes his hand, her eyelids slide back open. He tries again. They still don't close.

One of the paramedics comes up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, kid. It's not... it's not like the movies. That's not how it works." The paramedic glances back at her partner, a helpless look passing between them.

"I called dispatch," her partner says, speaking softly, but still loud enough for Danny to hear. "Coroner's on the way."

She nods, then turns her attention back on Danny. "I'm sorry but you need to let her go."

Danny squeezes his eyes shut and sobs. Oh, god. Oh, god. He doesn't know what to do. He can't let her go, can't leave her, but she won't stop looking at him with those dead, accusing eyes. Another sob tears through him, and another, each cry ripping him to smaller and smaller pieces. He presses a hand to his mouth, clamping down hard as if he can force the sobs back down his throat if he pushes hard enough.

Belatedly, he notices the taste of copper on his tongue. Danny scrambles away from Valerie, her head dropping with a thump that makes the paramedics wince, and barely makes it two feet before his stomach heaves and he pukes in the street. A hand rubs his back; a soft voice whispers empty reassurances. When Danny finishes puking, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and gasping for breath, he leans back on his heels and looks up at a paramedic. Blinking through his tears, Danny catches her nameplate, C. Vaughan.

"Hey, you're okay," she says.

Danny stares at her incredulously. Okay? How is any of this okay? Valerie is dead. His mind is still reeling. Despite seeing it happen, some part of him can't believe it's real. Someone died during a ghost attack. Not just someone, but Valerie. And she wasn't killed by any old ghost, either. Nothing is okay, and it never will be again.

Because Danny Phantom killed Valerie Gray.

—

It takes nearly twenty minutes for the coroner to arrive. That whole time, Danny refuses to move or even talk. He doesn't approach Valerie's body again, but he can't walk away either. A handful of cops—he's not sure when they arrived—have set up a perimeter around the scene, keeping curious onlookers back. Looking over the line of people crowding against the police tape, disgust swells in Danny's gut. They're treating it like a show, pointing and whispering. Danny, grinding his teeth, glares at them, wanting nothing more than to blast them down the street.

In the throng, he catches a glimpse of Lance Thunder's perfectly coiffed hair.

The scrape of boots on asphalt pulls his gaze from the reporter, and he looks to his right. Vaughan approaches him, a water bottle and a cloth in her hand. She offers both to him. "You should get yourself cleaned up."

Danny stares at the offering blankly.

"Unless you want me to do it for you?"

At eighteen years old, Danny's entire face goes red at the thought of someone cleaning him like that. He snatches the items from Vaughan's hands, soaks the cloth in water, and scrubs at his cheeks. By now, the blood has long since dried, dark red streaks stretching across his cheeks. He remembers how warm it felt when it first splattered across his face.

Danny flinches, hands freezing. It takes him a moment to compose himself, shoving the sensation to the back of his mind, before he finishes scrubbing.

"Careful, or else you'll start peeling for skin off." Vaughan laughs weakly at her joke.

Danny doesn't even crack a smile. His face still feels dirty, but the cloth is more pink than white now, and it doesn't seem to be getting any darker, so he must have gotten all of it. Unsure of what to do with them, he offers the cloth and bottle back to Vaughan.

She takes them, then sits on the curb beside him. Her presence is neither comforting nor annoying, she's just there, a warm body next to him, soaking in his misery.

"It's never easy, finding a body," she says.

Danny holds back a snort. Right. Finding. As if he didn't watch it happen. As if it wasn’t all his fault.

"You're the Fenton boy, right?"

"One and only, last I checked."

"Marty called your parents." She nods toward the ambulance. For a second, Danny thinks she means her partner, the other paramedic, and he's confused about why they would call his parents. But then he realizes she's motioning to the cop standing beside her partner. Every few seconds, Marty the Cop glances his way. "I told him to back off for a bit, but he's gonna ask you a few questions about what happened before you can go."

Danny frowns. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you just found a dead body, and that's a horrible experience to go through, but it also means a bunch of strangers are going to ask you questions about what happened, and I think you should know what's happening before you get into it."

"I didn't find her."

Vaughan raises an eyebrow. "But dispatch said–"

"I was there. I was with her. We were friends."

Vaughan goes silent. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, letting it out slowly. "Oh," she says, packing so much emotion into one soft syllable. Pity, distress, world-weary exhaustion. A hint of anger. Hearing it makes Danny flinch, leaves him winded as if she punched him. Just another ache on top of all his growing bruises. He gets the feeling he's not the first kid she's had to deal with who watched someone die, and he probably won't be the last.

"Yeah," he says.

"Was that your jacket on her?"

Danny nods.

"That was a good thing you did. I can't imagine what's going through your head right now, but I think she would have been happy to have someone with her at the end."

Bracing his elbows on his knees, Danny clutches his head. Vaughan's trying to comfort him, but he finds no solace in her words. She has no idea what she's talking about. The look in Valerie's eyes at the end, seething even as the light drained out of them. His presence brought her no comfort, and he won't be forgetting that any time soon.

Vaughan nudges Danny. "Marty incoming."

He looks up and sees the cop approaching them, beady eyes narrowed on Danny. Marty the Cop keeps a hand on his belt, fingers drumming against his thigh. Inches away from his stun gun, Danny notes. Real quality cops in Amity Park, he thinks.

"Daniel Fenton?" Marty asks.

"No."

"Funny. I know your parents, and I hope you'll be a lot easier to deal with than they are."

"Marty!" Vaughan hisses. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Hey, just saying. You know how the Fentons are."

"Have some compassion you heathen."

Marty rolls his eyes. "Daniel. We don't have a procedure for something like this, but I'm gonna need you to come down to the station so I can get a statement. Your parents," he sneers, "will meet us there."

"But Valerie..." Danny trails off. The coroner already has her in a body bag on a stretcher. They're in the middle of loading her into the van, taking her away. Danny watches, numb. A protest nearly rises to his lips, but he holds it back. What does he think that's going to do? They can't leave her in the street, and he can't sit here forever. She's gone and nothing's going to change that.

Marty taps his foot impatiently, staring down at Danny.

Danny waits until the coroner slams the van's back door before answering. "Okay. Let's go."

—

The interrogation room is cold, the metal table raising goosebumps along Danny's arm as he leans against it. Marty brought him here "for privacy." Danny thinks the guy just hates his parents and wants to see him squirm. Danny relishes in disappointing him, far too numb to react to the sombre setting.

"Name?" Marty asks.

"Daniel James Fenton." Danny answers.

"How did you find the deceased?"

"I– I was there. I watched the fight. Um." Danny scrambles for an explanation. "I got stuck in the street, and I saw it."

"Can you describe what happened to me?"

"She and Phantom were fighting some ghosts. I didn't see exactly, but something happened, and Valerie fell off her board. And she–"

"Are you confirming the deceased's identity?"

Danny stares at Marty, confused. The cop had to see her face. She hadn't been wearing her visor when it happened, her head exposed for anyone to see. A good few seconds pass before Danny realizes his mistake. To Marty, Valerie wasn't anybody, just a face behind a mask. Only now does it dawn on him that none of those bystanders were looking at Valerie Gray, a high school student killed tragically. When they saw the body, they saw Red Huntress, a local hero brought down by a foe.

"Yeah. Her name is Valerie Gray. She's a senior at Casper High." Danny says.

Marty's eyes widen minutely. "Your relationship with her?"

Danny starts to say friends, then stops. Would she call him a friend now? He settles on, "Classmates. We were classmates."

Before Danny's eyes, Marty's whole demeanour changes. "Shit, kid," he says. He frowns and rubs his eyes, sighing in a way that makes Danny think of Vaughan. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to see that, and I shouldn't have– just, sorry. I know it must be hard, but can you tell me what happened?"

Danny spares a moment to collect himself. "She, uh. Something happened and she fell, and one of the ghosts. They, it could shapeshift. And it st–stabbed her." Danny swallows, trying to wash away the bitter taste the lie leaves in his mouth. He almost wants Marty to call him out on it, point out the way his fingers twitch or how his gaze jumps around the room as a subtle tell.

Tell me I'm lying, Danny thinks. Make me tell the truth. To his disappointment, Marty just hums and writes Danny's words in his notepad.

"I'm sorry I had to bring you down here," Marty says when he finishes. "Your parents should be here by now."

Danny nods.

Marty doesn't move, staring intently at the table.

"Are we... are we done?" Danny asks.

"Huh?" Marty looks up. "Oh. Yeah, you can go." He still doesn't move.

"Okay..." Danny stands up, shoving his chair back. The metal legs screech on the concrete floor, but Marty doesn't react beyond a reflexive wince. On his way out of the room, Danny hears Marty mutter.

"A high school senior? Damn."

Danny doesn't stick around after that, quickening his steps and hurrying out to the bullpen. As he nears, he hears a commotion, raised voices.

"Where's our son?"

"Sir, he's just being questioned right now."

"Questioned? What for? He's not a criminal."

"It's the procedure, please, sit down."

"It's ghosts is what it is, and that's our business!"

At the end of the hall, Danny lurches to a stop. "Dad!"

Jack turns toward his voice and beams. "Danny!" He puts down the cop he was harassing, setting them back on the floor. Danny's surprised no one tried to cuff his dad for that stunt. Then again, Jack is a good foot taller than the tallest person here, and at least twice as wide. He engulfs Danny in a crushing hug, thick arms wrapped around his shoulders. "They told us something happened with a ghost and the Red Huntress."

"What were you doing out of school, young man?" Maddie scolds from behind Jack. "You can't afford another tardy."

"Valerie's dead," Danny says.

Danny can't see his parent's faces, not with his own pressed against Jack's chest, but he feels Jack tense and hears Maddie gasp.

"Oh, sweetie. That poor girl." Maddie's hand finds its way to Danny's head, brushing his hair softly. "I'm so sorry. What happened?"

"There was a ghost–"

"A ghost!" Jack releases Danny and steps back, pumping his fists. "Damn ghosts! Which one did it? We gotta get 'em, Mads."

"Of course, dear. But perhaps we should take Danny home first?" Maddie gives Jack's arm a placating pat and tilts her head towards Danny.

"Please?" Danny's voice is soft and pleading to his ears. All he wants right now is to collapse in bed and shut everything out for a few hours. He'd take days if he could manage it, but with his family, tough luck. A part of him hopes no one tells Jazz any time soon, at least not until he's unconscious.

They head out to the RV, Maddie and Jack claiming the front seat while Danny curls up in the back, thankful for the meagre amount of solitude it provides him. His parents' murmuring voices wash over him, lulling him into a daze as they drive—Maddie at the wheel, thank god.

Danny barely believes Valerie's gone. He glances out the window, half expecting to see her streaking across the sky on her board, a blur of black and red. Not even an hour ago, they were exchanging taunts and banter as they beat Spectra and Bertrand back. Neither ghost was much of a fighter. Together, he and Valerie should have taken them, easy, but all their guns and ectoblasts couldn't stop the mental hits from catching them. Out of all his enemies, Danny's never feared anyone like he fears Spectra.

Pariah Dark and Dan? They might be three times his size and ten times as strong, but he knows how to fight ghosts like them. A well-placed hit, a lucky shot, and victory is his. But Spectra? She leaves scars so much deeper than any ecto-burn, ripping him open and dragging every flaw to the surface. Too weak, too pathetic, too confused to fight against her, she overwhelms him more often than not. And now... every taunt she's ever tossed his way comes to mind.

I'm sure you're only half the monster your parents think you are.

Everyone's afraid of being weak, but I've never seen someone meet those expectations so well!

Not everyone is cut out to be the hero.

Turns out, Spectra was right all along.

—

Maddie pulls up outside Fenton Works, idles long enough for Danny to step out of the RV, then peels out with the sound of shrieking treads. "Let's get that ghost, baby!" Jack bellows. And then they're gone, around the corner and out of sight.

Watching the dust settle over the road once more, Danny isn't sure what to feel. He's pretty sure that normal parents wouldn't just leave their freshly grieving son at home alone so they can go hunt ghosts, but when have his parents ever been normal? At this point, Danny doesn't think he could function with regular parents. Growing up, he wished Maddie and Jack were less Fenton, but after nearly two decades, Danny knows how to deal with Fentons. He knows how to be alone when his parents set out seeking vengeance on the local spectres.

Danny heads inside, kicking off his shoes at the door, and instinctively goes to set down his backpack, until he remembers it's still at school, probably in Lancer's classroom. Unless Sam or Tucker grabbed it for him. He flexes his empty hand before letting his arm drop to his side. It's Friday, anyway. He has all weekend to get his backpack back, no matter where it ends up.

Danny goes straight to his bedroom, flopping onto his bed. He should change out of his clothes, still smeared with Valerie's blood, but he doesn't have the energy for it. The thought of getting up and digging through his drawers makes his limbs heavy. But sleeping in the shirt Valerie bled out on... that thought has Danny lurching out of bed. He fumbles about in his laundry basket, grabbing a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. In seconds, he's stripped off the bloody clothes and dressed himself in, at least relatively, clean new ones.

The bloody clothes get shoved under his bed. Out of sight, out of mind. And right now he wants to be out of here. A few hours of sleep where everything else can just fade away sounds great right about now. Finally, Danny slips into bed, pulling his covers up to his chin, and lets sleep take him.

—

Snow crunches under his boots. The afternoon sun glints off the sparkling surface, nearly blinding him. He has to squint and shade his eyes to see properly. Even then, it hurts. Danny shivers, drawing his arms in close. He puffs out frosty clouds with every breath, crystals of ice hanging in the air for a moment before they melt, droplets falling to the ground.

Scanning his surroundings, he tries to find some kind of marker. A building, a sign. He'd even take a tree, anything that isn't snow. But no such luck. It's a flat white field in every direction, stretching well into the horizon.

"Great," he mutters. Of course, he's lost. He can't even remember how he got here. Flying, maybe. Chasing a ghost. Looking down at himself, he sees his familiar white and black jumpsuit, so he already went ghost.

Danny shivers again, his whole body trembling. His jumpsuit might be great against hazardous ectoplasmic materials, but the black boots and gloves, designed for lab work, provide little warmth. His fingers and toes are already numb. The heavyweight fabric making up the rest of the suit is a little better, but not much. He can't remember the last time he felt this cold. Not since before he got his ice powers, at least. Back then, it felt like a blizzard raged within him, full of furious winds and freezing air.

This feels like sinking into the bottom of a frozen lake, where there's nothing to feel but cold and crushed.

"I can't stay here," he says, receiving no answer. Not surprising. Who would answer him out here? Sighing, he gives the horizon another speculative glance and picks a random direction. No matter what way he goes, he has to find civilization eventually, especially if he flies.

Danny takes off into the air, makes it two feet up, then plummets back down and faceplants in the snow.

It takes him a moment to realize what happened. When he does, he jerks his head back, spitting out snow, and stares at the imprint of his face in the ground. Glancing at his chest, he checks again to make sure he's in ghost form. Jumpsuit? Check. Ghostly aura? He can't tell, thanks to all the snow. Even the white of his jumpsuit blends into the field. If anyone is out there, all they would see of him are the black pricks of his boots and gloves.

Pushing himself back to his feet, Danny tries again. And again. And again. Each time earns him the same result, a moment of weightlessness at the apex of his jump, followed by a lurch as he drops back down. After the fifth try, Danny finally admits it. He can't fly. If he wants to go anywhere, it has to be on foot. Dreading the trek ahead, he sets off.

With every step, the cold digs in a little more, sinking its sharp claws into his chest. Breathing hurts. Every inhale he feels ice coating his mouth. Every exhale, crystals sting as they drag across his tongue. Blood wells in his mouth, tinting the mist leaving his mouth pink.

Still, Danny presses on. He can't tell how long he walks for. The sun stays rooted to its place in the sky, almost directly above him, shining pale and blue. He's gotten used to staring at the bright snow, at least, able to keep his eyes open without them hurting, so that's a bonus. Squinting into the distance, Danny finally sees something. It glitters, bright and blue, although that might be the sunlight. Either way, it brings a relieved grin to Danny's face. Bolstered, he takes off running.

At first, it looks like a giant mass, but the closer he gets, the better he can make it out. Spires of ice, hundreds of them, protruding from the earth, like a giant's icy fingers poking through the grave. They sharpen into needle-thin claws at the tips, far above his head.

Danny slows when he reaches the first one. It's as thick as the Fenton RV and taller than any building in Amity Park. He can't help but feel awed, tipping his head back as he stares up to the top. Something tells him this isn't a natural formation. He looks at it and sees an awesome display of power.

"Jealous?" a voice whispers in his ear.

Danny spins toward the noise, but the space beside him is empty. He backs away, eyeing the open air with suspicion. "Who said that?"

Something rushes at his left side. He stumbles back, bumping against the ice, and nearly tumbles into the snow. "Who's there?"

"Imagine what you could do with this kind of strength."

Danny swings at the voice. It cackles and flies away out of reach, but not fast enough for him to miss completely. His knuckles skim something, telling him this isn't in his head. It's real. It's real and he can fight it.

"Just let it out, you'll feel better."

Danny snarls and lunges after the voice. He chases it through the spires, spitting curses and swinging his fists. Every hit misses, but he gets tantalizingly close, feeling cloth and skin brush his knuckles more than once. He loses himself deeper and deeper into the maze, kicking up snow, slipping on the ice.

All the while, the voice taunts him.

"If only you had this power. No one could stand up to you, could they? But you're just so weak."

"I'm not weak!"

Stale breath wafts across his face. Danny recoils, lips curling in disgust at the smell. The figure, inches from him yet still unseen, whispers, "Then why couldn't you save her?"

"Shut up! Shut up! Leave. Me. Aloooooooooooo–" Danny's cry pierces the air. It reverberates throughout the icy maze, shaking spires and cracking the ground beneath his feet. Jagged fissures split the ice, shattering the spires into pieces. All around him, they fall in chunks, smashing against the ground.

The wail echoes long after his breath runs out and the spires have crumbled, leaving him in a field of ruin. He gasps, hungry for air, chest tight and mouth numb. Something drips off his lips. Red drops litter the snow at his feet. Reaching up, he touches his mouth and his fingers come away bloody. It spills down his chin rivulets, fills up his mouth and lungs until he's drowning in it. Choking, Danny stumbles forward. His foot catches on a chunk of ice and he falls forward, barely catching himself on his hands. Blood sprays from his mouth.

"Pathetic."

Danny raises his head. Everything's blurry, but he can just make out Spectra's dark form in front of him.

"No wonder you died," she sneers. Turning her head, she glances at something off to the side.

Danny follows her gaze and sees a single spire still standing, this one far shorter than the others were. He swallows, struggles to take a breath. It comes out raspy and wet. Pushing through the agony, he crawls forward until the spire is inches away. The white of his jumpsuit is stained red, looking more like Valerie's old suit than his. Reaching out, Danny lays his hand on the spire. His reflection doesn't reach back.

Trapped in the ice, lips blue from the cold, Valerie opens her eyes.

—

Danny's head is thrumming when he wakes. The room spins. Blood rushes in his ears. He feels his heart beating against his temple, his chest, his throat. It takes a good minute for everything to settle down, leaving him flushed and dizzy. He throws an arm over his eyes, the fading image of Valerie's glare piercing the darkness.

It was just a dream.

Danny scrubs his face and pushes himself upright, sparing a glance at his alarm clock. Nearly eight a.m. He slept through the whole afternoon and night, and yet exhaustion still drags at him. Too bad, he won't be sleeping again any time soon. Not if that's what waits for him.

As his pounding heart finally quiets, slowing to a steady pace, he hears a soft buzzing. Danny's head swivels, his gaze searching the room for the source. It must be his phone, but he left that at school with his backpack yesterday. And yet, there it is, sitting just inside his bedroom, leaning against the wall by the door. His friends must have brought it for him after all.

He grabs his backpack and digs through the main pouch, finding his phone soon enough. Sam's name appears at the top of the screen. He hesitates before hitting the answer button.

"Hey, Sam," he says.

"Danny! I wasn't sure if you'd be awake. When you didn't come back to school, we thought you had gotten hurt during your fight, and we couldn't call you to check."

"Not quite, I guess." Danny makes a noise, not quite a laugh, less than a groan.

"No one answered the door when I dropped off your bag, so I left it in the flowerbed and texted Jazz. I just found out what happened."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Um, Tucker's with me, actually. Hold on."

Sam goes silent for a moment. As she's distracted, Danny sets his backpack on the floor again and backs up to his bed, dropping on the mattress with a bounce.

"Okay, it's on speaker."

"Hey, Danny," Tucker says.

"I texted him as soon as I heard. We're on our way over now, but I thought we'd call first. See if you were, you know. Okay."

"I'm–" Danny falters. Of course he's not okay; how could Sam even ask that? What does she expect him to say? I saw Valerie die, and it's all my fault, but sure, I'm great! "No, Sam. I'm not."

"Man, I'm sorry you were alone. We should have gone with you," Tucker says.

Danny pales. "No! Oh, god, Tuck, no." He runs the scenario through his head. Sam and Tucker by his side when it happened. Sam and Tucker dead, just like Valerie. If not dead, then... witnesses to his lowest moment. He wouldn't be able to look them in the eyes if they had been there. He's not sure he can look them in the eyes now. "It's better for you that you weren't there."

"But not for you! We should have asked if you needed our help before you left. Maybe we could have–"

"No. You couldn't have known, Tuck. Look, I thought it was the Box Ghost or something, not..." Danny presses a hand to his eyes and takes a sharp breath through his nose. "It doesn't matter. It happened. She's gone."

In the silence that follows, Danny perfectly pictures Sam and Tucker trading worried looks.

"Danny." Sam takes over. "It must have been horrible."

"Yeah, it was." He can practically hear Sam grimacing at that.

"It must have been horrible," she repeats. "It shouldn't have happened. And you never should have seen it. We're still sorry we couldn't be there for you."

Danny squeezes his eyes shut. Why, why are they apologizing? Why are they being nice? They should be screaming at him for letting Valerie die. Four years of ghost fighting and he loses someone now when he's supposed to be at his best, his strongest. Not only couldn't he save her, but he's also the reason she's dead. If anything, Sam and Tucker should have been there in his place, then Valerie would have survived.

"Guys, it's... it's fine."

"No, it isn't. We can talk when we get there if you want to. It might help."

"Actually, I think I want to be alone right now." Guilt pricks Danny's heart, but he means it. He doesn't want to talk about it, and if they're just going to pity him, then he doesn't want his friends with him. At least not right now. "Maybe tomorrow or something."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I just. Need time to myself, to process," he says.

"Okay, if that's what you need."

"Just don't shut us out, okay, man?" Tucker says.

Danny nods, then remembers they can't see him and promises just as much. "I'll be okay."

Sam and Tucker say their goodbyes, neither of them sounding confident. Danny hangs up before they can apologize to him or offer any more condolences. He doesn't deserve their pity.

Tossing his phone away, he stays rooted to the spot for a moment, trying to swallow down the tightness in his throat. It doesn't help much. Instead, pressure builds behind his eyes, and no matter how much he tries to fight it, the tears come unbidden. He cries quietly, biting his tongue to stay silent, like a child fighting not to be heard. He doesn't hear the usual clangs and bangs signalling his parents' presence—perhaps they're out hunting for Valerie's killer once again, unaware he lies in their own home—but Jazz could be here; it was the weekend. He doesn't want her to hear him and come knocking on his door.

So, he turns and falls onto his side, shoving his face into his comforter, and makes as little noise as possible as his entire body shakes. Jazz says crying is supposed to make you feel better, once you're done feeling terrible. Somehow, he can't imagine any good feelings coming from this. The tears stop soon enough, leaving him with a pounding headache, puffy eyes, and, just as predicted, feeling no better than before.

