#hell is freezing over and I’m overheating in this car

[clannfearrunt]

The rain freezing on the car window in real time...

#I DONT WANT THE INTERIOR OF THE CAR TO BE WARM I GET CAR SICK :( #hell is freezing over and I’m overheating in this car #Con stop yapping

[imnotobsessedwfictionalchracters]

You Don't Love Me Anymore?

Could EASILY have rennamed this "Like We're In Love?" because of Steve saying it to Nancy in Season 2 and this was lowkey based off of it.

It was also written in my moms car last Friday/the 15th on my phone as I was lowkey overheating (heading to my friends DCI competition) on my phone so I am sorry if it is not that well written

Find the x reader version on my other account @youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms

Steve and other characters are PROBABLY OOC (I'm not good at keeping characters "in character")

Word Count: 4139

Audrey rolled her eyes at Robin’s comment on the Return to Oz. “Yeah, it was ‘scary’ and ‘off putting’ but that’s what I liked about it Robin.”

“Drew, the evil-lady literally took her head off. How the hell is that not horrifying enough to not watch the film?”

“Robin, let us remember that I actually enjoyed The Black Cauldron. Unlike the majority of audiences.”

“Sometimes I seriously wonder how you and Steve get along. You two like completely different things it seems like sometimes.”

Drew glanced over to Steve, who was checking a customer out. “Yeah...so do I.” 

“Hey,” Robin’s voice was full of concern, “I know it’s like, none of my business, but are you and Steve okay? Things have seemed tense between the two of you lately.”

Drew looked back at Robin and shot her a small smile, “Yeah, everything’s fine!”

And she could tell that Robin didn’t believe her by the look on her face, but Drew chose to ignore it. “Okay, if you’re sure Drew.”

Drew nodded, “Yeah, I am.” She looked at her watch and cursed as she saw the time. “Damn, I have to go Robin.” She placed the movie in her hand where it was supposed to go quickly and quickly ran into the break room to clock out for her break. She grabbed her jacket and keys and raced out the door, but as she did, she gave Steve a smile, “I’ll be back in like an hour with Dustin.”

Either he didn’t hear her or he ignored her as he didn’t make any acknowledgement to her comment. She tried to ignore the sting it caused her to feel as she opened the door and ran out, trying not to slip on the snow ridden ground. She ran to her car and unlocked the door, she plugged the key into the ignition to start it. After turning the heat all up, she tossed her jacket off and left the parking lot of Family Video and made her way to the High School.

By the time she finally made it, she was nearly an hour late. She was meant to pick him up between 3:10 and 3:20 and it was nearing 4 o’clock. She groaned as she saw her brother standing with his friends in front of the school. She pulled up in front of them and opened her door, got out, and walked over to them.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up. I know I’m late. I got sidetracked and completely missed the time!.”

“If you would’ve been a few minutes later Elder Henderson, I was going to kidnap your brother.”

Drew rolled her eyes and Eddie’s comment, “Oh and I’m sure that Dustin would have loved it.” She turned to her brother, “I’m seriously sorry. A bunch of people decided to return their movies today so Robin and I were stalking the shelves.” She gave Mike and Lucas a smile, “You two good? Have a ride home and then to Hellfire?”

“Actually, Nancy’s sick, so could you take me to Hellfire?”

Drew ran a hand through her hair, slowly becoming aware of the cold air around her. “Yeah, yeah I can. But I can’t take you home beforehand.”

“I don’t mind staying in the back of Family Video!”

She sighed, “As long as you’re sure.”

He nodded, “I am.”

“Then you two get your shit into the car.” She looked at Lucas, “You good, Sinclair?” He gave her a look and she rolled her eyes, “Alright. Follow the other two.” And as he went to put everything in the back she looked at Eddie. “You didn’t have to stay with them.”

Eddie shrugged, “True. But what kind of idol would I be if I did?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Besides, it’s fucking cold outside. Didn’t want them to freeze to death due to someone's negligence.”

“Well that someone has a fucking job.”

He lifted his arms up in defense, “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

She sighed, “You didn’t, Munson.”

“You seem stressed. Everything good? Need anything?”

