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spectacled-renegade-writes · 8 months

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An Early Start - Chapter 10 - Danny Phantom

Ao3: Here | Masterpost: Here

Ao3 Description: The accident that turns Danny half-ghost happens when he is four years old and leaves him trapped in the Ghost Zone. Clockwork finds him and takes him in to raise. But what happens when Clockwork sends Danny back to the human-world ten years later when a permanent portal appears?

Chapter 10:

Getting out of this awful place as fast as he could became Danny’s top priority. The mall was too stuffy, too hot, too… full of people, and he didn’t really know what he was doing. Thankfully, Jazz seemed to catch on and she flagged down an associate for help. The two of them were directed to the clothing section in his size, and his pant measurements were taken too. To be honest the whole thing felt invasive. But, they finally got what he needed and he was left to his own devices.

As Danny perused the clothes, Jazz hovered close by but gave him enough distance to breathe. Occasionally, he’d glance over at her and catch her staring. He wondered if she knew this is just as surreal for him as it is for her. Eventually, when he looked lost again, she told him to just pick a size that looked like it fit him and he could try it on in the dressing rooms.

Danny felt bad when he saw the moment she realized he didn’t know what she was talking about.

So, Jazz took charge and picked out clothes for him instead, then guided him to the dressing rooms, shoved the clothes in his arms, and said, ever patiently, “Go in to one of those rooms, lock the door, and try on those clothes. If it doesn’t fit, put it to the side and we’ll put it back. If it does fit, and you like it, put it in a separate pile and we’ll buy it.” The trying on part Danny understood. He’d just never heard of a ‘dressing room’ before. He didn’t tell her any of this as he nodded and did as he was told.

They ended up leaving with a few bags of clothes, enough for a whole new wardrobe, none of which would've happened without Jazz's assistance. After picking out a new pair of shoes and a few other essentials at a different store, they were finally able to leave the mall.

Danny wanted to fly away the moment they exited the building, soar high into the clouds and never come down. The only thing stopping him was obviously everything. Instead, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and savored the fresh air.

Next to him Jazz asked, “Are you hungry?” Danny peaked an eye open and looked at her. “We’ve been shopping for hours and before that, cleaning for hours. I don’t know about you but I’m starving!”

Once again Danny realized he hadn’t even thought about eating. That’s what that tight feeling in his stomach probably was. He nodded in agreement. So, they walked back to Jazz’s car and took off for food.

Despite not really remembering the town, Danny remembered the Nasty Burger. Maybe it was the smell that hit him the moment they stepped inside. Just like the mall and just like the town, the restaurant was cramped and small, at least by Danny’s standards. It seemed to be another quirk of the human world that Danny would need to get used to. They made their way to the front counter and Jazz said, “Get whatever you want.”

Well… Danny didn’t know what he wanted. He read the menu above the cashier but the choices all seemed too overwhelming, and he didn't understand the odd names the meals seemed to have. He pulled out his notebook and wrote: I’ll have whatever you have.

Once again it seemed like he said the wrong thing because Jazz had that concerned look on her face again. Nevertheless, she obliged, and soon they were taking a seat at a booth with two trays of food.

The silence that fell over them was thick, heavy. The only sounds between them were the soft chewing of food or sips of drinks. Danny could tell Jazz wanted to say something. Could see it in the way she kept tucking her hair behind her ear, or the way she’d bring a fry too her mouth and pause for a moment before taking a bite. Finally, Danny broke the tension. I know you have questions. You can ask them.

Jazz chewed slowly as she read to give herself more time to think. But, she swallowed her food, took a sip of her drink, and replied, “You’re right. I do have questions.” She folded her hands and sat up straighter. “But I don’t want to ask them if they make you uncomfortable. You’re back. We have all the time in the world now. Not to mention you seemed uncomfortable around mom and dad.”

Danny didn’t even need to think of his response. So did you.

“You caught that…” Jazz trailed off before quickly refocusing her attention. “Okay. How about we takes turns asking each other questions. Sound good?” Danny nodded. “Okay, how about you go first?”

Danny took a moment to think. In all honesty, he didn’t want to start out with the serious questions yet. So, he asked an easy one. Do you still sleep with Bearbert Einstein every night?

When Jazz read it, she couldn’t help the laughter that escaped. “You remember that? Oh, man, of all the things.” She wiped a tear of laughter from her eye. “Every night. He still helps chase away the bad dreams. I have yours, too.”

Danny tilted his head.

“Your astronaut,” Jazz explained. “That day… I found him at the top of the stairs to the lab. I’ve slept with him in my bed every night since then. It’s helped me stay close to you all these years.” She seemed sheepish in her answer but Danny felt touched. He wished he’d had something to remain close with his sister in the Ghost Zone. “I meant to give it back to you earlier but with all the cleaning, I forgot.”

Danny simply waved it off. Your turn.

“Okay.” Jazz tapped her chin and hummed. It seemed like she wasn’t ready to ask the serious questions either. “Do you still want to be an astronaut?”

He smiled. It was actually one of the few things from his old life Danny still frequently thought about throughout the years. His love of the stars never died. It’s still my biggest dream.

“Well then,” Jazz teased. “Looks like you need to study up.” But, her playful demeanor quickly vanished as a thought occurred to her. “All these years… have you ever gone to school?”

Danny tapped his pen on the table. Light-hearted time was over. Jazz… He lifted his pen and paused. She used to be the one person he could tell absolutely anything to. But, he also remembered what Clockwork said to him, about how they weren’t ready. He decided to give her a half-truth. Mom and dad asked me where I was, too. I told them I don’t remember. He paused and looked up at her. He could see her following along as he wrote. I actually do remember, but I don’t want to talk about it. I didn’t go to school but I had a teacher. He was kind. That’s all I’m going to say.

“Danny…”

Please don’t tell anyone. Not yet.

Jazz seemed so torn. An internal struggle between what her mind thought was right and what her heart thought was right. But she seemed to settle on a decision. “Okay,” she nodded. “I promise I won’t tell.”

Danny gave her a grateful smile. He placed pen back to paper and said: That was two questions. It’s my turn.

“I guess it is,” Jazz agreed.

Why are you so withdrawn around mom and dad?

The surprise on her face was evident, and her expression changed to something of resignation. “You know,” she said softly. “You were never this perceptive when you were little. I guess it’ll take me a while to get used to how old you are now.” She took a deep breath and adjusted her hair again. “I don’t have a good relationship with them. On a surface level… I know they’ve always loved us. But, they’ve always loved their work more, whether they realize it or not. It wasn’t easy growing up and when you were little, I tried to shield you from it.

“Mom and dad often forgot about us, but forgot about you even more often." She continued. "So, I stepped in as caregiver. Then one day when I came home from school, and you were gone due to their negligence, it broke our relationship for good. I…" She sighed. "I still love them, I can’t help it, but I’ll never forgive them.”

Danny let those words sink in. Let them fully absorb in his mind. The thing is, he knew, the whole time he knew, and it was about time he told her as such. I’ve always known. He wrote. Even when you tried to protect me from it I always knew they didn’t pay attention to us, and that you were my real mom.

Jazz gasped, teared up, and reached out to grab his hand. “Danny, I-“

Danny squeezed her hand and smiled. I know.

That night, for the first time in ten years, Danny got to see the stars in person, and it was the most tranquil he’s felt in a long time.

The next few days were as hectic and overwhelming as the mall. Danny was taken down to the police station to restore his identity. During the whole ordeal he was asked question after question, after question. Where was he? Did someone take him? Did he run away? Was he being held captive? Did he escape? Was he given permission to leave? Did someone help him? How did he get home? How did he know where his home was? Every single one of Danny’s answers were the same. I don’t know. I don’t remember.

The police weren’t the only people asking him questions. Reporters were, too. Between frequent trips to the police station and the doctor, it seemed like everywhere he turned reporters were bombarding him with questions and dubbing him the “Ghost Child”, since apparently he came back from the dead. Only Danny knew the dramatic irony of that name.

When he wasn’t being asked questions by detectives or reporters, or having yet another physical at the doctor, he was being asked questions by a trained psychiatrist. Danny may be unaware of things like dressing rooms and cellular phones, but he knew when someone was testing his cognitive awareness. The one upside of it was that they managed to find a psychiatrist that knew sign language, so he didn’t have to write everything down. Despite letting her know that he was not deaf, she still spoke with him exclusively in sign. This, Danny didn’t understand. Nevertheless, she was nice and she seemed like she genuinely wanted to help, so Danny cooperated.

Later, when he was supposed to sit in the waiting room, he excused himself to the bathroom then proceeded to turn invisible and sneak in to her office where she spoke to his parents.

“Danny is a bright young man,” she said. “And after a few sessions, I can say with certainty that he is of sound mind and with a mindset to match his age.”

“What about trauma? What about what happened?” Maddie pressed.

“Danny has shown signs of depression and asocial tendencies, and it is clear that there are things he is hiding, but despite his situation, he has not shown signs of post traumatic stress disorder.”

“Hiding things?” Jack asked.

The psychiatrist nodded. “Danny has said that he does not remember anything of the past ten years. I cannot say for certain, but I believe he is lying. However it is… odd. Usually when someone lies in situations like this, it is a sign of Stockholm syndrome, to protect their abductor. But through our sessions, I've found Danny does not display any other signs of Stockholm syndrome. It makes me believe that he left your care willingly, however nothing else in our conversations point to that either. In all my years, Danny is the first case that has truly stumped me. Unless he tells us about his past, I’m afraid there is not much I can do in this area. I can help him with his depression and asocial behavior but besides that, and I hate to say this, I don’t see anything else wrong with him.”

Danny heard enough. He felt guilty and sick to his stomach. He knew he didn’t owe his parents anything but seeing the looks on their faces, the regret on the psychiatrist, it suddenly all became too much and he left the room. Danny made sure the coast was clear in the bathroom before changing back, and going over to the sinks to splash his face with cold water. He clutched the sides of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. The only thing in the world he wanted to do right now was escape back to the Ghost Zone and never return. It took him a moment to realize he’d lost control of his ice power and he’d frozen over the entire sink, the ice beginning to crawl up the mirror. He quickly broke free and swiftly exited the bathroom. He nearly walked straight into his dad. Jack caught him by the shoulders. “Danny, there you are. You ready to go home, son?”

Son.

Jack kneeled down. “Hey,” he narrowed his eyes. “You okay?”

Danny forced himself to make eye contact with his dad, swallowed thickly, and nodded.

On the ride home, his mother was talking. Danny was only half listening. “I got the results of your laryngoscopy this morning. As you suspected the results weren’t good.” She turned in her seat to look at him. “So, your sister, father, and I have all decided to learn sign language for you, sweetie! Hopefully soon you won’t have to write everything down anymore. Isn’t that great?”

Danny didn’t really care. It would take away his excuse to not join in on “family dinner conversations” and he wasn’t really looking forward to that. Like Jazz said, he knew his parents loved them, and like Jazz, he couldn’t help but love them too, but he didn’t really like talking to them. He felt bad about it but he couldn’t help it. They took him to all his appointments and helped keep the reporters away but every time they got home, they'd immediately go back to their lab where they would remain unless they happened to remember dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ao3 Notes: Chapter 10 already! Thank you so much for reading and have a wonderful day/night!

#an early start au #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom fanfic #danny fenton #jazz fenton #claustrophobia #anxiety #maddie fenton #jack fenton #mute!danny fenton #disabled danny fenton #renegade writes

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mrvdocks · 3 years

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Plus One Finale

Summary: You and Steve make up. Steve plans for the future ahead.

A/N: We finally made it to the end, thanks to everyone who read it and liked it and reblogged it. :))

@mochminnie, @80strashbag, @artsymaddie, @har-rison-s, @theblueslytherin, @prettysbliss, @deliberatequeen, @fl0ating, @crystalyn-aurelia, @itsbabybat, @bellasymph, @hawishima, @hvtelcalifornia, @stevexharringtonx, @fisherbrookphotos, @revangeline

He paced back and forth in the hallway of the animal clinic, somehow both muttering to himself and racking his head for some way to reply other than the incredulous reaction he just gave you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. You knew it, you knew it was too soon to say.

You cross your legs in an attempt to stop the distracting bouncing of your leg and ease your nerves.

Sure he just confessed he loved you and apologized, but now that you could possibly be pregnant? What if that was the dealbreaker?

“Steve.” You call, attempting to break him from his trance.

He mutters more, going much too fast for you to understand.

“Steve!” You exclaim, unable to take the suspense.

He stops and turns to face you, visibly shaken. You exhale shakily, trying to keep yourself steady emotionally.

“Listen, if what you said earlier is true, then this is nothing.”

“This is nothing? (Y/N) we’re bringing someone else into our messed up lives. What if we’re terrible parents?”

You stand and take his worrisome hand in yours, “So we don’t have the best model. That’s fine! They’re not the ones raising this kid, it’s us. It’s you and me.”

He bites his lip in thought, eyes falling to his feet. You felt your heart race as you tried to decipher his emotions. You loved Steve, kid or no kid. But this was something you two needed to face.

“I don’t know. I - ” he shrugs.

You try not to remember the last time he shrugged and what followed.

“You and I don’t need to make a decision so quickly. We can sleep on it. Alright?” You try to be comforting, smoothing out the lines on his disheveled shirt.

He seems to relax at this and nods. You nod in conclusion.

“I’ll be back.” He says, letting go of your hands and walking down the dimly lit corridor.

“Where are you going?”

He won’t leave you, right?

“I have to do something. I’ll see you back home.”

He leaves in a rush. It hit you then. Home. You were dreading returning to the apartment all this time because you were afraid of the confrontation.

You had planned on coming back sure, maybe yell at him or take Mickey as you’d promised, but the thought of having to confront his issues and your own made your stomach do somersaults. And not in the good way.

But it seemed to turn out fine. You sighed.

You and Steve barely got by as it is. Robin’s leave put more strain on both of you to come up with rent money. Neither you nor Steve were too content in your career choices, and God knows the place would get cramped with a kid.

It was hard to be an optimist in these trying times but you tried to hold out hope. Maybe things would get better. After all, you had new friends, you’d made new connections. Who knows where that would take you.

You wondered what your sister would say. For once, you valued her input in this.

Honestly, the thought of the future from this point on made your heart race.

Steve was capable of growth…..right?

Once Mickey was cleared to go home, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. Things felt a lot lighter, it was a weight off of your shoulders. Though a tiny pebble by the name of Steve remained.

You carried your dozed pet out in your arms in the early hours of the morning, choosing to walk it home and avoid another Danny encounter.

It was a chilly week in November. The crunch of the leaves under your feet wasn’t enough to rouse Mickey awake but you kept count of how many you stepped on.

You don’t recall how long it took you to get home. It was most likely the autopilot in you flipping on, your head just too worried about other things at the moment.

You just know you’d made it home without a scratch. You kick away the pile of mail at the foot of your doorstep and take the extra key under the mat. Once you’re inside, the warmth of the radiator kicks in, letting your body relax after the tensing up of your muscles to keep warm outside.

You lay Mickey down in his makeshift bed, the foot tub with a mix of yours and Steve’s old shirts. He grumbles in his sleep, his tiny tongue peaking out in lazy and unconscious movement.

You shake off Jonathan’s coat and drape it over your body like a blanket and collapse onto the couch, too lazy to curl up into your own bed.

You shiver as you run your hands over your arms and cup your hands together to blow air into them. The tiredness from walking and overall excitement of the day weighed over you from the way you felt your eyelids start to fall.

You blink once, twice, and then fall asleep just in time to see Mickey kick and stretch his paws in his sleep.

Steve pants as he reaches the door of the room at the hotel his father’s staying at. He’d been too hasty to berate his future stepbrothers once he saw what they’d done to Mickey.

He knocks rapidly on the door, seeming like a madman to the couple who’s just leaving their own room and staring at him. He composes himself, zips his jacket up, and gives a faint nod as they pass him.

His dad opens the door a second later. “Hey kiddo, what’s with the commotion?”

“She’s pregnant.” Steve regurgitates your confession to his father. Don’s mouth falls open slightly.

He closes it and stammers. He turns to check on the kids in the room, seeing them preoccupied with the tv. When the coast is clear, he closes the door behind him and stays with Steve outside in the hallway.

“I - that was fast.” Don chuckles, feeling flustered for his son. “What did you tell her?”

“I ran here to tell you!”

Don’s hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose in disappointment.

“So you’re telling me, the girl of your dreams, the one you’ve been miserable over breaking her heart, just told you she’s pregnant and the first thing you do is leave her and run to me??”

Steve understands the gravity of the situation but he is stuck on the thought that he needed all the advice he could squeeze out of his father.

“Basically.” He says simply.

Don sighs. “What’s the problem, then?”

Steve’s shoulders slump. “I don’t know how to be a dad. In case you haven’t noticed I didn’t have the best model.”

Don nearly rolls his eyes.

“Is that really the reason, or is there another?”

Steve stays silent, contemplating while his eyes scan every inch of the hallway from the detail on the carpeting to the colors.

“I guess….I’m not happy with where I am right now. I’m pushing thirty in two years, I’m a bartender, everyone I know got married and I just feel like I’m out of time. But Dad, this girl. She - she’s everything I’m not. She’s spontaneous and funny and sarcastic and - I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like she could be doing so much better than me.”

Don places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and gently shakes him. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re a Harrington, you’re a catch!”

Steve half smiles at the encouragement.

“Steve, everyone progresses through milestones differently. No one knows what they’re doing. And if we’re being honest, I think you just have to find what you like and hold onto it. Something that makes you want to get out of bed every day and just take all of the bull that life throws at you because, at the end of the day, that something is always going to be there. Have you found something to do that for you?”

Steve nearly dissociates altogether as he falls deep in thought as his father speaks. His mind reeling the montage of memories his brain concocts like film.

He sees you the day you walked into the apartment and into his life, covered in dirty water from being sprayed by a taxi on the curb and taking it in stride and making jokes about it. He sees you dancing in the kitchen to god awful music he’d grown to love in a big shirt and long socks. He sees the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh hysterically at the prospect of trying to help him find dates. The image of you sitting near the radiator with a book in hand and your thinking face.

He thinks these past few months might’ve just been the best ones he’s ever had. Before he went and ruined it.

He didn’t think he would experience something like this after Nancy. He thought he could just run away from Hawkins and leave the bad memories there, but they crept up on him when he least expected it. His fear was not your fault.

He was done running and he was ready to grow.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I think I do.”

The phone ringing off the hook startled you awake. You sit upright, finding Jonathan’s coat at your feet and Mickey pawing at the phone cord. He wriggles his head side to side when he finally gets the cord in between his teeth.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You mutter to yourself. You pick Mickey up with swift ease and pull the cord out of his mouth to pick up the phone.

“I’m up.” You announce somewhat sleepily into the phone.

“Good! I have news!” Nancy’s rapid-fire voice comes through and alerts you awake.

“Wait! I did it, Nance! I told him!”

“Oh, what did he say?”

“He….kind of took off.”

“He what?!”

“Okay to be fair, a lot has happened in the past,” you glance at your wrist to see you’ve been asleep for a while. “Five hours? Geez.”

“Okay, okay. Well, we don’t have to worry about this anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“The tests! They’re faulty! They’re recalling them for false positives or something. I don’t know but Kali just called to tell me.”

“Oh….” You trail off.

In a way, you're very relieved. And yet also a little disappointed. But very relieved.

“What’s wrong?” Nancy senses something’s off. “I figured you’d breathe a little better if you knew the truth.”

“No I am,” you say, cradling Mickey in your arm like a mom with a baby on her hip. “I don’t know, I guess I kind of made my peace with it.”

“Oh, well hey, maybe it’s a good conversation starter for both of you.”

You lean against the wall where the phone hangs, letting your furry son sit on the counter. “Yeah maybe. I mean, it was all too fast anyways.”

“Yeah! You have lots of time. Just take baby steps. I think slow and steady would put yours and his mind at ease.”

You had to agree. Time had to heal all wounds. You two had to start again, without interruptions.

You finish talking to Nancy, reassuring her that you’d need to get over the first wave of shock and tell him when he turned up. She offered to go over but you’d declined. When everything’s over, you collapse onto the couch again, slumping as far as your back would let you. Your stomach protruding a little from under your tee. You roll up the lower half of your shirt and let it sit above your belly button.

You prod your fingers at nothing, feeling odd and a little bit silly at the thought that there would be a little person in there.

Mickey whimpers.