As he struggles to pull himself together, rubbing the tear tracks from his face, he hears footsteps outside his door. He pauses, holding his breath, hoping they will pass by.

They don't. A light knock comes.

"Danny?" Jazz whispers, her voice soft enough that he can barely hear her through the door. For one terrifying moment, he thinks he heard her after all, but then she goes on. "Are you awake?"

He doesn't answer.

Jazz waits for another second or two, then leaves. Danny lets out the breath he was holding and sags in relief. He will have to talk to her eventually, but for now, he wants to be alone. Assured that he will get his wish, for a little while longer at least, he crawls back into bed. With the nightmare fresh on his mind, he has no plans to fall asleep again, and settles on staring at his phone, grabbing it from where he tossed it away by his pillow. Today is a day for being numb.

—

Danny stays in his room all day. At noon, Jazz comes around again, knocking on his door and asking to be let in. He turns her away.

"I just want to be by myself right now," he tells her.

She gives in easily enough. "Okay, that's fine. But don't forget to eat. I'm going to the library and I'll be back later."

"I won't forget," Danny says. And he doesn't. He thinks about it, a lot, but he doesn't have the energy to go downstairs and raid the fridge for food. There might be something in the cupboard, some crackers he can snack on with little effort, but even then, the prospect of heading all the way downstairs stops him. One day of wallowing won't hurt. He's gone longer without food the few times he's gotten stuck in the deepest parts of the Ghost Zone.

Sam and Tucker send him a few texts throughout the day. Word has spread fast about Friday's events. Practically the whole town now knows that Valerie Gray was the Red Huntress, and that Fenton boy was there when she died.

Danny doesn't like Amity's rumour mill, never has. More often than not, the churning gears spew out harsh words about his family. He's heard everything from jabs at his father's intelligence—completely incorrect, Danny would like to see anyone else design a ghost portal—to sly suggestions about Danny's parentage—thanks, Vlad, for gleefully fuelling those—to whispers about how neglectful his parents supposedly are. He can't entirely argue against that last one, but he still doesn't like to hear it.

Horror fills him at what things they might be saying on Valerie's death.

As night approaches and Jazz returns home, Danny has barely moved from his bed. He got up once to go to the bathroom and ended up huddled on the bathroom floor for a good hour, afraid to look in the mirror, plagued by visions from his nightmare. Jazz knocks on his door again, and, again, he feigns sleep, pulling the covers up over his head. Good thing, because this time, instead of walking away when he doesn't respond, she opens the door and peeks inside.

"Oh, Danny," she says. Danny struggles to keep his breathing even as she walks closer, her steps signalled only by the creaking of his floorboards. The bed dips when she sits on the other side, at his back. Her hand rests on his hair, nearly making him flinch.

"I hope you know I'm here for you. It's only been a day, but don't lock yourself away in here. It won't make you feel any better."

He wonders why she's saying all this when he's asleep, as far as she knows. If he hadn't been awake, her words would mean nothing to him. He scowls into his pillow, suddenly decided that they do mean nothing to him. If this is her version of helping, comforting him when he isn't even awake to hear it, then he doesn't want her help. Danny's glad when she leaves.

Sometime later, he's not sure how long, Maddie and Jack come home, too. They make far more noise, or Jack does, stomping around downstairs, grumbling his disappointment at catching no ghosts. They come to check on him, too, but unlike Jazz, they stay at his door, saying nothing, slipping away when they realize he's 'sleeping'.

Danny almost laughs. Sleeping, right. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Valerie falling, hears her scream. Relives the moment over and over again with Spectra's laughter echoing in his ears. If these are the kinds of things plaguing him while awake, he doesn't want to know what else lies waiting in his nightmares, especially after last night. He sits in his room, curled on his bed, and stares at nothing. More than once, he hears Jack and Maddie groaning about the ghost they failed to catch.

"We'll get them, Mads. Don't you worry. No rotten ghost can escape the Fentons for long!"

"That poor girl. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

Then why didn't you try and stop it? a traitorous part of Danny's mind whispers. If you knew, why didn't you save her?

A more rational thought breaks through the bitter hisses. And what could they have done? Hunted ghosts more than they already do? Built a permanent containment system so Danny could keep his enemies locked away forever? Put a shield around all of Amity Park to keep the ghosts out?

Yes.

Danny stairs up at his ceiling, blinking slowly as he ponders that revelation. Yes, they could have. If they thought ghosts were so dangerous, if they expected someone to die at their hands eventually, then they should have done something, anything, to stop it. Make something to ward ghosts away, arm citizens with protective gear and weapons, close the fucking portal. They had so many options and they did nothing.

Danny has never hated his parents before. Been mad at them? Yes. Embarrassed by them? Definitely. But hated them? The feeling is so foreign, yet it rushes quickly to fill his entire being, a burning rage that has him clenching and unclenching his fists, holding back a blast of ectoplasm. Furious accusations ring through his head. Why didn't you; how couldn't you; you could have stopped this!

They could have stopped it.

They could have stopped him.

Danny chokes on bitter laughter. It's not funny, but he can't help it. His parents are putting in all this effort to find Valerie's killer, but little do they know, he's living right above their heads. Maybe if they looked at him with the same accusing eye they cast on Jazz whenever she acts a little out of the ordinary, they could have prevented Valerie's death long ago.

He resists the urge to call out, "I'm here! Come get me!" As much as he wants them to turn their weapons on him, the image fills him with terror. It's bad enough staring at them from the bad end of a barrel in ghost mode, but doing it as a human? Telling them he had killed someone? He wants someone to hate him, to scream at him, but at the same time, he can't stand seeing the betrayal in their eyes, realizing that he'd been a ghost all along, the one thing they hate above all else.

Danny whimpers. This is pathetic; he's pathetic. Forget hating his parents, he doesn't think he's ever hated himself this much before. But it still doesn't matter, because it won't bring Valerie back.

—

There's a shadow in Danny's room. He finds it the second day after Valerie's death, when he's nearing forty-eight hours of no sleep. He hasn't tried since yesterday, too afraid of his nightmares, occupying himself with his phone instead. Hell, he even picked up his textbook at one point, when playing games got too boring.

He hasn't eaten yet, despite Jazz's efforts, and barely had anything to drink. Stomach cramps come and go, but the headache stays with him, a combination of dehydration and exhaustion as the fortieth hour without sleep slips by. It's no surprise, then, that he doesn't notice the shadow right away, not until it's solid enough to block out the glow-in-the-dark stars on his wall even though he stares right at it. Each cluster of stars, lovingly placed by his hand, forms a constellation. Together, they mimic the night sky, as well as plastic stars in a square room can mimic the infinite expanse of space. Danny knows the patterns by heart, can trace them with his eyes closed. When he sees two of Cepheus' stars are gone, he realizes something's wrong.

Dragging himself out of his trance, he rubs his eyes, scratchy and dry from staying open so long. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, and even then, he has to strain to see... something. It doesn't look like much; a dark cloud blending into the shadows of his room. The shape isn't human, or even ghostly. Just there.

Reaching over to his bedside table, Danny switches on his lamp. Soft orange light fills the room, illuminating the corner. The shadow is still there.

"He–" Danny's voice cracks. He swallows, grimacing at how dry it is. It's been a while since he had something to drink, or eat for that matter. "Hello?" he tries again, once it doesn't hurt to talk.

Anyone else might feel ridiculous talking to a cloud, but Danny's had entire conversations with less. You get used to that sort of thing when you talk to ghosts more than living people.

The cloud doesn't respond or react in any way. Hesitantly, Danny scratches ghost off the list of possibilities. Some kind of Ghost Zone anomaly? Not impossible, considering he lives ten feet above one of the only stable ghost portals in existence. A ghost messing with him? His ghost sense didn't go off, but it only works when an actual ghost is nearby, not an offshoot of their powers.

He can only think of one thing ghost-related that might show itself to him now of all times. He doesn't want to feel hope, but it swells in his chest anyway, bubbling up his throat until a single name bursts from his lips. "Valerie?"

The shadow quivers.

Danny clambers off his bed. "Valerie? Is it really you?"

When he gets close, the temperature plummets. A shiver seizes him, cold fingers curling around his spine.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to!"

Something cracks. Danny cries out as pain shoots up his back. He crumples, falling to the floor. It burns the same way sticking your hand in a bowl of ice water burns. He thinks he might shatter any second.

The shadow drifts closer.

"Stay back!" Danny shouts. Rolling onto his stomach, he crawls away, each movement sending searing pain up his back. Fighting back gasps of pain, he manages to drag himself up with his bed and turns on the shadow, still formless, but he has no doubts about its identity now. Valerie's hateful gaze stares out from the darkness.

Danny flees. It hurts, both running from her and just running. Every step feels like someone is driving a dagger deeper and deeper into his back, but he doesn't stop. He darts down the hall to Jazz's room and bangs on her door. Going ghost doesn't even cross his mind. He just needs someone else to see, needs to know this isn't all in his head.

"Jazz!" he shouts quietly.

Jazz rips the door open, a relieved look on her face. "You're out of your room." She takes in his panicked expression and turns serious. "What happened?"

Danny grabs her hand without saying anything and drags her to his room. "Look in the corner."

Jazz stops just in front of his door, glancing back at him; Danny has to prod her back to get her to step forward. She peeks her head in first, moving slow and deliberate. A few more steps and she slips into the darkness of his room. Danny bites his lip, afraid to go after her, slumping against the wall instead. Standing up hurts. Moving hurts. Everything hurts. He tries to slide down to the floor, but that hurts, too, and he resigns himself to standing perfectly still, waiting for Jazz's reaction.

She sticks her head out of his doorway. Rather than looking shocked like he expected, she stares at him with worry. "There's nothing here."

"What?" Danny jerks forward, biting back a wince of pain. Shooing Jazz back, he takes her place, clinging to the doorframe as he leans inside. The corner of his room is empty. A quick scan reveals no shadows out of place. "But..."

"Danny, are you okay? You haven't come out of your room in two days; that's not healthy. Have you been eating?" Jazz raises a hand to his forehead, but he flinches away from her touch.

"It was Valerie. I saw Valerie's ghost."

"Did you ghost sense go off?"

"Well, no. Not really. But it was her!"

Danny hates the way Jazz stares at him, a trace of a frown on her lips, her gaze critical, judging him, analyzing every twitch.

"Danny, you're distraught."

"No shit I'm distraught! Valerie's haunting me, apparently!" And she should. She has every right.

"Is she haunting you, or are you haunted by her?" Jazz asks.

Danny reels away from her, scowling. "What?"

"You're exhausted. You haven't been eating. Have you even changed your clothes since yesterday? Of course, you're thinking about Valerie, but you need to think about yourself, too." She reaches out again.

This time, Danny slaps her hand away, staring at her in disbelief. His lips curl back in a snarl. "That's not what this is. Jazz, I killed Valerie!"

"I know it feels like that, but it's not your fault. Just because you couldn't save her doesn't mean you did it."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do, Danny. Stop shouting, you're gonna wake Mom and Dad."

"No, I'm not shouting. You're not listening to me!

"Danny!"

His chest heaves. Breathing through his nose, Danny struggles to contain himself. The hall goes deathly quiet without their voices to fill it.

Jazz's face crumples. She rubs her eyes, wet and on the verge of tears, and stretches toward him once more, but gives up. Her hand hovers for a moment, then drops limp at her side. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. But you need to sleep. You've been in her room alone for too long. Have you even talked to Sam or Tucker today?"

He meant to. He honestly did, having promised the day before to see them today. But when the time came, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He ignored their texts and calls

"Get some sleep. You'll feel better after, and then we can talk tomorrow, okay?" Jazz says.

Tomorrow. He has school tomorrow, doesn't he?

"Goodnight, Danny." But Jazz doesn't leave right away. She shuffles her feet, contemplating something. Before Danny can react, she pulls him into a hug and kisses his forehead. "I love you, little brother."

She lingers for another second, then slips by him and heads back to her room. It isn't until Danny hears the sound of her door closing that he realizes she was waiting for him to say it back. Guilt rushes through him, briefly. He could go say it now, but... he doesn't. He trudges toward his bed instead, pausing just before he reaches int. Turning his head, he peers over his shoulder. The corner is still empty. His gaze slides to the tall mirror beside his desk, leaning against the wall rather than hanging from it.

Slowly, and with shaking hands, he pulls up his hoodie to expose his lower back. There's no mark. It doesn't hurt anymore, either, stopping sometime while he was shouting at Jazz. He didn't even notice.

Danny shakes his head.  "You're just seeing things. You're tired. It's been... rough." Valerie's bloody torso flashes through his mind. He hunches forward, a shudder running through his body. "Fuck." He grabs his head, tangled hair catching on his fingers. His scalp stings as his nails dig in, but he doesn't care.

Eventually, he lays down, too tired to hold himself upright. He still tries to fight against sleep's tempting hold, gripping his arms so tight it hurts, clinging to the pain to keep him awake. No matter what, he won't let himself fall asleep.

—

Shards of ice slice his tongue and lips as he breathes. In, out, they glide across his mouth until all he can taste is blood, the shards slowly shredding his throat. He tries to grip his chest but finds a gaping wound instead, wider than his fist. Inside, his heart thumps weakly. One of his lungs, ripped open and slowly filling with blood, sags through the hole. Blood and gore spill down his chest, staining the snow all around him. All at once, he's drowning and bleeding out. Which one will kill him first? He doesn't know.

The lonely spire looms ahead of him, Valerie still trapped inside. She's wearing his jumpsuit. Looking down, Danny sees he's wearing hers. Or maybe he's Valerie, and Danny is the one caught in the ice. Drowning, bleeding, freezing to death.

"Why didn't you save me?" Valerie asks the reflection.

He gurgles in response. Unable to move, he watches, helpless, as his heart stops beating.

—

Danny jerks upright so fast that he tumbles out of bed, smacking his face on the hardwood floor. He barely registers the pain, too busy pressing his hands to his chest. The panic doesn't fade until he feels his pounding heart, strong and steady. There's no hole in his chest, no blood in his lungs. He swallows, pressing a hand against his mouth.

It was just a dream. He fell asleep on accident, that's all. He's fine. He's not hurt. There's no blood. Right as he finishes that thought, he notices the scarlet splatter on his floor.

Danny's stomach lurches. Scrambling to his feet, he rushes to the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He barely makes it to the toilet before his stomach heaves, acid burning his throat as it makes its way up. There's nothing in his stomach to throw up, but that doesn't stop the heaves from coming, dry wretches tearing at his throat. Nearly a minute passes before Danny finally stops, able to catch his breath at last. Blood and bile swirl in the water and the sight of it almost has him throwing up again. He looks away from the bowl and scoots back to the wall, unable to take the smell, but unable to stand. His legs tremble too hard.

Shaking fingers rise to his mouth and touch his lips. No ice. No cuts. The only taste on his tongue is vomit. Danny swallows, and the motion makes his nose ache. Wincing, he raises his hand a little higher. His nose is bleeding, not his mouth. He swallows again and rubs his nose on his arm, leaving a bright red streak behind.

Danny can't bear to look at it. He's used to blood, especially his own after fighting for so many years. But right now it makes his stomach churn. It makes him think of that fight, of Valerie and watching her fall. He swallows again and breathes, heavy, through his mouth. His nose feels stuffed and warm, and it's definitely still bleeding. Rather than taking care of it right away, he closes his eyes and shudders. It happened so fast. He barely had time to move, much less to try and catch her. By the time he realized what was happening, it was already too late. He saw her body plummeting, and then...

Phantom blood sprays across Danny's face, hot and thick. He jerks back, thumping his head against the wall. His cheeks grow warm. Blood drips from his nose onto his lips, and the taste of copper fills his mouth. Valerie's blood is everywhere. On the ground, on him. Soaking into his gloves and staining his face. Danny wheezes, struggling to take in air. His chest heaves, and he can feel his body going through the motions, but it's like the air disappears somewhere between his mouth and his lungs. No matter how much he gasps and gulps, it's never enough. His lungs burn. His head aches. The bathroom tiles are slick and red, and the whole room tilts around him.

Fighting back a sob, Danny crawls forward. He grabs the counter and drags himself up. His legs, quivering, barely hold him, but it's enough. He fumbles with the sink tap, twisting it hard and nearly yanking it off the faucet. Over and over, he splashes water across his face. Scrubbing around his nose hurts, but he keeps going, rubbing furiously to get rid of all the blood. He doesn't stop until the water, on the coldest setting, makes him shiver. By then, the front of his shirt is soaked, and his hair is dripping wet.

Leaning over the sink, Danny takes a moment to breathe. It comes easier now, the air finally reaching where it's supposed to go, although his face still hurts. After a moment, he looks up at his reflection. His nose is a little red, but there's no more blood on his face.

Danny's cheeks flush. It was never Valerie's blood, just his own. He feels ridiculous, embarrassed, for getting so panicked over a bloody nose. Shifting his gaze to the floor, he sees only a few small spots on the tiles, not the seeping puddle that plagued his imagination.

"You're being stupid, Fenton," Danny says. "And now you're talking to yourself. Like an idiot."

He washes his face one more time, using warmer water and less frantic movements, as if that erases the panic he felt moments ago. Cleaning up his mess doesn't take long. Wipe away the spots on the floor with a few squares of toilet paper; toss that in the toilet and flush it away, along with the vomit. A quick swipe with the hand towel takes care of the water on the counter. He squeezes out his hair and strips off his shirt, too, bundling it up in the towel, and chucks both in the hamper. He's too exhausted to clean the blood out of it now, especially with the prospect of school looming over him. Maybe he'll get to it later. Or, worse comes to worst, he can just throw it away if the blood won't come out.

Before leaving the bathroom, he presses his ear to the door, listening for movement outside. He can't hear his parents. Chances are they already left, out for ghostly blood in the pre-dawn hours. It doesn't sound like Jazz is home, either. It is Monday, and she likes to leave early for college, spending the whole day on campus to focus on her work.

Holding his breath, he eases the door open and peers into the hall. Empty. He almost smiles, thankful no one was home to hear his breakdown, and shoves the door open the rest of the way.

Jazz stands on the other side of it, arms crossed. "Danny. We need to talk."

He grimaces. "Do we?"

"I could hear." She gives the bathroom a pointed look, a flash of guilt passing over her face; it's gone soon enough, almost too fast for Danny to catch it. "Whatever you're doing to yourself, you can't keep doing it. Hiding away and keeping everything locked up won't help.

Danny opens his mouth, then closes it. What do you say to someone who heard something so private when you didn't want them to? "You were listening?" Immediately, he decides that was the wrong thing to say. As soon as the words leave his lips, Jazz's shoulders sag and she gives him a pitying smile. He should have played dumb.

"It's okay to cry. You saw something terrible, and you're hurting. I'd be more worried if you didn't cry. But don't think I forgot what happened last night.  You're allowed to be alone, of course, but shutting everyone out isn't healthy. Especially not if you're... seeing Valerie." She wrings her hands, a familiar nervous habit. She does it every time she's about to launch into one of her psycho-babble spiels and isn't sure if it's welcome or not. Well, it isn't.

Danny's eyes narrow. "Unhealthy?"

"Personal space is good, but total solitude after a traumatic experience can be damaging. I don't want you to be alone."

"Unhealthy?" he repeats. "I think ki– I think watching Val-Val-Valerie." He swallows down the stutter, cursing how much his body still shakes. His mind, a jumbled mess, can barely string two words together, much less deal with Jazz right now. "I think that watching Valerie fall. To her death. Is unhealthy. You know? I think that's a little fucked up, don't you?"

Jazz steps closer, reaching out, but seems to think better about it a second later, drawing her hands back. "Danny, just listen to yourself. If you need time, that's okay, but don't forget that I'm here for you."

"It hasn't even been two days!"

Jazz flinches away from his shout.

"I'll be fine." Danny lowers his voice but keeps the hard edge in his tone. "Just let me deal with it however I want to. If I want to talk, I'll talk to you, okay?"

"Danny, don't be like this."

"You're gonna be late for class, Jazz. And so am I." Danny turns away from her. "I have to go get ready."

She steps after him, but Danny doesn't turn back, shutting his bedroom door and locking it behind him. He hears Jazz make a distressed noise, halfway between a whine and a groan. After a moment, she thumps down the stairs. The front door doesn't open, meaning she's still in the house, but Danny will take what he can get. If he leaves quick enough, it won't matter.

He dresses fast, replacing his sweatpants with a pair of jeans, but keeps his hoodie on. He hasn't taken that off for three days, now, but it smells fine to him. And it's dark enough that you can't see the blood from his nose.

Danny scrubs his eyes. He may have preferred not sleeping at all, but he can't deny that he needed rest. Although, he at least would have liked to choose to sleep. Last, he remembers from the night before, he had no intentions of falling asleep. Danny frowns. Why didn't he want to sleep? Besides the obvious nightmares. Wasn't there another reason?

He runs his hand over his upper arm, gently brushes the bruises there, struggling to remember why he did it in the first place. He presses one of the purpling spots, wincing at the way it throbs, then freezes. The shadow.

Danny's head snaps up and he zeroes in on the corner of his room. It's empty. Cepheus' constellation meets his gaze unbroken. In an instant, he wilts with relief, shoulders slumping and head dipping down. He must have imagined the whole thing, exhausted as he was. Thank god. Now is not a good time for strange shadows in his room.

He gladly shoves the entire debacle into the back of his mind and rushes out of the house before Jazz can catch him again.

—

Danny miscalculated. Avoiding Jazz is easy, thanks to school. Not that he wants to go in the first place, but he can't afford to skip, and there's no way Jazz would protest against him going, not with his bad grades. So, school doesn't have Jazz. But school does have Sam and Tucker, who Danny has been ignoring.

Peeking at his phone, Danny winces at the overwhelming amount of missed calls and unanswered texts. He feels guilty for not answering them, but... he didn't want to. He just wanted to sit in his dark room and forget. Even now, that's all he wants. If it weren't for Jazz and his already disappointing attendance record, he would still be at Fenton Works, curled up on his bed. Which probably isn't good. His sister is a psych major, he knows harmful behaviour when he sees it. Primarily because Jazz points his harmful behaviours out all the time. You throw yourself into danger too much. You're stretching yourself too thin. You need to take a break.

He sneers at the sidewalk. Right. A break. Because that would have kept Valerie alive. Not that Danny's presence did anything to save her, either. He bites the inside of his cheek, not hard enough to draw blood—he doesn't want that taste back in his mouth for a long time—but enough to be distracting, cutting off that thought before it can go any further.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Valerie's gone and that's it. There's nothing more to it. She's gone and she's not coming back. For someone who fights ghosts, literal dead people, on a near-daily basis, you would think Danny could handle death better than this. He knows most of his enemies were once living, breathing people who died in tragic ways. Danny was once a living, breathing person who died in a tragic way. He just skipped out on the "stop breathing" part of things.

He faces mortality every day, every time he goes ghost. So why can't he face this? Why is this any different than any other day?

Because it was his friend, and he saw it, and he couldn't stop it. Because it was his fault.

Danny cups his mouth and chokes on a sob. He doesn't want to do this here, in the middle of the street. Or at all, if he could just not. But apparently, the rest of him thinks this a great time to breakdown, because the tears come unbidden, spilling over his cheeks. Ducking his head, he hurries forward. The faster he gets to school, the faster he can lock himself in the bathroom, or the janitor's closet, or anywhere without prying eyes.