She rolled her eyes at the last comment. She had already known Eddie before Dustin joined Hellfire. Bought some weed off of him her Junior and what would be his first fail at a Senior year, a few years ago.  “I quit that, Munson.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, “But I’m good. Just tired and shit. Y’know, the holidays and things.”

Eddie nodded, “Well, need anything, I’m open Henderson.”

She gave him a soft smile, “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He looked behind her, “Probably should let you go. Don’t kill my protége with your driving.”

She rolled her eyes and she began to walk away from him, “Yeah, I would be killing my brother in a car crash. That is not how I plan on killing him.” She dropped into her car, “See you later, Munson.”

He smiled at her, “See you later Henderson. And you too Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair. Don’t be late tonight.”

And on Eddie’s final words, she pressed the gas and drove back to Family Video. She numbly listened to her brother and his friends talk about Hellfire and the end of their recent campaign being tonight. Her thoughts were more focused on what Eddie had said. Was it really that obvious that everything with Steve has stressed her out from hell? But what showed it? She knew that her makeup hid the dark circles that she had gained due to the lack of sleep from worry. And the tear stains weren’t visible because of the makeup, once again. And he hadn’t thought that she had lost much weight from barely being able to eat. But maybe she was wrong. Maybe that was it. Maybe she looked smaller than normal.

She found it funny. She was perfectly healthy. But if Junior year her were to have seen what she looked like and weighed, she would have had a heart attack. Would have said she was ‘overweight’ and that she had to run to the bathroom. It sucked. And it was ironic that Steve was who helped her. He always did. That was how he was. Always helped her when she needed it. 

She felt like shit. Just like she did 3 years ago, just before her Sophomore year. When she lost Steve. God did she just hope that this feeling would go away and that she wouldn’t feel this way forever. And that nothing bad was going to happen with her and Steve. That everything would be okay.

But God did she know that would be a lie.

The second she pulled into the parking space she knew she was gonna get yelled at. She went 5 minutes over her break time. But she honestly could care less. She knew full well that they weren’t gonna fire her over that. She made Dustin grab her jacket as she shut her door. When they all entered, she tried to hide the pain when she saw the large smile on Steve’s face when he saw Dustin.

“Henderson!”

“Steve!”

She sighed and walked to the back, but when she went to clock herself back in, she saw that she already had been. She turned back and walked over again. She was going to ask what happened since it was only her, the kids, Steve, and Robin in the store, but she saw the look on Robin’s face. She shot her friend a grateful smile and mouthed ‘thanks’. To where her friend merely shrugged.

She walked over to the kids, “Alright, backroom children. Don’t wanna get in trouble cause of y’all. I get off at 6. So I’ll take you guys back for Hellfire straight after.” She ignored the protests from both her brother and boyfriend and gave Dustin a look that literally told him to listen or else he wouldn’t like what she would do. As the boys exited into the backrooms, she smiled at Steve. “So I was thinking, we get off at the same time, and I’ll have time before I’ll have to pick them up after Hellfire, what if we rented a movie ourself and have a little movie night?” She pushed a strand of hair from her face, “We haven’t done that in a while.” And she tried to keep the pained look from escaping when he flinched away from her hand that was moving to touch his arm. “Steve?”

“I--probably not. I have things that I need to get done when I get home.”

“Oh,” She tried not to sound disappointed, “Right. Yeah. Um...what about Christmas? Are you gonna come over?”

He shrugged, “Maybe. Not really sure.”

She nodded, almost numbly. “Okay...well I’m gonna help Robin finish stocking the films.”

He didn’t even acknowledge her final comment and she just nodded and walked away. She tried to keep the tears in her eyes, but couldn’t help that a few fell as she silently restocked the rows. Thankfully it wasn’t enough to mess with her makeup, but it was still enough that it messed with her mood for the rest of her shift.

But even unknown to her. The three Freshmen sitting in the backroom saw all of that. Lucas turned to Dustin, “Is everything okay between Drew and Steve?”

Dustin shrugged, “I don’t know. He hasn't been around as much, which really sucks. Plus, she’s rarely on the phone with him, which is weird! I’m used to them being on the phone until mom yells at her to get off of it cause she either needs to use it or it’s getting late.”

“Did they break up?”

Lucas looked at Drew as she placed the movies on the shelves, “I don’t think so. I mean, y’all know how it was whenever Max and I did. This is different.”