“Looks like you’re the baby still.” You chuckle, scratching behind his ears.

The peace and silence are broken by the door swinging open to reveal an out of breath Steve. You straighten up immediately and pull your shirt down.

“Are you okay?” You ask, making a pass to reach for him but he sticks a hand out for you to wait as he regains his composure.

“I’m….fine…..just have to….talk...holdonaminute.”

He’s visibly sweating, beads of sweat on his forehead. He looks like he just ran track. His pants come to a slow until he’s back to normal. He puts his hands on his knees and it takes everything in you to not make an old joke for the sake of the seriousness of the situation.

He stands up straight, keeping his eyes trained on you, and with a softness in them, you feel at ease.

“I quit my job.” He says finally.

Your eyes widen. “You what?”

The confession hung in the air, settling in like the warmth of the radiator. He rushes to you and kneels before you can leap up off the couch and takes your hands in his.

“Hear me out. Before you get mad, just hear me out.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve done a lot and I mean a lot of reassessment about you, me, everything. If we’re going to do this, I want them to be proud of me. I want to be there for them as much as I can be. I’m starting over. At 28.”

You stifle a laugh but release it when Steve takes the initiative to laugh at himself.

“So….what are you going to be doing now?” You give his hands a squeeze, utterly terrified at the plunge he’s taking.

He looks as if he hasn’t planned that far ahead besides quitting. “I….don't know. But it’s, um, kind of cool. I get to see a bunch of different jobs. Find out what I really like.”

“And, what’s that?”

“You.” He smiles, the sight of it sending butterflies free in your stomach. “I like you. So, so much. You’re not hard to get at all, you’re hard to earn. I’d take that over any messy, drunk bridesmaid.”

You tilt your head, feeling the corners of your lips lifting and before you know it, you’re grinning like an idiot.

“And that’s why,” he says, his right hand leaving yours and digging into his pocket to bring out a plastic ring from the bubble gum machines in the laundromat downstairs, “I’m jumping in, all the way.”

“Steve…” You’re nearly speechless. “Oh my god, what are you doing?”

“I know it’s not perfect or big or shiny. But this is just a placeholder for now. I’m all in if you are.” He holds the ring with the pink gem in his fingers, waiting for you.

Maybe it’s the fact that ever since you started to see him in a different light since the start of the year, you’d determined that you’d follow him anywhere. Whether he’d have you or not. Even with his moods and awkwardness and clumsiness. He’d been scored on your heart. You’d marry him with paper rings.

“I’m not pregnant.” You reveal.

His face softens. “What?”

“Nancy called earlier before you came. The tests were faulty. I just wanted you to know that so that wasn’t the only reason you decided to do this.”

It was and wasn’t the reason. But in all honesty, he didn’t think he could bear to stomach the idea of not being with you or the image of you with someone else. He also doesn’t think starting over with someone else was the best idea, you two had been through so much in two years. You shared a particular connection. One that he now realizes he had been looking through seas of beige and silvers and golds.

“It’s not,” he titters, “I don’t care that we don’t have the meet-cutes or the chance run-ins. That’s not what love really is. I thought it was more complex but it’s so - simple. It’s about being comfortable with someone and wanting to hang out with them as long as it’s humanly possible….and just not trying to mess it up the way I did.”

Your heart swells. This is love for him. This is him planting his foot in the sand and not running away when the sea rushes for him. Anyone else would’ve ditched him the moment things got ugly. But you were nothing if devoted.

“Yes, Dingus. I’m in too.” You nod, overjoyed as you feel your eyes get watery.

Don & Mary’s Wedding

December 25, 1994

Hawkins, Indiana

“Okay, okay, how does this look?” Steve asks, fixing his tux for the fifth time that day.

You roll your eyes. “You look fine babe, honestly. We’ve ironed the jacket out twice. Any more and I think you’re going to set it on fire and then you’ll upstage the bride.”

Steve snorts, fixing the knot on his tie. “I’m sorry. I’m just so nervous. I can’t mess up the speech.”

You fix the starchy collar of his shirt. “I’ve heard it many times and I think you’ll do great. Just don’t think too much about it.”

“You don’t think it’s too late to back out?”

“I think,” You pull him by his tie close to your face to tease him. “If you can get through this, you can either have the best after-party experience or you can get the new fridge.”

Steve purses his lips, conflicted. “We do need a new fridge.”

You playfully smack his arm as you feign offense.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He repeats, enveloping you in a hug.

“Whoa, whoa, easy on the goods.” You say, smoothing out the easily crinkled fabric of your dress.

“I’m always easy on them.” He jests, slipping in innuendo that you still find yourself blushing to.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go before they start guessing why we’re late.”

You climb onto his back and ride him piggyback all the way to the elevator. He goes over his speech one more time as you descend and tries to tell a joke at the end that doesn’t stick the landing.

You arrive just in time, settling at the table next to the newlyweds. You pat Steve on the shoulder, give him a glass, and wish him good luck. “Go get ‘em.”

He kisses you tenderly before he goes up on stage, feeling like a teen again the way his senses go crazy when he kisses you. He fumbles his way up the stairs to the microphone making you hold back a laugh. He composes himself a second later.

“Hey everyone! Thanks for coming. I’m Steve. Most of you know me as Don’s son. And if you’re wondering why I’m up here giving his best man speech, so am I.”

The crowd of family and friends laugh in unison.

Steve fixes his footing and his grip on the champagne glass tightens.

“The truth is, I put up a pretty big stink about all of this. I didn’t want to do it. To me, a second marriage was ill-advised. I mean, my parents’ divorce was pretty hard to swallow. But also, I just didn’t get it. I believed in things like fate and love at first sight, that once you found the one, that was the ballgame.”

He scans the crowd, passing familiar faces like Jonathan and Nancy, Dustin and Suzie, Robin and Kali, each one helping take the pressure off just a bit. He stops when he lands on you, your warm smile and thumbs up making him feel better.

“But the truth is, if you spend your whole life looking for something perfect, you wind up with nothing. See, there are many innings in this ball game and I don’t think it's about good timing or fate. It’s about trying not to mess up.”

He locks eyes with you for the last part.

“But you will mess up. No matter how hard you try, you’ll get in your own head. But if you can learn from your mistakes, you might just end up with something...even better.”

“I’d like to raise a glass,” He says, raising his cup along with everyone else. “Dad, Mary, congratulations.”

The guests applaud as Don is overcome with emotion and wipes at his happy tears and takes his son in a bear hug. Steve is taken aback by the sudden strength of his father and nearly drops his glass.

The party goes off without a hitch. Steve actually partakes in the festivities with pride and even makes an attempt to get to know his stepbrothers. He laughs at their awful attempts at jokes and bestows some girl advice when they ask him about you. Jonathan, Nancy, Robin, Kali, Dustin and Suzie all congratulate Steve when they find out what the pink stone on your finger means. You meet Steve’s mom for the first time, a charming and lovely woman who is eager to show you loose baby pictures in her clutch and embarrassing stories.

You wait on the sidelines watching as the new Harrington family take their family photos. Mary and Steve talk in what seems to be a sincere and sweet conversation. Don is trying to bribe the rambunctious kids with sweets if they can sit still for the photo. Jonathan glances from them to you.

“Hey,” He asks from behind the camera. “Why aren’t you in there?”

You open your mouth to justify it until Don speaks up.

“He’s right. What are you doing there? Come in! Come in!” He waves you over with encouragement until the entire Harrington gang begins to beg for you to jump in.

“Come in sweetie!” Mary cheers.

You’re about to make your way until Steve leaves the group and carries you over his shoulder. Jonathan smirks as he takes multiple photos, taking advantage of the candid moment. Steve’s stepbrothers singsong about you two kissing in a tree. The Harrington party make a mixture of sounds and cheers as Steve puts you down and wraps his arms around you in a prom pose. You go with it, feeling like you belonged in this crazy puzzle with other people. The little kids make a disgusted sound when you peck Steve on the cheek.

He kisses the top of your head in return and gives you a squeeze.

For the first time in his life, Steve’s not afraid of the future.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #joe keery x reader #joe keery imagine #aaaaannndd fin

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danny-chase · 3 years

Note

Big Brother instinct, Dick and either Cass, Gar, Danny Chase, Steph, Kara, Rose, or anyone else u want

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Batgirl (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dick Grayson & Cassandra Cain, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Dick grayson centric, Fire, Burns, hair styling, Ice Cream, Hurt/Comfort, Late Nights, Fluff and Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Missions Gone Wrong, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain is bad at feelings, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings Series: Part 11 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Dick talks with Cass after a mission doesn't go as planned.

Fic under cut

“Argh!” Dick snaps back to attention as Bruce’s angry grunt rattles through the cave. The few bats still in for the night stir, their wings rustling in the distance. An avalanche of papers fly off of Bruce’s desk, and his grizzled form slumps forward, hands firmly planted on the table. His shoulders sag under some unknown strain; as if he’s carrying the weight of the sky.

“Hmm.” Dick blinks back another wave of exhaustion, he’s not working on a case – but Bruce is – and company always makes working more fun. Besides, Bruce is on a time limit and Alfred can’t stop him from escaping his room. So. Here he is. He took an oath - it’s his job to help.

Dick’s eleven and Bruce’s a pillar of reassurance – a precariously stacked pile of rocks constantly on the verge of crumbling. He has no idea how to pick up the pieces. No idea how to seal the cracks. “Bruce?” He mumbles, swinging his legs off his spinny chair. Bruce doesn’t look up, his mouth drawn in a tight line. The ghost of tears well in his eyes. Not good.

Dick scoots off the chair, lightheaded for a moment. He shakes the stars out of his eyes, nodding back and forth, up and down, like Bruce does when he’s sleepy. It’s late. He has school tomorrow. Not that it matters. Bruce will let him skip if he asks the right way. He jogs in place for a few seconds, readying himself, warming up his muscles.

There’s not much he can do to help, but he can at least put on a little show. He runs forward launching into a cartwheel, picking up the papers as he goes – Bruce likes his tricks, sometimes they even make him laugh, sometimes –

Bruce snags his ankle out of the air, his quick reflexes saving Dick from crashing into the edge of a counter. He finds himself hanging, the world stuck upside down as his hands dangle inches from the floor. “Thanks.” He looks up at Bruce’s weary face.

A yawn escapes his lips, and the corners of Bruce’s mouth twitch. “I’m going to have to child-proof the cave at this rate.” He tries for humor but it falls flat, his hearts not in it all.

He stares up, sticking his tongue out. Bruce’s frown doesn’t fade. “Are you okay?” He asks. Bruce’s hands fumble, and Dick swings dangerously low to the floor before he’s recovered. Not willing to take the chance again, he curls up, grabbing Bruce’s forearms and pulls himself up through his arms, settling himself on sturdy shoulders.

Bruce drops his feet. “I’m fine. Why would ask that?” He sounds almost hurt and Dick’s too tired to figure out why.

He slides down easily, Bruce gently deposits him on the floor. “You looked sad.” A yawn leaves his mouth without permission, he stumbles slightly, and a hand clamps down on his shoulder. He reaches back up, and Bruce throws him up against his shoulder, wrapping him in a hug.

Dick yawns contently, his eyelids fluttering without his permission, as Bruce starts walking towards the stairs. “I’m sorry…” The arm around his back pulls him a bit tighter. “I’m just not enough.” A shaking hand combs through his hair and Dick squeezes back because he doesn’t know what to say.

Bruce grunts as he takes a step up the stairs. “Sleep on it?” Dick suggests, resting his eyes for just a moment.

“Mmhmm. It’s bedtime.” Dick’s half asleep by the time they reach the top. He’s not sure he hears Bruce whisper, “You’re a great kid, chum.”

It took Dick years before he really understood the feeling. And even more years before he made the connection that that was how Bruce had felt on late nights spent scouring for clues that just didn’t seem to exist, having worked for days straight on three hours of sleep, and watching Gotham send all of it up in flames setting you back months on an investigation.

He’s learned there’s nights it’s impossible to save everyone – hell, he’s seen Clark get his ass kicked, and Clark’s damn near close to god. Dick would know – the Titans have fought their namesake. But the Titans have fought humans and lost despite half their members being godlike, and besides that most days now he’s alone. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries, how much he plans, how prepared he is; sometimes things just go to hell and a handbasket and there’s nothing he can physically do to prevent it.

Most of the time, he’s fine with that. It’s fine he has limits. Logically, he knows he can’t be expected to everything. Logically, he knows it’s a waste of time to worry about it. Logically, he knows it’s okay to take a night off, watch a nature documentary, invite a friend over, stay in and spend the night simply existing.

But it feels like he could be doing more – should be doing more. He feels that restlessness overtake him, and springs to his feet “Bruce I-”

Bruce gives him his patented bat-glare from where he’s sitting, looking up from a familiar pile of papers. Once it would have intimidated him into sitting back down. Now he just returns it with a patented one of his own. “-I think I’ll suit up and head out for the night, Tim could probably use some back up with-”

“Dick.” There’s this exasperated tone that Bruce can only ever seem to muster when saying his name. He pauses for a just a second, his eyes flickering down to Bruce’s clenched fists and tight shoulders. “Let me handle it.” It comes out as an order, but reading between the lines, it’s a plea.

Bruce would never admit it out loud, worry practically bleeds out of the man. Guilt gnaws on the inside of his chest, though, he’s not sure what it’s even from; the guilt of making Bruce worry or the guilt of being a useless sack of broken and bruised ribs while people need Nightwing’s help. Being benched sucks, but he knows enough to compromise. “Let me run the comms? Babs could use a night off.” She sleeps less than him and Bruce knows it.

The gray streaks in Bruce’s hair stand out all the more as he lets out a bone deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes – he doesn’t get to do this right now. “You literally let me go out last night I don’t understand why-”

“Last night was an emergency. I didn’t have a choice.” His frown widens, his face etched in an eternal look of pain, mixed with disproval. “Two nights ago… you almost…” His mouth seals itself shut, unspoken words hanging in the air between them. It’s Bruce that breaks the gaze first. “Run the comms, don’t overexert yourself. It should be a quiet night…” He stands, hesitates before walking off “And get to bed early.”

Dick bites back a laugh, Bruce hasn’t talked to him like that since he was thirteen. “Alright.” He resists the urge to poke fun, and follows Bruce through the passage behind the grandfather clock.

“So Ives was talking about the Pirates of the Caribbean movie with me the other day, and we might go see it this weekend if I have the time. Gee- I can’t remember the last time I saw movie in theaters or even really hung out with him.” Tim’s endless chatter helps him stay awake in the dimly lit cave. His throbbing ribs help too, maybe he shouldn’t have tried doing push-ups. “Dad and Dana want to drop me off, but Ives has a car now, though dad’s still worried cuz of the time some wacko tried to stop us at a traffic light.”

Dick hums, a smile creeping its way up his face. “I can drop you off if it’s an issue.”

“Really?! That’d be awesome, you could stay for the movie if you wanted to, but I don’t know if you’d like it, I mean are pirates really your thing? I always figured you’d be more into Vikings or probably aliens actually, or something like-” A red light flashes on the screen, and Dick snaps to attention.

“Hold that thought.” Tim’s chatter ceases immediately as Dick furiously types on the terminal. He punches into the main line. “Batgirl how fast can you get to the corner of 16th and Murphy’s Ave, there’s a building on fire and you’re the only one anywhere near the Upper East Side.” A 911 operator calms down a hysterical woman in his left ear, Cass asking direction in the right.

He pulls up a map. “I-I can’t find a way out!” The woman shrieks. “I don’t know what happened, I was sleeping and-” she breaks off into raspy hacks.

“Go straight, turn right after three blocks down.” Dick winces, as the lady continues chocking on smoke. “C’mon Cass. Get there.” He mutters off the line. He eyes his cycle sitting idly in the bay – he’s twenty minutes out; Cass needs backup. He opens up another line. “Batman I need you to follow Batgirl, what’s your eta?”

Bruce grunts back, he hears thudding over the line. “Fifteen minutes.” The woman screams in his other ear, he yanks the earbud out as a massive bang nearly blows out his eardrum. Picking it back up, he can’t hear the woman anymore, only the roar of flames and falling debris.

“Shit.” He pulls up video from a street camera. “Shit.” The building’s collapsing in on itself. “Permission to call the league?” He clicks through to their line of communications, his finger hovering over the button.

“Here.” Cass scrambles into view, bursting through a window. Shit.

Bruce learned his limits long ago. Dick’s finally settling into his. Cass? They simply don’t register on her radar. The buildings coming down in mere minutes; she’s going to get killed.

“What’s the situation?” Bruce yells in his ear.

“Batgirl get out of there!” He screams at Cass. She’s going to die – the building’s not stable, and he’s the one that sent her there. “Make it five minutes – the building’s coming down.” He yells to Bruce. “Batgirl!” He watches a few windows blow out. A firetruck careens down the street.

“Permission granted.” Bruce huffs and Dick can’t click the button fast enough.

A couple more windows blow out, and the building seems to lean to the side. Finally he sees Cass climb back out a window, holding a couple kids in her arms as she leaps to the ground. “BATGIRL GET THEM CLEAR!” His heart pounds in his throat as she runs forwards, the building groaning behind her, crumbling to the side. Chaos erupts, chunks of flaming debris cascading from the top of the building, as the second floor merges with the first.

Dick blinks, his mouth dry. “There’s more people-” he can’t hear Cass over the ensuing cacophony as he watches the building topple to the ground. “NO!” He faintly hears her scream as the screen erupts in static.

Dick slams his fists on the desk. His chest constricts painfully. “Nightwing. Report.” Bruce’s steady voice reminds him to breathe. His chest spasms. Shit. “Nightwing!” Bruce demands as he tries to catch his breath.

“Building collapsed.” He manages to get out. “One sec.” He takes a few deep breaths, leaning back in the chair for support. “Batgirl report.” He’s greeted with silence. “Batgirl, please, if you’re there I need you to respond.”

“I…” Cass trials off. Dick sighs in relief. “I’m sorry.” The line cuts off. Well. Shit.

“Nightwing! I’m headed to the location.” Bruce squawks. Dick sighs.

“It’s going to be a long night. Search and rescue, I’ll call in backup.” Shit. So much for an early bedtime.

“Hey.” Someone shakes his shoulder. He makes a grab for their wrist and misses, his mind processing where the hell he is. He blinks a few times.

“Cass?” Her hair’s plastered to the side of her head and she’s covered in soot. Nicks, rips, and tears decorate her costume. Dick wipes his eyes as the ashy smell of smoke overwhelms his senses. Cass takes a few steps back, heading towards the locker room. “Wait.” He had something to say to her, his mind racing to catch up.

She hops up onto a counter. His mind shuffles through the events earlier in the night. “Bruce sent you back?” Cass nods glumly. The rescue efforts weren’t going well when he dozed off. The JLA sent in everyone they could spare; there’s nothing they can do anymore. Not that Bruce won’t try.

Cass’s lips are sealed. There’s a haunting expression in her eyes, her shoulders slump forward, her hands firmly plant themselves on the counter for support.

And his friends think he’s too much like Bruce.

“Hey.” He starts. She gives him a weary look, tears welling in her eyes. Well, maybe not exactly like Bruce. “Look, I’m sorry I put you in that position.” Cass shakes her head. “Sometimes things like this happen. I should have-”

“Stop.” Cass pulls her feet up on the counter, getting dust everywhere. “I should have been faster.” She swallows, refusing to let the tears spill over. “My fault.”

Dick watches as she glides off the counter, yanking off her gloves and dropping them on the floor. Burn marks dot her hands and the edges of her hair are singed. “You did everything you could.” She hesitates, before taking a step towards the showers.

“Not enough.” She mutters before storming off, leaving a trail of soot in her wake.

He stands up. “Cass.” The lock snaps shut with a click as she slips into the bathroom. Leaving Dick in an empty cave once more.

By the time he returns downstairs, Cass is already out of the shower, looking displeased. “You took my clothes.” She notes unhappily, a pale pink towel tucked tightly around her shoulders.

Dick watches water drip down from her hair, pattering on the floor. The trail leading back to the bathroom is now mixed with water and soot. Alfred’s going to be pissed. “I took your costume.” He clarifies. “And I brought you clothes.” He gestures towards the open door.

Cass scowls, planting her feet defiantly. “I’m going out.” She reaches out a hand. Dick shrugs – there’s no way she can find where he hid her filthy suit before they get a chance to wash it.