The tears blur his vision, turning his feet into red smudges against the grey sidewalk. He doesn't dare lift his head, just in case anyone sees him. Thankfully, he doesn't need to watch where he's going to make his way to school. After four years, the route from Fenton Works to Casper High is firmly etched into his brain

Danny wipes some of the tears away with his sleeve when he reaches the school grounds, pausing to compose himself as much as he can. After a few deep breaths and swallowed sobs,  he feels well enough to storm the student body. With any luck, he can hold himself together long enough to make it to the bathroom.

Before he can step from the sidewalk onto the schoolyard, someone grabs Danny and pulls him aside. Stunned, it takes him a moment to realize what has happened, even as Tucker's arms wrap tightly around him.

"Dude, we've been so worried." Tucker squeezes Danny tighter. His voice is thick and watery. "Jazz said you wouldn't come out of your room, and you wouldn't answer our texts. Just– god, it must have been so awful. Man, I can't imagine."

Finally, Danny registers what's happening. Tucker's hugging him, and crying into his shoulder. This is bad. Tucker shouldn't be doing that. Tucker is... Tucker is good, and Danny did something horrible. Tucker shouldn't be comforting him.

"I­–" Danny falters. Inside, he's screaming. Say it. Say it's your fault. Make him hate you. You deserve it. "Tuck, you–"

He can't say it. Instead, Danny reaches up, grabbing Tucker's arms, and carefully pulls them off his shoulders. He steps back, squeezing Tucker's wrists once, before letting go and looking away.

"I'm okay. You, I know you liked her. And she was our friend. How are you?" Danny asks.

"Dude. You liked her too, and you were actually there. You're not okay."

Danny bites his lip, unsure how to respond to that. It's true, but he deserves this. Tucker doesn't. "But you­–"

"Guys!" Sam—when did she even get there?—cuts him off. "Just be sad together, okay?"

Danny glances at her, then away, then back again, shocked. Her eyes are red. In all the years they've known each other, he can't remember ever seeing Sam cry, even when she broke her ankle fighting Technus that one time. The most she did then was swear up a storm before punching the ghost barehanded. It didn't exactly do much to Technus, but Sam looked damn proud of herself afterward.

Right now, she looks downright distraught. Danny wonders how many of her tears were for him, and how many were for Valerie. They may not have gotten along a lot of the time, but they were still friends. He hopes she cried for Valerie more, although he'd rather she not cry at all. He doesn't know what to do when a girl cries

"But," Sam shares a glance with Tucker, one Danny doesn't like, "seriously, Danny. Are you okay? We heard how it went down."

Danny pales. Did they know? How? By the time anyone else arrived, he already had Valerie in his lap, her skin cold as ice.

"It was Spectra and Bertrand, right?" Tucker says. "They said that one of them... well, they..." He motions vaguely around his torso.

"Tucker!" Sam slaps his hands down.

Danny looks away again, hiding the relieved look on his face. They don't know. Guilt and shame quickly wash the relief away. He should tell them. Or Valerie's dad. Danny rubs his eyes, a new tension pressing down on him. He hadn't even thought of Valerie's dad.

Did Marty the Cop call him? He must have, after Danny left. By then, Mr. Gray may have already seen the news. God, that must have been horrible, turning on the TV to see Lance Thunder reporting his daughter's death before he even knew about it. Although Sam and Tucker hadn't known until the day after. Maybe Mr. Gray remained ignorant, too, until Marty could break the news gently. He hopes so.

"Danny?" Tucker reaches out and touches Danny's shoulder.

Danny steps away. For a moment, he's glad he's not looking Tucker's way. He doesn't want to see the hurt expression on his best friend's face.

"I'm okay," Danny says because he doesn't know what else to say.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head, perhaps a little too aggressively.

"It might help," Tucker presses. "Doesn't Jazz say–"

"Fuck what Jazz says."

Tucker and Sam recoil at the harsh words. Danny feels another stab of guilt but doesn't apologize. It's only been three days and he's already such a mess. The thing in his room yesterday, the nightmare, his panic attack in the bathroom this morning. That’s what it was, wasn't it? A panic attack? He's had them before, but not like that. Usually, he feels empty and distant, like there's a gaping hole growing inside him, slowly swallowing him up. This time, Valerie's the one with the hole in her chest, and it's left Danny a shaking mess.

"You don't have to tell us anything," Sam says. Her tone is soft and understanding, as if she understands any part of what Danny's going through. "But if you ever want to talk about it, we're here for you."

"I don't," Danny says. "I can't. Just drop it, please?"

Sam and Tucker share another look, just as bad as the last, but say no more. A small mercy in Danny's eyes. He gives them an hour at most before they bring it up again, and that's being generous.

"Okay. But I'm sorry we weren't there," Tucker says.

An hour was very generous.

"It doesn't matter now. It's better you weren't there." Danny runs a hand through his hair, only able to meet Tucker's sad stare for a moment. He still wishes he had made it into the school before Sam and Tucker found him, but their little confrontation drove back his tears, at least. Now, he can't quite figure out what he's feeling. Sad? Yes. Guilty? Always. A little angry, too, but he doesn't know why. His friends haven't done anything bad.

A sourness fills Danny's mouth, making his lips pucker. Bitter feelings squirm through him, like a worm eating its way through an apple. He can't control it, but he's constantly aware of its wriggling presence. Talk about being a bad apple.

"Class is gonna start soon. Let's just go inside." Danny turns his back on them and sets off, ignoring the sting behind his eyes. The faster this day gets over with, the better. Then again, he's not looking forward to sleep tonight. He should go for a long flight instead, or maybe dip into the Ghost Zone to visit his allies, as few as they are. Anything to keep him from having more nightmares.

Danny keeps his head ducked as they walk. Sam and Tucker fall into step beside him, their elbows brushing his from time to time. He doesn't pull away, but only because the hallway is cramped and there's nowhere for him to pull away to. Eager to escape the crush of teenage bodies, he heads straight for Lancer's classroom, skipping a visit to his locker even though there are books inside that he needs. His only plans for class today are to duck his head and get through it without any more crying, and books won't help with that.

Sam and Tucker stick with him, much to his disappointment. He hoped they would break away and stop at their lockers, giving him a short reprieve from their presence. Unfortunately for him, they seem content without their books for now, or they already grabbed them before Danny arrived. The last thought doesn't sit well with him. It means they were lying in wait outside the school for his arrival. While he knows they worry about him, he doesn't enjoy falling into traps, no matter how emotionally supportive they're meant to be.

The halls are still full, thrumming with chatter, by the time they reach Lancer's classroom. It will be a good few minutes before the warning bell rings, so most students haven't bothered moving away from their lockers, instead gathering in tight-knit groups. Before stepping into the classroom, Danny pauses, lifting his hand, and gives the hall a once over. He's not surprised by what he sees. Curious, pitying eyes staring at him. Hands cupped around mouths, carrying whispers between friends. Valerie's name floats in the air.

"Did you hear­–"

"–found her­–"

"Totally gutted."

"–the Red Huntress all along."

Danny looks away all too quickly, their stares too heavy for him, and hurries into the shelter of Lancer's classroom.

Lancer looks up when they enter, his eyes widening in surprise. "Mr. Fenton?" His chair squeals when he pushes away from his desk too quickly.

"Yeah?" Danny shuffles his feet. Lancer has this way of looking at Danny like he knows much more than he should. It sets him on edge on the best days. Right now, it makes Danny's heart pound, each thump beating out a damning he-knows, he-knows, he-knows.

"You're here?"

"Uh..." Danny glances at the clock. "I know I'm earlier than usual."

"No, no, I mean." Lancer shakes his head. "Are you...?" He looks between Sam and Tucker. "May I speak to Mr. Fenton alone?"

Danny hopes his nod doesn't look as eager as it feels.

Lancer waits until Sam and Tucker leave, closing the door behind them, before turning to Danny.

"Daniel," he starts, then hesitates, which is never a good sign. "How are you?"

Danny opens his mouth, the words I'm fine already resting on his tongue. At the last moment, he pauses. Lancer looks concerned, yes, with his furrowed brows and tight frown, but it's different from how everyone else has looked at him. Not like Jazz trying to tell him how feels and what he should do. Not like Sam and Tucker pretending they understand when they don't. A far cry from his parents, who have barely spent two minutes with him since it happened.

Lancer doesn't elaborate, doesn't try to placate him. Doesn't offer shallow words of comfort. He simply asks.

"I–I'm, I'm not okay," Danny says.

Lancer nods as if he expected this. He probably did. "I saw on the news that you found her. You went through something traumatic, and I can't begin to understand that. Am I right to assume you aren't ready to talk about it?"

Words fail him, his tongue weighed down by relief. He nods vigorously instead.

"I thought as much. With that in mind, no one would fault you for not coming to school today."

Danny's mind goes blank. He stares at Lancer, blinking owlishly, as confusion fills his gaze.

"Your mental health is more important than school," Lancer goes on when Danny doesn't say anything. "I can speak to the other faculty members about your absence. And if you want to take a few more days, you can have your parents call the school. I'll make sure this doesn’t affect your grades."

Grades are the last thing on Danny's mind right now. "I can really do that?"

"After the Storm, Mr. Fenton, of course you can." Lancer sounds as surprised as Danny feels. "Mental health days are important. I've spoken to your parents about them a few times at parent-teacher conferences. Have they never mentioned it?"

"No."

Lancer frowns. "Well. You know about them now."

Danny stares down at his feet, amazed. He can just... not come to school if he isn't feeling well? And not just because he's injured or sick? And Mr. Lancer is encouraging it? Danny looks over his shoulder, catching Sam and Tucker spying through the classroom window. They offer him shaky smiles and hesitant waves.

Danny turns back to Lancer. "I really don't have to be at school today? Or tomorrow?"

"Or even the week. Not if you aren't ready for it. Some people might tell you otherwise, but as your vice principal, I fully endorse taking time off after such an experience. Should I tell the other teachers you'll be absent today?"

"Yes! Please, yes. I can't be here right now. It's... too much." Surprisingly, admitting that doesn't make Danny feel weak.

"Would you like me to call your parents to pick you up?"

"Mr. Lancer, I'm eighteen. I don't need my parents to pick me up."

"Whether you're eighteen or eight-hundred, it helps to have someone with you when you're dealing with something like this. Seeing as Jasmine should be in class, and both your friends are here, I think your parents suffice."

"Jazz is at home, actually," Danny says, leaping at the excuse. "No class today. Her professor is out. I'd rather walk home, but she'll be there, so it's okay."

Lancer purses his lips, then nods. "Alright, I'll let everyone know. Please take care of yourself, Daniel."

"Thank you, Mr. Lancer, I will." Danny rushes out of the classroom, eager to leave the school grounds before the bell rings. He brushes past Sam and Tucker on his way out.

"Hey, Danny, wait!" Tucker calls after him.

Danny doesn't want to stop, but he also doesn't want to be an ass, so he slows down instead, letting Tucker catch up. Sam stays back by Lancer's door.

"Where are you going?" Tucker asks as he falls into step with Danny.

"Home. Lancer said I could take a mental health day."

"Oh." Tucker falters. Danny doesn't wait for him, forcing Tucker to jog to catch up again. "Do you need one?"

Danny glares at him.

"Sorry, that was. Right. Yeah. Of course." Tucker flushes. "I mean, you said you were okay, and I want to believe you dude, but if you need a mental health day... Well, you know."

"Tucker." Danny finally stops, only inches from the front door. "Can you do something for me?"

"Yeah?" Tucker smiles.

"Leave me alone. No offence, but I need to be alone right now. It's hard."

Tucker's smile shatters. "Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure thing, man. I get it. Just don't take too long, okay? I'm worried."

Danny smiles, eyes empty and mouth wide. "Everyone is." With those final words, he leaves the school, and Tucker, behind.

—

Instead of going home, Danny wanders. He has no particular destination in mind, only knows he doesn't want to go home yet. Something is refreshing about walking aimlessly through Amity Park. By now, he's more used to seeing the streets from above rather than ground level. Everything looks familiar, but a little off from what he knows.

It reminds him of fourth grade when he missed the bus one day and his dad had to drive him to school. They took the most direct route, complete with hairpin turns and broken speed limits, arriving at the school well before Danny's bus did. But for Danny, the strangest thing about that day was seeing the school from a different angle.

Normally, the bus drove along the main street in front of the school, pulling into the drop-off zone by the doors. Jack drove Danny around the back, skirting around the soccer field, and pulled up alongside the school around the corner from the drop-off. That side of the school, facing the side street, was opposite the playground. As a fourth-grader, Danny had no reason to go to this side of the school. He almost didn't recognize the building when his dad pulled up, distracted by the unfamiliar windows and the narrow wedge of grass between the wall and the sidewalk.

Seeing Amity Park from the ground makes Danny think of that day. Everything is recognizable, but foreign at the same time. Outside ghost hunting, he doesn't have a reason to explore most of the city besides his usual haunts. Trying to navigate the familiar streets from an unfamiliar angle provides a welcoming distraction as he searches for landmarks he knows. Antennas on rooftops, billboards looming overhead, cornices encasing the highest floors.

Danny is eying a fresco on top of a stout three-storey building, unsure if he's seen it before or not, when his ghost sense goes off. The shiver seizes him for a moment, and he has to push down a wave of panic. He’s not sleeping, it's just a ghost. There's no reason to panic. He berates himself for being scared of something less tangible than the freaking Box Ghost. A simple nightmare is far from the scariest thing he's seen over the years; but, for some reason, it affects him in a way no ghost ever has.

Danny shakes his head. The ghost. Focus on the actual threat. A quick scan of the street to make sure no one's watching, then he dives into the closest alley, ducking behind a dumpster. Not the most glamourous place to transform, but it works.

"Going ghost!" he calls, pumping himself up. The transformation rings spark around his waist, quickly growing to their full size, and split apart with a sizzling hiss. His jumpsuit overtakes his everyday clothes as the rings spread. The rings rise above his shoulders, passing over his raised fists. Bloodstained gloves appear on his hands.

The world goes grey around him, his vision tunnelling. Danny gapes at his gloves. Blood. Valerie's blood. It's everywhere. On his gloves, his chest, his face. Seeping across the ice. Danny drops to his knees, gripping his head as the alley fades around him. Spears of ice circle him. Valerie's body lies in front of him, twitching. Blood bubbles from her mouth as she struggles to breathe, a futile effort thanks to the hole in her lungs.

Danny tries to staunch the flow, so panicked he drops his transformation, but it's not helping. The wound stretches wider than his palms. He presses too hard, his hands slipping in the blood. His palm touches something firm but it’s neither flesh nor bone. It thumps. Danny jerks back, yanking his hand out of Valerie's wound.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he cries. His tears are lost in her blood. He never knew people had so much blood in them, but now it's everywhere, and all Danny sees is red.

He meets her dull gaze, watches her eyes fluttering. Valerie's lips move, but no sound comes out, barely even the wheeze of air. Blood bubbles at the corner of her lips. She chokes and bleeds out all at once, and Danny can't do anything but hold her.

—

Hunched over on the asphalt, Danny hacks and coughs, clutching his stomach as bile dribbles from his lips. Valerie is gone, was never there in the first place. He lets out a soft cry of pain, all thoughts of the ghost abandoned. This is all so wrong. Things were never supposed to turn out this way, and now, Danny can't even transform without panicking.

"Valerie." Danny's voice cracks as he sobs into the pavement, the rough ground pressing against his forehead. The alley reeks of garbage and vomit. His whole body hurts. It feels like he's being torn apart inside, and that's still only half the pain Valerie must have felt. She deserved so much better.

Distantly, Danny hears the wail of the Fenton RV, the sound of the rumbling engine filling up every crack and crevice of the street. His mother's voice echoes over the loudspeaker. "You ectoplasmic evil-doer! Suffer for what you did to that poor girl!"

A voice in Danny's mind hisses, I am.

He rolls onto his side, unable to stay hunched over his own sick puddle, but too weak to do anything more. A traitorous part of him thinks maybe he should have talked to Jazz after all, but a louder, more insistent part screams no. She can never know what he did. None of them can. They should hate him, but he can never tell them why. He couldn't live with himself if they knew. He can barely live with himself now.

Danny listens to his mother scream at the ghost, silently hoping that, whoever it is, they escape his parents' clutches safe and sound. He hears the boom of the Fenton bazooka, but no cries of victory or shouts of pain. Small mercies.

A shiver runs through him. Something black flickers in the corner of his vision. Danny thinks he's about to fall unconscious, familiar with the dark spots that often precede it. The flickering doesn't stop.

Danny's breath catches in his throat. Achingly slow, he turns his head to the mouth of the alley. The shadow hovers there, and it's slowly drifting closer. Danny tries to scramble back, but his trembling arms can't hold his weight. His shivers grow stronger, making his teeth chatter and his fingers go numb. He hugs himself, fighting back the chill as the shadow approaches, but it forces its way through him. A puff of glowing blue hair leaves his mouth.

"Oh, wow! The ghost boy, cowering before the power of corrugated cardboard vengeance!"

Danny starts and twists toward the intruder. The Box Ghost—of course it's the Box Ghost—is poking his head out of the wall, smiling gleefully down at Danny. He comes through all the way, revealing the Fenton RV's overhead speaker in his arms. At least that explains where his mother's voice has gone.

"That's not cardboard. And it's barely square," Danny wheezes. His gaze flickers back to the alley's entranceway. The shadow is gone.

"Well, it's mine now and you can't have it back." The Box Ghost sticks out his tongue and raises the speaker above his head. But rather than chucking it at Danny, he sets it on his shoulder and floats closer. A strange look crosses his face, one Danny can't immediately decipher. The Box Ghost's brow pinches and his eyes narrow, lips pressed into a firm line.

He's being serious, Danny realizes.

"Something awful happened, didn't it?" the Box Ghost asks.

"What?"

"Only something great and terrible could bring down the sworn enemy of me, the Box Ghost!" He lowers his voice to a more conversational volume. "And not everyone gets haunted by such twisted shadows."

Danny snorts. "That's awfully philosophic coming from you. I'm surprised you didn't squeeze a portent about the glory of boxes in there."

The Box Ghost simply frowns. "You are a strange child. I hope your shadow leaves soon so I may battle you again, at full strength! As all rivals do!"

"Wait, what?" Danny sits up. "What do you mean?"

"Farewell, weirdo!"

"Wait!" Danny shouts, but the Box Ghost is already gone. Danny stares after him, bewildered. "It's real?" The empty alley provides no answer. Danny draws his knees in close and cranes his neck, inspecting the alley. Nothing stands out. No shadows where they shouldn't be. No hidden wraiths. But the Box Ghost's words nag at him. The shadow is real after all.

One sighting he can brush off as exhaustion. Two he can blame on the mental stress. But the Box Ghost knowing it's there without seeing it? He couldn't ignore that. Maybe only real ghosts could see it, see her. She could be anywhere, and Danny wouldn't know.

He scrambles to his feet and backs against the wall. The back of his neck prickles, but he can't tell if it's real or his mind playing tricks over him, tripped into overdrive by his panic attack and the Box Ghost's unsettling words. As he scans the alley once more, something shifts in the corner of his eye. Danny peels away from the wall, jumping into a ready pose, fists raised, feet apart, fully prepared to fight.

A plastic bag. A plastic bag stuck under the dumpster, fluttering quietly in the rank alley breeze. Danny flushes and lowers his fist. If a damn grocery bag is enough to set him on edge, then he's really losing it. It's not even noon yet, but he thinks he's had enough of his walk for today. Getting some real sleep might do him some good, nightmares be damned. Or he could raid the medicine cabinet for some sleeping pills when he gets home. There might be some leftover from his dad's last prescription.

Plan set, Danny shuffles out of the alley. He barely makes it three steps along the sidewalk before the Fenton RV comes ripping around the corner. A tangle of sparking wires rests over the windshield, marking where the speaker had sat before the Box Ghost tore it out. Maddie stands on the roof, defying all laws of physics as she stays firmly rooted despite how erratic Jack drives. A Fenton Bazooka rests on her shoulder, the barrel smoking.

"We might need to circle the block again, honey. I don't see it," she shouts down to Jack.

Danny ducks behind a nearby mailbox, hoping his parents don't see him, but it's futile. From her place on the RV, Maddie has a perfect view of the street. When she turns toward Danny, he catches the exact moment she sees him, her grip on the bazooka slackening. She stomps on the roof of the RV, then braces herself as Jack slams on the brakes.

Maddie pulls her goggles down. "Danny, sweetie, what are you doing here? Don't you have school?"

"Uh, I, I'm," Danny stutters. It's the first time he's seen his parents since the police station. They look the same as ever, which he should have expected, but somehow, he thought they would be different the next time he saw them. Glaring at him from the bad end of a bazooka, perhaps. But instead of raising the gun and pointing it at him, Maddie sets the bazooka down and hops off the RV.

Danny doesn't want to tell the truth. Right now, Maddie and Jack are acting the same as they always do, and he didn't realize how much he needed that until now. When he looks at them, he sees the familiar level of parental concern they always bear, which is minimal at best. Thinking about it, that's pretty terrible, isn't it? He watched one of his friends die, and instead of staying at home and comforting him, his parents are out hunting ghosts.

Danny wavers between anger and appreciation. His parents aren't bad, but they aren't good either, are they? He doesn't want them pestering him like everyone else is, but maybe he would at least like them to try. To act as if they care. He knows they do, they do, and it's stupid being mad about something he wants, but he's mad anyway.

Maybe it's Valerie's ghost, or the two panic attacks in one day, but something makes Danny glare up at his mom and say, "Well, I've been a little fucked up since I got Valerie killed, so I decided not to go to school." Acid fills the words as he spits them out, begging for a reaction. He gets one, but not the one he wants.

Maddie steps closer and wraps her arms around Danny. "Oh, sweetie, you should have told us. Does the school know? Do we need to call them?"

Danny squirms out of his mother's grasp. "What?"

"Would helping us catch the ghost that did this make you feel better? Your father and I have been looking ever since we heard," she continues.

"Did you even hear what I said?"

"I know. We should have brought you with us from the start, but we thought you might want some time alone first. She was such a nice girl."

"Mom. I swore. I skipped school. Valerie's dead because of me!"

Maddie drags him into another hug. "Oh, sweetie. I know it feels like that, doesn't it? But just because you couldn't save her, that doesn't mean it's your fault. You were with her at the end, and that must have meant so much to her."

This time, Danny doesn't pull away, too stunned to think of moving. She should be shouting at him, scolding him, not coddling him like some kid. How can she hear him say that and think he's exaggerating?

Jack leans out the RV window, smiling sadly at the pair. "Want us to drive you home, kiddo?"

Danny bites his tongue. Briefly, he considers turning down the offer, but his legs are shaking again, and his mom's hand running through his hair brings him back to sick days in elementary school when she would sit with him all day and watch cartoons. Danny melts, although his anger doesn't disappear; it slinks away to a dark cave, giving up on the fight for now.

"I want to go home," he says.

Maddie hums, shifting her hold from a hug to an arm over his shoulder, and guides him into the RV.

"It'll get better," Jack says.

Danny doesn't answer, curling up on the backseat with his arms around his knees. When he looks out the window, he spots a blurry form in the alley. As they pull away, Danny watches the shadow until it's out of sight. A question forms in his mind.

"Mom, how long does it take for a ghost to form?"

Maddie turns in her seat. "What brought this on?"

Eyes downcast, Danny shrugs.

Maddie hums in understanding. "Well, it depends. Not everyone that dies becomes a ghost. We've done some studies of how long it takes a spectral mass to reach conscious levels after first recording its presence. So far, it can take anywhere from a few seconds to up to a week."

"And until then?" Danny presses.

"We've only managed to properly record one spectre's creation process from beginning to end. But from our notes, they appear to take a lesser non-corporeal form that barely even registers on our instruments until they're strong enough to manifest. Until then, they can't do much. We barely even saw the ghost until it manifested." Maddie smiles at Danny, in a manner that she probably meant as reassuring, but just looks sorry to him. "I hope this helped."