“I love Steve, but if he hurts her, I will not hesitate to murder him.”

And on that note, Lucas and Mike stopped talking about how tense everything between Drew and Steve were. And for the last hour and a half of her shift, Drew did all that she could to avoid looking at Steve. She talked to Robin some, but not much. The most she spoke was to a customer asking which movie she should rent for her and her kids to watch over Christmas. Of course Drew suggested A Christmas Story. That movie had a soft place in her heart. Her, Jonathan, and Nancy took their siblings (plus Lucas) to see it when it came out 2 years ago.

But when she looked at her watch and read that it was 6, she quickly walked into the backroom and clocked out. She didn’t even tell the kids that it was time to go. They just knew from her walking in and grabbing her keys. She waved goodbye to Robin as she exited the store. She unlocked her car and just like it was when she left earlier, she made sure the car warmed up and made her way to the school.

After she dropped her brother and his friends off at the school and made sure they made it inside, she drove home. She noticed the lack of her mothers car in the driveway, signaling that she still wasn’t back from her work trip yet. She sighed as she unlocked the front door and was instantly greeted by the angry meows of Tews. She leaned down and pet the cat affectionately as she shut the door.

She dropped her keys in the key bowl and walked into the kitchen and silently made Tews his supper. One she did that, she walked into her room and shut the door. She clicked the power button on her radio and the sounds of Christmas songs began to fill her room. Currently it was the middle of Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses. She dropped down onto her bed and buried her head into her pillow. 

She had no idea how much time had passed when she heard the shrill ringing of the phone. She groaned and leaned over to grab it. “You’ve reached the Henderson household. This is the daughter Drew Henderson speaking.”

“Hey, it’s Steve.” 

And any inattentiveness quickly faded away and she made sure she was fully listening. “Steve. Babe. Hey. What's up?”

“Could you come over?” His voice sounded slightly desperate.

“Thought you were busy?”

She heard him sigh over the phone, “That was a lie.” She heard shuffling, “So, what do you say? You gonna come over? I just wanna talk.”

Talk. Oh God. He was going to break up with her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, “Y-yeah. I-I can. Just give me a few and I’ll be over there.”

“Okay. Good. See you in a few.”

“Yeah, see you in a few.” And after a quick second she began, “I love--” But was cut off by the sound of the other line being dead.

She ignored the pain she felt and sat the phone back down on the receiver. She got off her bed and as she exited her room, turned off the radio and the light. She shut the door and walked into the living room. She rolled her eyes at Tews, who was sitting on the couch. And muttered a “Lazy cat.” as she grabbed the keys to her car and her wallet. 

So once again, she was waiting for her car to warm up before she left towards the Harrington home. She hummed along to the songs playing on the Radio. She drove extra carefully due to the snow falling from the dark sky onto the already slick road. The normal 10 minute drive turned into a 30 minute one due to her caution. 

As she drove up the driveway, Last Christmas by Wham! was playing. Which should have told her enough to just turn back around and not do this. But she ignored it and turned off her car and got out. Immediately cursing herself for not bringing her jacket with her. She quickly ran to the door and knocked. Jumping from left to right in an attempt to not freeze to death. 

When the door opened and revealed Steve in the soft blue sweater that she had bought him last year for Christmas she smiled. But not a fake, forced one. A genuine one that she didn’t realize had grown on her face until it was there. 

“Drew, get in here before you die of frostbite.”

She had forgotten how cold she was due to the warmth she was feeling from seeing him. “Oh right.” She slipped past him but stayed near as he shut the door. She placed her keys and wallet on the little table next to the door. She turned back to him and the two stood awkwardly in the foyer. 

He coughed, “Wanna go upstairs?” She nodded silently and as he turned to go to the stairs. She instinctively reached for his hand. And this time, when her fingers grazed his skin, he didn’t jolt away. No. In fact, he flicked his hand to slip it into hers. The warmth from her body never fading. Any hint that she was just freezing from just being out in the snow, was gone as her hand laid in his and they walked up the stairs to his room.

Once they made it to his room, she acted out of instinct and sat in his bed. And God had she wished she missed the look that had flashed over Steve’s face. The look of someone who was about to do something incredible stupid. The look that someone would give if they knew that they were going to regret what they were about to do. 