It’s all too familiar, reading the lines across her brow, watching her shoulders slump when she stills, and scanning red rimmed eyes. “What are you going to do like that?” He points out, Cass angrily storming towards him. “You’re tired, you’ll just end up being in the way.” He dodges left as a fist flies past his face. “You would have hit if I wasn’t right.” She’s faster than him on his best days.

She glares at him with pursed lips, staring before turning on her heel and storming off towards the bathroom. The door slams behind her, triggering the rustling of far away wings.

Dick sighs – he hopes he wasn’t this temperamental when he lived with Bruce. “Come up to the kitchen when you’re done, I need your help with something.” The lie rolls easily off his tongue, though he feels a twinge of guilt as Cass groans behind closed doors.

Cass’s eyes widen as she enters the room. Dick offers a smile as she edges closer to the table. He tosses a spoon, she snags it out of the air. “Dig in.” There’s a carton of chocolate ice cream – double chocolate chunk brownie sundae with hot fudge and chocolate sprinkles to be precise – and tons of candy. It’s not stuff Bruce keeps around, but Dick’s has a stash at Tim’s house reserved for movie nights. He’ll restock later.

Cass vigorously stabs the ice cream with her spoon, a smile dancing across her face as she takes a few bites. She pauses, sticking the spoon back in the cartoon, looking up with a confused expression. “Why?” She’s wearing fluffy pajama bottoms, fuzzy socks, and an old worn college sweatshirt that’s frayed at the hems. Dick can almost pretend he’s back, talking to Donna after she broke up with Roy their sophomore year of high school.

She’s watching Dick carefully. He hums casually. “You had a rough night.” This is what the Titans always did. She shrugs.

“Things happen.” She shovels a few more bites into her mouth. “I want to go out.” It’s hard for Dick to find her tough and grizzled when she’s guzzling gummi worms, kicking her feet back and forth on the stool.

“Consider this a reason to stay in.” She gives him a sideways glance. “You did as much as you can, that’s enough.” Cass looks pointedly at her ice cream, not hesitating before diving back into it.

“Spar with me?” She licks a skittle before sticking it in her mouth.

Dick snorts. “If I don’t have a heart attack, I think Bruce would.” She snaps up to attention, grabbing his wrist and quickly finding his pulse point. “I’m fine, Cass.” Her hands are freezing. He places one of his on top of hers. “If you weren’t there I wouldn’t have been.” He says quietly, catching her eye. “Thank you.” She pulls back as if burned, quickly busying herself with the candy. He waits a moment before adding, “I think those kids you saved are grateful too.”

Cass throws a bag of M&M’s at him, he’s a second too slow and it pelts him in the face. “Noted.” He grins. “Uh, also, I’m going to have to do something with your hair.”

“What.”

“Cass, hold still.” She immediately stops squirming under his hands. “Thanks.” She hums back, tucked under an old blanket that never seems to leave the back of the couch. Bruce still isn’t here, but Tim checked in after his stakeout, and headed home a half an hour ago. He snips away another lock of burnt hair, tossing it into a trash can next to him.

He rests his forearms on the back of the sofa, contemplating which section of her hair to start with next. “You find one you like yet?” He asks, peeking over her shoulder at the images of hairstyles.

“Uhh.” She scrolls a bit more. “I don’t care.” She tosses the phone up to the top of the couch.

“Mmm.” He didn’t expect much else. Donna texted him a picture earlier to copy – something easy to pull back but still stylish. He attacks the next section, carefully brushing out the tangles, starting bottom to the top. He’s oddly grateful for all those times he did Donna and Kory’s hair.

‘Practice for when Bruce finally adopts a girl.’ They used to tease. ‘You’ll have a real sister, and if his track record holds she’ll have black hair and blue eyes.’ He’s never lived the irony down. Though, Cass’s eyes are a beautiful warm brown, so Donna and Kory can take that.

“You know.” He keeps his tone light. “Most hairdressers and their clients talk.” Cass remains set in stony silence. “Though I guess most people go to a salon to get their hair cut.” He just visits Joey. “Some people say it’s like free therapy.”

“You talk a lot.” Cass notes. He pulls up doodle jump on his phone and passes it back to her. She plays a couple rounds before the phone’s placed back beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He already knows the answer, but still asks all the same.

“No.” Bruce never wanted to either. Barbara used to talk to him… before he left for the Titans and took years to look back. Though he likes to dream otherwise, he knows there’ll come a day when Tim won’t want to talk to him anymore either.

It doesn’t get any easier being shut out. “That’s alright. If you change your mind I’m here.” He grabs the shears, snipping away another dead end.

“Thanks.”

“Dick.” A hiss awakes him, light following soon after. He squints, turning away to bury his face in a cushion. “Where’s Cassandra?”

He turns, eyes snapping open as he quickly scans the sofa. The blanket hangs off the edge, Cass nowhere to be seen. One of her custom batarangs sticks out of his armchair’s armrest, a few inches from his hand. “She must have found her costume.” He notes, glancing towards the pajamas crumpled in the doorway. His eyes meet Bruce’s as he lets out a tired sigh.

His hair’s dripping, fresh from a shower, and it’s singed at the edges. Dick nods towards the sheers on the coffee table. “Tomorrow.” Bruce decides, crossing the room, picking up the blanket as he goes. Dick pushes down the footrest, slowly rising to his feet. His ribs twinge at every move, in hindsight, falling asleep hanging off the side of an armchair wasn’t his best idea. Bruce hovers closer than normal, watching carefully, worry lines set in concern. “Bed.”

Dick’s too tired to argue. “Bed.” He agrees. And though Bruce doesn’t carry him, he accompanies him up the stairs.

#bad things happen bingo #dick grayson #cassandra cain #batfam #batfamily #nightwing #batgirl #my writing #sorry i've had this request for like 2 months but you know what we made it eventually 💀😅#thanks for the request anon!#i couldn't resist doing Cass but shout out to you remembering Danny Chase exists like dang iconic

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alwaysmychoices · 3 years

Text

The Memorial

Synopsis: On the day of Danny and Bobby’s funeral, Charlie slowly (and unwillingly) begins to feel the impact of her trauma, and Ethan tries to protect her from her own pain.

Chapter 20 of the “with and without” series

Previous Series: “a weekend with dr. ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 5.8k

Rating: T (language)

tw: disassociation, trauma, emotional distress negative self-talk

disclaimer: I used my experiences as inspiration for Charlie’s emotional state. I am not a trained mental health professional and apologize if I misrepresent anything in this chapter.

That morning, Ethan had no choice but to discharge Charlie from the hospital.

There was no reason to keep her, even after an unusually thorough final exam. Her vitals were normal, and she hadn’t exhibited any concerning side effects from her treatment in days.

Charlotte Greene had survived. She was in the clear now.

For the first few days, Ethan didn’t let himself dream of such a thing. He didn’t want to be disappointed if she took a turn, and he didn’t want to blind himself in his diagnosis and treatment of her. It was only in the last 48 hours that her discharge had become a real and impending event. Truthfully, he could have released her yesterday. The only reason he didn’t was that she experienced a few headaches he wanted to keep an eye on.

But it wasn’t the headaches, not really.

Ethan kept her in the hospital because, deep down, he doubted she was ready to leave.

Charlie seemed fine – sometimes, on a good day, even normal. But there was a haunting in her gaze, a lingering ghost in every movement. Something unresolved and untouched hid in every interaction.

The truth was that they neglected her psychological healing, placing all of their emphasis on her physical improvement. Each of her loved ones denied this to themselves, of course. They showered her with support and affection, and when she had those moments where she seemed lost in something, they stayed with her until she found her way back.

But they hadn’t touched the root of it.

They hadn’t had the courage, nor the stamina.

They didn’t know if they avoided it for themselves or for her. The free days – the one where she wasn’t thinking about her tragedy – were the best. She was a model victim, full of energy and strength. She made jokes from the confines of her hospital bed and offered warm smiles to comfort her loved ones.

Her parents left Boston confident that their daughter would make it through. Even when her father harbored doubts, he looked to Ethan to protect her.

But Ethan knew.

Somewhere, deep down, he knew.

He observed as if surveying her for cracks in the façade.

Even now, as Charlie collected her things from the hospital room in preparation to leave, he studied her. She seemed happy. She felt happy, but Ethan wasn’t sure if she was.

“You’re pouting,” Charlie commented playfully as she picked up her jeans and started to shimmy into them. Sienna had been kind enough to bring her a fresh set of clothes from the apartment so that Charlie didn’t have to leave in the scrubs she wore when disaster struck. Sienna had been more than happy to do it. It gave her a sense of power, that she could do something for Charlie after feeling powerless during her suffering.

“I don’t pout,” Ethan murmured, taking a seat in the free chair. He was, of course, still pouting.

“Well, I’m happy,” Charlie commented as she continued dressing, “I’m finally free, and I’m counting down the hours until I can finally take a shower in my own shower. I never thought I would miss water pressure this much.”

Charlie had a whole list like this – full of tiny luxuries and familiar habits that she missed. Some of them she already had plans to satisfy, like the shower and her coffee maker. Some were more abstract, like dinners with her friends and hearing Sienna hum during their morning routine. There was one she wouldn’t take a “no” on, which was that she intended to spend the night in Ethan’s bed no matter what happened today.

Right now, the world was full of possibilities, and after so long, she could finally reach for them again.

Ethan felt guilty for what he would say next, but he was also confident it had to be said.

“Will you be attending the memorial today?”

He watched the crack in her sunny day take shape and splinter her soft smile.

Charlie froze, and a cold, cold realization washed over her. It froze everything it touched until it reached her bones. Nothing was safe from its icy grasp.

It was a warm room, Charlie knew it was. And so, she pretended she wasn’t cold, even if her teeth felt like chattering.

“Is that today?”

Charlie knew it was today, but she asked just to be sure.

“Yes, at 3:30 pm.”

Charlie nodded, instinctively rubbing her arm as she tried to channel the warmth and happiness she felt only moments ago. It was coming back – so very, very slowly.

“You don’t have to go, you know,” Ethan ventured carefully.

As he expected, Charlie’s eyes shot to him with an expression that could only be described as surprise and disgust. She had to go. Those men died for her!

They…

They died for her.

Charlie felt knocked back, and afraid Ethan would see it, she shook her head and turned her gaze to her jeans as she buttoned the top.

“I have to go, Ethan.”

“No, you don’t.”

They’d had this conversation last night, and even if Ethan knew he would lose, it felt imperative to try.

“Ethan.”

“Rafael Aveiro isn’t going.”

“Because he wasn’t medically cleared to go. That’s not the same.”

“Everyone would understand, Charlie.”

“I wouldn’t understand, Ethan,” Charlie insisted, “I have to go, for me.”

Ethan knew this was a terrible idea. He wasn’t sure why or specifically what would happen, but he knew Charlotte Greene should never step foot inside that memorial.

But there wasn’t much he could do. He knew Charlie very well, and if she intended to go, there was nothing he could do to stop her. Even if he demanded she avoid it and threw up barriers, she would overcome each obstacle with a vengeance. She was a stubborn woman with conviction, a damning combination.

All he could really do was make sure she didn’t do it alone.

“Alright,” Ethan conceded, earning a look of shock from his girlfriend, “Go home. Get some rest. I’ll come by to pick you up.”

Charlie squirmed, surprised by how easily he’d given up the fight. It gave her a moment of pause, and at that moment, she wondered if she was making the right decision. But then the thought faded, and her certainty returned.

She owed it to Bobby and Danny…

“Do you want a ride home?” Ethan offered, still a bit nervous about letting her out of his sight today, “I have time to take you, if you want.”

He’s scared, she realized quietly.

It was startling to see, though the sight was not unfamiliar.

Seeing fear now felt wrong. This was their happy ending, wasn’t it?

Charlie crossed the room to reach her boyfriend, who watched her in silence. When she studied him, she noted the exhaustion and the concern etched into his handsome face. Between his eyebrows, a firm wrinkle of unease sat. She gently smoothed it with her thumb and hoped that was enough to settle it. Ethan recognized her attempt at assurance and comfort, but he didn’t feel like he deserved them.

He was supposed to take care of her, not the other way around.

But really, they needed it equally.

They were two shattered people fumbling to put themselves back together.

“I’ve missed walking,” Charlie politely refused his offer. Ethan wasn’t terribly surprised she did.

“You have my number if you need me,” Ethan reminded her, and something warm settled in her heart, a break from the bone-chilling sadness.

She loved him so, so much.

“I’ll be fine, Ethan,” Charlie said with the upmost confidence.

Ethan raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I will be!” Charlie insisted.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Ethan declined to confirm her assertion. He couldn’t in good conscience assure her when he didn’t believe her.

Charlie wished he would anyway.

She made a show of rolling her eyes like she was amused with his overconcern. Ethan wasn’t impressed with the display.

It didn’t take long for Charlie to finish dressing and collect her things. When she was done, there was nothing left to keep her in this hospital.

They hesitated at the door and watched one another to see who would make the first move to leave.

Instead, Ethan kissed Charlie softly, whispering, “Goodbye, Charlie.”

She smiled into his lips, “I can’t wait to kiss you somewhere outside of this hospital.”

Ethan grinned. He felt a profound sense of relief that she would make it out of this building. His wonderful Charlie could do anything with this independence. She would continue to exist, even out of his line of sight. She was no longer a fixture in this hospital, nor a victim to gawk at during rounds.

She was free.

They were both free.

Ethan wasn’t sure what came over him. It could only be explained as an instinct to run. He was sure they had to. He was convinced that they were up against a tragic, impending disaster and that they needed to leave while they still had time.

“Why don’t we run away?” Ethan asked.

“What?” Charlie laughed, but the severity of his expression made her smile falter.

“I’m serious. Let’s run away, right now.”

“You’re at work,” Charlie cautioned with confusion.

“So? I doubt anyone would begrudge our departure after everything we’ve been through,” Ethan decided, “We’ll just go somewhere – anywhere you want – and come back whenever the hell we want to.”

Ethan wanted Charlie to say yes more than he’d wanted anything. He wanted this more than he wanted her to say yes to his offer at a relationship all those months ago. Really, he didn’t just want it. He needed it. It felt like the only way to quell his growing anxiety and avoid pain and tragedy. It was the only way to protect her.

But Charlie wasn’t the kind to run away.

She was the kind to try, even if it broke her.

It was one of the reasons Ethan loved her, but it was also one of the reasons she scared the hell out of him.

Placing a comforting hand on his cheek, Charlie kissed her nervous boyfriend softly and told him, “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

She never gave an explicit answer to his offer, but her aversion was answer enough to disappoint Ethan.

“Okay,” Ethan conceded weakly, kissing her forehead one last time.

When she walked away, Ethan wondered if he was worrying all for nothing.

She looked strong. She looked healthy. She even looked happy.

But something told him that she wasn’t, and against his best wishes, he trusted it.

Charlie left Edenbrook to a relieved fanfare. Everyone wished her well and showered her in comfort and adoration. A few of the nurses who had stayed with her this week took turns giving her goodbye hugs. When they held her, a quiet thought wondered if they just wished they could hug Danny. A pair of rowdy interns cheered when she walked by, but Zaid silenced them with a glare. Sienna paused her rounds just to give Charlie a big, tight hug.

It was a powerful and cheerful time.

But then she was at the front door of Edenbrook, and Charlie hesitated.

She felt almost contained to Edenbrook, like something would break if she exited.

It was an irrational fear, of course. That’s what she told herself when she finally made that first step on the sidewalk.

They never made it out.

Charlie felt the air get knocked out of her chest at the mere thought.

But that was ridiculous. It was a thought – and an intrusive one at that.

She wouldn’t let it stop her.

What makes you so deserving to get out?

Charlie gritted her teeth and fought the thoughts as she took another step.

They didn’t stop, though. At every block, there was something new – some horrific image in her mind, some intrusive thought, or some terrible memory.

She heard it in the voices of strangers on the street, but every time she looked over at them, they hadn’t really said a thing. They observed her wild, scared expression with a sense of concern and avoidance. More than one stranger took a few steps away when she looked at them.

They weren’t talking to her. Charlie knew that.

Still… little snippets of their conversations twisted into dark, terrible words.

“They deserved life more, you bitch.”

“You only lived because you’re a coward.”

“Would you have even saved them, if you could? Or are you too selfish?”

Even the beep of a cell phone brought her back to the horrible, irregular beep of Raf’s heartbeat monitor that night.

It followed her.

It was everywhere.

The anxiety started in her chest, but it spread through her body like an infection.

Like the infection that should have killed her.

Charlie fought it. She rebelled against the thoughts and battled the improbability of the dreadful words. She went in and out of panic in a series of disorienting flashes.

She didn’t always know where she was.

Once, she looked around the group surrounding her as they walked the crosswalk, and she wondered how she got here. Where had she been? Where was she going?

Then, it came back. She remembered again, and she pretended she never forgot.

Somehow, she made it home.

She was relieved to see her building. Quietly, she recognized that it was a miracle she navigated so well when her grip on reality felt fragile. But she pretended that nothing was wrong. Of course, she got home. She was normal, after all. Those were just bad thoughts and bad moments. It didn’t have to mean anything.

Then she realized she was just staring at her building.

She made no moves to go inside. She didn’t even fish her keys out of her purse.

Something in there was a threat, and she couldn’t go home yet.

She started walking away with no real plan. First, she thought she would just stop at a nearby coffee shop, drink an espresso, and then go back to normal. But she walked past the coffee shop and kept walking. She wasn’t sure where she was going.

A mile later, she finally decided.

Half an hour later, Charlie knocked at Rafael’s front door. Within seconds, Rafael’s grandmother opened the door with overwhelming exuberance. Charlie hardly had a moment to process Juliana at all before she was pulled into a big, tight hug.

The affection, if just for the moment, knocked Charlie out of her fog.

Juliana ushered Charlie inside with offers of drinks and snacks.

“Oh, thank you, but this is all too much,” Charlie insisted.

“Nonsense!” Juliana exclaimed, pushing a plate in Charlie’s direction, “You saved my beautiful boy. Nothing is too much for you!”

“Your beautiful boy saved me,” Charlie asserted with a bit of guilt. She wasn’t a hero. She didn’t deserve all of this.

A gentle creak of a door alerted Charlie to Rafael’s presence, and he sheepishly corrected, “We saved each other.”

When Charlie looked in his direction to greet him, Rafael knew.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in her eyes was amiss, even pained.

Charlie finally caved and accepted a dessert. Juliana, however, wasn’t satisfied and began packing her a tin of goodies to take home.

While she was a few feet away, Rafael took a few tentative steps towards his friend.

“How are you?” Charlie asked when he was close enough.

Rafael shrugged, “I can make it up the stairs without wheezing, which is an improvement.”

Charlie nodded slowly, “And Sora?”

“Definitely over,” Rafael confirmed, “But I think it’s for the best. You and Ethan?”

Charlie thought back to their night in quarantine, when Rafael implored her to tell Ethan how she felt. She was happy to have taken his advice.

“I told him I loved him. He told me he loved me, too. Naturally, I cried,” Charlie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I don’t think he believed me until the next day, though. Something about deathbed confessions not being as meaningful.”

“At least it worked out for one of us,” Rafael smiled playfully.

He was watching Charlie, though. She realized it during a pause in their conversation. She felt studied, and she wondered what he saw.

Whatever he interpreted couldn’t have been good because, after a beat, he asked her to join him on his walk. Just as Ethan had hours before, Rafael regarded Charlie with concern.

Charlie accepted.

They navigated Rafael’s neighborhood largely in silence. The silence invited the fog back, and by the time they reached the park, Charlie felt like she was fighting against wet sand to keep moving. She was almost as exhausted as Rafael as they collapsed into a nearby bench.

Charlie felt like Rafael was the only person in the world who might understand what she couldn’t yet put a name to. But given the opportunity, she was too afraid to ask. If she asked, it would be real, and she wasn’t ready for it to be real.

“I never asked how you were,” Rafael said pointedly.

“Are you asking now?” Charlie asked, looking ahead at the park instead of her friend.

“I am.”

Charlie thought for a moment – maybe too long of a moment, really.

“My reports say I’m perfectly healthy,” Charlie finally answered.

“That’s wasn’t quite what I asked,” Rafael seemed amused like he had expected her to evade him.

Charlie rolled her eyes at his smirk, but it was a show. She just wanted to seem amused, too.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

He gave her time, allowing the silence to stretch until she finally had the strength.

“Does it stay like this?”

Rafael raised an eyebrow in silent question, and she let the façade slip just enough for him to know what she meant.