"Yeah." Danny nods. "Yeah, it does."

—

Danny doesn't check for the shadow when he gets home. It might be there, but he doesn't care to check. He refuses to acknowledge it. Instead, he raids his parents' medicine cabinet, finds the sleeping pills, and takes two before collapsing on his bed.

—

Valerie glares at him from within her icy prison. Danny knows it's a dream this time, and he thinks it's a little uncreative of his subconscious to give him the same one three times in a row. He doesn't think sleeping pills can affect his dreams, but he feels calmer this time. Or maybe that's just because Valerie is doing what no one else will: hate him.

"I don't want to be a ghost," she says.

"You're not. You're just dead." Lies. All lies. He knows who the shadow is, just hopes he's wrong.

"How do you know?"

Danny looks down at his lap, unsure how to answer. Ghosts exist for a lot of reasons. Not all of them were once people and not every person who dies becomes a ghost. The ones who do usually have something they wanted to live for. Fame, desire, glory. Boxes. Some part of their mind chose to stay, clinging to that one thing they wanted and couldn't get.

"You would never choose this," he finally says. "You hate ghosts. There's nothing you could want that would make you stay."

Valerie sneers. Her teeth are stained red. "What could anyone want enough for this? Why would anyone choose this?"

"I did."

"No. You didn't want to die; there's a difference. I didn't want to die either. But you took that away from me, didn't you?" Valerie looks down at Danny's hands. Following her gaze, he sees her heart resting on his palm. It beats, barely. Blood seeps from the torn aortas and soaks into his gloves. Holding a heart doesn't feel like he thought it would. Whenever Danny thinks of organs, he thinks of softy, squishy tissue, easy to pierce and crush, but Valerie's heart is a firm bundle of muscle.

Danny squeezes.

Valerie gasps, her hand shooting up to her chest, but there's nothing there, only an empty hole. She slams her fist against the ice. "Give it back!"

Danny tries, he does. His whole body shakes with effort as he tries to push his hand forward, returning what's Valerie's, but his arm won't budge. His hand squeezes tighter.

Valerie gasps and falls forward, both hands to her chest now, scratching and scraping. Her fingers hook around the hole and tug, tearing it open wider. "Stop it! Give it back!" she cries.

"I can't, I'm sorry!" Danny grabs his defiant arm in his other hand and pushes, but the frozen limb barely shakes. "I didn't mean it, Valerie. You have to believe me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

Ice creeps along Danny's arm, stretching over his fingers. Beautiful frost ferns grow across Valerie's heart, tinged pink from her blood. He tries to pull them back, shoving his core down deep inside himself where the snow and ice can't hurt anyone, but it's too late. The ice overtakes her heart. Danny's hand clenches one more time. The heart shatters.

Valerie screams. Her shriek pierces the air, shattering her prison of ice. Danny slaps his hands over his ears, trying to block out the noise, but it rings inside his head, bouncing around his skull, stabbing his brain with a thousand tiny needles until blood leaks from his eyes, his nose, his ears. He screams with her, raw and hoarse until the shrieking stops and silence rings out.

—

Danny wakes up cold. Not even an hour has passed since he went to sleep. So much for the sleeping pills.

Despite wearing his warmest hoodie, he shivers. His foggy breath clouds the air in front of him, but it lacks the pale glow of his ghost sense. Instead, it's accompanied by a bone-deep chill that stings his teeth when he inhales.

In the corner of the room, the shadow hovers, darker than the previous night.

—

At sunrise, the shadow fades before Danny's eyes. It takes the pervasive cold with it, leaving him uncomfortably warm, swathed in a pile of blankets that hadn't helped fight off his chills. His eyes burn, but he has no desire to go back to sleep. Moving slowly, he climbs out of bed, stretching his cramped muscles. The blankets slide off his shoulders, leaving him in the same sweater and jeans as the previous day. The thought of changing doesn't even cross his mind.

Danny checks the back alley through his bedroom window and finds that his parents are home today. Other than mild surprise, it stirs no strong emotions in Danny.

A knock at his door pulls his attention from the alleyway. He drums his fingers on the windowsill, pursing his lips as he debates whether or not he should answer.

"Danny? Are you awake?" Jazz's voice is pitched with worry.

Sighing, Danny turns from the window, leaning back against the sill, and answers. "I'm awake."

The doorknob turns. Jazz pushes it open a crack, her bright blue eyes peering through the narrow opening. Danny jerks his head, not quite a nod, but a welcome, nonetheless. Jazz swings the door open and shuffles inside, nudging it closed behind her.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," she says. "I shouldn't have pushed you." Danny remains silent as she takes a seat on his bed. She picks at the pile of blankets, eyeing the unruffled comforter beneath them. "Did you sleep last night?"

"I was in bed," he says.

Lips pursed, Jazz scrutinizes Danny's clothes. "You wore that yesterday, too."

"It's still clean."

"Danny. I don't want to cross any boundaries–"

"Then don't."

"–but it's only been a few days, and this is concerning behaviour. I'm not expecting you to instantly bounce back, but I'd hoped you would at least come and talk to me if it was this bad."

"Jazz. Do you know how often I don't sleep because of ghosts? This isn't that different. And so what if I'm wearing the same jeans? I only have, like, three pairs that aren't ripped or stained."

Jazz starts wringing her hands. "It can take weeks to accept a traumatic event. I don't want you to lose yourself denying what happened. It was horrible, but ignoring it won't change that. Talking will. You have me, and Tucker and Sam. Letting out what you're feeling to people you trust can help. And keeping a routine! It's important to stay grounded with regular habits. Things like not sleeping, not eating, wearing the same clothes over and over. They're signs of you slipping into negative behaviour."

"God, Jazz, you make it sound like I'm some kind of drug addict or something. You want me to talk? Fine! We were fighting Spectra, and Valerie fell off her board, and she got skewered like an ecto-weenie at a bonfire. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Jazz goes completely white. "Danny, no! That's not what I meant."

"Well, it's what you're getting. I'm going to school." He strides past her.

"You can't be serious!"

"See you later, Jazz." Danny slams the front door behind him.

—

He doesn't go to school. Lancer gave him a free pass to skip and he's going to milk that for all it's worth. It's not milking it when you actually need it, his thoughts whisper. Shut up, Danny hisses back.

With yesterday's events fresh on his mind, he doesn't want to go for a walk, either. He slinks around the side of the house and crouches beside the bushes, out of sight from the street and the front door. The dirt is dry and the bushes browning even though it's not even summer yet. Danny's parents might be great at inventing things, but they're shit at taking care of their yard. Not that Danny cares. The bushes provide just enough cover for him to see without being seen, and he only plans on sitting here for a couple of minutes, or however long it takes for Jazz to leave for school.

Danny turns his phone over in his hands. It buzzes a couple of times. Probably Jazz trying to shove more of her opinions down his throat. He debates the pros and cons of checking the messages now or later. Either way, he doesn't intend to answer, so it doesn't matter. Relenting, he flips his phone over and checks the notifications.

The message isn't from Jazz, and not Sam or Tucker either. It's from Valerie.

Danny's blood runs cold. It's not possible. She's dead. She's gone. But she's not.

| Val Is this Daniel Fenton? The contact says Space Boy

Danny blinks as he reads the actual message. He nearly laughs. Space Boy? That was his name on Valerie’s phone? He wipes his thumb across the corner of his eyes before opening his phone and typing out a brief yes.

| Val This is Valerie's father. I'd like to talk to you after school if possible

Danny ducks his head, tapping the phone against his chin. He thought about talking to Mr. Gray, but he hadn't been serious. Of all the people he could see right now, Damon Gray is at the bottom of the list. But it doesn't look like Jazz is leaving any time soon, and he doesn't want to sit in the flowerbed forever.

Before he can regret it, he texts Mr. Gray back.

| You I can talk now. I'm omw

—

The bus ride from Fenton Works to the Gray's apartment in Elmerton takes twenty minutes. Danny sits at the back and stares out the window the whole time. The landscape turns grey and dusty as they cross the river into Elmerton, malls and office buildings replaced by warehouses and empty lots.

The Gray's apartment building lies on the edge of the warehouse district. Despite Mr. Gray's job prospects steadily improving over time, they never moved out of the cramped apartment that carried them through their darkest days.

Mr. Gray answers the door before Danny can even knock.

Danny lowers his raised arm. "Um, hi."

Mr. Gray looks as bad as Danny expected. He hasn't shaved in a few days, and his eyes are dry and red. Danny thinks he must have been crying before he arrived

"Hello, Danny." Mr. Gray steps aside to let Danny in.

They move to the dining room, where Mr. Gray sits at the head of the table, and Danny takes the opposite chair.

"Did Marty tell you?" Danny asks, seeking some reassurance in all this madness.

"Who?"

"Never mind."

"You were there for her."

Danny clenches his teeth and nods. He knows what Mr. Gray is about to say and looks away before he does.

"Thank you."

Danny stiffens. This is so wrong. "You shouldn't."

"I'm sorry?"

"You shouldn't thank me."

"You don't understand. I let her put on the suit every day even though I knew it was dangerous. If I ever tried to stop her, I know she would have done it behind my back. But still. I should have stopped her. I let this happen."

"No!" Danny shouts. He jumps to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. "No, you didn't. No one could stop Valerie when she wanted something, and... and it's my fault. Not yours."

Mr. Gray shakes his head, rising from his seat. "Danny, you made sure my daughter wasn't alone at the end. They told me how she died. There was nothing you could have done to save her."

"Mr. Gray, I didn't just find her. I was there. I'm–" Danny squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm Danny Phantom."

Mr. Gray doesn't answer. The only thing Danny can hear is the ticking of the clock. Eventually, Danny opens his eyes. Mr. Gray stands frozen on the other side of the table, gaping at Danny.

"You..." he falters. "You're..."

"I can't... show you. I haven't been able to transform since, well, since. But I am," Danny says.

Mr. Gray drops back into his chair. He looks up at Danny, then down, then up again. "You?" He runs a hand over his head.

"Mr. Gray?" Danny asks.

"Hold on." Mr. Gray cups his hand over his mouth, muttering under his breath, too low for Danny to hear. His wide eyes dart back and forth across the table. It looks like his whole world is falling apart before his eyes.

With nothing else to do, Danny lowers himself back into his seat. He waits, patiently, for Mr. Gray to finish processing, looking about the apartment for some kind of distraction. Nothing much has changed since the last time Danny was here, nearly a year ago. There's a picture of Valerie and her mom hanging on the wall by the clock. Both of them are smiling widely. It should be a happy picture, but all Danny sees are ghosts that will haunt Mr. Gray forever.

"She really liked you. Did you know that?" Mr. Gray asks.

It takes some effort to tear his gaze from the photo, but Danny eventually looks back to Mr. Gray. "Yeah. I really liked her, too. For a while."

"She hated you, too."

Danny nods.

Mr. Gray sighs, sounding as exhausted as Danny feels. "Being Danny Phantom doesn't make any of this your fault. She might have started ghost hunting to get you, but it ended up meaning so much to her. I'm sure that, with or without you, she would have found her way to it somehow."

Danny bites his lip. He knows what he wants to say, but once he does, there's no going back. Over Mr. Gray's shoulder, he notices a dark spot in the living room, one that wasn't there before. Valerie.

"That's not all. Mr. Gray, there's something you need to know about how Valerie died."

—

An hour later, Danny steps out of the apartment. Mr. Gray closes the door behind him without a word. By now, they've said everything they need to. Danny slumps against the wall and inhales sharply through his nose. He holds it for a second, trying to keep himself together even as the shaking starts. He only manages for a few seconds before he breaks. The tears flow freely down his face as he gasps, sinking to his knees in the middle of the hall.

Rocking back and forth, he wails into the floor. He lets out every pent up emotion in his cries; frustration, anger, sadness, guilt. They fill him up, suffocate him, steal his air, then leave in ragged gasps. He cries until his throat hurts and his tears blind him. He cries until he has no more tears left to spill.

—

Danny calls Tucker that night, around midnight. They haven't spoken since Danny ditched school, and  Tucker hasn't even sent him any texts or left any messages—although Sam had. It looks like he took Danny's request to leave him alone to heart. Danny refuses to feel guilty for it, but he also needs to talk to someone, and Tucker is always the first person he thinks of during these times.

Jazz was gone to class by the time Danny got back from Mr. Gray's, and he brushed her off when she got home earlier that evening. His parents, to Danny's complete lack of surprise, have gone back to being their usual negligent selves, putting ghost hunting before their mourning child.

Danny is constantly aware of Valerie now, finding her lurking around every corner, hovering at the edge of his vision, taunting him. He doesn't know what to do. So he calls Tucker.

"What would you do if I did something really bad?" Danny asks as soon as Tucker answers the phone.

"Hello, Danny."

"What would you do?"

Tucker sighs. "I thought you wanted me to leave you alone."

"Tucker. I'm being serious, come on."

Tucker remains silent. A day ago, it might not have bothered Danny at all, but now it makes him squirm. He needs to hear Tucker's answer.

"Okay. I'm sorry, happy?"

"No."

"Why not? I apologized."

"Because you're being a dick, Danny! You're not the only one who lost Valerie, okay? I thought you got that, but I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, and I'm sorry you had to see that, but I'm hurting too. I have no idea what's going on with you right now, but going through something shitty doesn't give you a free pass to be an asshole." Tucker's voice cracks.

Guilt twists Danny's gut. In seconds, Tucker might start crying, and it will be all his fault. But he needs to know.

"Valerie is haunting me," Danny says.

"What?"

"I've been having nightmares, and ever since she died, there's been this shadow in my room. I thought it was all in my head, but then I ran into the Box Ghost yesterday, and he mentioned something about a shadow? I asked my parents and they saw a ghost form like that once."

The line stays silent. It stretches on so long Danny thinks Tucker might have hung up, until he hears a shaky sigh.

"Are you sure?"

Danny glances at the shadow. "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? Is it a ghost?"

"I don't know. I thought I was just seeing things, but then the Box Ghost, and what my mom said. I'm just, I'm stressed, man. Sleeping's hard, and it makes my ghost sense all weird."

"Weird how?"

"Like," Danny kneads his chest, grimacing, "like there's a block of ice in my chest. It's heavy and cold."

"Are you sure you aren't just... sad? And tired? I want to believe you, man, but Valerie as a ghost? And you just said you're not sleeping. Remember that one time you didn't sleep for, like, four days and you started seeing things?" Tucker dips into a whisper. "Are you sure you just don't want her to be gone?"

"Tucker, listen to me. I know I'm not seeing things. I'm looking at it right now! And the Box ghost said–."

"The Box Ghost says he'll rule the world with cardboard. Look, dude. I want to believe you, but you're not okay, man."

Danny scowls. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"So you're not denying it?"

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"Are you going to apologize?"

Danny doesn't answer.

"We just lost Valerie, man. Don't do this to us."

Danny closes his eyes as Tucker starts crying. He doesn't wail like Valerie did in Danny's nightmares, or gasp and sob like Danny so many times over the past couple of days. Tucker cries quietly, his voice wobbly, breaths short. He cries like he doesn't want anyone to see.

"I shouldn't have called."

"Dude, no. Wait. I'm sorry."

"I just made you sad. And it's not helping. I should just– never mind. I'm sorry, Tuck. I'm so sorry."

"No, you didn't do anything. I'm just sad, man. Of course, I am. But god, you. You were actually there. You’re allowed– okay, you're not allowed to be a dick, but I shouldn't be a dick either. If you just talked to us­–"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You should."

"It's fine."

"It's not. Dude, it's not okay."

"Can you just fucking drop it? Whatever, it doesn't matter. Sorry I called. I'll just deal with this on my own."

"Danny, I'm sorry. Please don't–"

Danny hangs up and tosses his phone onto the bed. Calling Tucker was a mistake. It accomplished nothing, except making Tucker mad, and cry. Danny squeezes his eyes shut, lowering his head as his throat tightens. He's so tired of crying. It's a miracle he hasn't dehydrated by now. At some point, he has to run out of tears, right? No one can cry forever. Jazz always says crying makes you feel better, once you're done feeling terrible.

He almost felt good after visiting Mr. Gray. But it didn't take long for the dark feelings to return after he left. Now, he just feels worse and worse each time.

Tipping onto his side, he buries his face in his comforter and gasps. It hurts, tears at his throats, makes the cold in his chest swell and fill his lungs. "Valerie. I'm sorry."

The room grows colder.

—

"I saw your dad." It's the first thing Danny says when he finds himself before the spire again. The snow glistens pure and wide. The ice shines untouched by blood. Valerie's so close to him now, like she's on the other side of a window. The ice warps her image, blurring her edges and tinting her blue, but still. She's almost herself.

"I know," she says.

"Were you listening?"

Valerie reaches out, laying her palm on the ice. It cracks beneath her touch. "Yes."

"And?"

"It doesn't change much, does it?"

Danny lowers his gaze. He knows what he feels, what he did, no matter what Damon says. At this point, nothing can quell the guilt that swirls in Danny's blood. It seeps through him, poisoning his every thought.

"No, it doesn't," he says.

Valerie nods, satisfied, and pulls away from the ice. "Good. As long as you know."

—

Jazz knocks at his door, rapping persistently. He wonders if her knuckles ever get sore when she does that because it's been a good thirty seconds since she started. Apparently, she's resorting to the "annoying older sister" method, since the "therapist older sister" tactic didn't work so well.

Does she know about Danny's disaster of a call with Tucker last night? Danny's friends are, tentatively, Jazz's friends, too, at least when it comes to ghostly things and Danny's health. He wouldn't put it past Tucker to message Jazz, let her know what happened.

Danny swallows before calling out, "What?" His voice still comes out hoarse, probably because he hasn't had anything to drink for a good day and a half, which would explain the headache, too.  But he's very busy right now having a staring contest with the increasingly tangible figure in the corner of his room. He didn't bother sleeping last night. Between the nightmares and Valerie's ghost, he would take the ghost.

Tucker's words from last night echo through his head. Are you sure you just don't want her to be gone?

Of course, he doesn't watch Valerie to be gone. But having her ghost isn't the same as having her, and the last few days have proven Valerie's ghost is no good to Danny. Still, he watched her all night, hoping for some flicker of familiarity. A flash of her headband, the dark brown of her eyes, the soft clinking of her bracelets. Proof his dreams aren't a lie. He got nothing. He's still not sure if he wants to see something.

"Danny?"

He blinks. The corner is empty now. Danny turns his head, his stiff neck cracking, and finally notices Jazz standing inside his bedroom. He doesn't remember her entering. He stopped paying attention entirely after he answered her. Had she said anything, or did she take his question as a welcome?

Danny licks his cracked lips. "What?" he repeats.

"Tucker called me a couple of minutes ago."

Danny keeps his expression carefully blank, but inside he panics. Tucker told her. He told her everything. She's going to tell him he's seeing things again, or give him those pitying eyes, or try and tell him this is all a psychosomatic reaction to losing a dear friend.

"There's a memorial for Valerie at Casper High today. He thought you might want to go," she says.

Danny's spiralling thoughts stutter and fizzle out. "A memorial?"

"Some of your classmates wanted to pay their respects. They’ve been planning it for the past couple of days." Jazz sits down on the edge of Danny's bed. Her fingers grip the hem of her sweater, holding back from reaching out. "Do you want to go?"

Danny keeps his gaze down but thinks about the now vacant corner of his bedroom. Staring at Valerie's maybe-ghost all day can't be good for him, as much as he hates to admit it. He groans and rubs his eyes. Agreeing with Jazz is never a good sign.

"Yeah." He drags his hand down his face, letting his arm drop into his lap. Going to school won't be fun, but he will regret it if he doesn't. "I'll go."

Jazz beams. "Put on something clean and I'll drive you."

"This is clean. Relatively."

"Put on something you didn't wear yesterday. You're not getting in my car until you do."

Danny sticks his tongue out at Jazz as she leaves. He's tempted to ignore her command and roll out of bed in what he's wearing, but knowing Jazz, she meant what she said, and she will leave him at home if he doesn't change into something fresh. And Danny doesn't feel like walking to school. Before, he would have flown to school, but he doesn't even entertain the idea now.

With a weary sigh, Danny crawls out of bed and heads for his dresser.

—

The Red Huntress stares down at the auditorium from the projector screen. It's a nice shot, taken during one of her patrols. She stands straight on her board, one hand shading her eyes, the other loosely holding her blaster. Sunlight glints off her visor, masking most of her face, except the part shaded by her hand. With the visor's tint, it's near impossible to tell those are Valerie's eyes unless you know. And Danny has always known.

Even though it's just a picture, Danny can't meet her gaze for long, turning his head and staring down instead. He steps away from the auditorium doors, letting others through. A few whispers float over his head, Valerie's name paired with his, mumbles about his presence at her death, his absence at school. Maybe he should have stayed home after all.

Danny waits until the stream of students thins before raising his head and peeking into the room. About half the seats are full, most of them toward the back. Waiting might have been a mistake. Now, he can't slip unnoticed into the back row as he planned. Danny bites his lip, wondering if he could stand at the back, or if he should leave. He shuffles his feet, turning down the hall toward the entrance.

A few stranglers are still making their way toward the auditorium, some students and a handful of teachers. Lancer walks with them, nudging some freshmen along.

"We didn't know her," one of them mutters.

"I mean, she was the Red Huntress," the other says. "She was kind of badass."

"She was a student who risked her life and died tragically. Be respectful," Lancer chides. The freshmen, cowed, scurry ahead and disappear through the doorway. Lancer, pinching the bridge of his nose, shakes his head and sighs. Danny can't remember ever seeing him so weary. Lancer drops his hands and finally spots Danny.

"Mr. Fenton, you came." His smile is weak but welcoming. "How are you?"

"Not much better."

Lancer nods. "Not surprising. Am I right to assume you won't be attending class after the memorial? It only covers part of the first period."

"Actually... I think I might go." On the way over, Danny told Jazz he could walk home after, and he didn't bring his backpack with him. Until this moment, he had no intentions of sticking around longer than necessary. Ironically, at least Danny sees it that way, it's Lancer's lack of judgement that convinces him to try and stick it out for the rest of the day.

"You know, Mr. Fenton. I'm proud of you." Lancer smiles again. "Remember, you don't have to stay if it gets too much but good on you for trying."

Danny smiles back, although with far less confidence. He waits for Lancer to go on ahead before slipping into the auditorium himself. From the top of the stairs, he has a good view of the entire room. The entire student body doesn't quite fill up the seats, leaving gaps here and there between grades and friends groups. He was right that all the seats at the back are taken, for the most part. A few empty spots peek out at him, but they're all much too close to other people.

Hugging himself, he readies for the long march down the steps to the front of the room, the only place with ample seating far from anyone else. He gives the back rows one last, hopeful glance. Nearly everyone is settled, friends hunched together, trading whispers or staring at their phones, although one figure off to the left is standing. And waving their arms.

"Danny!"

And calling his name?

The dim lighting makes it hard to see, forcing Danny to squint and shuffle closer, until he finally recognizes Sam. Tucker sits to her left, a single space between them, and their backpacks occupy the seats on either side of them, creating a thin barrier between them and the next students.

Tension bleeds out of Danny's shoulders. Without a second thought, he squeezes his way down the row, using his intangibility more than once to slip through long legs and jutting knees. A few people grumble their annoyance, but otherwise, no one calls him on it.

"Jazz texted and said you were coming," Sam says when Danny's close enough.

"I didn't want to miss it." Danny slips by Sam, claiming the middle seat. "Tucker?"