But she still ignored the pain in her chest. Screaming at her to leave. Screaming at her that if she stays, she needs to do it first. The warmth that she had felt moments ago, it was still there. But it was slowly fading away and she was struggling to grasp onto it. 

And now it was her turn to cough in order to stop the tense and awkward silence. “So what did you wanna talk about, Stevie?”

He sighed, “I don’t think that this,” He motioned back and forth from him to her, “Us, can work anymore.”

She tried to hide the hurt, “What do you mean, Stevie?”

He looked at her desperately, “Please Drew. I know you’re not dumb. I know you know what I mean.” She refused to look at him now. She dropped her head and stared at her hands. She felt the bed dip and soon saw his hand reaching for hers. She flinched away and ever so slightly moved further away. “Drew, please. Say something.”

The tears were threatening to fall from her eyes. “This is bullshit.”

Either he actually didn’t hear her or he needed to hear what she said again since he asked her, “What was that?”

Her voice, barely louder, spoke again. “This is bullshit.”

“What is?”

“You doing this.” She finally looked at him again. “You, pushing me away for weeks on end, calling me that you want to talk. Open the fucking door wearing a different fucking shirt than you were at work. You-you wearing the fucking sweater I bought you for Christmas last year.” She sniffed, “It’s fucking bullshit.”

He looked away. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired of pretending, acting as if we were in love.”

Any resolve she may have had to fix them faded away. That warmth she had clinged to following it. “As if we’re in love?” She stared at him. Hurt, betrayal, and pain was all that could be seen on her face. “You-you don’t love me anymore?” He said nothing. But she knew from the look on his face that he meant it. And she tried as hard as she could to keep her voice from cracking. “How long?” He stayed quiet. “How. Fucking. Long. Steve.?”

And now his own voice was barely above a whisper. “Since around Thanksgiving.”

She nodded. Since their stupid fucking fight. “So you haven’t loved me for nearly a month now?”

“No.”

“No? You haven’t? Has it been longer? Have you never loved me at all?” Once again Steve stayed quiet and she stood up angrily. “Or do you not know?”

“No. I don’t know.” And as she went to walk away he spoke again. “Not that I didn’t love you! I did! I-I did love you! I just don’t know when I stopped.”

She nodded and walked over to his bedroom door. Her hand floated above the doorknob. She turned back to him as the tears finally falling from her eyes. “Fuck you, Steve Harrington.” She opened the door, “Fuck you.” And she slammed it behind her. She ran as fast as she could down the stairs. She went so fast she didn’t even register that she forgot to grab her wallet. 

She felt like fate was against her cause the moment her Radio turned on, Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney was playing. The same fucking song had played a year ago when she gave him the fucking sweater he was hearing. 

Drew laid her head on Steve’s shoulder. Their backs against the couch. The sound of Wonderful Christmastime playing in the background. She smiled as Dustin opened the gift she got him. It was a new DnD dice set. One he had been begging their mom to buy him. He smiled at her and attacked her in a hug. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

“Now that Dustin got all of his presents.” She turned to Steve, “It’s your turn.”

He smiled, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

She smiled as she grabbed the small wrapped box. “Yeah, but I wanted to.” She handed it to him and he carefully unwrapped it. Once he got down to the box, he took off the lid and she spoke again. “You mentioned how you needed a new sweater. And I was out with Nance and I saw it and thought you would like it.” She bit her lip nervously, “Do you like it?”

He smiled and kissed her. “I love it babe.” He pulled away from her slightly. He looked around, her eyes ended up following his. Dustin was already on the phone with someone and her mom was asleep. He kissed her again and she smiled into it.

This time when they pulled away, they laid their foreheads against the other. And the words fell out of her mouth before she could even think. “I love you.”

She felt herself biting her lip the second she realized what she had said. He brought his hand up and ran his thumb over her lips, lightly pulling her teeth off of them. “I think,” He looked into her eyes lovingly, “That I love you more, sweetheart.”

She smiled and kissed him again and then whispered against his lips. “I highly doubt it.”

She was confused as she opened her bedroom door. When had she gotten home? She shook her head and went to the phone and dialed the number for the Wheelers.

It rang for a few minutes before she heard Nancy and Mike’s mom’s voice over the phone. “This is Karen Wheeler.”