Charlie wanted Rafael to tell her that, while he felt what she feels now, it eased over time. Being home helped him become whole again. The thoughts and the panic would subside if she just waited.

But Rafael told her the truth instead.

“Yes,” he admitted, “I feel it every second. Sometimes, I feel like it’s harder at home. I wake up at home with my family and my life. And they… they don’t.”

His words crushed Charlie, and she sank further into the bench.

“Do you feel like it’s everywhere?” her voice was so soft, so scared that it shook Rafael to his core, “Like… if you’re just walking down the street, do you feel like you hear the bad thoughts? The ones that remind you of what happened.”

Rafael looked terrified.

He was, he realized belatedly.

Not just for himself and his trauma but for her and hers.

“Sometimes,” Rafael confirmed, “I feel it mostly in the pain… When my body aches and fails to do easy things, I’m so angry and then… Then, I remember why and what happened – and that Bobby and Danny only felt the pain in the end.”

Charlie grimaced, and she held onto the bench until her fingers turned white, fighting the wave of pain that followed the mental image. She looked pale and on the verge of collapse when she finally opened her eyes again.

“Don’t go today,” Rafael warned.

“I have to,” Charlie swallowed, “I couldn’t save them… I might as well honor them.”

Rafael didn’t have much of a counterargument, so he didn’t give one. He understood. In a lot of ways, he felt the same about the memorial. He, unlike Charlie, had been saved by his precarious health. He didn’t have to make that choice. He was relieved, even if he felt a twinge of cowardice for not even trying to go.

When Rafael didn’t try to stop her, their conversation fell into a lull.

The silence was nice.

Neither of them expected anything from the other.

They didn’t have to pretend to be okay…

Maybe they should have stayed.

But they didn’t.

Charlie, looking at her watch, realized she was running out of time. When she told Rafael that she had to go, she looked normal again – strong, even. Like she was clothed in armor. Like, maybe, if you squinted, you didn’t have to worry about her.

Rafael wished her well, and she started to leave.

“Wait, Charlie,” Rafael called out before she got too far away.

Charlie stopped, turning to him with an expectant expression.

“Thank you for making it out of that room.”

Her heart stopped, and her eyes watered.

They were supposed to be dead, and her heart burst with how happy she was that he was alive.

“Thank you for making it out, too,” Charlie was sure she had never meant a thank you as strongly as she meant that one.

He smiled softly, and then she left.

This time, when she reached her apartment, she had the courage to step inside.

It was… eerily the same.

Like this apartment was magically immune to all of the pain and trauma.

Something echoed in the halls, something she couldn’t yet touch.

The thoughts were distant though, but… so was everything else.

Charlie tried to put her life back together. She unpacked her things, cleaned her room, and started a pot of coffee. The entire time, she struggled to keep moving. She kept finding little moments of lost time. Alone, they were strange, but together, they were terrifying.

She knew her surroundings, yet something about them felt strange. She knew where she was, what she was doing, and what she was supposed to do next. But the haze…

It surrounded her.

It was everywhere but somehow out of sight.

She never saw it coming, but when she snapped out of it, she realized it had enveloped her.

She was empty, but the thoughts were finally quiet.

She felt nothing, but at least she didn’t feel the torture.

Charlie kept going because Charlie was the kind to always keep going.

When she turned on the shower, she was fighting to stay here, to stay aware. She wanted to stay.

The water was hot, obscenely so. The shock to her system burned more than just her skin. Her mind felt like it was ablaze, and finally, Charlie felt herself again. She didn’t know how much she missed her awareness until it was back. She turned the water hotter to keep feeling it.

Then…

She was back in the hospital – in the burning hot shower after she was released from quarantine. She was alone washing off the sweat and grime of that hospital room. She used shower products that weren’t hers, that didn’t smell or feel like her. She was alive. But who else was?

She was a lone survivor. She was the final girl. She was the lucky one.

Charlie screamed.

No. No, Charlie really screamed.

She was back in her apartment, and she was screaming.

She caught her breath, reaching for slippery tiles to find her balance.

She slid. Or maybe she sat down.

But she was on the shower floor, knees pulled to her chest as she begged for fresh air.

She sat on that shower floor, hoping for a miracle. She put faith in everything.

In the water, that it would wash away her pain.

In the air, that it would allow her to exhale her guilt.

In her body, that it would remember how to stand again.

But gasping through the water, she just felt like she was drowning.

Then…

When it was too much, when it was all too much, it stopped.

Like a warm, protective hug, her brain shielded her.

And then it was over.

What felt like seconds later, there were loud knocks at her front door. They were jarring and set her free from wherever she had been.

Charlie looked around frantically, trying to remember where she was.

The shower was still running, through the water was less hot now.

Everything looked the same, but…

But the sun was lower.

Charlie scrambled for a towel and turned off the shower. She fumbled for her phone on the counter, and her heart sank.

An hour.

She had lost an hour.

The knocking started again, and Charlie didn’t have the time to process what her lost hour meant. Still trying to get her bearings right, Charlie went to the front door and swung it open to find out who the fuck was so insistent about getting inside.

It was… Ethan.

And he was dressed in a suit.

Why was he-?

The memorial.

Ethan watched as her eyes widened in understanding and then panic.

He didn’t know what to think or how to interpret her apparent confusion. She was soaking wet still, as if she had just gotten out of the shower, and her skin was bright red, like it had been burned by the water. She looked…

Confused.

And scared.

Ethan immediately knew that something was wrong.

“Charlie, are you okay?” he broached carefully, taking a step toward her. He wanted to hold her, but she looked fragile…

“Yeah, I just, um… I was just…” Charlie stammered, “What time is it?”

“Three,” Ethan answered.

“What?” Charlie felt a wave of nausea. The memorial was at 3:30.

Ethan surveyed her again, taking in every clue like she was a mystery to be solved.

The wet hair. The confusion. The panic. The inability to explain.

What was it?

How did he help her?

“Charlie, why don’t you know what time it is?” Ethan asked cautiously, placing his hands carefully on either shoulder. She was hot to the touch.

“I, um, I was just in the shower,” Charlie answered. She felt like her mind was sludge, and words were nearly impossible to string together, “I must have zoned out and lost track of time.”

“For how long, Charlotte?”

Charlie dropped her eye contact and shrugged.

He leaned closer, pushing her soaking wet curls out of her face, “Rookie, please. How long?”

Her green eyes were full of fear as she finally admitted, “An hour.”

Ethan’s chest tightened, and he let out a horrified, terrified huff of breath. Instinctively, he pulled her in, tucking her safely in his chest where he knew she was okay.

She told herself she didn’t know why he was doing this. It just a little bit of time – only a little scary. More confusing than anything.

But she fell into his arms like she needed it because she did.

Ethan didn’t care that she got his suit wet.

He only cared that he had her.

“We’re not going today, Charlie,” Ethan decided authoritatively, “We’re not.”

“Ethan!”

“You’re not,” Ethan said more firmly.

“I have to be there!”

“No, no, you don’t,” Ethan pulled away just enough to look at her so she would know how intensely he meant this, “You do not need to go, Charlie. You need to make it through today. I’m not letting you do this to yourself just because you feel some obligation. Charlotte Greene, you owe your survival to no one.”

He knew she didn’t believe him by the way she averted her eyes.

“I have to go,” she insisted forcefully.

“No,” Ethan shook his head, reaching for her hand determinedly, “Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He started to pull her to her bedroom, but she remained firm.

“Please, Ethan,” she pleaded.

Ethan felt a moment of pause.

The way she looked at him… like she needed this, like she needed him to let her have this.

His heart broke.

His beautiful, wonderful Charlie was in so much pain.

And he caved.

He caved because he wanted to make it go away so, so badly that he was willing to make a thousand mistakes.

He grimaced but consented, “Fine. But we still need to get you dressed.”

Getting dressed, like everything else, was hard.

Charlie struggled against her mental fog, and as a result, she moved slowly. She was frustrated as she tried to push through her shortened routine. Even just putting her hair into a braid felt like a monumental task, and she cursed under her breath.

Why couldn’t she just be okay?!

Ethan stepped in before she could get too irritated. He helped her finish the braid and secured it behind her back. He found her dress hanging on the door and helped her step into it. He hesitated after he finished with the zipper, wondering once more if he should stop her before it was too late.

“I’ll be okay,” Charlie whispered, watching his hesitation in the mirror.

Ethan didn’t believe her.

Instead, he kissed the side of her head and whispered, “I love you, Charlie.”

She smiled – a real one. A tired one, but a real one.

Ethan found her shoes on the bed, and he held her hand for stability as she stepped into her high heels.

Then, she was ready…

And he had to take her.

Ethan didn’t leave her side, not for a single second. Not when they parked at the cemetery and were surrounded by friends and coworkers. Not when people tried to call him over to give their condolences. Not when Charlie’s friends surrounded and showered her in support.

Especially not when Danny and Bobby’s families greeted her and thanked her for all she did to try to save them. Not after, when they stepped away, Charlie collapsed into his side, tears running down her face.

He never left her.

Ethan held her hand the entire time. He didn’t give a shit who saw or what they said.

It was a relief when the service began, and everyone stopped crowding her. They stood in the back, where no one cared when Ethan put his arm around Charlie’s waist to hold her up. It was a lovely service – lighthearted but reverent. There were heartwarming stories and cheerful anecdotes. Bright, shining moments of joy were followed by waves of grief and anger.

When the families stepped up to the podium and began to speak, Charlie absently whispered to Ethan, “I think I’m supposed to speak…”

Ethan thought that was a terrible idea.

But out of respect for her grieving process, he asked, “Do you want to?”

Charlie considered it.

In her pocket, she had a piece of paper where she’d scribbled thoughts last night. It was full of platitudes and grief, even an admission that she couldn’t save them.

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say any of it.

She couldn’t even hear it.

“I think I want to go home,” she replied.

Ethan nodded thoughtfully, squeezing her waist reassuringly, “Okay. I’ll tell Naveen, and then we’ll go.”

Charlie nodded weakly and missed his warmth the second he stepped away. A minute later, Ethan returned to guide her back to the parking lot. They slipped away quietly. Only a few people noticed, and they were respectful enough to not say a word.

In the car, Ethan held her hand.

The fog was back and even stronger.

Charlie was silent. At times, she felt like the only thing keeping her connected to reality was Ethan holding her hand.

Ethan took her back to his apartment, where he knew she would be safe and free from well-meaning mourners and friends. He held her in the elevator and regretted letting her go to unlock his front door. Ethan had never been more relieved by Jenner’s love than when he saw Jenner shower his girlfriend with affection, allowing her to crack a small smile.

Ethan left Charlie and Jenner in the living room to change out of his wet jacket.

Alone for the first time since he found Charlie, he drowned in awareness. His Charlie…

He almost cried. He wanted to cry. He wanted to release this. He wanted to go back to the hospital, where he and Charlie slept quietly and smiled from across rooms.

He didn’t want to grieve.

Neither did she.

He had to protect her. He had to save her. And he didn’t know how.

Ethan sat on the corner of his bed, waiting for an epiphany.

Instead, he found Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked quietly.

Ethan shook his head resolutely, “No. Are you?”

Charlie let out a deep, deep breath.

“Not at all.”

Ethan laughed at the honesty. She had been lying to him all day, and hearing the truth was nearly funny when it was so glaringly obvious.

“You should have made me run away with you,” Charlie grumbled, kicking off her shoes as she walked into his room. She fell into his bed like it was the only place she felt safe.

But really, did she even feel safe there?

Ethan placed a comforting hand on her back and drew a soothing pattern with his fingertips, “We still can.”

Charlie sighed, her eyes closing just a little, “Right now, I just want to stay in this bed.”

“You always liked my bed,” Ethan observed, kissing the top of her head. He kicked off his shoes and then fell back into bed beside her, turning his body to face her.

“It’s because you’re usually in it,” Charlie mused.

Her eyes were closed with Ethan decided to wrap his arms around her, tucking her head safely in his chest. She fit in his arms like he was designed to hold her…

When she looked up at him again, there was something raw hidden in the green of her iris.

“I almost lost you,” she said it like it was a revelation, one she hadn’t let herself think of since that night.

“I think it’s more accurate to say I almost lost you,” Ethan suggested.

“I’m serious, Ethan.”

“So am I.”

Charlie hadn’t allowed those kinds of thoughts or memories to permeate her life. She hadn’t wanted to be sad, but…

They happened.

They were real.

They followed her anyway.

“I woke up, and you weren’t there,” Charlie said, more to herself than to Ethan, “I was relieved. I missed you, but… I didn’t…”

Something was stabbing her.

Something inside. Something sharp and terrible and scary and it was here.

“I didn’t want you to watch me die,” she said in one breath, just to get it the fuck out of her.

She needed it out. She needed all of it out. It was trapped. It was torturing her. It was going to kill her.

She couldn’t breathe.

Or maybe she could…

She panted, trying to just fucking decide.

The fog was gone. The haze left.

And she was there, and she felt it. She felt all of it.

Nothing came to save her from the feeling.

She wanted to scream again, but it came out as a mighty, aching cry. She devolved into uncontrollable, body-shaking sobs.

The cracks in her perfect, sunny day splintered and shattered the illusion. There was nothing to hold on to now… It was just rain.

No, she was wrong.

There was one thing to hold on to.

And she held onto him just as tightly as he held on to her.

Ethan wasn’t going to let go, so Charlie let herself fall.

That didn’t go where I thought it was going to go, but wow... this may be the saddest chapter I’ve ever written.

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writehardwhumpharder · 3 years

Text

Story Prompt/Request

@whatwasmyprevioususername

So I don’t know what this is exactly or where it fits into the Carson series but here it is. Prompt: whumper takes whumpee while the caretaker watches, powerless to stop them.

Carson cursed himself under his breath for being so stupid. He’d walked directly into a trap and not for the first time either. Although it was the first time he’d been dumb enough to bring Danny with him. Lulled into a false sense of security by the midday sun, Carson saw no reason not to do a little of his own investigating on the case he was working on. There was a new magician in town attracting a lot of attention with his pattern of killing other magicians, typically the stronger ones associated with some of the gangs in the inner city.

He and Daniel went back to the crime scene where one of the first bodies had been found. The apartment had long since been cleaned up of blood and evidence but it was still locked to the public. Carson ignored the police tape as he ducked under it to walk inside. The apartment had an older style to it with archways between rooms and a fireplace in the corner adjacent to the door. First, he looked around for visible clues left behind before doing what he really came there to do which was inspect the place for traces of magic.

“Nice place, well, except for that giant bloodstain on the floor,” Daniel commented casually as he stepped around the stained patch of carpet. He had insisted on coming as ‘another set of eyes’ but Carson suspected he was there out of curiosity. “See anything interesting?”

Carson took a moment to open up his magic senses so he could see the energy around him. To his surprise, he saw very little magic of any kind. In one corner of the room, he spotted purple tendrils of magic swirling around where a struggle had taken place but it could only belong to the victim, not the killer. His mind spun with questions. The police had seen the magician in action and confirmed the killer was no normal civilian. That’s why Carson was puzzled as to how someone with such strong magic would be able to get rid of all traces of himself.

“It doesn’t make any sense-” Carson started talking but something stopped him in his tracks. Daniel looked up when he suddenly trailed off and knew from the look on Carson’s face it was serious. A strange presence stirred in the room, catching his attention immediately. The feeling was so overwhelming it seemed to suck all the air out of his lungs at once. The magic was thick and nauseatingly wrong to Carson’s senses. Some part of him knew it was magic but if it was, it was a kind he had never encountered before and hoped to never encounter again.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked.

“Shhh,” Carson stayed frozen in place, the hair on his arms sprang up with anticipation as he sensed another kind of presence, a physical one. The magician was close, and judging by the intensity of the magic, he knew there wasn’t time to run. Adrenaline flooded his veins and suddenly Carson was moving again. His eyes scanned the apartment, landing on a closet next to the bathroom. He opened the door and ushered Daniel inside. “Don’t make a sound, and whatever happens, don’t come out,” he told him.

Daniel’s brows pinched with worry and he opened his mouth to protest, “But what about you?”

“Promise me you’ll stay right here,” Carson commanded.

“But-”

“Promise!” He said, gritting his teeth, they didn’t have time to waste. With each passing second, Carson’s heart pounded faster and faster.

“I promise,” Daniel forced the words out. It hurt him more to say those words than he could ever describe but he knew he had no choice. As the closet door closed in front of him Daniel couldn’t shake the feeling that Carson’s request sounded eerily like a dying wish.

Slowly backing up into the middle of the room Carson tried to prepare himself for anything. He didn’t know where the magician might attack from or what he would attack with. Summoning up as much energy as he could, Carson raised his arms in front of his chest defensively.

A moment later, the door to the apartment slowly creaked open and in stepped, plain as day, a man about six feet tall wearing a dark coat, obscuring most of his figure. The move was so obvious and carefree that it gave Carson chills. He almost acted as if Carson wasn’t even there. Anyone watching the scene would think the magician was just an average guy returning from work after a long day, he didn’t seem at all like someone looking for a fight. Now that he was fully in the room the overwhelming stench of his magic had Carson wanting to crawl right out of his skin. It made him feel weak and sick to his stomach as his energy met the magician’s. While Carson’s magic was dark in nature this mysterious form of magic just felt empty to him. As the other magician looked him over it gave Carson enough time to identify what he was feeling. It wasn’t just empty magic, it was more like anti-magic…

Without thinking, Carson tried to end the fight before it could even begin. He used his strongest move, one he only uses in emergencies. And it got him… absolutely nowhere. Reaching out with his magic, Carson aimed to grab the man’s very soul but when his magic came in contact with the man’s aura of anti-magic it recoiled.

“That won’t work,” the magician said. His voice was deep but clear and each word had the power to cut through Carson like a knife. The magician didn’t just block Carson’s magic, he killed it. The loss of energy sent Carson to his knees and suddenly it was a struggle just to breathe. His magic was a living part of him so he felt it with every fiber of his being when it started to die inside him. The moment he knew he wasn’t going to make it through the fight his eyes flickered to the closet desperately. So far the magician had yet to notice Daniel there. It gave Carson a shred of hope.

“Why are you doing this?” Carson croaked.

“It’s my job to get rid of people like you,” the man answered honestly. “Your magic may be able to sway life and death but it can’t even begin to control what is and isn’t.” He wasn’t just talking about destroying something, he was talking about wiping it from existence.

Carson knew now that if he had any chance of fighting the guy he’d have to do it the old-fashioned way. With what little strength he had, Carson lunged toward the kitchen hoping to find some kind of weapon to defend himself with. The magician wasn’t going to make it that easy though and he caught up with Carson effortlessly.

A boot collided with the back of his leg, sending him tumbling into the cupboard. Pain raced through Carson’s back as he stared up at the man helplessly. Did he plan to kill him right then and there? Was he going to take his magic away? Was the dark power of death really not enough to protect him? The man simply stood there, looking down at Carson curiously. It was clear he wasn’t in any kind of rush. Attempting to crawl away was futile and yet he found himself doing it anyway.

“Go ahead, keep fighting,” he smirked. Carson knew the man was just humoring him as he watched him struggle just to drag his body back towards the living room where the front door was still wide open. It was right there. If he could just make it to…

Ice. That’s what it felt like. The pain now radiating through his back was similar to the pain you feel from holding your hand in ice water for too long. It was present and powerful and yet Carson could tell he wasn’t fully registering what had just happened. Because there was no ice, what cut through his back just now was actually a knife, maybe 5 inches long. The more Carson tried to wrap his mind around it the more he felt himself slipping. The wound flared white-hot every time he breathed. This injury wouldn’t be enough to kill him, most likely the magician just did it to keep him from running away. As his movements slowed to a stop, Carson knew he had succeeded at just that. He couldn’t pick himself up off the floor, he couldn’t move, couldn’t scream for help. The only thing he could do was turn his head to the side facing the closet door. With one cheek pressed against the dirty beige carpet, he stared at that door for as long as he could keep his eyes open. Daniel had kept his promise and stayed perfectly silent. Carson was actually proud of him. Even though his vision was darkening at an alarming speed and the sound of nearby sirens blended in with the ringing in his ears, Carson could let go knowing Daniel would be safe.