Tucker only spares him a glance before looking forward again.

"Thanks for letting me know. And... sorry. About yesterday."

For one stubborn moment, Tucker says nothing, and Danny thinks it's too late, he ruined their friendship. But then Tucker beams and grabs Danny, yanking him close.

"Dude, I'm so sorry. I was a dick, too. I'm glad you came."

Danny returns the hug, wrapping his arms around Tucker's shoulders and squeezing tight. It feels good, warm. Even if it doesn't erase anything from the past few days, it's still nice to hug his best friend.

"Oh, what the hell," Sam says. She flops onto Danny's back, draping her arms around him and Tucker. "Thanks for not shutting us out, Danny."

Just like that, the good feeling vanishes. The way Sam talks, it sounds like she thinks he's going to talk now, about everything. Everyone says he should, but after his parents, he's not so sure it will go well.

"Uh, yeah. Glad to be back," Danny says. It's only a partial lie.

They separate soon enough, settling into their seats just in time for Principal Ishiyama to walk on stage. As Ishiyama approaches the podium, the auditorium falls silent. Not that there had been much noise in the first place. A few muttering voices. Whispers here and there. It seems the whole school agrees now isn't a time for idle chatter.

"Students." Ishiyama's voice echoes from the speakers. "As I'm sure you know, we've experienced a great tragedy this last week. Valerie Gray, one of your classmates, maybe even your friend, died in a ghost attack. Despite dealing with ghosts for years, we've never lost someone to them before, and her passing came as a great shock.

"None of us knew, but Ms. Gray was a hero. Only now, after her death, have we learned about how much she did for us. She put her life on the line every day to keep the city safe, fighting valiantly for us. Today, we would like to honour that with a moment of silence, and a few words from her friends."

Ishiyama bows her head, signalling the start of the silence. Around the room, a decent number of students follow her lead, but even more sink down into their seats, as if they're settling in for a nap. Danny's glare hardens when he sees this, thinking of the freshmen from before. How many people in this room actually knew Valerie? How many are mourning the Red Huntress rather than the girl behind the helmet?

He thought coming to the memorial might make him feel, well, not better, but less bad. A little closer to okay. Instead, looking out over the gathered students, his stomach twists. This is a free pass out of class for most of them. They don't care, don't know, and they don't want to. Danny seethes, grinding his teeth as hot anger builds inside him.

Ishiyama breaks the silence before he can boil over. "Thank you. Before the first student comes up here, I'd like to remind everyone that a grief counsellor will be on the premises during school hours for the next week. If you need someone to talk to, he will be here. Your teachers will be here. Valerie was a bright girl and a friend to us all. Her death is a tragedy, and it has affected many of you in different ways. Don't be afraid to seek help when you need it."

Sam nudges Danny at Ishiyama's last word, shooting him a small smile. He can't return it.

Below, Star makes her way on stage, replacing Ishiyama at the podium. Danny immediately tunes her out when she starts speaking. The longer he's here, the more he realizes this is a waste of time and he shouldn't have come at all. He grips his armrests, squeezing the hard plastic as a distraction. It doesn't help as well as he hoped. He takes to scanning the room, dragging his gaze up and down the aisles, catching every sign of disrespect. A kid on his phone. Friends with their heads pressed together, talking softly. A dark silhouette standing halfway up the stairs.

The armrests crack in Danny's grip.

"Whoa, Danny. Are you okay?" Sam asks.

Danny barely hears her, all his attention on the ghost. Valerie's ghost. It looks more like a shadow than ever, with well-defined edges a strong, humanoid figure. He can almost see Valerie in it. But it still doesn't set off his ghost sense, not properly. A pinprick of cold pierces the heat in his chest, spreading quickly. Goosebumps raise along his arms and his breath carries the faintest trace of fog.

"Hey, uh, Danny? Can you maybe stop making it cold?" Sam whispers.

"It's not me," he says.

"Dude, I don't see anyone else with ice powers here," Tucker says.

Danny risks looking away, shooting Tucker an incredulous look, and points toward the aisle. "You don't see it?"

Tucker leans forward, following Danny's finger. "No, man. See what?"

Danny looks back and nearly jumps out of the seat. She's closer, further up the staircase, standing at the end of their aisle. The numbing cold has spread through his entire body by now. He can barely feel his fingers. His teeth chatter.

The shadow leaps forward.

Danny shoots to his feet, crying out in surprise. Heads whip toward him, but he barely registers them. The shadow leaps again. Danny bolts. He books it down the row, kicking a few knees, nearly tripping several times. Indignant shouts and raised voices follow him as he bursts out of the auditorium. He doesn't check over his shoulder, just keeps running. The cold seeps through his bones, sinks into his core. He feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into an icy abyss.

Moving on instinct, he dashes through the halls until he reaches the locker room. He dives into a shower stall, nearly ripping the tap out of the wall as he turns the water on to the hottest setting. It spews from the showerhead piping-hot, turning his skin red the moment it hits. It burns but the cold still won't go away. Danny tips his head up, opens his mouth, and swallows the water. It scalds his tongue and throat, burning all the way down, but the cold overwhelms it much too quickly.

He doesn't want to step out, not when the water hasn't done its job yet, but his skin is bright red and tender, minutes away from blistering. He forces himself out of the shower without turning it off, stumbling through the door and practically throwing himself against the nearest sink. Hunched over the basin, he swallows down the bile rising in his throat. Somehow, he manages not to throw up, a small victory for a hellish day. Once he's sure he won't be puking any time soon, even though his stomach still feels queasy, he splashes water against his face and looks up.

Blue lips. Pale skin. Face bloody and full of despair. In the mirror, Valerie looms over his shoulder.

Danny whips around, shoes slipping on the wet tiles as he tries to back away. The edge of the sink digs into his back. There's nowhere for him to go, Valerie's pale shade looming inches from him. An arm, or a trail of black mist that resembles one, reaches out toward him. It touches his chest.

Nothing happens.

"You're not whole yet," Danny realizes. It's only been five days since Valerie died.

The shadow ripples. Twisted tendrils burst forth, shooting toward him. They strike his chest and disappear in puffs of smoke, able to touch him but too weak to hurt him. Valerie shrieks. Her voice scrapes against Danny's ears, filling his head and bouncing around his brain, but it doesn't hurt. The lights flicker. The mirrors shatter. The tiles under their feet crack and still, Danny remains untouched. His disappointment overwhelms his relief, crashing through him in waves.

He pushes off the sink and reaches out, stopping inches away from her. "You can't touch me. Yet."

Valerie ripples again. Her form flickers, then she's gone.

Danny runs all the way home.

—

The ice is already broken by the time Danny's dream starts. He called them nightmares at first, but now, they're more like warnings. Promises, even.

Valerie crawls closer. Danny is not afraid.

"Danny," she says, her voice soft and calm, carrying no echoes of pain. She stops in front of him and lifts a cold finger to his chin, pushing his head up.

"Yes?" Danny matches her tone, just as soft, just as smooth. He can't help it. Something about the way she looks at him, the way she speaks. It makes him think everything will be okay.

"I know why I stayed." There's no trace of forgiveness in her gaze, but for some reason, he finds it more comforting than unsettling. As if she understands what he's thinking. She's the only one who knows what he deserves.

"Why?" Danny asks, but he already knows the answer.

"Wait for me," she says.

"I will," he answers.

—

Danny does not go back to school. He locks himself in his room, turns off his phone, and refuses to let anyone in. He made a promise and he's going to keep it. It's the one thing he can do for Valerie, after all. Give her what she wants.

One sleepless night later, on the seventh day after Valerie dies, her ghost manifests in Danny's room.

—

Danny swallows a cry of pain as Bertrand smacks him into the pavement. His great bear claws leave deep gouges across Danny's chest, the wounds leaking ectoplasm. He grits his teeth but doesn't worry. With his abilities, they will be healed by the end of the fight. Which he hopes comes soon. He's missing fourth period with Lancer right now, which isn't a big deal, but he has a math test next class, and he cannot afford another zero.

"Having a little trouble, ghost boy?"

A relieved grin stretches across Danny's face at the sight of Valerie flying overhead. "I don't know, I think I've got it handled." Planting his hands on asphalt, he flips himself up and out of the way of Bertrand's next swipe.

"Doesn't look like that from up here," Valerie says.

"Well, you could always come down and help me then. Prove how much stronger you are." Danny wastes a moment to wink and nearly gets taken out for it. Bertrand roars and pounces toward him. Danny barely leaps out of the way in time.

"Geez, I know you're unbearable, but this is ridiculous."

"Not quite." Spectra's melodic voice easily carries down the street. "I think pathetic is more accurate for your display, Phantom."

Danny scowls. "Shut up, I don't care what you think!"

Valerie swoops down while Spectra's distracted, her blaster spitting bullets faster than Danny can think. Spectra's eyes widen and she drops through the pavement, intangible, to avoid the fire. Danny doesn't have time to watch for her return, trusting Valerie to keep an eye out while he tackles Bertrand again.

The stuffy butler has shifted from a bear into a snake. Venom drips from his fangs and sizzles on the pavement.

"That's not fair," Danny whines.

"Ssssso what?" Bertrand hisses. He coils then jumps.

"Whoa!" Danny grabs his head and yanks it out of Bertrand's path, his neck turning to pale vapour.

"Phantom!" Valerie shouts. "Get your head back on and fight seriously!"

"You don't think I look good like this?" Danny pouts, tossing his head from one hand to the other. Everything blurs and he stumbles. "Okay, wow. Don't do that again." He shoves his head back on, struggling to steady himself as the street spins around him.

"Phantom!" Valerie shrieks in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah!" Danny twists away from Bertrand's sneak attack, grabbing the ghost’s fang as he shoots by. Yanking hard, Danny swings Bertrand around and slams his head into the ground. "Good snake, nice snake!"

Bertrand writhes, bucking wildly under Danny's grip. He struggles to keep a firm holds on him, but then Bertrand opens his mouth wide and snaps down. Yelping, Danny lurches away, yanking his hand back just in time. He flies up to Valerie and takes to scanning the street with her.

"No sign of Spectra?"

"I can take care of her myself," Valerie snaps.

"Sure, but a little help never hurt, right?"

Through her visor, Valerie's eyes narrowed. "Fine."

"Oh, now this is interesting."

Both ghost hunters stiffen. Danny turns, pressing his back against Valerie's, and searches for Spectra. He can't see her. Neither can Valerie, judging by the soft curses under her breath.

"You don't care what I think, but you care what she thinks, don't you?" Spectra asks.

Danny bristles. "So what?"

"Does she think you're strong? Or weak? Do you want to protect her?"

"I don't need anyone to protect me!" Valerie shouts. Under her breath, she says to Danny, "We can't stay together. We won't find her this way, and we still have her crony. You take the ground, I'll take the sky."

"Shouldn't the ghost take the sky?" Danny whispers back.

"Just do it!"

He rolls his eyes, but complies anyway, dropping back to the street.

"Back for more ssso sssoon?" Bertrand asks.

"I didn't get enough of your pretty face the first time," Danny says. "Those fangs are a real good look on you."

"Ssstop ssstalling."

"Stop being so ugly."

"Real original."

"Bertrand!" Spectra snaps. She sounds closer now, too close for Danny's liking. "Get the girl. I'll deal with our little meal."

"Um, ew?"

A bright green disk flies at Danny out of nowhere. He barely sees it before it hits, exploding against his chest and blasting him back. Danny groans when he hits the ground, carefully patting his chest for injuries. The gouges from Bertrand were nearly healed, but now they're seeping ectoplasm once again.

Above him, Bertrand has changed into a giant wasp. He zips about Valerie, trying to catch her with his stinger. She's too fast for him, but, likewise, he's too fast for her. None of their hits are landing, and they're playing an endless game of chase.

Spectra rises from the ground beside him, her hands glowing. "You might want to focus on me."

Danny scrambles back, disks of ectoplasm exploding behind him. Ectoplasm lights his fists, and he swings, aiming for Spectra's face. She ducks away cackling.

"Do you ever give up?" he shouts.

"Why would I when you make it so easy?" Spectra laughs behind her hand. "I can only think of a few things worse than an abomination like yourself."

Danny falters. Don't let her get to you, he tells himself. "Oh yeah, like what?"

"The only thing worse than an abomination is a weak one. And that's what she thinks you are, weak."

"That's a lie!"

"Really? Then why did she send you down here to take care of my little assistant, while she kept watch above, searching for me?"

Danny can't help it. He slips, falls for it, lets the ectoplasm coating his hands fizzle out as he glances up at Valerie. She's still caught in her game of cat and mouse with Bertrand, but in the midst of her fight, she keeps glancing down, at Danny and Spectra. Watching out for him? Or watching to see if he can do it? If he needs help?

"N-no, you're lying." He knows Spectra lies. She never tells the truth, always twists other people's words and actions for her own gain, but...

"Look at you!" Spectra's not even poised to fight now, standing completely relaxed with a hand on her hip. "Pathetic! You couldn't take us on your own. She had to come help you, and you still can't beat me."

"Liar!" Danny whips and ectoblast at her. It shoots through the air, a blazing green star. Spectra's quick to counter, breaking his attack with a blast of her own. They explode when they meet, a cascade of light and ectoplasm.

"See? Weak. You can't do anything with powers like this?"

"Then what about this?" Danny thrusts his arm out. Ice races across the ground, encasing Spectra's feet. It creeps up her legs until nearly her entire body is coated in it, but all she does is laugh and clap.

"Oh, that's a fun trick. But it doesn't do much, does it?" A swipe of her hand and the ice melts and cracks. She shoots into the air, her aura glowing brighter as she gathers her power. "You're only proving me right, dear. You should just give up."

"Shut up." The temperature around Danny plummets, frost creeping across the pavement. His breath fogs the air.

Spectra goes on. "You can't expect to protect anyone like this. A freak, a loser, and a joke of a hero! You've hit all three!"

Behind Spectra, far above their heads, Bertrand splits into a swarm of wasps and rushes Valerie. He knocks her off her board, and she plummets with a scream.

Danny sees. He sees but he doesn't think. Spectra's taunting words pound in his ears, fill up his head, shove all other thoughts aside and blind him.

"I said. Shut! Up!" He bellows and stomps his feet. A wave of power bursts off him, razor-sharp icicles spewing from the ground, taller than Danny. Spectra easily dodges, flying up out of harm's way as she cackles with glee.

Too late, Danny realizes his mistake.

"Valerie!" he screams, echoing her cry, as he lunges toward her, but it's too late.

An icicle rips through her with a sickening squelch. Her blood sprays across Danny's face, seeping into his eyes and mouth. It's all he can see and taste. Her body hits the ground with a thud, nearly torn in two. Her heart beats against the open air. One of her lungs lays on the ground beside her, shredded to pieces.

Danny drops to his knees. He can't breathe. He can't think. Valerie, Valerie, VALERIE! A scream of agony tears from his throat as his world shatters around him.

—

Valerie doesn't look all that different in death. She wears her Huntress suit, although ferns of frost curl along her abdomen, spewing from a gape black void in her side. Pale blue overtakes the red. Her hair glows orange. Not bad, as far as ghost forms go.

"I always knew you were bad." Her voice carries an echo that swells and fills the room. "I knew you were evil. All ghosts are. And you made me one of them. Danny," Valerie's stoic expression splinters, "how could you?"

"I'm sorry," Danny says, because there's nothing else he can say, nothing that will make up for this. He reaches out to her, but she recoils, lips curling in disgust.

"I never wanted to turn into this. It hurts." Her voice breaks. A wet sob chokes her words. Like she's still drowning in her own blood, forever.

"I know. God, I know. It never stops. It's like your broken inside." Danny grabs his hair and tugs. "There's a void and nothing ever fills it. I didn't mean it, Valerie, I didn't! But I killed you, and I­– I'm sorry! If I could take it back, if I could trade places with you, I would. You know I would."

"I know."

"If I could do anything to make better..." Danny lowers his head, shame and regret pressing him down.

Valerie reaches for him. Just like in his dream, she grabs his chin and slowly lifts his head, forcing him to look at her. "Danny."

He knows. He knows. He knows what she's going to say, what she's going to do. He's known all along, since that first nightmare. Maybe he's been ignoring it, or hoping for it. Either way, he won't stop her. He deserves it.

She lays her other hand on his chest, ice gathering in her palm. "Die for me."

—

When Mr. Gray finishes crying, he wipes his eyes and slumps into his chair. "So." The words cracks as it comes out. He pauses to swallow a few times, shuddering visibly. "So. That's how it happened."

Danny keeps his eyes downcast. He knows what's coming next. The screaming, the yelling, the accusations. He will take all of it, already agrees with Mr. Gray even though the man hasn't said a word. It's just a matter of seconds, now.

"You­–" MR. Gray starts.

Say it. Say I killed her. Call me a murderer.

"It wasn't your fault."

Danny nearly chokes on his surprise. "What?"

"It was. An accident. You were manipulated, tricked. It wasn't your fault, Danny. I don't want you to think it was."

Danny's mind reels. This can't be happening. Surely, he's hearing Mr. Gray wrong, making up a fantasy in his head, but no. Valerie's father doesn't hate him. The one person who has any right to, other than Valerie. And he... forgives Danny.

"And if I know my daughter, she wouldn't blame you either."

As Danny gets up to leave, only one thought runs through his head. Then you didn't know her very well.

—

It doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. The impact feels like a punch, a burst of searing pain, then he's gone.

And then he's not. He's in his room, floating on one side of his bed. Valerie stands across from them. Between him, his body sits, held upright by the spear of ice jutting through his chest. Valerie apparently had some shred of mercy left in her. The spear went right through Danny's heart.

The wound is still fresh, still bleeding, dripping down his body's chest. Seconds or days to manifest, Danny's mom said. Isn't he a lucky one?

Valerie eyes him over his dead body, and he follows her stare. In the middle of his chest, swirling frost creeps out of a black void. They match. How poetic.

"You're not gone," Danny says, lifting his gaze back to Valerie.

"No. And you stayed."

"Yeah."

She doesn't move away, and neither does he. They can't, not without the other following. They have haunted each other for so long, Danny stalking her in life, Valerie hunting him in death. Now, it seems, they're stuck together at a stalemate, neither one willing to move first. They're dead now, though, so that doesn't matter. They have all the time in the world.

[knit-wear-it]

Drunk Tank

Mood: (Harley x Ledger!Joker) Harley sees the Joker drunk for the first time. A little window into their relationship after the initial high of getting together has passed, and they’re still settling into living together. This period of time is probably the sweet spot for prompts, btw. 

Rating: Domestic 💯

Prompt: From Anon, Harley & J get drunk together or one of them reacts to the other getting drunk.

Drunk Tank, a Harlequin-Tumblr-Exclusive

It was mid-October, just a week after Harley and the Joker’s tussle with the Odessa gang, which of course, ended with Harley murdering their leader Boris Kosov via a brick to the skull. What was she supposed to do, let him live?

Black Canary arrived shortly thereafter, and now Harley was sporting three broken fingers on her right hand as a result of the fight that followed. They were taped up and splinted, rendering her remarkably useless. You couldn’t shoot with broken fingers, let alone be effective with a knife or any other kind of weapon. It was a frustrating injury, and made her feel like a liability, her hand tucked in her coat as she stood to the side while the Joker did the busy work.

Being useless was not something Harley Quinn was well-equipped to deal with, making her feel sulky and even a little depressed.

She and the Joker were almost two months into their experiment in togetherness, and Harley was still riding the wave of certainty and freedom that came with giving in to whatever this thing was between them. She couldn’t define it; she just knew it was there, vibrating at some higher frequency, and making her feel invincible.

Invincible until her own physicality got in the way, it seemed.

They were hardly a ‘talking about their feelings’ couple, but Harley sensed he was annoyed with her moodiness over being injured. He didn’t taunt her about it, which Harley interpreted as a choice to not make her feel worse, a genuinely surprising development. Obviously, there was no sympathy, and no attempt to cheer her up. He just wasn’t making it worse.

Over the last few days, she’d taken to hibernating, and he’d been out with increasing frequency. Maybe avoiding her. Maybe he just wanted to be out. Harley wasn’t sure what to make of it.

She knew the Joker better than anyone, and for the most part she could read him like an open book. Especially when things were good — the giddiness of companionship, the thrill of something new and head-spinningly good elevating everything. But they were only human, and things couldn’t always be good. They definitely couldn’t always be new.

That night J was out with Marty, leaving Harley at the safe house to sulk over her broken fingers and indulge in moody thoughts about the Joker losing interest in her. She didn’t really believe it would be that simple, but she was depressed, and it was morbidly satisfying to go to the darker corners of her mind.

It was edging up to 3 AM, and she was in bed watching reruns of Made in the Diamond District on an old laptop missing most of its keys. Ivania Dumas had just thrown a shoe at Bobby Kennedy’s head when Harley heard the loud creak of the window in the living room opening. Her head snapped up at the CRASH that followed, prompting her to jump out of bed and grab the handgun tucked in a holster slung over the headboard.

Harley sidled up to the bedroom door, flicking the safety off her piece and pressing her back against the wall.

Then there was a gruff sing-songy grumbling out in the living room, making her eyes widen as she realized this was no unlucky burglar.

She stepped out of the bedroom and slapped the light on at the wall, a pair of sconces blinking on, dimly illuminating the cramped kitchen and living room area.

The Joker was sitting on the floor beneath the narrow, horizontal window, having apparently rolled through it and fallen to the floor.  His legs were splayed out in front of him, his green-stained hair flopping over his forehead, his warpaint mostly wiped away apart from some black clinging to his eyelashes and red staining his lips.

He blinked rapidly under the lights, squinting up at Harley as she drew closer, her brow furrowed, confused.

“Wait-wait,” he slurred, smirking as he stretched both arms up toward her, swaying. “Don’t shoot, officer. I’m uh… I’m innocent.”

He giggled shrilly and Harley’s eyes widened even further as she realized what she was seeing.

“Are you… drunk?” she demanded, incredulous.

The Joker swayed forward, squeezing his eyes shut as he giggled to himself.

Harley set the gun aside on the kitchen counter, unsure how to react. She’d never seen him drunk before, and she’d never been drunk in his presence either. There just wasn’t time for it. Sure, neither of them would turn down a drink, especially after some especially chaotic work, but it was crucial to be present when you were wanted terrorists constantly on the run from the Batman.

“So, I guess you and Marty had some fun?” she asked tentatively, undeniably curious about this development.

“Mmm,” the Joker nodded sluggishly and shrugged out of his coat, leaving it in a puddle on the floor behind him.

Harley watched him try to push himself up twice only to fall on his ass both times. On his third attempt she stepped forward and grabbed him by the elbow, hauling him to his feet.

The Joker promptly lost his balance and staggered forward into Harley. She caught him by the lapels, but he forced her backward, his hands closed around her waist, fisting into her oversized tee shirt. Harley’s back hit the counter separating the tiny kitchen from the living room, her spine striking the edge, sending a fissure of irritation rolling through her.

“Hey!” she yelped, punching him on the arm with her good hand.

But the Joker just chuckled slyly and proceeded to tug her tee shirt up to reveal the black bikini-briefs she wore beneath. Then he swayed backwards, squinting down at them.

“Dawwwwww,” he cooed, sounding disappointed. “You’re wearing… panties.”

Before Harley could respond, his attention had already shifted. He dropped her shirt in favour of sliding both gloved hands into her hair, which was already greasy and wavy. He rocked back on his heels unsteadily as he flexed his fingers against her scalp, zhuzing her hair to make it big and fluffy before he released her to get a look at his work.

“Mmm,” he blinked at her sleepily, and tucked one messy lock of hair behind her ear.