“Hey Mrs. Wheeler, it’s Drew. Dustin’s sister.”

“Drew! Is everything okay? Is Mike alright?”

“Yeah, I-I think so? He was when I dropped him off for Hellfire.”

She heard the elder woman let out a sigh of relief. “Then what do you need dear?”

“I really hate to do this, but do you think you could bring Dustin home when you pick Mike up? I’m not feeling well, I might’ve caught whatever it is that Nancy has.”

“Oh! Of course, dear! Does he have a key?”

“He should.” She sighed, “Thank you so much Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Of course dear. I hope you feel better. And don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. I understand that your mom is out of town.”

“Of course, Mrs. Wheeler.” Drew ran a hand through her hair. “I’m gonna go now. Probably sleep some. Have a nice night.”

“Yes, get rest. I’ll pick Dustin up and make sure he gets in safely. Get better soon.”

Drew didn’t even mess with saying anything else and just dropped her phone back down. She didn’t even change and just closed her eyes, falling asleep fully clothed. Completely tired of everything that just happened

Tired that she had basically just wasted the past month hoping that he would get over their stupid fight. Tired that she shouldn’t have ignored her gut. Tired of being tired.

-

Drew groaned as she heard a knock on her door. “Drew!” It was Dustin, “It’s 3! Aka when you were gonna take me to get presents for my friends!”

Her eyes snapped open and she turned her head to glance at her clock. Sure enough Dustin was right. She stumbled out of her bed and opened her door. “Give me like, 30 minutes, got it?”

Before she was able to close her door, he spoke again . “You look like shit.”

“Wonderful observation.”

“Like you’re hungover. Wait, are you hungover? Is that why Mrs. Wheeler picked me up yesterday?! You got drunk?!”

“I did not get drunk, Dustin. I was dealing with my own fucking shit.”

“Like what?”

She sighed, “It’s none of your business, Dustin.”

“What? Was Steve here and you two slept together or something?” She felt the tears prick her eyes when Dustin mentioned Steve’s name. She saw the look of surprise on his face. “Woah! You okay? Did something happen? Are you pregnant or something?” His face turned to one of horror. “Oh please don’t be pregnant. I’m too young to be an Uncle.”

She shook her head and wiped away the tears. “No. I’m not pregnant.” She wished she was. That would be easier to explain than the truth. “Steve um...Steve and I broke up.”

“What?”

“We broke up last night, Dustin. It...it was mutual.”

“Sure as fuck doesn’t seem like it.” He placed a hand on his hip, “I may love Steve, but I’m gonna best his ass for this.”

She laughed at her brother's comment. “It’s okay Dustin. I knew it was coming anyways.” She gave him a small smile, “I’ll go get dressed and then we can go out.”

“No! I’m calling Robin. You two can have a...girls day?”

She laughed again, “Nah. I’d rather spend the day with my little brother.”

His mouth broke out into a large smile, “Really?!”

She nodded, “Really.” She started to shut her door, “Give me an hour, tops.”

“Yeah, yep!”

She smiled as she shut her door. Yeah, she was heartbroken over Steve, but at least she had her brother to cheer her up.

#steve #harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington oc #stranger #things #stranger things x oc #stranger things oc #x oc #oc #audrey claudia henderson #drew henderson

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (09)

word count; 13,103

summary; following up a storm, there’s a crash on one of the highways, and things don’t always go as planned in rescue attempts.

notes; there is going to be some big realisations in this part. it’s angsty, but you’ll love it.

warnings; reference to death, panic attacks, car crashes, near-death experience, mild injury/gore reference.

“Holy shit..” You mumbled, staring out at the scene ahead of yourself on the intersection, Newt’s jaw dropped much like your own as you looked out at it all. Smoke curling up into the air, crushed cars and contorted metal with flames curling up. Blue sirens of other ambulances and firetrucks, the other side of the amalgamation of cars, and you stepped down from the ambulance in shock.

The call that had come over the alert ten minutes ago had been no joke, it was a true disaster, the no longer muffled wails of emergency vehicle alerts, the crying of people in pain, the workings of machinery and metal grating against metal to make you shudder in uncomfortable shock. The firetrucks of your own house pulled up next to you, the ambulance having the edge on this case as it was easier to weave through other cars along the highway, and the same look of shock was mirrored on all of their faces. 