----

Daniel held his hands tightly over his mouth, urging himself to stay quiet. He wanted to scream and cry and hit something but all he could do was stand there and watch. Every muscle in his body flexed tight as he struggled to stay still. Tears streamed from his eyes as it all unfolded in front of him. He had texted their location to the police but beyond that, there was nothing he could do to help. The powerlessness welling up in his chest soured with anger. Whether it was toward the magician or himself he didn’t know. All he knew was that each time he wanted to open the closet door and put himself in front of Carson, he remembered the promise he made.

The sound of sirens faded in as the police got closer to the apartment building, but Daniel knew it was already too late. Blood soaked through Carson’s coat where the knife had gone in and slowly dripped to form a puddle underneath him. He wasn’t healing, why the hell wasn’t he healing?!

With the police closing in, the magician had no choice but to run, and to Daniel’s horror, he made sure to take Carson with him.

17 notes · View notes

utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Text

Time Bomb

III.

I. | II.

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 3.2k Warning: angst, trauma, panic attack Summary: OHSY Chapter 13 rewrite with the trauma we should have had.

A/N: I was going to have this be one long fic but it read just as jumpy as the canon chapter so imma split it up into 3-4 parts. I’ve been sitting on this for weeks and not really happy with it but yolo it’s as good as it’s gonna get! Enjoy 💗

________________________________________

III.

Following an all-too-short lunch with Jackie, Becca reposed in the residents lounge for the rest of the day, alone, save for the somewhat reassuring chime of silence which was suspended throughout the room, and a riveting new journal that she held in her hands as she waited on labs to come back for her only patient, Farley.

Esme stepped inside the newly renovated room, closing the thick wooden door behind her and spinning a pen anxiously between her fingers. The atmosphere changed immediately - whatever calmness Becca found in this modern solitude vanished with her enigma of an intern’s presence. She moved to sit across from Becca without saying a word.

The two of them sat there in complete silence for a bit. The only sound was the rattling of the central heating from behind the ceiling panels and the taps of the pen Esme was still spinning between her hands.

Becca folded the article on her lap. She couldn’t focus on it anyway.

“Esme? Everything okay?”

It was impossible to miss the sullen look on Esme’s face - as if the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and crushing her completely. She looked at Becca for a long moment, never meeting her eyes. Esme’s stare scanned the resident before her; the one resident responsible for her mentorship, the one she’s supposed to trust, the one who’s known to have faced great ethical dilemmas. All Esme could see was the same struggle staring back at her - only worse.

“Not really,” she huffs, crumpling back into the couch cushion. “It's Levi. His situation... it's really getting to me.” She took a pause to lick her dry lips. Then dove into the guilt eating away at her, “He's in so much pain every minute of every day. He's miserable, Becca. His whole life is agony, and he can't even tell anyone. I put my stethoscope to his chest a few days ago, and he teared up.”

Becca could tell Esme was trying not to cry, hiding her emotions behind the brick wall her angry tone provided. Trying to be strong. For whom had yet to be determined.

“Could you live like that?”

“Honestly…” Becca sighed as she bit her cheek, “I don't know.”

The last two weeks had Becca contemplating her own existence more than ever - a unwarranted side effect of escaping death. And in all those restless hours she hadn’t settled on a solid statement. She hadn’t found the right words to completely encompass and make sense of the endless agony tearing her apart.

She wished she could have switched places with Danny and Bobby; it was her fault they got caught in the crossfire. But Becca was selfish. So selfish for not wanting to die.

Rebecca Carolina Lao did not want to die. She could not die.

She’d worked hard her entire life - devoted her youth to her studies and cultivating the best resume she could. Her life had only just begun. She finally had the career of her dreams and…

What else is there to live for?

Those around her. Her friends. Her family miles away.

She couldn’t leave them. What would her mom be like if she had died without saying goodbye? She was strong but no one is strong enough to bury their child. Would she have her buried, or cremated and kept close to her heart? How would her roommates cope with the loss of another friend? How would they cope with taking on her share of the bills on top of inevitably losing their jobs in a few months? Who would pack up all her stuff and where would it all go?

Becca didn’t know any of these answers because she wasn’t in that position.

Through all of her pain, she fought like hell to stay.

As she sat in front of Esme, Becca’s mind briefly wandered to what it would be like to be in Levi’s position. If she couldn’t hold anyone’s hand anymore, or hold a pen or a book without pain… or kiss Ethan…

Would she be strong enough to live without everything she holds dear?

No.

She could not imagine her life ending any time soon.

“So what do I do for him, Becca? How do I help?”

The pen stopped rotating and the heating system lulled to a dull hum.

“You try... To respect his wishes,” she said with a resolute nod. “That could mean finding new experimental treatments, or it could mean accepting the fact that he doesn't want any more surgeries, even if you think they might help. He doesn't have any good choices right now. You have to make sure he knows you care about him first and foremost.”

The damaged girls looked at one another. The words settled and the air shifted.

Esme balled her fists against the loose fabric of her scrubs at her thighs. “Yeah... that makes sense.”

“Levi's been through a lot, and it makes sense that he doesn't want to get his hopes up for no reason. But it's your job to try to get him well.”

“I just wish I believed we could actually do that. Fix him.” Esme sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, straightening up resolutely.

Becca’s eyes softened. She remembered how it felt with her first terminal patients. That absolute helplessness didn’t compare - not any more.

The thing about being terminal - the silver lining - is foresight. People with incurable conditions have time to come to terms with dying. They have time to make amends. They have time to live the rest of their days on their terms. They have time to say goodbye.

Unlike Danny and Bobby.

Esme rose to her feet, wild determination in her eyes. “Levi's an amazing guy. I'm gonna help him... somehow.”

“He is,” a small smile pricked the corners of Becca’s lips. “I'm glad he has you to look after him.”

“Thanks, Becca. This really helped.” The standoffish intern smiled back and headed off towards her mission.

And once again Becca was left alone in eerie silence.

***

Stir crazy and mind bouncing too much for the walls of the small lounge to handle, Becca decided to make laps around the hospital. She spent the rest of her afternoon reacquainting herself with the wards and spending time comforting premature babies in the NICU.

Babies.

How can you be sad around babies? So full of life and promise...

Becca was walking past the E.R. on her way to check on Farley when she ran into Ethan.

His face lit up when he saw her; she looked better. She had pulled her hair back into a neater bun and there was a ghost of a smile present among her features. Looking up at him there seemed to be a glow about her, glowing in the faint way that only someone with a new lease on life could. Maybe Ethan was wrong. Maybe she did need to come back to work and face her fears head on. Maybe what was best for her was the distraction and promise of doing good. For once he hoped beyond all hope that his assessment would be proven wrong.

The sweet coloring in his eyes sparkled and the small cracks of crow's feet peeping at the corners sent a joyful warmth throughout Becca’s body. Just the sight of him gave her enough purchase to let out a large gust of air and with it most of her reserved tension.

Ethan.

He was here and she was safe.

For a fraction of a moment they both forgot they were still in the hospital.

“I've just been with your landlord,” he said slightly softer than his normal cadence, giving them both reason to stand closer in the busy lobby.

“How is he?” Becca shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, keeping herself from reaching out to him in such a public place.

Their eyes never strayed from one another. The sparkle in his azure’s matched the glow of her heart as she gazed at him.

“A pain in the ass.” The sides of Ethan’s mouth perked upwards just a hair. “Medically, however, I'm waiting to see if any bacteria shows up in his cultures. If he has meningitis, we'll need to-”

Suddenly, the ambulance bay doors burst open cutting him off. Their heads whipped towards the door where an EMT was wheeling a new patient in.

With skilled precision the EMT rattled off. “I have a patient here. Unconscious female, 50's.”

Becca and Ethan took a brief look around the E.R., but the few doctors on duty were busy with other urgent cases.

“We'll take her,” he says just as Becca’s feet carried her to the gurney in an adrenaline-fueled rush.

Unconscious woman. Shallow breaths.

Becca’s muscle memory took over well before her brain could catch up, gently slapping the nameless woman’s deathly pale cheek. Everything happened so fast. Becca’s vision was filtered by a vignette secluding her from the world. The only thing pulling attention at the center was the woman before her. This patient barely breathing and clinging to dear life. This patient with frayed graying hair, soft creases and a pale white face with a structure she’s seen before.

This woman’s not going to die.

Becca wouldn’t have it. On the third slap to her boney cheek the darkened edges faded and Becca could finally see the bigger picture.

The moment she made contact, it clicked.

Becca’s jaw dropped as she registered the features glaring back at her.

“Oh my god…” she whispered to herself.

This can’t be.

Nervously looking over her shoulder Becca called, “Ethan,”

He raised his brows, ready to jump in and help at her command.

Before he could take a step forward Becca quickly elaborated, “It's your mom…”

Time kept spinning and every second this patient came closer to losing life.

For the first time in his career Ethan was rooted to the spot.

Of course this would be how they meet after 25 years. The universe had been playing a sick and morbid joke on him lately - Dolores, Naveen, Becca, and now the woman who was dead to him long ago.

“Ma'am?” Becca tapped her again, trying to jostle her awake.

Becca’s eyes further assessed the woman’s state. Blue lips and fingertips. Memories jolted through her on the backs of the numbing adrenaline of her first ever case with Ethan -

She’s losing life.

Just like Danny and Bobby and...

Becca pushed the constricting feeling of paralyzation aside. This woman cannot die on her watch. Another life will not be taken from her. Regardless of who they are.

Ethan watched Becca move frantically around that woman. The reassuring color she finally found had drained from her face completely. Without having to ask he knew how Becca was feeling, because he felt it too.

He didn’t want to help this patient. He wanted to turn on his heels and let the powers that be take control. To let whatever power that took her away from them all those years ago to come and take her away now. He couldn’t look at her. The nerve of that woman. But Ethan Ramsey took an Oath and there was a patient who needed his expert care.

With herculean effort Ethan shook himself out of his trance and leapt into action a split second later.

“How's her breathing? Listen to her chest,” he instructed.

“Shallow. Pupils are small and unresponsive…” Becca responds, moving to check their patient’s arms for any telling signs.

And she finds one.

Track marks.

She bit back the gasp threatening to call Ethan’s attention.

Ethan…

As much as Becca wanted to protect him from this - from the deep seeded, constant pain his mother inflicts - her job came first. Becca was a doctor and her attending needed to know the diagnosis.

“It looks like an opioid overdose. We need to wake her up.”

She didn’t take her eyes off of his mother, willing her awake with every fibre of her fragile being. Calling up to that invisible force that spared her life only weeks ago for just one more favor. Just one more delay to the inevitable. She greedily needed her to survive. Needed his mother to open her eyes - there was no other option.

Death would not come today.

“Louise?” Ethan finally acknowledged the woman. His voice bellowing, pricking goosebumps on Becca’s skin. “Dammit!”

Ethan brushed past Becca and ground his knuckles into his mother’s sternum.

“Hnnng…” Louise whined; her eyes opened for a moment and Becca caught the same baby blues blankly staring at her then rolled back in her head.

No.

Doe eyes wide and full of diluted terror Becca announced, “I'll get the naloxone.”

She hurried to find a bottle of the drug in a cabinet by the nurses station, quickly preparing an injection in her unfaltering hands as she moved back towards the gurney in ten steps. Then without an ounce of hesitation, stabbed the needle into Louise’s shoulder. Ethan’s mother drew a deep, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering as she slowly pulled out of her unconscious state.

Becca’s breath caught up with her.

She’s alive.

That was all the assurance Ethan needed.

“Alright, she'll make it.” Ethan pulled his rubber gloves off and stepped away from the gurney and where Becca still rooted beside it.

“Nurse? Keep an eye on her. We're done here.”

Becca wasn't done. She was sinking in the feelings surrounding her. She felt like she was drowning in the onslaught of waves overtaking her - waning adrenaline, fear, terror, inadequacy, remembrance. Death looked her in the face again today. She evaded him once more.

Becca 3, Death 2.

What quarter were they in? When will this duel finish?

She doesn’t know. It’s an inevitable prolonging. A battle she won’t win for long.

When is the end?

She’s consciously terrified of losing.

Becca’s rooted in place as the waves began rolling towards her. Everyone moves around her in fluid sweeps. She sees nothing and everything all at once. Her line of sight coated in blanched static.

When the nurse took over and shook her out of her trance, Becca noticed Ethan promptly striding from the room without another word. This wasn’t the Ethan she knew; he would never leave a patient this soon. And this wasn’t a patient… it’s his mother… who nearly died if it wasn’t for him…

Becca swallowed her bile of trauma and chased after him through the storm;

“Ethan!”

The haunting she felt in her core didn’t matter. The shadow taking tallies over her shoulder didn’t matter. None of that mattered. She had to push past it all and be strong for him now.

He was elusive. She didn’t even hear his footsteps stomping through the hall and rattling through her, not even the vibrations ricocheting off the steel foundations. His long legs couldn’t have taken him too far. Scanning the corridor, Becca noticed the door to the on-call room a second away from shutting.

Ethan.

She finds Ethan hunched over a cot in the empty on call room. The room is dark - only one clinical light is glowing in the far corner of the cramped room. His hands balled into tight fists, the whites of his knuckles reflecting the little light away from his crumpled face.

She gingerly sat down beside him and ran a gentle hand over his back.

“Ethan?” Becca whispered a few moments later “Are you alright?”

Warm air flowed indignantly between them.

“She does not get to do this to me.” He huffed in his deep voice laden with the sentiment of a broken child. ”She does not get to make me feel bad for her.”

“I’m sorry.” Becca couldn’t say anything louder than a whisper. Her own despair still gripped into her like a vice.

“Don't be.” Ethan shrugged bitterly, though not enough for her to let up on her calming caresses. “This has nothing to do with me. That woman isn't anyone I know.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. They let silence hang and their minds clear. It was Becca who asked the most pressing question from their earlier observations:

“Do you think your dad knows she’s using?”

“...I don't know.”

He grinds his hands further into his eye sockets, willing the newest image of that woman from his minds eye. Becca continued soothing rubs up and down his back and placed her chin on his shoulder so she could look at him more closely.

“It’s okay to be sad,” she mutters.

“I'm not sad. I'm... I'm…” Ethan dropped his hands and they hung between the gap of his legs. His eyes squeezed shut and she can make out the small droplets trapped against his lashes. “Angry.”

“That's okay, too.” Her free hand moved to begin tracing nonsensical patterns over the thin, starchy fabric at his forearm. “Anything you're feeling right now is okay.”

His clouded eyes flew open.

“I'm…” he begins to speak before pressing his lips together tightly.

He huffed, shoving off her embrace and stands.

“I have to get back to work.”

“That was your mom, Ethan. She nearly died. You can take a minute. It's okay--” she began to plead.

Becca was trying to beg him to stay. To lock the door and let them hold one another for a while. So that they can fall apart and patch one another up with unconditional affection. She needed this just as much as she knew he did.

But Ethan didn’t give her the chance to ask, to make the all too enticing proposition as he bound across the room. He didn’t even bother to turn around; his eyes shut tightly and hand reached for the metal knob. He inhaled a deep cleansing breath;

“No, it isn't. There are patients that need me much more than she does.” There was a finality in his tone that frightened her.

Becca’s jaw slacked.

Ethan didn’t leave a second for her rebuttal. For her to beg. Not even a quirk of the neck in her direction to see the matching brokenness in their eyes.

The door shut loudly behind him, his footsteps echoed down the hall.

She wanted to chase after Ethan. He needed her now more than ever. Another person in his life could have been gone in a swift, unforgiving instant. If the effects of seeing their patient on the brink of death was this bad for her she could only imagine what he was going through. Though Becca couldn't move, couldn’t force herself to run through the halls and break down the barriers he’s just put up sky high. He’s pushing her away again; she can feel it.

Resigned, Becca gave up the great fight.

When the rattling of his exit dissipated and all that reached her ears was an unnerving peace, she laid down, hugging the plastic wrapped pillow tightly to her body. It smelt like clean and disinfectant and morbidly hospital-like. She wasn’t able to lose herself in this horrid smell. She ripped off the case with as much strength as she could muster, freeing the mass-produced cushion. The squish of the mildly firm pillow through the hypoallergenic fabric wasn’t helping. It still carried all she needed to forget. Rolling to face the wall, curling into a tight ball and burrowing her face in the pillow she let out a vital, subdued scream. The damn was shattered and her emotions spiraled freely for the first time in days.

Everything was all too much.

________________________________________

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71 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Ectober 1: Fog

AKA Familiar Part 3.

Find this and the first two entries to this series here.

Beyond the tiny off-color spot in the center of his right eye, the whole ‘kidnapped and forced to be part of a weird magic ritual’ thing hadn’t altered Danny’s appearance. Good. That was something he always worried about. He let out a long, soft sigh that fogged the mirror in front of him before leaning back.

The police and Danny and Sam’s respective parents had believed the ‘overshadowed and kidnapped’ explanation as well, thank goodness, so they hadn’t gotten in trouble. Which… maybe shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was, considering that it had been true, if edited for length and certain damning content (e.g. all the parts with Danny being a ghost and the aforementioned magic ritual). Tucker’s eyewitness account had helped.

Vivian hadn’t made a repeat appearance so far, which was also good. At least, Sam hadn’t called him about her. Danny rubbed his right eye. Something told him she wouldn’t have to call him to know she was in trouble.

Good.

Overall, the time since Danny had flown them back through the portal had been pleasant, or nearly so. He felt happy and oddly secure. Was it just knowing that Sam was alright? She was a major target of his ghostly Obsession. Maybe they could get Tucker in on this as well? They’d taken the book with them, and Danny wouldn’t mind getting stabbed again.

His core vibrated happily in his chest, making his heart and bones shiver.

Yes, that would be nice…

There was a sharp rap on the door. “Danny?” called his mom. “Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve been in there a while, and something like being kidnapped by a ghost…” She trailed off, a touch of anxiety in her voice. “That can be traumatic.”

Oh, no. He’d made Mom worry. Happy feeling gone.

“I’m fine,” he said, turning on the faucet to make it seem like he’d just started washing up. “Really!” He shut the water off and dried his hands quickly before opening the door. “Just, you, know, a bit tired, that’s all.” He smiled, broad and genuine.

Maddie smiled back, although her brow was pinched. She had pushed her hood back, and her hair was frizzy with static. “You were missing for almost a whole day, Danny. You’ll have to forgive me for worrying.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mom.”

She sighed and ruffled Danny’s hair. “At least, next time you think a friend is being possessed, if there ever is a next time, come to me and your father. Okay? Making sure ghosts don’t hurt people is our job. So is keeping you safe.”

The irony. If only Danny got paid, he could say the same thing. Alas, it was not to be.

He nodded and smiled. No promises. “I think I’m going to go up to bed, now, if that’s okay?”

“Alright,” said Maddie. “Do you still want to go to school tomorrow? Everyone would understand if you didn’t.”

“Yeah. I just- It wasn’t that big of a deal. I want things to go back to normal.”

“Wow,” said Tucker, pointing at Danny. “That is not normal.”

“What’s not normal?” asked Danny, looking down at himself. Had he spilled something on his shirt without noticing? It had happened before. But, no. Everything looked just like it had when he put it on this morning.

“You’re wearing black,” said Tucker.

Danny looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. So?”

“All black.”

“Okay, captain obvious.” He turned to his locker and started putting in his combination. The hallway was just a little bit too crowded for him to feel comfortable phasing through the door to fish for his books.

“You never wear all black.”

“That’s not true. We all wore black at that Saints’ Fire concert just a couple of months ago.”

“Yeah, but that was for a concert. Danny, you’re even wearing the boots Sam got you!”

“I know what I’m wearing, Tucker. It’s just clothes. Do we need our textbook for English today? Or can I just bring Mockingbird? I can’t remember the schedule.”

“Just Mockingbird. Did something happen while you and Sam were in the Zone?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, honestly. “A couple of things. Got complicated. That ghost is apparently Sam’s ancestor. And also a witch. Witches and magic are a thing, I guess.”

“You sure? Could just be ghost powers,” said Tucker, momentarily distracted.

“Pretty sure it’s magic,” said Danny.

“Danny! Tuck!”

The two boys turned to face Sam, who jogged up to them and then doubled over, hands on her knees.

“Are you okay?” asked Danny, worried.

“I wasn’t able to sleep,” said Sam. “Too much energy. You?”

“I slept normally. Had to fight the Box Ghost at three, but,” he shrugged, “that’s normal.”

Sam straightened. “We need to—” She stopped, blinking. “You’re wearing black.”

“Yeah.” Danny shrugged.

“Why?”

“You said I should?”

Tucker made a sound like a dying pterodactyl. “Something happened!” he said, excitedly. “They’re embracing their feelings. I’m so honored to witness.” Tucker proceeded to squeal.