“Wow,” Harley laughed, not knowing how else to respond to this bizarre behaviour.

“Ya know, there was a girl tonight,” the Joker smoothed her hair back from her face, his gloves snagging a few honey blonde strands, as ungentle as ever.

“A girl?” Harley’s eyebrows rose curiously.

“Mm,” he nodded and flapped one hand carelessly. “My uh… animal magnetism is impossible to ignore.”

“Did she tell you that?” Harley fought back a smile.

“Oohhhh,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “It was uh, pretty obvious when she climbed into my lap.” 

“Really?” Harley pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Did she realize who you are?”

“Psshhht,” the Joker hissed through his teeth, which might have meant he had no idea and didn’t care. “But I said… sorry sweetheart,” he slapped a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m taken.”

“That’s good to hear,” Harley deadpanned, smirking.

“And she said, awwww, is she gonna get jealous.” His eyes grew heavy as he dramatized the retelling. “And I said, kitty-cat my girl don’t do jealous.”

Harley snorted, amused. But he wasn’t done yet.

“And she went, I bet I can make her jealous.” He threaded his fingers into Harley’s hair again, piling it up on top of her head this time. “And I said, honey, you don’t know my girl. She...” He growled quietly, his eyes suddenly intense as they trailed over Harley’s face, making her heart leap. “She’s a real pistol…”

He tipped forward suddenly, ostensibly going in for a kiss, but his nose crashed into Harley’s cheek, his fingers in her hair pulling at her scalp.

“Alright, Casanova,” Harley pushed on his chest and he swayed backward, his hands falling out of her hair. “Are you hungry?”

“Mmmmmmm,” he seemed to confirm with one big lazy nod. Then he yanked her shirt up to get a look at her panties again.

“Hungry for food,” Harley clarified, grinning openly as she pushed him away.

He staggered back, struggling out of his blazer while Harley circled into the kitchen to dig out left-over Caribbean food from the fridge. As she threw it into the microwave, the Joker stumbled into the bedroom, making Harley laugh softly as she listened to him crash into things trying to get undressed. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, except that with his already-microscopic inhibitions lowered, some exceptionally fond feelings for her were floating to the surface of a brain usually concerned with more practical matters.

Harley examined her splinted fingers, the anxiety that she was annoying him with her ‘moodiness’ dissipating. Maybe he had been annoyed, but if this… affection for her was what was beneath that…

Harley sighed, trying not to beam stupidly as she grabbed the food out of the microwave. 

She stepped into the bedroom to find the Joker had divested himself of his clothes, and was sprawled out on the bed naked, attempting to light a poorly rolled cigarette with a disposable lighter.

“That’s dignified,” Harley drawled, handing him the box of take out, distracting him from the cigarette, which he promptly threw across the room in favour of the food.

Harley smiled and shook her head, circling to her side of the bed. She slid into the same position she’d been in before her partner staggered home drunk, demanding her attention. Feeling outrageously content, she tapped on the laptop to the episode playing, thinking that even shit-faced, the Joker was still an agent of chaos.

Just a far less threatening variety of it.

Fin

A/N: For the record, the Joker was totally out drinking with Marty to avoid Harley sulking over her broken fingers, haha. This is a perfect little look at their relationship before this weekend’s new chapter of the Pantomime. 

Like it, reblog it, leave a note, show me some love 🥰

"Alright, Casanova” 👇 LOL.

[densi-mber]

Celebration

A/N: The return of our second favorite Russian criminal. For today’s prompt. This assumes that Deeks is able to attend FLETC or grandfathered into the NCIS for years of service.

***

“Congratulations Mr. Deeks, or rather Agent Deeks,” Hetty said grandly. He stooped to give her a hug, squeezing her as tightly as felt safe without hurting her.

“Thanks, Hetty. You really outdid yourself with this party. This is, wow, I definitely didn’t expect any of this.”

He turned to take in the elegant tables covered with white tablecloths and fancy appetizers and black and silver balloon. Through some magic, Hetty had somehow managed to arrange a banquet in his honor and invite several dozen law enforcement officers, Julia, and his mom all without him realizing.

“You have Nell to thank for most of this. She was very eager to make sure that everything was just so. And you deserve it.”

“Well, I still appreciate it,” he insisted. “Even though you almost gave me a heart attack when I first walked in.”

“Always so dramatic, Mr. Deeks. Now, you enjoy yourself. I saw Director Vance skulking by the dessert table and I’d like to have a word with him.”

Shaking his head, Deeks glanced around the room again. His mom was in what appeared to be a very animated conversation with Sabatino, a glass of white wine in one hand. He snorted at the vague look of discomfort on Sabatino’s face and wondered if he was being treated to a retelling of Deeks’ birth.

“Having a good time?” Kensi asked, coming up behind him. She rested her chin on his shoulder and loosely wrapped her arms around him.

“Honestly, I’m a little overwhelmed, but yes, I’m having a good time.” He craned his head to look at her. “Is it common practice to have a celebration when you become an agent?” Kensi shrugged.

“Not really. But you know people aren’t going to pass up the opportunity to have free food and drinks.”

“True.” She circled around to face him and brushed his bangs back, her smile nod.

“Plus, you’ve worked really hard to get here and deserve the recognition,” she added. “I’m so proud of you baby.”

“Oh, it is indeed a impressive accomplishment, Marty.”

“Oh my god, no,” Deeks muttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “Kensi?”

“Yup, it’s him,” she confirmed. He turned around slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Kirkin.” Anatoli Kirkin smiled at him, taking a step forward with his arms extended, like he planned to embrace Deeks.”

“Marty,” he said. Deeks took a step back while Kensi’s grip on his hand tightened. Kirkin looked mildly disappointed by their reaction, but didn’t attempt further contact.

What are you doing here?” Kensi asked. And more importantly, how did you even get in? This is a closed party.” Kirkin smiled at them benignly.

“I heard about this from a friend and just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to celebrate with you.”

“That’s, uh, that’s very kind of you Kirkin. I guess,” Deeks said as diplomatically as he could.

“And Kensi, as always it is a great pleasure to see you. I’m sure you’re taking good care of our Marty,” Kirkin continued. Deeks made a face at “our Marty”, but didn’t comment. Past experience had taught him that it was easier to go with Kirkin’s delusions most of the time.

“Thanks,” Kensi said with an awkward smile.

“That dress is absolutely divine. And Maaarty, that suit fits you like a glove. That blue brings out the color in your eyes perfectly.” Kirkin continued looking Deeks up and down and gave a shuddery little sigh.

“Kirkin-“

“I see you cut your hair as well. It’s a pity to see those lovely curls, but I suppose in time it will grow again.” He suddenly moved forward again, apparently unable to help himself, and briefly made contact with Deeks’ cheek.

“Hey, no touching,” Kensi said firmly. She didn’t raise her voice, but Kirkin still blanched, obviously remembering suddenly that she could easily take him down without breaking a sweat or her platform stilettos.

“I apologize,” Kirkin murmured, looking a little embarrassed. He smoothed down his tie, drawing in a shallow breath. “It appears I’ve over stayed my welcome for today.” Deeks started to relax a little, until Kirkin added, “But I want to give you your present before you go.”

“What is it with you and presents?” Deeks asked, but Kirkin either didn’t hear him or was ignoring him. He reached into his suit jacket-Kensi tensed again-and removed a slim box from his inner pocket. As always, it was wrapped in the finest of papers and an ornate bow.

“A token of my deep and abiding affection,” Kirkin said solemnly, offering Deeks the package.

“Again, this really wasn’t necessary.” He really hoped it wasn’t another nude. It would just be like Kirkin to give him a handy wallet-sized print. With this thought in mind, he gingerly opened the box while Kensi peered over his shoulder.

Instead of something wildly inappropriate, he found a burnished platinum tie clip. It was surprisingly simple and in good taste with only the brand’s label on the front, in the far left corner.

Kensi made a slightly disappointed noise and he gave her a mildly disgusted look. Only she would be upset that Kirkin hadn’t gifted him with an imagined naked rendering of him.

“I figured it would be useful to you now that you’re an agent,” Kirkin explained hopefully. “There’s a small message on the back. I had it specially engraved.”

Deeks lifted it out, flipping it around to read the minute flowing script.

“To my dear friend Martin. Think of me when you wear this.”

“Oh, that’s actually pretty nice. Thanks, Kirkin,” Deeks said, feeling oddly touched.

“At least this way I can feel close to you even when society objects.”

“Society is the only one objecting,” Kensi said under her breath.

“As I said it was just a token of my affection. Now I really must be going. My men will be worrying about me by now,” he said. Then before either of them could react, he’d wrapped his arms around Deeks.

“Agh, ok we’re doing this. We’re really doing this,” Deeks groaned.

“Remember, I’m always a call away,” Kirkin whispered. He stepped back from Deeks, gripping his forearms firmly. “Goodbye Marty.”

As Kirkin walked away, Deeks finally let himself shudder.

“Are you ok?” Kensi asked, resting her hand on his chest.

“Yeah, I’m good. I might need to burn this suit though.”

“Let’s get you something to drink.” Kensi squeezed his arm soothingly, leading him towards a table loaded with large quantities of alcohol.

“Can you burn titanium?” he asked idly.

***

A/N: And as always, I have to throw in at least one “Maaarty” when writing Kirkin. Also, if you haven’t read my previous Kirkin stories-you should-I’ve written several where Kirkin gives Deeks a series of wildly inappropriate gifts.

[florenceandthemachine]

broken Tumblr asks part ??: in which I think I figured out that adding a read more into the asks are what breaks them.

anonymous asked:

the team makes Buck cry. send tweet.

hi anon I really am sorry if you were hoping for some hurt / comfort bc uh. this is just the hurt. xoxox

also my love, thanks, and eternal devotion to @buckleydiazs for giving it a quick beta 💖

Buck was on cloud fucking nine.

For a year—an entire year—he had been stuck in the doctors office, twice a month, while they ran test after test after his… multiple accidents. Blood tests, lung tests, flexibility tests, he had been poked like a pincushion and stretched like a rubber band, he had been through physical therapy, occupational therapy, and just regular therapy (hell, he was still in regular therapy), and now finally, finally, he was finished. 

“So, you don’t show any signs of abnormal clotting and your risk for a second pulmonary embolism is low. As far as your ankle goes, but you’ve regained full mobility, and as much as I wish I could take all the credit for that, I know you’ve been working your ass off in therapy. Congratulations, Mr. Buckley.”

He was cleared. Fully out of the woods. Clean bill of health. 

Finally, finally, after a year of hell, he could put everything—his crushed leg, his bleeding lungs, his stupid lawsuit—behind him. Finally, he could breathe easy, easier than he had in a year, and the only thing he wanted to do in the entire world was share the news with his family. 

Normally, Maddie would have been first, but he always felt bad about tying up a dispatcher when he called her at work. Her shift ended in an hour or so, though—like his normally would have, if he didn’t have his schedule switched during doctor days.

Well, if he can’t tell his sister, he can still tell his family. 

“Hey, Chim!”

Buck is all smiles as locks his Jeep, his medical release in hand, jogging easily to catch up to Chim’s retreating backside. Buck grinned as Chim turned around, raising his brow. “Hey, do you and Hen have a second? I wanted to show you both my—“

“Oooh, sorry, no can do Buckeroo. Hen’s taking her MCAT’s in two days, I have every second of her free time booked solid with studying.”

Buck faltered a little bit as they walked, raising his brow. While he really was proud of Chim for doing a full 180 so quickly—going from feeling betrayed to supporting a friend was no easy feat, and Buck knew that as well as anyone, but he also knew that a full day of studying wouldn’t do any good. 

“Come on, Chim, I’m sure she can take a break to—“

“Noooo, Buck.”

“Chim.”

“Buck, seriously. She’s been working too hard for this, and I’m not having you break up her flow. This is important to her, you get that right?”

Of course Buck got it, but…

“I’m not going to let anyone ruin this for her.”

….ruin it? He just wanted to share some good news.

He understood that Hen had to study, and that her upcoming MCATS were really important to her, but this was important to Buck; and for Chim to jump straight to that degree made his heart sink a little bit with each beat, his head traitorously whispering to him ‘what if Chim is right?’. Hen had been one of his biggest supporters as he got off of blood thinners, as he started back into his various therapies, and he had thought he returned the favor, helping her study in his free time whenever he could, and helping her take her mind off of things when she needed to as well—maybe his distractions were more harm than good, but he knew Hen well enough to know that if no one pulled her away from her work, she just wouldn’t eat, sleep, go home, any of it. Was it really that bad that Buck wanted a minute?

He felt his smile start to slip so he hitched it back up, nodding his head. “Yeah, sure, I… okay, just hit me up when you’re all done, I guess?” He said, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt. It must have worked, because Chim clapped both of his arms and turned away, leaving Buck standing there for a moment before he shook himself out of it.

It was fine. Hen wanted to study, that was important. Buck tried to pump himself back up as he took the stairs to the loft two at a time, reveling in the simple act of fully rolling his ankle. He tilted his head as he heard Bobby’s voice spill out of his office, turning on his heel to his next target. Besides, Bobby sounded frustrated—some good news would do him good, or so Buck thought. 

“…no, I don’t—no, we can’t just take—wait, what? No, I will not hold!”

Buck almost laughed as he knocked on the Cap’s open door, smiling when Bobby waved him inside.

“Look, forgive me if I’m not entirely sympathetic, but when we’re down an engine, and you can’t tell us when repairs will be done—well then you’d better transfer me to someone who can!”

“Everything alright, Cap?” Buck couldn’t help but smile as Bobby strangled his phone, sighing in defeat when the plastic wouldn’t yield. 

“You know, Marty was a crook in the end, but damn, he was a good mechanic. What’s up, Buck?”

Buck winced at the reminder of the nearly would-be heist, humming thoughtfully as he waved his full release forms. “Well, this shouldn’t take long. I got back from the doctors today, and—“

Bobby’s groan cut him off, hanging his head in his free hand. “No, Buck, no. I can’t have you sick right now, and nothing good ever follows ‘doctor’.”

Buck laughed, but Bobby kept going, the stress of the day and being down an engine clearly getting to him as he continued on. “And the last time I heard “doctor” from you, it was followed by lawsuit, which—yes, I’m still holding, hello?”

Lawsuit?

What the fuck? 

Buck reeled back like he had been slapped, the smile frozen on his face even with Bobby’s clear dismissal. He was glad that he didn’t have to say anything else, at the very least, because his throat felt hot and tight and it was all he could do to stay steady as he pivoted on his heel, walking out of the office. 

He hated the fact that that was the first thing Bobby brought up, but he hated even more how much that dark cloud was still lingering over his head. If Bobby would be so candid when Buck was barely two words in to saying something, who’s to say what choice words he had about Buck when he was gone? 

The lawsuit was the worst part of his life, the biggest mistake he had made, and he couldn’t wrap his head around it being thrown in his face when he was ready to walk in and share what was the best news he had ever received. Is that… all he would have here, all he would have been able to look forward to?

He started back down the stairs, his legs acting independently of the rest of his body, a dull tingling spreading through his chest as he finally sat down. He didn’t know if there was a happy medium between cold and numb (‘shock’, his mind provided, ‘you’re in shock’), but whatever it was, he was deep into it.

God, he had honestly thought that was all behind him. How fucking stupid was he to think that he was going to be able to come back from a mistake that huge, even a year later?

“Buck?”

He could feel himself starting to panic—loathe as he was to admit it—but as per usual, Eddie was a step ahead of the game without even knowing it. Even now, just hearing Eddie take a few steps closer to him started to ease his heartbeat, and he swallowed a few times as he nodded, fighting off the headrush as he was able to breathe again.

“Hey, Buck, you good?”

“Hey, Eddie, uh…hey!” Buck stood up and wiped his hands on his pants, paperwork forgotten next to him as he tried to smile. If anything, he knew—he knew to his very core, he knew, he… he prayed Eddie would be able to share this little victory with him. “Eds, you have a second to talk?“

Buck almost swallowed his tongue as the alarm sounded through the station, his jaw clicking shut as footsteps started to come down the stairs. 

“Hey, we’ll talk later, yeah?” Eddie called, already heading to his locker. It was all Buck could do to hold it together, nodding his head as he waved them off, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when the ladder pulled out of the station.

--

Eddie may have had a good start on his day, but Buck did not. 

He had woken up, kissed Christopher goodbye as Carla brought him to school, and less than ten minutes later, he had a brown envelope in hand, with a curt “You’ve been served”.

Shannon’s will was being contested. The will that Eddie didn’t even know she had. By her father, who Eddie had only seen twice in several years of marriage. 

The will was simple enough—a few grand left to Christopher’s college fund, a small pair of earrings to her sister, and that was it. There was nothing to contest, in Eddie’s mind, but contested it was.

He looked over the paperwork twice, and it made less sense the second time around—as much as he hated to admit it, the worst part of it all was knowing that Eddie was going to be alone at work again, because Buck had another day off scheduled in the books. 

So yeah, he may have been a little grumpy as he threw a few weights around in the work room for the start of his shift.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Eddie was spiraling; he couldn’t understand how someone could be so bitter, so selfish, to try and stop a few thousand dollars from going into a college fund for their grandchild. His mood only soured as his shift went on, there were no distractions, no calls, nothing to help him pull his head out of his ass, and no one he could talk to. Chim had almost bitten his head off when he said hello to Hen that morning, Bobby was dealing with yet another broken down, tax funded nightmare, and Buck—

And Buck was here. 

“Buck?”

Eddie did an honest to god double take as he saw Buck sitting on the bench, like he had been summoned from the depths of Eddie’s mind, even though he looked like he was in a state of shock.

“Hey, Buck, you good?”

He couldn’t lie, it made his heart skip a beat when Buck smiled at him—even if he could tell that Buck’s heart wasn’t in it. 

Before he could say anything more, the alarm sounded through the house, and Eddie was about a step away from fully losing his mind. “Hey, we’ll talk later, yeah?” He said, trying to give a small smile as he started to double back to his locker.

The call, to put it mildly, had not gone well—any fire call where the main focus wasn’t the fire was bound to be troublesome. A ten year old had started a fire in a laundry room, which should have been simple enough, except it was the same laundry room that he and his brother had apparently been locked up on for months. 

Suddenly what started out as a fire call turned into fire, medics, and police, and Eddie felt his hands start to shake as he worked with Hen to revive a ten year old boy. Barely older than Christopher. It wasn’t the first time he had seen abuse face to face, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last, but something about it was working him up more than usual. He was glad his shift was almost over—the only thing he wanted to do was go home, hug his kid, and sleep.

“—ooh, Mads, they’re back, gotta go. Hey, Eddie!”

He knew he was in deep when not even hearing Buck’s voice could brighten his mood—it was all he could do to hitch a half-hearted smile onto his face as he stepped off of the spare rig.

“Good call, right? Maddie said it sounded like everyone should pull through.”

Eddie just felt himself wind up tighter as he shook his head, rolling his jaw to force himself to keep it loose. “No, Buck. It was not a good call. It was a very bad call.” Bad didn’t even begin to cover it. Eddie could still feel his heart in his throat, feel a tiny body in his arms as Hen started compressions.

He was too wrapped in his own world to notice Buck falter, clearly thrown in the conversation. “Well, hey, if you’ve got a second—“

“Come on Buck, give it a break. I just want to get the fuck out of here as soon as I can.”

Pulling his boots off, he tossed them with perhaps a bit more force than needed into his locker, missing the way that Buck’s face shuttered. “You too, huh?”

“‘You too’? The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Eddie, I just wanted to share some good news, and—“

“Well things aren’t just good or bad, Buck! Just because no one died does not make a good call, and just because things are bad right now doesn’t mean I have to be cheered up. I’m allowed to be pissed off. I’m allowed to have one fucking minute!” Eddie snapped, chucking his jacket against the hamper in the corner, jaw clenched so hard he would have been afraid of cracking a tooth if he was in his right state of mind.

“So please, tell me what is so god damned important that I can’t see my kid until you tell me.”

The moment the words left his lips, he knew it was a mistake. The only person that loved Chris as much as Eddie was Buck, and he knew that, saw that more clearly than ever as his white hot anger dulled into something more manageable. He swallowed as he turned around, and… fuck, Buck wasn’t even looking at him.

“…Buck, I—“

--

“Clean bill of health.”

Buck couldn’t bring himself to look up up as he tossed the stack of papers onto the bench, doing his absolute best to keep himself composed as he spoke, his jaw tight and brow furled. 

He had been so proud of himself for avoiding a panic attack while they were on the call. He had never gotten them before this past year, but between the earthquake, tsunami, Maddie’s kidnapping, and bomb, he had become fast friends with the crushing weight. But he had done well—he kept himself above water, so to speak, and when he called Maddie he was proud to say that his voice was almost steady, and prouder still when she congratulated him for his job well done in therapy, demanding he come over and celebrate tonight. 

Well, even if he couldn’t count on his family friends team, he could always count on Maddie. It was a small joy in the world, but right now, it felt like it was all he had.

“Officially back to 100% mobility in my crushed ankle, officially out of the woods for another clot. Did you know it would take me a year to be clear of another embolism, because I refused blood thinners? Well, I figured you might, since you’re been running calls without me, every other week for a year, while I sit in a hospital room.”

Buck finally brought himself up to meet his teammates eye as Eddie’s frustration started to give way to confusion, and that, that hurt more than anything else today. Had anyone even realized why his schedule changed every other week? Did anyone care? “And alright, like you said, it might not be that important to you all but—“

“Buck, you—“

“But it’s really fucking important to me! All I wanted to do was share the good news with the people who are supposed to be family, my team, and instead all I got was blown off, snapped at—Eddie, I mentioned the word doctor in front of Bobby and his first concern was if he had another lawsuit on his hands.”

Buck was mildly aware that he was shaking—he had never really handled stress like this well—but the bigger concern was the tightening in his throat, that sinking pressure he felt right beneath his lungs. He could handle a lot of things, but that didn’t mean he could handle crying in front of Eddie quite yet.

“It’s been a year, Eddie, and I thought things were getting better, so what gives? What did I do, what have I done to deserve being treated like this? I’m serious, please, tell me, so I can fix it!”

Buck’s voice was reaching a fevered pitch as he gestured around the locker room, feeling himself splinter as he begged, literally begged, to know what he had done—why his work had meant nothing. Would he be mortified later? Probably, but everyone had a breaking point, and Buck was realizing (belatedly) that he was past his.

“All I wanted to do today was share a victory with my team, at least share it with you, you’re supposed to be my best friend, and I—I don’t get why—“

If Buck could clearly see Eddie’s face, he might have laughed at the pale, slack jawed, panicked expression before him. As it was, though, his eyes were starting to burn, and even as he reached to rub them, his body finally gave up, tears rolling down his cheeks. 

“Why is everyone being so fucking mean?” 

Buck didn’t bother with another platitude as he pushed past Eddie, rubbing tear tracks off of his cheeks. He felt his face heat up as he stormed out of the firehouse, fumbling for his keys, and heaven help any member of the 118 who stood in his way. 

--

Buck was crying.

The team had made Buck cry.

Fuck, Eddie had made Buck cry. 

He just stood in the locker room as the sound of Buck’s Jeep faded into the distance, feeling his heartbeat throughout his entire body. All Buck wanted to do was share some positivity with the team, and Eddie had… eviscerated him. He bent down to pick up some of the papers Buck had left behind, his heart falling even further (as if that was possible) as he read over the paperwork.

Fuck.

“Hey, Eddie, is Buck in here? Chim said he wanted to talk to—woah, what’s wrong?”