This wasn’t the first car crash you’d dealt with, far from it, but it was certainly the worst. Police and traffic wardens were beginning to divert traffic, all the lanes with cars moving in both directions being stopped, and you planted your feet tightly to the ground and wrapped your jacket more tightly around yourself as the strong and chilling winds that had been the cause of the accident came back to claim more victims. The females roared up, only encouraged by the howling winds, and you cursed under your breath at the cold. 

An oil tanker had tipped over, blocking all of the lanes in both directions, broken fences from where it had tipped and cars had simply managed to smash into it and one another repeatedly as they tried to swerve, leaving the mixed wreckage of at least twenty cars littered across the tarmac. Bumpers, glass and framework, and there were too many pieces to began even starting to try and match them to smashed vehicles. 

Opening your door back up and hopping back up into the warmth of the ambo’ cabin, Newt ran a hand over his hair, scratching at the back of his head lightly as he sighed, gaze scanning repeatedly over the sights before him, and Brenda bumper her hips against his as she came to stand next to him. Twisting the dials on the radio, you unhooked the speaker from the set screwed into the dashboard, bringing it to your lips and listening as it crackled. 

“First responder dispatch centre, how can I help?”

“This is the paramedic of Firehouse ‘21, reporting to a call on the bridge entered-” Flicking your wrist up to take a look. “-eighteen minutes ago. Please notify all local hospitals to expect heavy patient incoming, various degrees of injury. Most likely to be expected is concussions, broken bones, burns and smoke inhalation, as well as various lacerations and punctures.”

“Noted, and the local hospitals will be informed. Thank you for your call.” The buzzing across the radios returned, static to fill the space as the call came to an end, and you hooked the material back up. Reaching backwards and behind your chair, you fished around for your bag, snatching it up in one hand and taking Newt’s with you, the man having paced away to stand with groups of firemen as they waited for their instructions. 

This was yet another call that Vince would take control off, ready to discuss a plan with the other house Chiefs to come up with a plan of action, divide and conquer the scene before you all, everybody coming at it from another angle to handle it. Slamming the door shut and wrapping your arms around yourself tightly once again to shield yourself from the cold. Stepping along towards your partner, your cheeks were already beginning to sting from the low temperature, and you came to stand before him, handing him his bag.

“Thanks.” He took the pack from you, hanging it on his shoulder, just with one strap, and tucking his hands securely into his pockets, bunched up in fists for warmth. “You call it in?”

“Notified all hospitals in the area, and gave them a vague list of injuries to expect.”

“Good call.” He mumbled, and you tried to tune into the chatter you were hearing. From what you could gather, the Chiefs had all divided up the area into sections, a certain number of cars and rescues to make. 

Three other teams on sight, one would deal solely with the tanker, neutralising oil and saving the driver from the cabin while making sure that the punctured and leaking tanker never met fire; arguably the most pressured job of them all as they struggled to fight off the looming explosion. The second and third team would split the cars on the other side, the morning rush who had all been heading into the city leaving far more casualties than those on your side who’d been heading the opposite way, and you would be left to deal with those on this side of the overturned tanker that was covering the entirety of the highway. 

There was so much commotion and noise that you couldn’t even hear the racing of the waters underneath, despite the crushing strength of the icy water running under the bridge below your feet, the rumbling of it normally audible when it was this chaotic, right after a storm had hit, but it was overpowered today. You shook again, the chilling temperatures making everything that much more difficult, the knuckles in your fingers already beginning to go stiff with the cold weather. 

“Alright, team. Listen up.” Your head snapped up as Vince spoke, his hands clapping together, rubbing for warmth before they were tucked back inside of his pockets, and you envied the heavy-duty jacket he already had on. “We have everything to the left of the overturned tanker. We are not - under any circumstances - to venture out of our zone. There is spilt oil, fires, and a lot of jagged metal. I don’t want to hear anyone telling other teams what to do.” He shot a pointed look to Gally, he scowled a little, everyone else chuckling and you supposed there was a story that you had yet to hear. 