“Dude,” said Danny, “what is wrong with you?” Then he glanced at Sam.

Sam looked like she had swallowed a lemon.

Danny deflated. “Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward, concerned. “I mean, other than not having slept.”

“We really need to talk.”

“Aw, come on, Sam, you can’t end your romance before it even begins,” said Tucker in a singsong voice.

The warning bell went off.

“Lunch, I guess?” asked Danny.

“Sure.”

They sat down in their usual spot behind the school, where no other students went because it was both out of the way and lacked anything resembling a comfortable place to sit. Sam, Tucker, and Danny, however, had adapted.

“So,” said Tucker, rubbing his hands together with glee. “You have to tell me the details. All the details. What happened? Are you guys dating now? How did you get de-liquified? That really freaked me out, by the way.”

Sam put her hands over her face and groaned. “No, we’re not dating. Ugh. How do I even explain what’s going on?”

Danny jumped in. “Sam’s witch ancestor did something weird to my powers and wouldn’t let us go until we did a ritual that, uh, sort of bound me to Sam as a familiar spirit. Also, she wants Sam to be her apprentice. So, we have that to look forward to.” He fished his sandwich out of his bag.

“Wow,” said Tucker. “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

“That was a lot more concise than I expected,” said Sam.

“It hits all the important points, though. Except for the de-liquification. If I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure how that happened.”

“Right,” said Sam. “Anyway, we have to figure out how to undo it.”

Danny choked on his sandwich. “What? Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’” demanded Sam, clearly aggrieved.

Danny furrowed his brow. “I know we didn’t do it under the—”

“Word of advice, man, whatever you did do, don’t phrase it as ‘do it.’ Unless this ritual thing involved—"

“Tucker?” said Sam, blushing furiously.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Got it. Sorry. I blame hormones.”

Danny had no idea what Tucker was talking about but decided not to ask. Instead, he let out a quick puff of air. “I know we didn’t want or ask for this, but it does seem to come with some benefits. Did you try out any of the spells in the books we took with us last night?”

“No, because the last one made me stick a needle in your eye!”

There was a fundamental misunderstanding happening here. A disconnect. Danny tilted his head. In moments like these, Spectra’s voice seemed to echo in his head. He ignored it.

“I didn’t mind,” said Danny. “I’ve been hurt worse. Besides, they don’t all need you to stick a needle in my eye. I read them, too, you know.”

“Do you not care about how you can’t lie to me?”

“No? You already know all my big secrets, anyway.” Danny didn’t know why Sam was so upset about this, but it was starting to make him anxious. His fingers had made deep impressions in his sandwich.

“Wait,” said Tucker, “it does what?”

“Yeah!” said Sam, running an agitated hand through her hair. “That’s not all, either. Apparently, he has to follow all my commands, too, like I’m some kind of discount Freakshow!”

“This isn’t like Freakshow!” protested Danny. “I didn’t have any choice about that!”

“You didn’t have any choice about this either,” said Sam, making a sweeping motion with her hands so violently that she rocked back on her heels. “We were basically hostages. You can’t tell me that you’re actually okay with this.”

“I am okay with it,” said Danny, taken aback by Sam’s vehemence. “I like knowing that you’re safe, and, if you have powers, too, you can, you know, be safer. Also, it would be cool if there was someone else who had them, I guess.” His sandwich was well and truly squished at this point. “I was actually… Earlier, I was thinking that it might be a good thing to see if Tucker can get in on this, too.”

“You’re joking,” said Sam, flatly.

“Dude, I think we’ve all seen that I do not handle power well.”

“No,” said Danny, shaking his head. “I like this. And I trust you. Both of you.” His face twisted up. “Maybe back when we started out, and you were talking about freeing zoo animals and wrecking Hummer dealerships I might have been a little apprehensive, but, even back then, I know you wouldn’t have made me do anything I didn’t want to do. You guys let me overshadow you to practice. This isn’t really any different. Right?”

“Don’t look at me, man,” said Tucker, raising his hands. “You two are the ones on the inside.”

Sam stared at Danny for a moment longer before pinching the bridge of her nose. “We need to undo this,” she said, firmly.

The edges of Danny’s eyes started to hurt, and he blinked them rapidly. “Okay,” he said. “If you want to.” It did affect Sam, too, after all. If she didn’t feel like she had consented, then undoing it really should have been a no-brainer.

Danny really didn’t want to undo it. He liked this. He liked the way it made him feel.

“After school,” said Sam.

“Okay,” whispered Danny, looking down at his destroyed sandwich. “I guess I should get rid of this, huh?”

And then he ran.

It would be wrong to say that Sam didn’t feel guilty. She did. She felt hugely, incredibly guilty. Like she’d kicked a puppy.

Thing was, she didn’t exactly have a choice. Danny obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. The ritual must have done something to his head beyond screwing with his free will.

How could anyone be happy when they were forced into obedience?

If they let this go on, Danny would eventually resent her more than she resented her parents. After all, her parents didn’t have mind-control abilities.

“Hey,” said Tucker, breaking the silence that had lain over them since they started the walk to Sam’s house. “Not to be a downer, but what do we do if that ghost—”

“Vivian,” supplied Sam.

“Vivian, right. What do we do if she comes back and she wants you to do magic stuff? Or she gets mad that you cut your connection? We didn’t do a super great job of fighting her last time.”

Danny shrugged, exhaustion evident in the curve of his spine. “We do what we always do. It won’t be the first time it takes us two tries to fight someone.”

“Strategies?” prompted Tucker.

“I don’t know. Maybe we can find some kind of weakness in those books… Though, she probably wouldn’t have let us take them if we could get her weakness from them. If all else fails, I guess we could chuck a bucket of water at her.”

“I hate to say it, but I doubt the Wizard of Oz is a good source for how to deal with witches,” said Tucker.

“Well, considering all the other ways of ‘dealing with witches’ are literal torture, that’s all I’ve got.” Danny’s words were clipped.

Yeah. He was mad.

“We could try some charms and stuff,” suggested Sam.

“Before or after we cut our bond?” asked Danny, no inflection in his tone. “Because that might make the difference.”

“Danny, I’m just not comfortable having you as my slave. Which is what this comes down to.”

“I know,” said Danny. He still didn’t sound happy.

They reached Sam’s house, and they all crowded into Sam’s room for the most intense study session ever. Not counting Tucker’s post-Ember deprogramming.

Sam started with the original book, the one the ritual had come from in the first place. Reading it again made her so mad. Mad enough that, at first, she didn’t notice her rapidly increasing heartrate. Not until she was pressing her hand against her chest and struggling for breath.

“What,” she gasped, “was that?”

Danny shook his head, eyes wide and worried even as he kept his fingers wrapped securely around Sam’s wrist. “I don’t know. Whatever happened, though, your pulse is going back down. What were you looking at?”

“Just the ritual from before… I wanted to see if there were loopholes we could use,” said Sam, trying to get her breathing back under control.

Tucker plucked the book from where it had fallen near Sam’s knee and scanned the page. He winced. “Hey, it says here that your side of the deal is giving Danny your heart.”

“Yeah?” said Sam.

“Your heart, which just went crazy when you started trying to figure out a way to back out of the deal?”

Sam felt Danny’s hand contract around her wrist. “Oh,” he said. “But I didn’t want that to happen.” He sounded lost, hurt, and more than a little offended.

“I know, man,” said Tucker, soothingly, “but you don’t want the contract to be broken, either, right?”

“No,” admitted Danny. “I’m sorry, I like it.”

“Yeah. So,” said Tucker, “I guess it isn’t as one-sided as you thought, Sam.” He made a face. “What was your ‘promise,’ anyway?”

“To be friends,” said Danny. “We thought that would cause the least amount of issues, in case there were penalties.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, okay,” said Tucker. “That makes sense.”

It did.

This was bad.

This was the worst-case scenario. Sam bit down on her lip. Danny was- It was like he was in a fog, as far as this thing went. That’s the only way she could describe it. There was no way he was seeing the situation clearly. It didn’t matter if it was because of the familiar contract or Danny’s ghostly nature.

If Tucker was right and Sam had a heart attack every time she tried to do something about it…

Yeah. That wasn’t good.

“Maybe we should look at something else for today,” suggested Danny, far too cheerfully. “Like, we should see if you can do some of these spells and how it affects us. It seems like I’ve been feeding you energy somehow, right?” He began paging through one of the books. “That’s probably why you were awake all last night. That’s going to be useful, I bet, and oh! This one sounds cool. We could make fog everywhere. Just think about it, Sam. We could be so spooky at night!” He brought out the puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh,” said Sam. “Fine.” She stabbed a finger at Tucker. “You keep searching for a way out.”

The corners of Danny’s lips twitched downward at that, but sprang back up when Sam turned her attention to the spell he had picked out. Weakly, Sam smiled back.

This was going to be hard.

#danny phantom #ectober #ectober 2020 #ectober week 2020 #day 1

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

Text

DannyMay Day 17 & 18: Childhood & Horror- Why (It) Wont (It) Burn

FentonWorks is a place of horrible nightmares and two ignored children.

FentonWorks was a place no one wanted to go. No one wanted to pass by. No one wanted to be near. No one want to see it. All the houses around effectively abandoned.

Some whispered about trying to tear the place down or burn it to the ground. No one ever meant it though. Because that meant dealing with it. Dealing with what happened. Dealing with both the what’s and who’s inside.

And no one wanted that even more.

Everyone knew what had happened. Knew the what’s and who’s. Just because they knew doesn’t mean they had to deal with it. Had to even acknowledge it. Sure those two who’s, the little children, didn’t have a choice. But that wasn’t the town’s problem.

Even if no child was to be left behind. Even if children were the future. Even if children were the ones that should always be protected. Even if children were innocent. And sweet. And cute. And special. Even if children were meant to be protected.

That was supposed to be the parents' job. But theirs couldn’t manage that. Not before and certainly not now. Maybe. Everyone chooses to ignore that too. Whether or not the two parents stayed dead or not. No one knew what option would be better.

Just like no one knew how those two children -so young at eight and ten now- had survived there for four years. How they still survived. All alone. Hopefully alone. The town knew they weren’t really alone, but that was better ignored. Because it would be better if they were alone.

Everyone saw the what’s, the things, that fly past windows. Or stick to the glass. Stick their claws, tongues, or eyes under the door. The things that rattle the doorknobs or shake the walls. The echoing snarls, growls, and shrieks.

Everyone ignores when there are screams that don’t echo. Screams that are undoubted human. Undoubtedly small and tiny, from small and tiny bodies. No one talks about those screams.

No one wants to.

Why would they? It would mean acknowledging everything.

The exploded portal. The things it released. The parents it took. And the children it left behind.

The house kept the things contained. Whether the building did that all on its own or the children had a hand in it, no one wanted to know. But it was more than enough to leave the building untouched and still standing. It was enough to simply pretend the children barely existed.

No one was kind to them. No one helped them. But no one hurt them either.

They could walk, crawl, or run through the Casper High halls all they wanted. Could take whatever cafeteria food they wanted, however much they wanted. They could go to the theatre without paying. Or take groceries right out the doors without ever so much as glancing at the checkout.

The children were kept only in people’s subconscious memory and awareness as much as possible, after all. No one would want to interact with them enough to get payment or grade homework anyways.

But there’s somethings that just can’t be ignored. Jasmine, the responsible one. Always the one with groceries. Always the one patching up the twos wounds. Always the one speaking. So often comforting or encouraging or soothing the boy. An older sister, being an older sister.

She wasn’t okay.

There was a lot wrong with her now.

She repeated herself so much. Muttered more than spoke. Shook and shake more often than not. Her cheeks absolutely were permanently tear-stained; and eyes always rimmed red. Skinny where she was once lean. Crispy stringy hair, that was once smooth and hydrated. If anyone dared or considered to ask a professional, they’d say she had lost bits of her mind. Had broken under hardship and torment.

But no one wanted to think about that. No one wanted to know that. So no one asked, and no helped.

Even if the town, on a deep level, were terrified the girl would end her life.

Most terrified for selfish reasons. Maybe the children were all that held the things in the house back. Some because they still cared on principle, children should never die. Others because of the other child. Because of Daniel.

Daniel had become wrong not even months after everything. After the house became intertwined with death and caused it. The only sounds he ever made matched the snarls and growls, merely lacking the echo. He didn’t know how to smile; only how to bare his teeth like a threat. Hands and fingers always held like claws. Hair black and slick, that seemingly dripped like oil but only at a glance. Bone skinny yet with sharp angular muscles clinging to the bone and underneath taught skin. Pale white skin, that seemed to crack and split to leak green sometimes. Intense blue eyes, sharp as ice and sparkling in a way that eyes just shouldn’t.

He moved too fast. Stared too much. Stilled too often and for too long. He just wasn’t human enough.

No one wanted Daniel left all alone. No one wanted to know or have to see, what would become of him. If he’d became even more wrong.

But the thing everyone feared most was that maybe, just maybe, Daniel was more of a what now than a who. Was something that needed to be contained. Was the one thing that house somehow couldn’t contain.

Jasmine still treated him like a little brother. That was something. But considering her questionable mental state, it didn’t mean much. And half the time, the way she hugged him and clung to him, just felt creepy. Like an addict clutching to the drug destroying them. The way that Daniel seemed to not notice or care, didn’t help ease people’s clenching stomachs or grimaces.

What most of them thought was the worst feeling was the intrusive thoughts urging them to raise that house to the ground with all the what’s and both the who’s inside. Cleanse the town.

Everyone could tell when someone’s intrusive thought became something closer to an actual desire. With how that person would stand and stare at the house. Maybe with a weapon or gas or a lighter or a bottle of hard liquor.

No one ever actually tried. Never acted on it. Never fully meant it. Because...

Daniel always knew.

The wind would blow, the curtains inside the front window moving with the wind somehow.

And the child would be there. He’d be staring. He’d always lock eyes with whoever. And whoever would lose their guts.

It was like the boy was daring them to do it. To try it. Whether or not that was a plea or a threat, was another thing no one wanted to think about.

So the house was left alone. The things inside ignored as best as they could be. The two unfortunate children an avoided staple of the town. And everyone hoping it stayed that way.

The day they all had to deal with the fallout of that curs-ed place would be a truly terrible one. But maybe, just maybe, they’d never have to. Maybe those children’s childhood would be enough payment for whatever sin their parents committed at the cost of their lives.

Course nothing can stay the same. Nothing can stay unchanged. And somethings really can’t be ignored.

One of those echoing glowing things had shown up outside of the house.

Everyone had screamed and ran. It was unbridled panic. Panic that had stilled and stared when the boy had suddenly been there too.

Had stared and bared teeth at the glowing thing. Many could have sworn his eyes swirled with green, and white flames licked off his hair if you had looked at him right.

And the thing had shrieked. Had fled.

But wherever the thing went, Daniel was just somehow there. Why the green thing didn’t think to fly up, no one knows. At they certainly weren’t ever going to ask.

Regardless, Daniel had eventually grabbed the thing. And...

He tore It to shreds.

Ripped off chunks and scraps.

The town -or much of it, having been attracted by gossip or the chaos- had watched the small child devour the thing. Devoured one of the things they were all terrified of.

Shoved bits in his mouth and squished it to splatter around his mouth and face with white teeth.

Curled his tongue around smaller bits while tearing big bits apart with bare fingers.

Had left nothing but faintly glowing smears on the pavement, licking his lips all the while.

The boy was a predator.

And then he spoke with green stained teeth.

“You, good bait”.

The girl had skipped up on shoes not quite the right size. Had wiped his face off with a too-white handkerchief.

“Where’re your manners. Manners. Manners. Manners. Where? Manners where? Messy Danny. Keep you clean. Clean only to be messy again”.

The girl was a caretaker.

He had stuck out his tongue, dripping glowing neon green, at her. Had left that tongue hanging out while glancing around at the crowd and showing all his teeth in a mockery of a grin.

And they knew then. They weren’t letting that house stay standing. Weren’t letting the children live and do as they pleased. The children, Daniel, was letting them stick around him and his house.

End.

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cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 years

Text

Just A Nightmare

Pairing: Danny Rand x Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.5K

Summary: When Nightmare shows his ugly head, Danny has to take the help of an unexpected sorceress.

“Doctor Strange, I presume.” Spiderman remarked from his place on the floor.

“You may address me as Sorcerer Supreme.” He replied, stepping into the foyer. Spiderman and Iron Fist found themselves at Doctor’s Strange’s manor after Nightmare took over the world and put everyone to an endless sleep.

“So, what exactly is going on here?” Asked Peter, scepticism dripping off him so obviously that Strange resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“We shall discuss it once my company arrives.” He said, guiding the two superheroes into another large room but stopping in his path when he recognized the intruder sitting in his chair.

You were lazily strewn across his gaudy armchair, “What is it this time, Stephen? I thought we had a deal.” Your annoyance was apparent to everyone in the room but once your gaze landed on the blonde in the doorway, the words died in your mouth.

“Oh.”

Your cheeks immediately coloured and you muttered a spell underneath your breath to turn your pyjamas into something more suitable. You were used to Strange seeing you in your dirty clothes when you haven’t showered.

And it wasn’t a rare sight to see you like this to Danny either, but you felt the need to look more put together in front of him. There was a warmth on your body before the comfortable set you were wearing morphed into your costume, the cape flowing behind you as it hung off one shoulder as you walked to the centre of the room, avoiding Iron Fist’s gaze.

Spiderman, even with his poor perception of people, could still sense how stiff his teammate had gotten beside him when he saw you. His first instinct was to ask him what was wrong but when he glanced at Danny, he was surprised to see the distant and cloudy expression on his face.

Danny’s voice seemed far away and he could only stare at you. Take in the sight of you and see how you’ve changed. It had been a while; it had been a long while. The last he saw you was months ago and truthfully; he hadn’t been expecting to see you again.

He missed you.

“I’m sure you’re well aware by now Nightmare has taken over the dream dimension.”

You wanted to look at Danny again. Take in the view of him once again but something inside you was forcing you to avoid his gaze. It made your body stiff and it wasn’t a change you welcomed. Especially since you used to feel safest when he was around.

So, you kept your eyes trained on Doctor Strange.

You rolled your eyes, “Maybe if you had restrained him properly in the first place, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“I’m sorry, who—or what is Nightmare? And who is Miss Magic over here?” Said Spiderman and you tilted your head, doing a silent reading of him.

“I’m (Y/N), I’m a dream walker.”

“Uh-huh, yeah and what exactly is a dream walker?”

“It’s exactly as it sounds, Peter, I can walk through dreams.”

His eyes widened at the sound of his name, “How did you—?”

“The entire planet is asleep. Sorcery is real. I can walk through dreams. And yet you want to know how a person of magic knew who you are underneath the mask?”

“We need you to take us to the Dream Dimension before Nightmare gets more powerful.” Strange began, folding his arms in a way that made you lower you gaze to the floor. You felt like you were doing something wrong even though he was the one asking you for help.

“While I would love to drag along three unsuspecting mortals into the Realm of Dreams, I don’t think you have a stable enough mindscape for me to pull you into it,” You eyed Spiderman who was roaming about and touching half of the artifacts in the room, “Some of you more than others.”

“Will you take us?” Asked Danny, finding his voice for the first time since he saw you.

You sighed, holding his gaze. Your hand twitched by your side and you had to stop the instinct to untie his mask. It had been a while since you saw his gorgeous green eyes, “It’s dangerous as I’m sure you know, if you go, and something goes wrong—”

“But if we don’t then the world will never wake up.”

You but your lip in worry, “I could go alone—”

“Nightmare is too powerful.” He replied, shutting you down instantly, “You can’t do this alone.”

“I don’t want to put you in danger.” You replied stiffly, noticing the way Spiderman’s eyes flitted between the two of you. He was calculating, wondering what the two of you knew and he didn’t but the smarter part of his mind seemed to keep himself from opening his mouth.

“I can handle myself,” You sensed he was getting frustrated and some sick part of you felt pride at the fact that only you could get him worked up, only you could see what he really feels, only you could get him to show his true emotions, “Besides, it’s not your position to worry about my safety.”

Ouch. That hurt to hear.

Your jaw tightened just a bit, “Fine then, if you die, don’t come back to haunt me because this isn’t my idiotic choice.”

You saw a wisp of a smile grow on his face but he caught himself quickly and you stepped away from him muttering a spell as a pentagram began to glow beneath your feet.