The sweat on Eddie’s skin had cooled (hell, how long had he been standing there?) and guilt sunk heavier into his stomach as Hen walked into the locker room, with Chim trailing behind her. Eddie’s eyes were still glued to the release in his hand, barely noticing as Chim spoke, staring down at his phone. 

“Uhhh… why is Maddie telling me to camp out with one of you tonight?” he asked the room as a whole, sharing a confused glance with Hen before they both locked eyes on Eddie, who… well, who probably looked as bad as he felt.

Which, considering Eddie felt like he was about to cry himself, was saying a lot.

“We fucked up. I fucked up. I think—I think we broke Buck.”

And he had no idea how to fix it. 

[addictofsupernatural]

Emotions (pt. 12)

Billy Hargrove x reader

Summary: Billy does his best to win you back, but a certain person keeps getting in the way.

Word Count: 2485

Chapter 1 • Chp. Masterlist

Billy was not giving up. He was set on winning you back, and started by waiting at your house to take you to school. At first you tried to ignore him and just walk, but he kept driving next to you and you felt too guilty. You'd end up getting inside and seeing his relieving smile. Hopper did always say that your conscious would screw you over some day.

During biology he was constantly trying to make you laugh. His charming jokes and quick wit would eventually get to you, and you would end up cracking a smile. You couldn't help it; you just thought it was funny how much of a child he could be, even with his beautiful grin.

During lunch you went with Steve Harrington. It pissed him off, but he needed to learn that you're entitled to hang out with anyone you want. He just didn't understand why it had to be him. When Billy passed by you in the halls or anywhere at lunch, he would always smile and wink at you. He'd see you blush, which was all he needed.

Billy had learned to have patience. He needed to be patient with you when you felt insecure about yourself, or when you didn't understand something simple. Looking back at it now, he could see why you had trouble adjusting to normalcy. He would now need to be his most patient self, because right now you were doing something you thought would be best for Billy, and he saw that you were trying your hardest to be better for him by trying to have him move on. He just needed enough patience for you to realize that he wasn't going to move on from the love of his life.

When Steve caught on that Billy's dumb ass face was actually working on you, he knew that he had to do something as your self proclaimed best friend. He invited Jonathan over to see what to do about it, pacing the floor and acting like he was planning a war strategy.

"We have to do something about this!" He said to Jonathan in the living room, with you easily listening from your bedroom easily listening. Hearing the two of them was like having a devil and angel on your shoulder. "Okay, what's our plan?"

"I don't know man. I think Billy's okay now, if I'm being honest. He's actually sorry, and he's okay now with y/n's powers. Maybe we should give him a chance?"

"Are you kidding me? And let my friend get hurt again? No, she's not going to fall for that dickhead again. Someone has to protect her; she's too innocent."

"Hey, dumbasses," You said from your door frame. "If you don't want me to listen in then maybe you shouldn't be talking about this crap in my house."

"See what I mean?! He taught her how to curse!" He then pointed to you. "And shut up. Your house is comfy, okay?"

"He's actually not wrong about that." Jonathan mumbled.

You scoffed. "I told you guys, we're not getting back together. And shouldn't I be able to make my own decisions anyways?"

"No, you need the guidance of a loyal friend." You rolled your eyes at his serious face, which then lit up with an idea. "I know exactly how to get him to back off! We need to get him jealous, and he'll get so pissed that he'll give up."

"You sure you don't just wanna see him get pissed?" Jonathan asked, scoffing as well.

Steve gave him a pat on the back. "That, my friend, is an added perk." He then gave the two of you a teasing smile.

The next morning when Billy went to your house to pick you up for school, he saw that Steve's car was parked there. He watched in disgust as the two of you came out, with your head down as you went into his car. Steve looked back, smiling and nodding at Billy. "You ever tried her pancakes?" He called out. "Delicious!"

He then got into the car too. You didn't look at Steve when saying, "You don't have to be an ass about it."

"You want him to move on or not?" Steve asked as you silently nodded.

Billy gripped his steering wheel as his breaths became deeper. You used to make him pancakes. You used to sit on his lap and feed it to him. Sometimes you'd lick the syrup off his lips. You'd never do that with that jerk off Steve, but the thought of you making something for Steve instead of him got Billy so fucking pissed.

At school, Billy thought about his options. He could still try to keep it up with strong flirting, but that dick off Steve would probably also start flirting. You hate conflict, and you'd hate that situation. Fucking Steve Harrington. How the hell was he supposed to win you back now?

It was time for him to really look back and think. When you two first got together, how did it happen? Back then, it happened slowly as you saw that his attention was focused on you. This was when you were just friends. Bingo.

When he saw you enter fourth period, he gently smiled and nodded his head. "Hey." You put your head down. "So, I was thinking. I'm sorry for going against what you want, and I think we should start over. As friends?"

This was painful for you, and you knew that you should just reject him so he can move on and be happy with someone else in the future. But you were dying to talk to him again; the conversations you missed so much. "Okay." You squeaked.

Unlike when you first met, this time he was the talker in the conversation and you were the listener. He rambled on and made jokes, and you responded with a smile or a nod, occasionally making a comment.

Once class ended the two of you were still talking when Steve walked into the classroom and smacked your shared desk, startling the both of you. "We should head over to lunch now. Let's go y/n."

Billy stood tall. "Sure thing. Let's all go."

"Let's not fight guys. Please." You quietly said.

Steve glanced at you before nodding. "Whatever you say. C'mon." He then put his hand on the small of your back to lead you out. Billy trailed behind, his nostrils flared and his teeth gritted.

You walked over to the basketball bleachers, with the two boys both ending up linking to each of your arms. Instead of sitting at you and Billy's usual spot, you sat on the other end. Billy took this as a sign that your memories together were still sacred to you. In actuality you knew it would fuel his anger if Steve sat at your 'special spot' that he loved so much.

"So, you two are, like, what? Friends now?" Steve asked, attitude in his voice.

"We never stopped being friends." Billy gave a shit eating grin.

"Well y'know, with kicking her out of your house and not accepting her for who she is I figured you guys were having a little trouble in paradise." He gave a shrug.

"Steve." You hissed.

"No, he's right." You whipped your head to Billy. "I did act like a jerk, but y'know what? Our bond is so fucking strong that I realized I don't care about any of it. She does that to me, I guess. Always reeling me back in, huh sweetheart?"

"As her best friend, I don't feel comfortable with you calling her that."

Billy gave a tch. "I'm her best friend."

You stood up out of anger and started walking away. "Where you going?" They said in unison.

"To Jonathan and Nancy." You turned to look back at them.

"You hate being around Nancy." Billy said.

"And you know Jonathan won't stand up to her."

"Yeah. Well, that should tell you how crappy I feel around you two right now." And with that you left.

"Very nice, ass wipe." Billy said as he shoved Steve.

"Really? This is my fault?" Billy only glared back at him. "Why can't you just leave her alone?"

"Why the fuck can't you just leave me alone?"

The two of them quickly got up and stomped away from each other, with Billy going over to an ecstatic Tommy and Steve trailing shamefully behind you as Nancy lectured you about not listening to her.

After school you slipped away from both boys and used a payphone to call Hopper. When he pulled up, you began walking over to his car before you heard Billy and Steve call out your name in unison. You started to speed walk before breaking out into a run when you saw them running over to you. You got into the car and slammed it shut. "Drive! Drive!"

Hopper, being flustered by your hurried tone, quickly drove off. "You wanna tell me why the hell we just Marty McFlyed the crap out of there?"

You let out a loud groan, ready to rant. "Ughhh! It's Billy and Steve! They keep fighting with each other, and it's about me. I hate that. They know I hate that, and yet they still have this alpha male bs going on. It's so stupid! I just want Billy to calm down, and Steve to tone it down! This whole thing is so dumb." You then quickly turned your head to Hopper, who had been listening helplessly, and caused him to jerk his head a bit in surprise. "What do you think?"

He was caught off guard by the question. "Uh, well... take a break from both of them. They sound like they're doing idiot things for good reasons, but they're jackasses if they're making you like this. Maybe you could try to be by yourself for a while."

You let out a breath and grinned. No matter what El or Mike said, you knew Hopper listened and you knew he was a smart person. In actuality, Hopper just wanted to say that these two were jackasses and that he should just arrest them for a day or two, but he knew you would get mad at him too, with your emotions all over the place.

You gave him a hug as he pulled up to your house. "Hopper you're a genius."

You happily got out of the car and went inside to your room, where Hopper smiled. He hoped you knew that he was there for you. That he could be your dad.

As you did your homework that night you got a call from your phone. When you answered, your face fell. "What do you want Steve?"

"Um, so you got home safe then?" He attempted to lighten the mood.

You sighed. "Goodbye Steve."

"No no no, wait! I'm sorry, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. We just really need to get him off of your ass, y'know?"

"I mean, he said he just wanted to be friends. Maybe we could go back to being just acquaintances?"

"God five, you'd think all things considered with you that you wouldn't be so stupid about this." Steve said this out of rage, but after hearing your soft gasp over the phone, he knew he just fucked up.

"Are you kidding me right now? You know what Steve, you'd think all things considered with you that you'd understand how hard it is for me to let him go, and how badly I want him back even though I know it's best to let him be."

"Five-"

"Don't ever call me that again!" You then hung up.

You breathed hard, trying to calm yourself down. You're not a crybaby. People who cry all the time are stupid, and you're not stupid. The damn telephone rang again, and you picked it up. "Damnit Steve, leave me alone!"

"Whoa there sweetheart, wrong guy."

You let out an involuntary breath of relief when you heard Billy's voice. It felt good to hear from him, but it just pained you in a worse way. He's trying his best to be perfect when you feel like you're too fucked up to even be allowed to have a boyfriend.

"Hi Billy." You said quietly, tears forming and your nose beginning to sting.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

You sucked it a hard breath. "People keep telling me things that hurt."

You were really struggling to hold back the tears. "Y/n–"

"I have to go!" You slammed the phone back. You rolled up into a ball, and cried. Maybe you are stupid.

Once you exhausted yourself and stopped crying, you saw headlights flashing outside. You confusedly and sluggishly got up, since everyone was asleep by now, and saw Billy's car. He got out and said nothing, swiftly bringing you in for a hug. You hugged back. "C'mon, let's get you inside."

You only nodded and let him guide you. You knew that this wasn't right, but you were too damn exhausted with everything to do anything about it. He kicked off his shoes where he normally did, and took you to your room. He laid you down on your bed, and got in with you.

"You shouldn't be here." You quietly said as he tugged you into his chest. You didn't do anything to stop him, and instead embraced the smell you missed so much.

"Course I should." He took a deep breath, before continuing. "I'm sorry for adding all this stress to you. I know you've always been my little rule follower."

You felt the tears begin to sting in your eyes again. "Y'know, Hopper's always told us to follow the rules. That people who don't follow the rules are stupid, and we're not stupid. We can't be, and we won't be." You looked up at him. "I can't even follow my own rules. Why am I so stupid? How do I even do better?"

"You're not stupid. Don't ever say that about yourself again. Okay?" He spoke sternly, and you nodded your head while he wiped away a tear with his thumb. "You're just confused. It's okay to be confused about your feelings. Just as long as you don't have any for cock sucker Steve." You could practically hear his smile.

"Mm. You don't really think I'd have feelings for him, do you?"

"Nah, he's too vanilla."

You snuggled into his chest. "So are you, but only in private."

"Only with you baby." He grabbed your chin, and kissed your lips for a second before you pulled back. "Too soon, got it. Do you want me to leave?"

You sighed, knowing it's better if he did. But you felt so safe with him there. "After I fall asleep? Please."

"Course doll." And the two of you stayed like that until you fell asleep, when Billy gently kissed your unconscious lips and silently slipped out of the house and off to his. He went to sleep, content that he could still make you feel safe.

---

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[ejzah]

Prompt: in a moment of insecurity, a heavily pregnant Kensi gets upset and asks Deeks if the reason he's been working out so much is to impress other women because he doesn't find her attractive anymore. Deeks is naturally confused.

“You wanna grab breakfast?” Deeks asked Kensi as they moseyed down the path that ran the length of the beach, fingers linked. He’d already gone for a run before Kensi could even get her massive, 38 week pregnant self out of bed. She wished she had enough energy for more than a 30 minute walk.

Deeks gave her hand a shake and she looked up, returning his smile. It wasn’t his fault that she was tired, achy and cranky.

“Mm, yes, but only if you promise to rub my feet when we get back home,” she bargained and Deeks grinned.

“I think I can handle that.”

“Hey, Marty, looking good!” A woman in a bright orange bikini top and minuscule shorts shouted as she ran by.

“Thanks! How’s Jake?”

“Good! See you tomorrow!” She waved at them both, her long, even stride never wavering.

“Who was that?” Kensi asked.

“Sandie,” Deeks answered, his tone nonchalant. “Sometimes we run at the same time. She co-owns a gym not far from here.” Instantly Kensi imagined that toned, perfect body running next to Deeks’ equally perfect body. Self-consciously, she ran a hand over her stomach, as though she could somehow conceal it. She suddenly felt extremely dumpy and visible in her loose, knee length sundress.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” Deeks shrugged, not picking up on her discomfort.

“I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it. I run with different people throughout the week.”

They were silent for a few minutes as they walked. Deeks nodded to a person here and there, being his typical outgoing self. Several of them were women.

“Is this why you’ve been working out so much recently?” she asked quietly. “To impress other women.”

Deeks instantly stopped on the middle of path, turning to Kensi with a a half-smirk. When he noticed she wasn’t joking, his expression turned shocked.

“What? Of course not. Why would you even say something like that?” he said, looking at her incredulously. His dismissal of her concerns suddenly made her incredibly angry and she jerked her hand free of his. He followed the movement with dismay.

“Well what am I supposed to think?” she demanded. “You’re always out lifting, or running, or some other damned thing. And now I find out you’re running with this completely gorgeous woman I’ve never even heard of.”

“Kensi, I never-“

She huffed out a frustrated noise, not waiting to hear the end of whatever he had to sat, and stalked off the path into the sand. It didn’t take Deeks long to catch up to her and he grabbed her hand, gently pulling her to a stop.

“Baby, Kensi, just hold on for one second,” he pleaded, his eyes unbearably earnest. “Can we just talk for a minute?”

“It seems pretty simple to me. I’m not attractive anymore-“ Deeks held up his hand and said,

“Who the hell said you aren’t attractive?”

“Deeks, I’m 38 weeks pregnant, I’m swollen, I’m pudgy,” she said bitterly. No one needed to tell her, she knew it.

“And the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Deeks added without pause. She let out a surprised sound that came out more like a sob.

“Martin Deeks, do not make me cry when I’m mad at you.” He was still holding her hand and gently pulled her against him.

“I mean it. You are so beautiful.”

“How can you say that when you’re surrounded by women like Sandie?” she asked hopelessly. Deeks pressed their linked hands against his chest and she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. He wiped it away, his face tender.

“Because I love you, Kensi. And you will always be the most beautiful person in he world to me. No matter what. I don’t want Sandie or anyone else on this beach beside you,” he said firmly, brushing her hair back from her face.

“How do you always know how to say the perfect thing?” she murmured, finally allowing herself to lean into Deeks. She sighed into his chest. “I certainly don’t feel beautiful.”

“You are,” Deeks repeated. Another woman shouted out to Deeks in passing and this time he didn’t respond. “Personally, I happen to think you and your bump is adorable.”

“You’re sure you don’t enjoy all the attention these muscles get?” She squeezed his bicep for emphasis, realizing that it had been a while since she’d actually touched him like this. Maybe that was part of the problem.

“Ok, I’m not saying I absolutely hate it, but the reason I started all this was so I could be healthy for you and our kids.” He inclined his head and added, “And if you happen to think I’m kind of sexy, that’s just a bonus perk.” Kensi chuckled wetly, pulling his head down to hers for a kiss.

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” she said, pulling back to rest her head on his chest again. He shrugged it off.

“You’re carrying an entire human inside you, I think I can handle this,” he said, tipping her chin up for another kiss. “Let’s go home. I seem to remember I owe somebody a foot rub.”

“And maybe a bath?” Kensi said, letting her voice lilt up suggestively. Deeks eyes flashed in obvious agreement. He rested his palm in the small of her back, holding her close to his side as they walked back home.

***

A/N: Did this fizzle at the end a bit? Perhaps. Hope you still enjoy it and thanks for the prompt!

[jadeee]

I Saw The Signs

Jim can’t stop thinking about Idaho, Roz, and how he’s gonna pay his rent.

~ A/N: Feel free to read the previous chapters if you haven't already, you can find them here.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: swearing  

For a moment, Jim cursed himself. It was his day off and in the two seconds he’d felt alive for once, a simple bump on the sidewalk killed his whole mood. He stepped away from the crowded concrete and gazed up at the sky, trying to recreate the moment. But towering skyscrapers blocked the sunlight. The cacophony of the street drowned out the beautiful melodies of the birds, leaving only God’s beloved creation of man as ambience.

He grinned at the idea of standing in an open field with Roz by his side. The thought continued to make him smile until he got to his apartment. 

~~~~~~

He glanced at his last paycheck from Marty’s. After adding and subtracting for what felt like hours he realized that he wouldn’t have enough by the time rent was due. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. I just can’t catch a break, he glanced at the ceiling. His eyes glazed over the screen as he thought of a solution. The light strained his eyes and pulled him out of his trance. He slammed the laptop shut and rubbed his eyes. As they readjusted he studied the logo on his computer. Has it really come to this?

Jim ransacked his apartment searching for things he could sell and possibly make money from. He slammed the box of valuables onto the counter, with the exception of his laptop which he had one last use for. He had trouble planning the trip at first but after two hours, and a cup of coffee, he did it. Sun Valley, Idaho wasn’t the land of milk and honey but it was what Jim needed. Even though he could care less about visiting the typical tourist spots he made sure to write down some for Roz, in case she decided to go. I hope so, he tacked the list of activities and potential pitstops onto the fridge. With a tired sigh, he added his laptop and printer into the box which used to be his life. 

~~~~~~

The owner of the pawn shop scanned through the box. He crossed his arms, “250.”

Jim scoffed “That’s it?”

The man squared his shoulders while he scowled at him.

“Alright, look.” Jim approached the counter “I need 300. My rent is due and this,” he gestured to the cardboard box “is all I have.”

“Why don’t you just get a job?”

“I have 2 dumbass.”

The man flinched at his remark.

“300.” Jim hissed.

He took the box off the counter “Fine.”

Jim glared at him as he pulled $300 out of the register.

“Good luck, buddy.” He handed him the money.

“Thanks.” Jim mumbled and stuffed the cash inside his jacket. 

~~~~~~

Something told him not to do it but he was stubborn. He hid the cash in a safe place before placing a bottle of wine and the trip info into a bag. As he shut the door to his apartment, he pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over ‘Roz’. Rather than calling her, he stuffed the phone into his pocket and practiced what he’d say to her. 

I know you haven’t said anything yet, he started his walk towards the subway. But I couldn’t wait, he held onto the bag as he wedged himself between passengers in the subway car. You don’t have to go, he stepped onto the sidewalk. But I’d love to have you with me, he turned down the hall towards her apartment. 

A man clutched clothes to his naked body as he ran past Jim. What the hell?

The sound of a door slamming echoed throughout the hall and yelling followed. Sounds of a heated argument became louder as Jim sprinted towards Roz’s apartment. 

“Roz?!” He banged on the door “Rosalynn?! Are you okay?”

The apartment became quiet. Roz opened the door slightly and scrunched her brows at him. 

“Hey, is everything alright? I heard yelling and there was this guy …”

“Yes, no, wait - what are you doing here?” She closed the door behind her.

Jim took a step back “Oh, I stopped by to surprise you.”

Where she should’ve smiled she grimaced.

A lump formed in his throat “This is a bad time isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she ran her fingers through her hair. 

“That guy … he wasn’t - you weren’t -”

 “No!” She rested a hand on his chest “He’s my sister’s boyfriend.”

“Oh.” He let out a sigh of relief.

“And she’s underage.” Roz pulled her hands back to massage her temples. 

“Oh,” Jim cooed “Shit.” He dropped the bag to his side.

“Yeah, it’s a real mess.” She chuckled nervously.  

An awkward silence filled the space between them. 

“I should go.” Jim gripped the handle on the bag. 

Roz nodded her head “I’m sorry, it’s just not a good time right now.”

“I get it.” He frowned.

She pulled him in for a brief hug. 

“Thank you for thinking of me though.”

“Of course,” he held her tightly before she let go. 

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Jim faked a smile “Yeah, of course.” 

Roze returned his smile as best she could before raining hellfire on her little sister. 

~~~~~~

With each step he took towards his apartment, the bag felt as heavy as his heart. What if this is a sign? His bag, keys, and jacket collapsed onto the floor as he slumped towards the kitchen. No, that’s ridiculous. He pulled out a bag of chips from the cabinet and laughed to himself. He snatched the bottle of wine from the bag and sauntered to his room. The bed creaked as he plopped onto it. With each gulp of wine his pillow collected a tear or two. The walls never heard the end of it and neither did he until the bottle was empty. At this point the only thing he found peace in was sleep and even that didn’t last. He moaned as he stumbled to the bathroom in a daze trying to contain the urge to puke. He latched onto the toilet and hurled into the water. The unique inner workings of his stomach stared back at him. 

He slumped against the wall and waited for the room to stop spinning. When it did, the foul smell of the day’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner swarmed his senses. His fingertips barely pressed down on the handle of the toilet. Once he could stand, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

“Christ,” he groaned before dousing himself in cold water. Although he could’ve used a shower he threw on a t-shirt and a pair of old gym shorts. After he rinsed his mouth out he sipped on a glass of water. The cold leather of the couch felt good on his skin. Ignoring the ding of his phone, he wiped his eyes while he waited for the fuzziness in his head to go away. There was nothing much to look at since he pawned a quarter of his belongings, but he scanned the few things he did keep. A well worn book caught his eye. He thumbed through the pages and brushed his fingers over the words of a page.

‘From your Mom & Pop, listen well Jimmy darling’

Tears welled in his eyes. He held the book close to his chest as he shuffled to his room. The pillows that enveloped him felt like a warm hug. 

‘And ever has it been known that love knows not its depth until the hour of separation.’