“As mortals, neither of you have any ability to enter so we will have to enter my mind to be allowed access to the world of dreams. So, before I let you in a word of warning, if you die in the realm of dreams, your soul will forever be lost. With no chance of return.”

“Don’t die. Got it.”

“Also, my mind is very muddled at the moment so don’t judge me if you see anything weird.” You muttered, slightly embarrassed at the thought of either of them seeing the memory of you dancing around in your room in your underwear.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and casting a silent spell to open your mind, the four of you began levitating in the pentagram and you felt their souls leave their bodies before entering your mind.

When you opened your eyes, you were in a new world.

“Welcome to the most dangerous place in existence, the human mind.”

The trek to the portal to the dimension of dreams was a mundane and boring one. It was mostly with you completely on edge and trying to spot anything embarrassing so you could prepare yourself for Spiderman’s quips before he managed to spot it.

There was no way to speed the process up since the rest of them weren’t dream walkers. They couldn’t phase through the place like you could and they also wouldn’t be able to find their way around, so you had to guide them.

So far, you were yet to see anything embarrassing as you walked through your path of memories. Although they did see you dancing around your apartment in footy pyjama’s which Spiderman laughed off good-naturedly.

A small purr reverberated through the world and a familiar memory floated besides you. You wished it would go away but that only made it get more persistent. But you couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face.

“What are you doing sleeping out here?” You pouted, crouching in front of Danny who stirred on the couch.

His blond hair was sticking up everywhere and he seemed unusually comfortable sleeping on this tiny couch. He opened one eye to peek at you.

“Do you know how many times I almost fell of the bed? I didn’t want to wake you up, but I also wanted to sleep.” Came his muffled reply.

“But I wanted to cuddle you.” You whined and he sighed, shaking his head, “You’ll kick me again.”

You hummed contemplatively before a lightbulb flickered over your head, “Okay let’s do this then.”

You quickly climbed in between his legs, wrapping your arms around him tightly all while giggling like a child. His body reacted to you almost automatically, burying his face in your neck and hands settling on your back.

“You hold me so tightly that I can’t move.” You whispered into his hair and he nodded holding onto you tightly.

You tightened your hold on him, expecting him to support you as you rolled over into a slightly more comfortable position but instead you tumbled off the couch and pulled him with you.

The two of you immediately burst into laughter and you ran your hands through his messy hair, “That hurt.”

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern flashing briefly on his face even though he knew you were. You giggled, hand coming up to frame his jaw and pull him into a kiss.

“No, I’m not okay.”

The two of you burst into laughter again.

“Hey quick question.” Spiderman spoke up and you hummed, “If this is your mind then why am I seeing so much of Danny?”

You released a sharp breath through your nose, glancing at all the memories around you. He was right, it was like every second an image of Danny floated by, whether it was him as Iron Fist, or just himself.

You were either training, or spending time together. Many of the memories was those lazy mornings where you would stare at the pretty boy as he slept soundly before complaining that your stare was overwhelming. Although every once in a while, you would stumble across a milestone memory.

“Are you meditating?” You asked even though you already knew the answer. He had been in the same position for about an hour now and even though the two of you had been meditating together you were quick to grow bored.

He obviously didn’t answer you and you sighed, “How much longer are you gonna do this? I don’t see the point. I sat just as long as you and the only thing that’s happened is that I need a nap and my ass hurts from sitting down for so long.”

Ah, that little smile that appeared on his face. It disappeared as quickly as it came and if you hadn’t been looking for it, you would have missed it.

“How about we go get some ice cream? Or we could go for a walk? Or we could go to that music store that you like and listen to some records?”

He still didn’t move and you huffed, moving closer to him, just by an inch, “I know I’m interrupting your whole zen mode and I’m sorry but I’m bored.”

You moved another inch but were still met with silence.

“Hm, maybe your asleep? Maybe secretly you just think that meditating and sleeping is the same thing?” You mused as you moved closer and this time you could spot the smile that was growing on his face.

You sighed again, “You remember that rude guy we met yesterday?” You didn’t bother waiting for an answer, “I stepped into his dream last night. He dreamt that he was a Tellytubby yesterday.”

The smile got wider and he was trying hard to resist opening his eyes.

“He spoke the whole language and everything. And the sun baby was his mother.”

Your knees were brushing against his and you could hear him taking gentle breaths. You were sure he knew you were sitting right in front of him but you still tried to smother your giggles as you reached closer.

Quickly, you pressed your lips to his, pulling away immediately to see his wide eyes.

“Oh? Sleeping Beauty is finally awake?” You teased as you spotted his ears turn red.

“Did you just? Kiss me?” You nodded unabashedly, giggling as he sputtered, trying to hide the red that splotched his cheeks.

“Why?” “Because I wanted to. Can I do it again?”

He met you halfway this time.

It was obvious that he made you happy. It was so obvious. And while you enjoyed taking a stroll down the literal memory lane, you were quite embarrassed that everyone else was seeing it. Especially Doctor Strange.

“It’s because I think about him a lot.” You replied quietly keeping your eyes trained on the path. Now that you think about it, it was ridiculous that you were taking so long to get to the Dream Dimension. Even though only a few minutes would have passed in the real world, it felt like you had been walking for hours.

You were slowly becoming more and more uncomfortable as you realized that everyone knew that you were still very much in love with Danny, who could have very possibly moved on from you. You were vulnerable.

Whatever peace and security you felt being in your own mind fled and was replaced with burning embarrassment. So bad that you felt your stomach coil tightly.

“(Y/N),” Danny started but you quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear what he had to say, or rather you were afraid of it being not what you wanted to hear and that others would witness it.

Seeing your destination approaching, your eyes lit up, your pace quickening as a response, “There it is! The gateway!”

You all hurried towards the arch that was decorated with ancient runes and language, pressing your hands to it and watching the inscription glow as you spoke an incantation, activating it before stepping in as the others followed suite.

Even though you felt a bit more vulnerable being in the Dream Dimension and outside the safety of your mind, your relief was apparent as the 3 of them crossed the arch to join you on the other side. No more memories for them to see.

But the relief was short-lived when you sensed the disturbance. There was so much negativity surrounding you that it was suffocating. You couldn’t believe a single entity could command so much despair and fear. Even the thought of having your magic touched with such negativity drained you, but Nightmare managed to feed off it.

You couldn’t imagine how.

“Anyone or anything you see here isn’t real. If you see your friends in their nightmares, remember that you cannot help them.” A sudden chill ripped through you, “Nightmare is close.”

“You would be right little dream walker. I caught you and the good doctor sleeping on the job and now the world belongs to Nightmare.”

You rolled your eyes, getting into a fighting stance which prompted the rest to do the same, “You really shouldn’t speak about yourself in the third person. It makes you creepier than you already are. I will ask you once, leave this world and leave the people’s minds.”

“Or what?!”

You whispered a spell and watched as the air around him hardened to shackles before grabbing him with a burning grip, “Or you’ll see what it’s like to fight a dream walker.”

The fight broke out instantly.

You managed to weaken him enough to have to retreat. At least that’s what you liked to think. When you finally caught your breath after the fight, you looked around to realize that only you and the doctor had been left behind.

It didn’t take long for you to locate both Peter and Danny, you realized with a sinking heart that they had been separated.

Although you wanted to go after Peter as well, to see if he was doing alright, something inside you managed to convince yourself that he could handle himself. You wondered whether that was true or was it because you quite obviously wanted to go after Danny.

You summoned the door to the dream Danny was in, immediately recognizing it as one from his homeland, K’un Lun. The stench of Nightmare was dizzying, you could feel his overwhelming power.

He was trying to get a hold of your nightmare, you could feel it, his magic was prodding at the deepest recesses of your brain, trying to grasp at the fear that you kept hidden for so long.

You were powerful enough to keep him from reaching that part, though it took a lot of your strength. Trying to keep consciousness, you held yourself as the snow fell harder, a cold breeze making your nose redden.

When you found Danny however, everything melted away and you ran to his side as he cowered in front of Shou Lou. Your arms wrapped around his waist to keep him upright.

“It isn’t real Danny, snap out of it.”

It seemed like none of your words were reaching him.

Shou Lou neared the two of you, baring sharp teeth and you tensed. Nightmare was so strong, he was seeping into your mind and before you could stop it, the world changed around you.

Snow stopped falling and the temperature began rising, however you couldn’t tell where you were. Everything dulled around you and faded to a blackness and you looked around, but you couldn’t see anything past your nose.

Before you knew it, your vision started getting clearer. You couldn’t tell if it was because your eyes were adjusting to the darkness or because it was getting brighter in the room.

Either way, you caught the movement of a figure hidden in the shadows and you jumped into a defensive stance. Just as you were about to shoot a spell at it, the figure slumped and hit the floor, the glow from its hand dulling.

Wait...glow from his hand?

“Danny!” You cried, rushing over to the figure on the ground, turning him over and you gasped. His eyes were frozen wide and his face contorted into the expression of absolute terror.

His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing.

“Wake up! Wake up!” You screamed, shaking him wildly. He didn’t move. His head lobbed lifelessly as you tried to wake up him.

“Please, please, don’t do this!” You sobbed.

“Don’t leave me!”

“(Y/N)!”

You gasped and the colour returned to the room, the darkness faded and the light was blinding. When you opened your eyes, Danny, alive and well, was holding you with a look of concern on his face.

Realization dawned on you and your muscles relaxed as you slumped against him, wiping away your tears quickly.

“Nightmare’s stronger than I thought.”

“What....was that?” He asked quietly, looking over to the space where he saw his own body as you cried over him. At first, he was too shocked to say anything but when he tried calling out to you, you couldn’t hear him, falling under the influence of Nightmare too quickly.

He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to pull you out of your trance.

He was afraid that you might not come back to him.

“My worst nightmare.”

Your breathing was still laboured and for some reason you couldn’t pull your gaze away from the empty spot where his body was. Nightmare was cruel. It had been too real.

Shakily, you got to your knees before pulling him into a hug. His arms gently wrapped around you and you sighed, trying to sink into his embrace and you gently brushed your fingers through his hair.

“I’ve missed you.” You mumbled into his neck.

“Then why haven’t we been together for the last year?” He asked and you bristled. You had known the question would come eventually and yet it had somehow managed to catch you off guard.

“You saw what would happen if we had continued.” You murmured, vaguely gesturing to where his body or rather where the illusion of his body was.

“That was just a nightmare.”

“I live in dreams, Danny. Had we continued to be together this could have possibly been your future.”

Telling him had been liberating, like a wight had been lifted off your shoulders but at the same time it was sorrowful to admit it. To admit that being with you could bring about his demise, could bring horrible nightmares to life.

And knowing this, he would probably leave you in the dust now.

“Then we’ll just have to find a way because I don’t want to spend another day without you.” He said and you looked up in surprise.

“You aren’t afraid?”

“I’m afraid that when my time comes, I won’t have you by my side.”

It was the sincerity and warmth in his voice that made your heart falter and tears brim in your eyes. All the love for him that you had been keeping away bubbled to the surface and you found your heart being weighed down and simultaneously be set free.

“Really?”

He nodded, cupping your cheek before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You gently returned it, twisting in his grip to settle comfortably in his lap. Everything felt right in the world, everything balanced out and you felt the world around you dissolve into nothing.

“It’s just a nightmare!” You heard Peter’s voice echo in the background and giggled against Danny’s lips. He chuckled as well, before running his hands through your hair and kissing you again.

“Boy, I hope not.”

#ultimate spider-man #ultimate spiderman x reader #ultimate spider man #ultimate spider man x reader #ultimate spiderman #danny rand x reader #danny rand #danny rand x you #iron fist x reader #ironfist x reader #marvel #marvel x reader

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it-fits-i-ships · 3 years

Text

I took inspiration from a post by @the-stove-is-on-fire and wrote this oneshot (below the read more link) about an AU in which Spideypool adopts Danny and Jazz Fenton and the sheer chaotic energy of Danny and Wade’s dynamic threatens to drive Peter insane. Just in time for Trans Day Of Visibility too!

Danny Fenton sat next to Great Aunt May on one of the plush blue couches in the living room. Wade, who sat on the far side of the couch, had wanted to get leather seating but Peter, who sat between Wade and Danny, had insisted on inventing a new stain-proof fabric because Wade couldn’t be trusted not to make a mess. On the other couch were Jazz, Grandma Pepper, Aunt Morgan, and Grandpa Tony, who was lifting a wrapped box toward Danny.

“Happy birthday, kiddo!” he said.

“Thanks, Grandpa!” Danny said, eagerly ripping open the paper to see what treasures lay within, “Oh awesome! I’ve been wanting to play this game forever! I didn’t even think it was out yet!”

“It’s not,” Grandpa Tony said, “I pulled some strings.”

“You’re the best!”

“There’s one more thing,” Grandpa Tony said, pointing toward the box.

Danny dug further into the tissue paper.

“A key?” Danny asked.

“It’s a key to your birthparents’ house,” Grandpa Tony said, “They were good friends of mine and when they died I bought their house and maintain it so you and Jazz could go there when you were old enough,” he paused and looked around at Peter, Wade, and Jazz, “I already talked it over with your dads and Jazz and we figure since you’re 14 now it’s time to give you the option to go there.”

He looked between Grandpa Tony and his dads, then at Jazz.

“Have you gone there yet?” Danny asked.

“No, I wanted to wait until we could go together,” she said.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Peter placed a hand gently on Danny’s shoulder.

“Of course, son, take all the time you need,” he said.

That night, after the party was over and the guests had gone home, Danny lay staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts raced around in his skull like the spinning blades of his ceiling fan so that just when he thought he had caught one long enough to get a good look at it he would find it had flown from his grasp. Of course Danny had known he and Jazz were adopted. Peter and Wade had been very upfront about that. They had also made sure Jazz and Danny knew they were loved and wanted. Danny would be lying if he said he had never been curious about his birth parents. He didn’t know or remember much about them, and some part of him had always wondered where he’d come from, but Peter and Wade had been so good to them he never really felt like he had been lacking for anything.

When Danny was 10 he came out as trans and they had immediately put him on puberty blockers, switched to his new name and pronouns, and gotten him a haircut. Peter and Wade had never cared about clothing so even when Danny was young they had let him pick out “boy” clothes, which meant he didn’t have to get a new wardrobe when he came out. Jazz and their dads had Danny’s back during his social transition, correcting people when they used the wrong name or pronouns and defending him when people tried to tell him he was just going through a phase. Danny really couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing. So do I really need to know more about my birth parents? He thought.

Just then, he heard a soft knock at his door. He turned to see Jazz standing in the hall outside his room.

“Hey,” she said, “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he said, sitting up against his pillows.

“How are you doing?”

“Just trying to process.”

“I get that,” Jazz said, “It took me a while to wrap my head around the fact that our birth parents’ house is still intact, that we can actually go there and find out about them.”

“Do you remember them?” Danny asked.

“Not much,” she said, “I was only 4 when they died. I think they wore jumpsuits a lot?”

“Jumpsuits?”

Jazz shrugged.

“It was 12 years ago, I could be misremembering.”

“I don’t know if I want to go, Jazz,” Danny admitted, “Part of me wants to find out more about them but we already have parents, you know?”

Jazz sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Listen, Danny,” she said, “I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel. If you decide you don’t want to go to the house I’m not going to make you, and neither are Peter or Wade. This is your call. I want to go eventually and if you want to go then we’ll go together but if you don’t that’s okay too. I can always go with Peter or Grandpa Tony,” she paused and pulled him into a big hug, “Take some time to think it over so you make the right choice for you and then let me know what you decide when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Jazz,” Danny said, leaning in return his sister’s hug.

“Any time,” she said, standing up, “I’m going to bed. Make sure you get some rest too, birthday boy.”

Danny nodded absentmindedly.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight!”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny stood, key in hand, in front of a house that simultaneously felt vaguely familiar and vastly alien to him. There was a large bunch of tech on top of the house that looked like some kind of UFO and a huge light-up sign that read “Fenton Works.” Who the hell were these people? Danny thought. After a few agonizing weeks he had decided to come learn what he could about his birth parents and Peter had agreed to drive them to the old Fenton residence. He didn’t break his gaze from the house as he felt Jazz take his free hand in hers.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said, stepping up to put the key in the door.

The three of them walked into the living room, which Danny immediately noticed had purple walls. On the far wall was an opening to a bright green kitchen.

“Wow,” Jazz said, “They had some, uh, interesting tastes in interior design.”

“What until you see the lab in the basement,” Peter said.

“The WHAT?!” Danny and Jazz said in unison.

“Why is everyone in our lives some kind of scientist or science experiment?” Jazz asked.

“Or both, in Grandpa Tony’s case,” Danny added.

Peter shrugged.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“What did they even do here?” Danny asked.

“They were inventors. They used their tech to hunt ghosts,” Peter said.

“Ghosts?” Jazz said incredulously, “Really?”

Peter nodded.

“So they were crazy,” she said.

“They preferred to be called ‘misunderstood geniuses.’”

“Sure, geniuses on a mission to catch Casper.”

“Jazz,” Danny interjected, “Our dads have super powers, Wade is constantly breaking the laws of physics, Grandpa Tony has personally met aliens and deities, and you’re hung up on ghosts?”

Jazz raised her finger and opened her mouth as if to counter his argument but then, seeming to think better of it, she lowered her hand and closed her mouth as an annoyed look overtook her face.

“Let’s look around some more,” she said.

“Can I go down to the lab?” Danny asked.

“I want to look up here first,” Jazz said.

“Can I go look around by myself, Dad?” Danny asked, turning on his saddest puppy eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, “Just be careful. Don’t touch anything and put on one of the jumpsuits so you don’t accidentally get anything on your clothes.”

“Awesome!” Danny said, already searching for the staircase to the basement.

He quickly found it, descended into the drab gray laboratory, and slipped into one of the jumpsuits hanging on the wall as per Peter’s request. The lab was lined with consoles that had glowing panels and various buttons and switches, counters and tables covered with all kinds of lab equipment from microscopes to complicated networks of flasks and tubes, and a very cluttered work desk covered in noted, equations, and diagrams but the thing that really caught Danny’s attention was the massive metal archway on the far side of the room. It sat open and he squinted to try and make out what was inside. It appeared to be the entrance to some sort of tunnel. Couldn’t hurt to take a closer look, he thought.

Carefully, Danny crept into the dark tunnel. He could hardly see anything in the dim light. What the hell is this thing? He thought as he walked distractedly forward with his hands out in front of him. Before he could contemplate the structure further, his outstretched hand ran right into something small and round. The thing gave a click, a pit forming in Danny’s stomach as the tunnel lit up like the 4th of July with swirling green shapes he couldn’t identify. The light seemed to pass right through him and he felt as much as heard the scream that ripped from his chest as every atom of his being burned.

The next thing he knew he was on the floor outside the tunnel. He awoke to someone shaking him by the shoulders.

“Danny!” Jazz cried frantically, “Danny, please get up!”

He sat up slowly and clutched his aching head with a groan, only to give another when Jazz threw her arms tightly around him and forced the air out of his lungs.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

“What happened?” Danny managed.

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Peter said, “But you might want to look in a mirror.”

“What?”

Peter and Jazz hoisted Danny up so he could see his reflection on the shiny glass screen of a large monitor on the wall. Oh shit. His hair had turned a stark white and his once blue eyes were glowing the same radioactive green that had filled the tunnel before he had lost consciousness. What the fuck? He thought, his panic rising exponentially as he leaned on the monitor with one hand to get a better look at himself. Suddenly, he was falling forward and his face smacked into the glass.

“Danny!” Jazz called.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, reaching out to steady his son.

“I think s–”

His train of thought was completely derailed by the sight of his forearm, or lack thereof. He wiggled his fingers and clinched his fist. He could still feel his hand. Is my arm…invisible? He thought.

“Danny,” Peter said gently, “I think your panicking is making things worse. Look right at me,” he paused as he oriented Danny’s shoulders so they were facing each other, “And a take a deep, slow breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth,” he paused to demonstrate the technique and waited for Danny to copy him, “Good, one more time,” he paused for Danny’s breath, “Remember when you were 5 and Aunt May asked you to help her pick a puppy?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Danny said, torquing his eyebrows in confusion.

“There were so many,” Peter continued, “How did you know you picked the right one?”

“Donut was the only one who came up to give both of us kisses,” Danny said, “And he fell asleep in my lap. I thought he seemed like a good dog for Aunt May.”

As Danny thought back to that childhood memory he felt a strange tingling all over his body, like everything was shifting ever so slightly. He looked down and he could see his arm again. He snapped his head up to look back into the glass monitor, where his reflection showed his natural black hair and blue eyes.

“I’m back to normal!” he said, “How did you know that would work, Dad?”

“I freaked out really hard when I first got my powers. I ended up stuck to a wall with no idea how to get down. It wasn’t until I took a second to calm down that I was able to unstick myself. I figured it might be something similar with whatever that was,” Peter said.

“Do you think that’ll happen again?” Danny asked.

“Probably,” Peter admitted, “But for now I think we’ve all had enough excitement and we should head home. I’ll bring you kids back here later if you want,” he paused and looked directly at Danny, “With thorough supervision, of course.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Danny held his head in his hands, quite literally. He had finally mastered the trick where he could stretch an invisible bit of his body from his neck to the base of his head so it looked like his head was no longer attached. His two years of training had really paid off. Peter and Wade, and even Jazz, had helped him master his powers but he had been cooking this one up in secret for the express purpose of ghostly shenanigans. Jazz was away at college and Peter was still out for the day. Which means my first victim is –

“Hey, Danny,” Wade’s voice came around the corner as he approached the living room, “Did you eat the last pudding cup?”

“Maybe.”

“Bruh! I totally called dibs on that o–” Wade paused, taking in the scene before him, “Danny, what the fuck happened to your head?! Ugh! Peter’s gonna kill me!” he added.

Danny stuck out his tongue.

“I’m fine, just a little,” here he paused to toss his head into the air, “Lightheaded!”

“You little shit, that was beautiful!” Wade said, pulling a small throwing knife seemingly out of nowhere and chucking it at Danny.

“Dad, what the hell?”

“I’m not ‘Dad,’ I’m Deadpool! I’m here to eat pudding and throw knives,” he paused, lowering his voice, “And I’m all out of pudding.”

He threw a barrage of knives at Danny, who nimbly dodged the projectiles and lobbed a pillow from the couch right at Wade’s face. Each knife lodged itself into a different part of the couch as Danny fired off multiple blasts of ghost fire.

“Hey, Siri, play the Ghost Busters theme. I’m going hunting,” Wade said, brandishing the pillow and another knife at Danny.

Just then, they heard the front door open.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” came Peter’s voice, “There was a thing I had to take care of on the way home –”

He froze at the sight of his husband and son sparring in the living room, his handful of groceries seemingly forgotten.

“Danny started it!” Wade said quickly.

“Deadpool, you fucking snitch!” Danny called, pointing an accusatory finger at Wade.

“Language!” Peter said.

“Yeah, Danny, watch your fucking language,” Wade said, giggling under his breath.

“Wade!”

“What?”

Peter sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a circular motion.

“All right,” he said quietly to himself, “So the new couches need to be stain-proof, knife-proof, and fire-proof. You two are in charge of putting the groceries away.”

“Did you get more pudding cups?” Wade asked hopefully.

Peter looked him dead in the eyes as he extracted two packages of pudding cups from one of the bags and tucked them under his arm.

“No,” he said, “Now go put this stuff away and clean up this mess,” he added, gesturing toward the living room.

He turned and headed, pudding still in tow, to his study.

Wade wiped away a single tear as the pudding vanished from sight.

“Oof,” said Danny.

#spideypool #spider man #deadpool #dannyphantom #myfic

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jessicajonesrp · 4 years

Text

Telling hard truths

Inside the steel-walled room that had been provided for Jessica to meet up with Phillip before his final and permanent transfer to the Raft, Jessica fidgeted, gripping the edges of the steel table in front of her unconsciously. She felt nauseous, but she was pretty sure that it had little to do with her pregnancy and everything to do with the encounter she was about to undergo.

She had heard stories about the Raft, had at one point hoped to get Kilgrave transferred there, before it became clear to her that this was not going to be possible without him causing mass damage and deaths first. The thought of her little brother going there, among the most dangerous and most gifted criminals of the country and beyond, was unsettling and heartbreaking. But she knew as well that it was the best she could offer Phillip now, the most that he deserved. He at least had been given the opportunity of having his life spared, and could at least have the possibility of changing himself, on making something positive of himself rather than adding further pain into the world.

She didn’t know what she was going to say to him, when the guards of his current holding place brought him to her. It hardly seemed important. She only knew that he was her brother, and she needed to see him, almost certainly for the last time. She needed to show him that no matter what he had done or who he had become, she was still his sister and would still love him.

When she heard the multiple complicated beeps and clicks of the room’s door being unlocked and opened, Jessica stilled, watching intently as four armed and beefy-looking men escorted her brother into the room. The Inhibitor cuffs that Danny had told her about looked large and heavy on his wrists, and Phillip himself looked small to her compared to his escorts. There was no anger or defiance on his face as he met Jessica’s eyes, very little emotion that she could read. He looked tired, even resigned, as they shoved him to the seat in front of her.

“You’ve got ten minutes, Jones, and the camera’s running,” one of the men said, nodding towards the camera Jessica had already noted behind her. “Don’t make us regret giving you this.”

As they left, shutting and relocking the door behind them, Phillip raised his eyebrows at Jessica, a slightly sarcastic edge to his voice as he addressed her first.

“You go to all that effort to send out the supernatural police to take me down, without having the balls to do it yourself, and then you come and see me before put me in a hole and throw away the key. Guilty conscience, or still trying to make yourself feel superior?”

“Fuck off, Phillip, don’t throw your choices and their consequences back on me,” Jessica said tautly, her jaw tensing. “I came because I wanted to come. Because I’m your sister. Because I give a damn. Don’t make this about anything else because anything else is a lie.”

Phillip’s jaw twitched in a near mirror of Jessica’s, and his eyes shifted to the side. Jessica noticed that his nails were nearly as bitten and ragged in appearance as her own, and her throat choked up. She swallowed, cleared it, then said roughly, “Phillip, why? Why did you have to do all of this? Why couldn’t you stop, before it got to this point? Before I couldn’t help you anymore?”

Phillip laughed, but the noise was short, bitter, and without humor. “Jessie, the point of you not being able to help me anymore ended before you even knew I was still alive. I learned a long time ago to do what I have to do, not to depend on anyone else, no matter what or who. This wasn’t about you.”

“Then what was it about? Revenge? Being judge and executioner? Trying to make some point about what a badass you are?” Jessica spat out, shaking her head. “I get being angry, Phillip, I get wanting to make things right and hating seeing people get away with doing wrong. I get sometimes crossing a line or two when things get blurry. But you went beyond that, far above and beyond any reasonable confusion of what was okay and defensible and what was just fucking wrong.”

Phillip opened his mouth, but Jessica refused to allow him to talk, speaking over him.

“Don’t you dare say anything about me right now or about people I killed, or almost killed, or who got hurt on my watch. Don’t you dare even try to compare what you’ve done with anything I’ve done. I fucking know what I’ve done, and maybe I’ve been wrong more than a few times, but I never went out of my way to hunt people down like animals and kill them in cold blood. I never deliberately caused someone to die slowly and painfully just because I didn’t like them and what they did with their lives. And I sure as hell never killed the mother of someone I personally knew. How could you kill Dorothy, Phillip?! You had no right, no fucking right at all! You did that to hurt Trish, to get back at her- and to hurt me. You did that knowing it would hurt me, and you didn’t give a damn.”

Phillip’s eyes widened, genuinely surprised, and he shook his head.

“I didn’t do that to hurt you. Why would I think killing that woman would hurt you?”

“Because she was Trish’s mother, you asshole!” Jessica almost shouted, banging her fist on the table. “Because it devastated her, and you hurting my best friend, my sister, obviously hurts me too!”

Her eyes flooded with hot tears, and she forced them back, gritting her teeth until she could say with control, “Because she was my parent too, Phillip. Not my mother, but she was a parent to me, even if she sucked at it. You murdered her, you tortured her, and yes, it fucking hurt me. How could you not see that?”

Phillip stared at her, seeming at a loss, as Jessica continued, furiously rubbing her palms against her eyes even though she was not crying.

“We don’t have long, so don’t even try to talk anymore, it’s time you shut up and just listened. This is probably the last time I’ll ever see you, do you get that? You’ve thrown away the chance to have an entire life with your sister, the only damn family you have left. You did that to yourself, Phillip, not just to me. We were both given a second chance, a damn near miracle, and you threw it away because you would rather let blood vengeance rule your life. I want you to remember that, Phillip. Remember that every day you’re in there, and remember that it was your own fucking choice. And remember this too.”

She took a deep breath, then stood up, blinking furiously.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you before you did what you did, but I’m pregnant, Phillip. By next year you’re going to be an uncle. And you’ll never know my child. You’ll never even know its name. You’ve taken that from both of us.”

She watched as shock settled over his features, along with dawning, tiny semblances of regret. Jessica swallowed again, finishing.

“You’ll have a long time now to think about things, and not very many distractions. Use it, Phillip, and not to wallow in anger and blame and pitying yourself. Make yourself more. Make yourself better, and figure out something, anything you can do to make your life have a purpose that’s about doing something good instead of giving people pain.”

She started to walk to the door, every muscle drawn up tight. The words she still had not said crowded uncomfortably in her throat, and she had almost gone through the door as the guards moved to unlock it for her before she turned abruptly, forcing them out before it was too late.

“I love you, Phillip. Always. Remember that too.”

She held herself together as she was escorted out, her face blank and pale. But as she left the building and made her way towards where Luke waited for her in the parking lot in his truck, her body started to shake with the pent up stress and emotion from her meeting.

#jessica jones roleplay #Jessica Jones #Luke Cage #luke cage roleplay

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kittenshift-17 · 3 years

Note

Charloe #21 and #22 preferably in the same one, lots of angst! Love your writing btw!

Scared of Getting Good

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30754034

They ran hard despite the raging storm booming overhead, their clothes drenching quickly in the violent downpour. Charlie panted raggedly, slowing as they lost themselves deeper in the woods beyond where those who might’ve been dumb enough to follow them into the storm could possibly catch up. Monroe kept running, but she knew where she was supposed to meet him; knew the rendezvous point they’d agreed on; knew she’d be able to find it, even in the dark.

Slowing to a walk, Charlie tipped her head back, looking to the sky as lightning flashed in the distance before thunder boomed overhead. It felt good to feel the rain on her skin instead of the constant, dry baking grit of the Texas desert and the stickiness of her own sweat. It hardly ever rained in Texas. The stinging cold of it made her shiver, but Charlie had never felt more alive. God, how long had she been running? Fighting? Killing? Had she stopped since that day in Sylvania Estates when Captain Neville had put a bullet in her Dad’s chest and taken her little brother captive?

It didn’t feel like it. It felt like everything since then had just been about surviving. Even when she’d ditched Mom and Miles in Texas and gone off alone, it hadn’t felt like living. It was all just about surviving. She knew with sickening ease that the day her childhood had ended had been that day in Wisconsin when the Monroe Militia blasted her entire world to smithereens.

And what a sick joke that this moment, now, when she was trudging through a thunderstorm and pondering the value of her own life, she could already hear the president of that Republic running back for her.

“Charlie?” he called when he was close. “What happened? Were you hit? Why’d you stop?”

General Sebastian Monroe. President of the Monroe Republic. Running to her rescue like she fucking mattered to him. Like his men weren’t responsible for everything that had gone wrong in her life back in Wisconsin.

“I’m fine,” Charlie replied when he ran back to her, his hands finding her body even in the dark and beginning to wander it, cataloguing, his fingers looking for injuries his eyes couldn’t see. “Just wanted to feel the rain.”

His hands froze on her hips and she heard the strangled sound of fury he choked on.

“We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” he growled furiously.

Charlie sighed, knowing he was going to make her run again. Knowing her moment of reprieve was already over.

“It hardly ever rains in Texas,” she reminded him.

“You take a few blows to the head in the fight, kid?” he asked and when lightning flashed overhead, she could see he was frowning at her.

Charlie laughed.

“Nah,” she said, shoving his hands away and pushing his chest lightly.

“You sure?” he asked, his hands returning, this time smoothing over her head, looking for bumps as though he might find something.

“I’m fine, Monroe,” she shook her head. “Just thinking.”

He was silent for a beat, one of his hands gathering the hair plastered to her right cheek and across her forehead, slicking it back and tangling his fingers in the dripping strands.

“About what?” he queried quietly, not stepping back or letting her go.

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head.

“Yeah, sure,” he sneered, and she could hear him rolling his eyes. “Everyone stops in a storm to feel the rain and think about nothing.”

Charlie kind of hated him.

“Thinking about Dad,” she confessed quietly. “And Danny. It used to rain like this in Wisconsin. And snow. We’d get so much snow in the winter…”

“Beats melting in fuckin’ Texas, I bet,” Monroe muttered.

Charlie nodded.

Lightning flashed again, illuminating him in the dark and Charlie met his eyes for that brief second, counting in her head until the thunder boom three beats later.

“Still blame me for what happened?” he asked quietly in the pattering rain that followed when the sky fell silent for a few minutes.

Charlie sighed, bringing a hand up and fisting the fabric of his shirt where it was plastered to his abs in the rain, thinking about the answer.

“Not really,” she admitted. “You didn’t pull the trigger yourself. I’ve learned enough since then to know that counts for something.”

She didn’t know how it could be, but she had let it go. All of it. She wasn’t angry at Monroe for the deaths of her father or her brother anymore. She hadn’t been for a long time. Not since he’d saved her life in Pottsboro and proved he was a complete gentleman when it really mattered.

“Been a long time since I stood in the rain,” he said after what felt like an eternity, moving closer and bending down to lay his forehead against hers.

“How long?” she wondered.

“Before the blackout, probably,” he muttered. “At least since I stood in the rain because I wanted to, not because I had no choice.”

“Why would you have stood in it by choice before the blackout,” she frowned. “Houses were better maintained back then.”

He laughed quietly.

“Better maintained but just as stifling, sometimes,” he told her quietly.

“Weren’t you in the Marines with Miles?” Charlie clarified.

“Yeah. So?”

“Did you even have a house?” she frowned.

“Real nice, Charlotte,” he grumbled, laughing quietly as more thunder boomed, lightning filling the sky. “Hit a guy while he’s down.”

“What’ve you got to be down about? If you’d had a house, you’d have long since lost it by now, along with everything else.”

“Such a ray of sunshine aren’t you, baby?” he teased, laughing, his hand untangling from her hair and cupping her cheek.

For a breathless moment, Charlie wondered if he was going to kiss her. She’d like that, she thought. Out here in the rain with no one to see them and no one to judge them, it might be nice, just once, to give in to the tension that always bubbled between them, just begging to boil over into something else. Something more.

Biting her lip, she searched his face in the dark, silently begging for more lightning so she might see those brilliant blue eyes and know what he was thinking and whether he wanted to kiss her too. She took a deep breath in, thinking that she should just go for it before the sound of heavy footsteps caught her ear.

“Someone’s coming,” she hissed, panic surging through her limbs as she jerked back from Monroe. “Come on. Let’s go!”

“What? You done feeling the rain?” he taunted, and it was like flipping a switch, the tender, private moment gone in a heartbeat and he was back to his cynical, snarky asshole self.

“Eat me, Monroe,” Charlie retorted, setting off at a run again, knowing that if anyone had dared follow them out of that town they’d assaulted, they would be fast catching up while they dawdled.

Monroe made her run ahead of him this time, refusing to go around her even though he was the faster of the two of them. He stayed right behind her, pushing her on, bending and scooping her back to her feet with his hands under her armpits when she stumbled over a tree root and skinned her knee through her jeans, pushing her forward and driving her to the foxhole where Miles and Connor would be waiting with the rest of their raiding party.

“Who goes there?” a voice shouted, one of their team already there ahead of them.

“Connor’s such a moron in the dark,” Charlie complained to Monroe as they both slowed their pace.

“It’s us, idiot,” Monroe answered his son. “Where’s Miles?”

“Thought he was with you?” Connor called back and Charlie stopped, looking over her shoulder, fear clenching her heart.

“The hell?” Monroe growled, stopping too and looking around in the dark like they might spot Miles in the gloom.

“He’ll be right behind us,” Charlie assured him.

“How’d you lose him, Connor?”

“He went left at that water tower on the far side of town, and I went right. Think he was going after you two...”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed when footsteps sounded in the dark again and for a terrible moment, she wondered if it’d been Miles out there in the dark interrupting her before she could kiss Monroe.

“Miles?” she called out hopefully.

The footsteps kept coming and Monroe hauled her closer to their bunker with one arm, while he swung his rifle around with the other.

“Miles?” she called again, knife in hand, ready to fling it at the invader if it was anyone but Miles.

“It’s me,” he grunted when he was closer. “Move. They weren’t far behind me.”

Relief flooded her and she charged into the shelter past Connor where he stood on watch, grateful for the light and the warmth when she descended into the basement and found Aaron, Grandpa and her Mom all inside.

“Charlie. Thank God,” her Mom said, drawing her into a relieved hug despite her wet clothes and hair.

“Get dry, kiddo,” Grandpa advised, favouring her with a warm smile to show his own relief. “You’ll catch your death in wet clothes like that.”

Charlie nodded, heading for her pack and digging out some dry clothes before slipping into the adjacent room and peeling off her drenched jeans. She was about to pull her tank top off too, but the scrape of boots followed by the rasp of a fly stopped her.

“Monroe,” she hissed, narrowing her eyes at him, scowling.

He looked over as he shoved his pants down his legs, uncaring that he was commando under them, and that she could see his junk.

“What?” he asked, and though he feigned an expression of concern as though worried she was upset about something, Charlie caught the gleam in those electric blue eyes that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Huffing, she turned her back and proceeded to pull the shirt off over her head anyway, viscerally aware of his gaze drinking in the sight of her.

“Oh, don’t play cute, Charlotte,” Monroe taunted quietly from behind her. “What? You’re gonna play the embarrassed and blushing virgin? C’mon. This is me.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, well aware of what she was doing as she stepped out of her wet underwear and stood with her back to him, naked as the day she’d been born.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” Monroe taunted, his voice coming closer until she would swear that she could feel his warm breath ghosting over her damp shoulders and feel the heat radiating from his body. “I know you wanted to kiss me out there in the rain…”

“You’re delusional,” Charlie retorted, grabbing the dry shirt she’d brought and pulling it on over her head before wriggling into dry panties even though her skin was still damp. The jeans would have to wait, she decided, turning to glare at Monroe, knowing she’d have a hard time getting the tight fabric up her legs as long as she was wet from the rain.

He was standing right behind her, still naked and Charlie’s eyes dropped to his chest, his abs, and then lower.

“Christ,” she muttered, taking a step back and drawing a smug laugh from him.

“Yeah,” he smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

“Put some pants on,” she rolled her eyes, even though she was having a hard time tearing her eyes off his dick. Had it always been that big? Shit.

“You sure you want me to?” he asked, his voice turning husky and damn him to the deepest pits of hell, no she wasn’t sure. She wanted to reach out and touch him. She wanted to sink to her knees and take him in her mouth right then and there, but Miles was coming and her Mom and Grandpa were in the next room.

“Monroe,” she said tightly, her hand twitching to reach out and run down the steel length of him.

He laughed knowingly.

“Take a good look, baby,” he murmured before the sound of Miles’ footsteps filled the air.

“Damn it, Bass!” Miles growled. “Put some damn pants on! Christ. I’m blind.”

Monroe laughed, never taking his eyes off Charlie, his eyes just daring her to do as she so desperately wanted, and to reach out and touch him. He bounced his eyebrows at her when Miles kept fussing before conceding to Miles’ demands and stepping into a dry pair of jeans.

“Christ, Charlie, you too?” Miles asked, horrified when Charlie stepped around Monroe in only her panties and her tank top.

“Like I’m gonna be able to get jeans this tight up my legs while I’m all wet?” she rolled her eyes, steadfastly not looking at Monroe when he shot her a knowing smirk about what kind of wet he imagined her to be.

“Just… I don’t even want to know,” Miles shook his head, ripping his wet clothes off quickly.

Charlie averted her eyes.

“Dude, niece still in the room. Hold it with removing those jeans,” she hurried to stop him before he could strip completely as Monroe had.

“Well, move it, moron,” Miles grumbled grouchily. “I’m wet and I’m cold and I want to be neither.”

Charlie shook her head, looking away from Monroe once and for all and trying to get the image of his dick out of her head even though she was pretty sure it was burned into her retinas.

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