This phrase, among many others, lulled him to sleep without any sickness or pain. When he shut his eyes he was comforted and not in despair. A smile spread across his face as he dreamed while his phone blinked with each notification.

~~~ A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for Jimmy so if you’re still with us, thank you! Feel free to comment what your favorite part was! If you haven’t already read the previous chapters, you can find them in my masterlist in my bio. Have a great day/night :)

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[ayellowcurtain]

i just want nicco and martino to be happy 🥺 I love your take of the s4 storyline with the abo setting! ill be waiting patiently for your next update

Part 3  // This one is a little long, a little smutty at the start

Since Marti is distracted, a little too tired, Nico reminisces about last night, just now able to fully connect the hazy memories together. They didn’t take a shower, so he still feels...hot all over. His jaw is sticky with the sloppy kisses Marti gave him, his mouth open, pressed against Nico’s jaw when he came. He remembers his dry throat asking Martino to go slower and how it took him a second to come back to the present time and understand what Nico was asking, slowing down, maybe a little too slow even.

Nico knew his omega was loud and clear and a little jealous when he asked in between kisses if they could not use a condom and how Martino looked him dead in the eyes and nodded his head. Nico can’t remember being more turned on in his life. Maybe they made a mess on their way to the bedroom, pushing furniture away, putting each other on top of tables, counters…

Nico is sure there are marks everywhere on both their bodies because they were not careful last night. They were both desperate, letting their alpha and omega finally meet and do whatever they had to do and it was mind blowing.

He knows the back of Marti’s head is probably stinging still. He remembers holding it a little too tightly because he was desperate, he needed Martino to look at him and see how much he loved him, how much they are still a thing for Nico.

“Gio said that you’ve been working out.”

“What?” Martino opens his eyes suddenly, very confused and probably angry because from what Nico can tell on Marti’s face, he is sure Gio wasn’t supposed to be giving him any information about how Martino was doing while they were broken up.

“What? You think I don’t ask about you? You think they don’t want to tell me how you’re doing?”

“They were my friends, I supposed they would respect my privacy.” Martino looks away to the side like a stubborn little child.

“They are our friends and they do respect your privacy, but you’re being stubborn now.” Martino tries to move, to push Nico aside so he can leave, but Nico doesn’t let him.

“Fuck, Nico, if this is about a fucking interven-”

“Hey, hey, it’s not. It’s not. They talk because I ask nonstop, stop being so grumpy with the ones that are always on your side. They didn’t choose me, Martino, but I know how to be annoying to get what I want. And I wanted to know how you were doing...” Nico gently moves his hands up from Martino’s chest, touching his cheeks, following the freckles, “I needed to know if this distance was killing you the way it was killing me.”

Martino closes his eyes again, moving to lie on his back again, covering his eyes with his arm and Nico lets him, still watching quietly.  

“I’m proud of you for taking care of yourself...I never thought someone would ever manage to convince you to work out. You’re lazy, you know…”

“Yeah, I guess anger is a good fuel to make me do it.”

Nico smiles even though he shouldn’t because he knows where Martino is trying to go. But Martino is still the grumpy creature he remembers so maybe there’s a way to his heart again. Maybe Niccolo can build a relationship between them again, another one because the first one he lit on fire and watched it burn in front of his eyes, with punches and curses. He won’t mind if he has to do all the work this time. Martino is worth it.

“I thought you were mine.” Martino lets it slip suddenly and Nico looks up at him again, at Martino’s arm, still covering his eyes.

“I am.” Nico says without thinking too because it’s that simple to him.

“You had sex with him.”

Nico swallows hard, his fingertips touching the seam of the pillow underneath Marti’s head, trying to find some comfort on the texture and counting the little circles the stitches make. He shouldn’t have and he has no excuse for it. Even though it was a mistake that happened months and months ago, Nico knew what he was doing, how it would ruin him for Martino if he ever gave Nico a second chance.

“I can hear you thinking.” Martino pushes the sheets away from him, slowly sliding to the side, away from Nico, pressing his palms against his eyes to dry his tears as he gets up, putting his clothes on.

“I made a mistake.” Is all Nico can say, knowing Martino can smell all over him how it pains him to admit what happened.

“Do you like him?” Martino stops on the side of the bed, close to the wall behind him, putting his hands down and back to lean against them on the wall.

Nico sits on the bed, so nervous and anxious he has a hard time turning his thoughts into words that’ll make sense together.

“What? No, Martino. We’ve been through this. I love you and I’m yours. I chose to be yours and I’m so happy I did. No matter how many times you run away, as grumpy as you can be, I won’t make the same mistake again. And I’ll wait for as long as you need until you run out of your grumpiness and anger and disappointment.”

“I thought you were the one who wouldn’t fuck me over, Nico. I expected even from Gio. To walk away one day when he and Eva work their issues out, but I thought we were solid, that I could trust you and you wouldn’t walk away. I’m fucked up in every way possible, but I thought you were able to handle it.”

Niccolo crosses his legs in front of him, stuttering again, clenching his jaw not to break down. Martino gives him the time Nico is silently asking for this time, hoping Marti won’t leave him while he’s diggesting how badly he hurt Martino. They both stay silent for so long that Martino decides to move from the wall, sitting on the arm chair close to the window.

“Are you seeing someone else?” Nico asks without meaning to, finally looking at Martino again. He lifts his head too, looking at Nico, a little surprised it seems.

“You don’t know that already? I thought the information was finding its way to you.”

“They’re not snitching on you. They answer what I ask. I didn’t ask them that, I wanted to hear it from you.”

Niccolo doesn’t really want to hear it, but he brought them to this and now he has to hear it.

“I can still smell Luai sometimes. In your bed, in the bathroom,” Martino changes the subject and Niccolo looks around like he’ll find proof of what Marti is saying, but of course he doesn’t. Martino probably has his senses heightened by anything that can belong to Luai.

“Stop searching then.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Niccolo. You’re fucking someone else and you ask me what I’m doing?”

“I’m not! Martino! Stop! I’m not fucking anyone else. Yeah, he slept here a few times, we had a thing for a month or even less. And that was a long time ago.” Niccolo mindfully breaths slower, in and out. He’s tired, so tired and he doesn’t know what else to say. Martino is that stubborn that he won’t listen unless it’s what he wants to hear.

“I love you. I’ve always been in love with you. You wanna know about me and Luai? You’re not gonna leave it alone until you hear it, so okay. We had sex. More times than I could remember, but it was just sex, it was just us being dumb,” Nico can tell Martino is not liking hearing all of that, his hands grabbing the arms of the chair so tightly it makes his fingers even paler, his chest moving quicker and deeper with each breath, but Nico needs to give him some of his own medicine.

He sees Martino opening his mouth, asking him to stop, but he doesn’t listen, Martino needs honesty and so Nico will give it to him, as raw and honest as he needs him to be, “We were needing proof that we would never work. I don’t love him, never did, never will. Because he’s not you. No matter how much you think he’s more important, he’s not. He’s a friend now, not even a close one. I can’t stop thinking about you. Since Luai, I never had sex with anyone else, I didn’t even kiss anyone else.”

“Stop. I get it.” Martino says firmly this time, his eyes filling with water and Nico wants to hold him, to kiss him until their lips get sore again, asking him to come back home. Martino asked for honesty and now Nico is ready to give it to him. He understands everything clearly and he wishes he could have felt this way before, a year ago, when Martino needed to know where his heart was and Nico stuttered for a second, more than enough time to burn the bridge between them.

“I wish you knew how tired I am. I’m sure it’s all over my smell, but you can’t bring yourself to smell it, just constantly looking for proof that I’ve been with someone else.”

“I haven’t.” Marti cuts his sentence again and Nico frowns, a little bit in shock, “I haven’t had sex after you. Trust me, I tried. Guess I was too shitfaced to make it happen when I tried.” Martino is not looking at him when he confesses. He slips down the chair, looking up at the ceiling and Nico can’t help but feel a little happy and relieved. He can totally picture a drunk Martino trying to have sex with strangers, probably so grumpy it made whoever it was lose the interest.

“I’m happy.”

“Because you’re selfish.”

“More like desperate. You’re an alpha, my alpha. We’ve been apart for a year. I was so scared...you would find someone else.” Nico admits, remembering of the nights of sleep he lost, thinking about Martino merging with someone else.

“You were with an alpha. You actually dated another one. I was in a lot more risk than you think you were.”

Nico smiles even though he knows he shouldn’t, “No, you weren’t. You just don’t wanna accept it. I was never his, Martino, not like this. Not like us. Never would have happened.”

“This conversation is pointless.” Martino sighs, annoyed, still staring at the ceiling.

“It’s not. I’m not letting you go now. You’re here now, you’re back, even if you don’t want to. If you came here, it’s because you still care. And if you walk out that door, I won’t stop trying until you accept me back.”

“I knew when you were having a heat.” Martino moves his head to the side so they can see each other, “Thought I was going to lose my mind. I had to argue with Gio to lock me inside his house. Imagine if I came here and you were with Luai.” Martino laughs ironically, “Would love to hear you asking me to stop punching him again.”

Nico bites the inside of his cheek. Martino does not want to know what happened during the first heat he got after their break up.

“When I was alone, it was painful. Thankfully you forgot some of your clothes here. I wish Gio didn’t listen to you.”

Nico doesn’t elaborate, Martino knows him, no matter how much he tries to fight it now, and he knows Nico is talking about Martino coming home to help Nico with his heat, not about punching his ex.

“Like I said, guess the going up and down mountains every morning helped me after the first few.” Nico stretches his legs straight again, slowly lying down, closing his eyes. Martino won’t ever be the same, he’ll never give Niccolo a real chance. He’ll always find ways to not trust him.

“I wish you would just do it.” Nico can’t see, but he’s sure Martino was too inside of his own head to understand what he’s saying so he continues to make himself understood completely. “Bite me. We both want it, you just pretend you don’t.”

[spacecakes20]

Begin Again

(Chapter 3)

Chapter 4:  Luna, Honey

It was far, far too early for this. Luna’s body refused to move, but the sound of knocking on her front door was just too irritating to ignore. With a groan of displeasure, she clumsily got out of bed, eyes still unfocused from sleep. For a moment, she forgot where she was. For some reason, she was back in her college dorms and for a second, she thought it was her grumpy roommate knocking on the door because she forgot her key. Again. Then she remembered she graduated almost two years ago, and this was not her dorm room, but in fact her grandfather’s farm. Well, her farm now. But wait, who was at the door?

       “Just a second!” Luna called out. And she was so happy she did, because she noticed, upon looking at herself in her wall mirror, she wasn’t wearing pants. Granted, the shirt she was wearing reached her knees, but still! Pulling on some pants from a random clothes pile, Luna took the opportunity to pull her curly locks into a ponytail. Making her way to the front door, she took a deep breath before opening it. Her eyes were immediately assaulted by the rays of the bright morning sun and she regretted getting out of bed. Slowly adjusting to the light, she was greeted by a plump older woman with thick brown hair pulled into a messy side braid. Her eyes were a warm brown and looked almost apologetic. Her name was at the tip of Luna’s tongue. She knew this woman. They were neighbors, right?

       “Hello, Farmer Luna!”

       It was even more embarrassing that this woman remembered Luna’s name, but Luna’s sleep-deprived brain couldn’t do the same.

       “Um… hi.” Luna’s voice cracked. She cleared her throat, and asked, “How may I help you?” Maddie? Or was it Marty?

       “I’m sorry to disturb you.” The woman looked genuinely apologetic, “But I found this stray dog wandering around the entrance of your farm.”

       Luna just now noticed there was, in fact, a dog standing shyly behind the woman. A golden retriever at that.

       “She looked lost.” The woman scratched the dog behind the ear and gave her a fond smile, “And she seemed interested in your farm. So, I was hoping….” Her eyes were pleading now, “If maybe you could…”

       Oh! “Marnie!” Luna exclaimed in her head. At least, she thought it was in her head. But by the baffled look on the woman’s face, it was safe to assume she said that out loud. Clearing her throat and looking for a way out of her blunder, Luna chose her words carefully, “That’s… a wonderful idea….” She smiled sheepishly.

       Marnie’s eyes lit up, her smile beaming, “Really? You’d take her in? That’s wonderful!” Looking down at the dog, she said in an almost sing-song voice, “You hear that girl? You’re going to be living here now!”

       Taking a closer look at the dog, she seemed quite young. She seemed shy, hiding behind Marnie, but her wagging tail gave away just how excited she must have been to meet new people. It made Luna’s heart swell. She had always wanted a pet, but her mother never allowed it. Said it’d distract from her studies. Even after she moved out on her own, obviously pets weren’t allowed in the school dorms. And when she moved out of there and into a one-bedroom apartment, there was an extra fee for pets. But even if she wanted one, she was almost never at her apartment. Too busy working a thankless job that kept her too busy to even eat dinner.

       Getting down on one knee, Luna scratched the dog under her chin, and gave her a smile, “Hey there girl.” She cooed, “I’m going to take great care of you, I promise.”

       “What are you going to name her?” Marnie asked.

       Looking over the dog, Luna liked the way the sun captured her soft fur. It almost reminded her of—

       “Honey…” She had blurted out loud without realizing it. She broke out of her trance at the sound of a clap.

       “That’s perfect!” Marnie exclaimed, “I’ll just leave little Honey in your care.” Marnie’s smile grew warm, “Don’t be afraid to give me a call if you need anything. Don’t be a stranger, okay?” She waved goodbye before leaving. Luna waved back, and once Marnie was out of her sight, panic settled in. She’d never taken care of a dog before! She doesn’t have food, or a collar, or a bed or—

       Deep breaths Luna! You’ve got this! She took one more look at Honey, who only looked at her with curiosity, her tail wagging behind her. Luna looked down and realized she was still in her PJs. She decided, before anything, she should probably get washed up and dressed.

Once Luna was dressed and ready, she decided to go into town to buy pet supplies. Her first stop was at Pierre’s, but unfortunately, it wasn’t open. It was then that she remembered it was a Wednesday and Pierre never seemed to be open on a Wednesday. A feeling of dread chilled her spin when she remembered her only other option. No, no, no, no, no! She never wanted to step foot in another Joja Mart for as long as she lived! Perhaps she could go to a pet shop in the city? But a simple trip to Zuzu from Pelican Town was an all-day affair, and she really didn’t want to leave her new pup at home for longer then she had to. Swallowing her fear and pride, she reluctantly made her way to the JojaMart. The walk felt long like she was wearing ankle weights. Just this once, she kept repeating to herself. It’s not like you’ll run into anyone you know.

       “Welcome!” Luna was greeted by an all too familiar voice the moment she entered the store. Slowly turning her head to the source, she recognized it was Morris. “May I interest you in a JojaMart Membership?” He gave her that smile that always made her uncomfortable. Luna had taken to calling it the Joja-Smile because it always felt so manufactured and fake and almost everyone who worked there seemed to have it.

       “Um,” She backed up a bit and turned her head in the opposite direction, in hopes that he didn’t catch her face, “No thanks. Just here for pet supplies.” Did he… not recognize her? Sure, that was understandable. Not like she was the secretary of his boss or anything. Funny how before she was hoping that she wouldn’t be recognized, but now that she isn’t being recognized she couldn’t help but feel just a little offended.

       Before Morris could say anymore, Luna broke away from the counter and made her way down the aisle. The sooner she stopped talking to that man, the better. She didn’t really know the layout of the store; mostly just wondering in hopes she’d find the aisle she was looking for. So focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t noticed the person behind her before bumping right into them. She turned around, an apology at the tip of her tongue, but her words were lost when she saw the face of the latest victim of her clumsiness.

       “Sam?”

       The man in front of her shot her the brightest smile she had ever seen; it practically rivaled the sun. Sam had been one of the first people in town to introduce themselves to her. Well, other then Mayor Lewis and Robin, the local carpenter. However, unlike Lewis and Robin, Sam was close to her age, so he felt easier to talk to. It helped that he was so kind and talkative. With that said, Luna wasn’t expecting someone so vibrant to be working at someplace as soulless as a JojaMart of all places.

       “Luna?” He removed his headphones, and eyed her curiously, “What are you doing here?”

       “I’m…” She looked away a bit embarrassed. To think she was originally worried about running into someone from Joja HQ (as unlikely as that even was), but for some odd reason, it never crossed her mind that she’d run into someone from town. “I’m here looking for pet supplies.”

       “Pet supplies?” Sam raised an eyebrow at her questionably, “I didn’t know you had a pet!”

       “Yup.” Said Luna, “Just got her today. Marnie found her and asked me to take care of her.”

       “Aww,” Sam cooed, “Yeah, that sounds like Marnie.” He motioned for her to follow him as he led her down the aisle. “C’mon, I’ll show you the way!” The two walked together in silence, with nothing but the dull store music to fill the stillness. That’s until Sam, clearing this throat, broke the quiet, “So…” Sam’s voice was laced with amused curiosity, “What kind of pet do you have?”

       “A dog.” Luna answered, “And her name is Honey.”

       “That’s so cute!” Sam almost sounded more excited than her, “When my shift’s over, think I could come over to meet her?”

       “Sure thing!”

       Sam had led them right to the pet aisle, “Ta-da!” He exclaimed; hands outstretched to show her they’ve arrived at their destination.

       “Thanks, Sam.” She smiled to show her gratitude before giving the supplies a once over. She’d need a leash and a collar, Luna thought. Dog food of course, and a bed. Oh right, two bowls! Maybe some toys? 

       She’d collected everything she thought she’d need to care for her new furry companion before meeting up with Sam again.

       “Got everything you need?” He asked, eyeing her selection.

       Luna bit her lip, “I… I think so?” She said, but she was so unsure, her voice went up, making her statement sound more like a question.

       “Don’t worry about it.” Sam said nonchalantly, “I’m sure you’ve got everything. Want to go check out?”

       With a simple nod, the two slowly walked together, making their way to the checkout area. Placing her items on the conveyor belt, Luna watched as Sam scanned them.

       “So, Luna,” Sam said, scanning and bagging without missing a beat, “Me, Seb, and Abby meet up at the Saloon every Friday to play pool. We were wondering if you weren’t too busy if maybe you’d like to join us?”

       “You sure?” Luna scrunched up her nose, eyeing Sam suspiciously, “I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

       But Sam wasn’t having it. He simply waved her off, “It’s fine. You’re cool. Besides,” He handed her bags to her along with her receipt, “Abby and Seb seem to like you.”

       Seb? Oh, “Sebastian?” Luna questioned, “I don’t know about that. I mean, I did bruise his face.” Luna couldn’t help but wince as the words left her mouth. No matter how much time had passed, she still felt really embarrassed whenever she thought about it.

       Sam just laughed at that, “Nah, it’s fine. I think he’s kind of over it?”

       Luna couldn’t help the snort that escaped her, “What do you mean, ‘kind of’? He hates me, doesn’t he?”

       “Trust me,” Sam chuckled, “I don’t think he hates you.”

       “ ’I don’t think’?” Luna repeated, trying and failing to hide a mischievous smile, “So, you’re not sure?” She couldn’t help but tease.

       “You know what? I’m just going to stop talking.” Sam rolled his eyes, but Luna didn’t miss the playfulness of it. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want,” He reassured her, “But it’ll be fun if you do!”

       Fun huh? Come to think of it, Luna couldn’t remember the last time she hung out with a group of people her age. Was it senior year of high school? Or perhaps her freshmen year of college maybe? And even then, she wasn’t a part of the group. Not really. People never invited her, not personally anyway. She was only there because they invited her twin sister, Lola. And because Luna and Lola were practically attached to the hip, Luna was usually only invited out of obligation. The idea that someone was inviting her to hang out with their group of friends because they enjoyed her company—and her company alone—felt… nice.

       “What time?”

       “Wait,” Sam seemed sincerely surprised, “You’ll come?”

       “I didn’t say that.” Luna gave a playful eye roll, “But— hypothetically—if I did want to come… what time?”

       “We usually meet up around 4 on Fridays.” Sam gave her one of his bright smiles, “Hope to see you there!" Sam winked, " ‘Hypothetically,' of course.” 

       With a wave and a smile, Luna took her bags and exited the store. Finally, she felt like she could breathe a lot easier outside of the JojaMart. Perhaps she was just being melodramatic, but there was just something about Joja’s atmosphere that felt suffocating. Like there was a thick smog around the building that did nothing but suck the life out of anyone who entered. Taking in the scents of spring with a deep breath to clear her thoughts, Luna began her stroll home.

(Chapter 5)

[engelkeijsers]

Hey please don't drown yourself, I'm here to help keep you occupied! I love rankings so please rank your top 10 scenes in the whole skamverse! 😊❤️

tw: suicide mention;

i was so confused when i read "don't drown yourself", cause i totally didn't connect the dots and wondered for a hot minute where did you get that idea from. then i read the tags from my previous posts again and i noticed i said "i'm gonna be downing myself again" or something like that, so you just misread baby ❤ don't worry, i'm not suicidal or anything (i mean, i have the toughts but i don't think i could actually do it and even if so, it definitely wouldn't be by drowning myself). but thank you so much, it's really nice to know that someone actually cares, i love you 🥺🥰 and by downing myself i meant like lying in my bed for a few days and just crying and sleeping, so like nothing very serious really

ranking;

at the start i just want to say that this was one of the hardest things i did lately (it took me about an hour (and another hour to write it all down in here) lmao talk about devotion to a show). i decided not to include españa, since i still haven't finished and felt like it would be unfair to include it until i do :/

(but if i did include it, in the ranking there would be also clips like: when nora cheered eva after she broke up with jorge, lucas spotting cris kissing joana on her party and going 👁👄👁 while cris is just like 🥰🤷, cris coming out to amira and the "photo", the girls being there for eva after the meme shit started happening and cris being ready to FIGHT after she found out it was viri who took the picture) 👀👀

my top 10 skamverse scenes:

1) evak's first kiss; the most iconic thing to ever happen, the absolute blueprint of every other s3 remake made. i've watched this scene a lot of times and i still go 😮😪 every time i rewatch it. the power that that has-

2) hotel clips in wtfock's season 3; no, i'm not talking about the shower scene. i'm talking about what happened after that. i know they're actually like two (or even three) seperate clips, but they carry the same thing so i decided to get them together for this ranking. i appreciate henrik and his acting in the og really much, but willem ds absolutely killed it. the first time i watched these scenes i was like holy shit the whole time, cause he was just incredible. the eye movements, the lip trembling, the feeling of wanting to escape your own body; he nailed it all

3) wtfock's o helga natt and minute by minute scene; i love how they decided to mix these two clips from the og and make it one. the whole scene was just amazing; the music, the acting, everything about it. not gonna lie, i sobbed the whole time

4) evak's parallel universes talk; again, the og took something as simple as a talk between two people in love, just speaking what they're thinking at the moment and made it so iconic, intimate and fragile. the way they joked a little and kissed, being all goofy with each other and then with the time, the scene became more and more serious. i love it with my whole heart, so great

5) ralph opening liv's laptop and seeing the "was i drugged" page; spectacular, show stopping, amazing, wonderful- that's all i can say. this clip just got me by my guts and decided to never let go. before i watched the season i told myself i wouldn't cry, not this time (while watching a noora's season i always break at some point and i decided not today satan). well, it was going well, really well actually. and i didn't cry. well, not until this clip came. it was just perfect; the acting from both of them was really really great, the whole thing was just wow

6) martino's coming out to gio; i have no idea how many times i actually watched this clip, but it's definitely a lot. i love the whole thing; martino waiting until elia and luca left gio alone, martino coming up to gio and asking what he was doing later and if he wanted to come to his place and hang out, them playing fifa, giovanni knowing something was up and waiting patiently until marti was ready to share, non è una ragazza, gio goofing around asking if it's him and letting martino know it's all okay, him pausing the game and immediately knowing who martino was talking about... i am soft and crying, your honor. "it's the guy that gave you my headphones at the gym" it wasn't a question, he knew it was the guy. then after martino explained the whole thing, gio grabbing him by the neck as always and that way letting him know they can be physical with each other just like before and him being gay doesn't change anything. i'm getting tears in my eyes just by thinking about this scene, it's just perfect

7) the bench talk & share the love clip; yes, another skam italia one. ones, actually. i tried to pick one, i really did, but i just couldn't. they are both amazing (in different ways) and both deserve this place in the ranking

8) eva's break up speach in the og; do i even have to say anything? she was amazing and i was so proud of her at that moment. you go queen, i'm by your side

9) zoë telling the girls what has happened between her and senne's brother; from all the remakes i watched, this one grabbed my heart the most. i loved how all the girls had different reactions; yasmina was furious, clenching her fists and that "if he did anything to you, i swear-", jana being just genuinely sad and crying for her... i admit, i cried with her

10) the spectrum clip in skam italia; if you don't get which one it was – it was the one in which ele asked edo to stay and say they were made for each other (or something like that, i don't remember the exact words) and him just leaving her there (and eventually coming back). the music did a lot, but giancarlo and benedetta's acting bought me completely there. i cry every time i watch it

i've made also a list if honorable mentions for myself (so i wouldn't feel bad about the clips i left out frim here lmao), but you asked about the top 10, so here it is! thank you again for the question ❤