Vince continued on, commanding the firemen, but you and Newt were able to tune out as you were left to your own devices, the two of you turning in unison to explore the area with your gazes. There weren’t as many cars to be attended to as you suspected there were on the other sides, but it was still over ten, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth as you tried to establish where to start. There were groans of pain, calls for help, and your fingers wrapped around your bag handle as you gripped on and tried to steady your thoughts.

The most concerning of it all was the van on the edge of the bridge. Clearly spun out, the side was dented and scraped from the collision. The barricades on either side of the van were missing, torn and unstable as one of the front wheels hung over the edge, but it seemed reasonably stable, no wobble or shake to it, even with the howling winds. 

“You wanna’ take that one?”

“Oh, no, that’s a treat for you.” You smirked, turning to look at Newt, and he rolled his eyes, holding out his fist and raising his brows. Matching his pose, you twisted to face him more fully, your fist landing on an open palm. “I can’t read you anymore. You used to suck at this game.”

“I have tactical skills now. It’s all about logic. I’m basically a Vulcan.”

“You’re basically a nerd.” You teased, and he scoffed, his good foot swinging up to kick you lightly enough in your shin that it didn’t hurt, but it still made you tremble as you tried to avoid it. He moved again, stepping towards you, and you shoved at his shoulder as you backed away. “Cut it out! I take it back!”

“Yeah, you better. Just for that, you’re taking the van!”

“Rock, paper, scissors!” You demanded, and he shook his head, turning his back on you and wandering away towards the car closest to himself, and you gaped at him a little, before turning back to analyse the van. It would no doubt need to be stabilised, and yet it was barely over the edge, but it was still concerning, and as you peered inside, you could pick up no movement, finding that there was an unconscious driver inside, if not unconscious passengers, too.

Turning back to find a fireman to help you, you jumped violently in shock at finding one directly behind you, your entire body jerking as you stepped back, and a familiar and raspy chuckle met your ears, held low to hide his brief amusement in a tense situation, and you scowled flashy up at him.

“Fucking hell, don’t do that!”

“I’m sorry.” He grinned, holding up a peace offering and apology that made your eyes widen. “I brought you a coat, so you wouldn’t get cold. Might restrict your movement a bit, though.” Thomas lifted the jacket up to sit over your shoulders, and you dropped your medkit to the floor, pushing your arms through your sleeves and wrapping it up tightly around yourself. For once, with the lack of any fires near yourself, you didn’t feel so overheated by the jacket, and instead comforted by it. 

“Thanks, I was freezing, actually.” He only hummed, letting go of the lapels as you fastened it up at the front, pressing down the velcro seals but not bothering to zip it up in case you needed to remove it frequently for your venture. Grabbing your bag from the ground beside your feet again, you stood back up. He was staring at you, a soft smile on his face but there was uncertainty hidden behind it, and you hated that you were at fault for it. 

You knew he was waiting for some kind of response to his actions of only a few days ago, the sweet touch of affection he had offered you after your visit to the vet. The dog was sitting happily and warm back at the station now, probably curled up on the couch, and yet you were standing here in the cold, trying to work out what to say to the man before you. 

Your mind had been clouded these last few days, spinning with too many thoughts to process. Your job, your friends, the life you’d lived for the last half a decade as opposed to the one looking you in the eye now, and whether you were willing to let yourself open up to that change. You wanted to, you wanted to let them in and to know that you had a true place in this house, but with your track record it was hard, and you were unfamiliar with having a family so intense after years of being alone. 

“I just need to think, okay?” Reaching out a hand when his shoulders slumped, he perked up a little as his fingers curled back around yours, loosely but enough to show he appreciated the gesture, and you squeezed gently. He nodded his head, licking over his lips, and while you knew that the look in his eyes was disappointment, there was also understanding. “I need your help.”

He took a sharp breath, his hand pulling back from yours as ‘Thomas’ disappeared and ‘Lieutenant Stephens’ took over. Jabbing a thumb over your shoulder, his eyes flickered to the van, brows furrowing a little. 

“It’s my job to head into that van, and in the interest of being less reckless, I figured you’d want to hook me up to some ropes before I do.”

“The fact that you even consider going in there without any deeply concerns me, y’know.” You rolled your eyes fondly, shaking your head as he stepped back, but he was spinning on his heel to begin commanding his team. The Truck team were already spreading out across the space deemed to belong to your firehouse, and Newt was halfway inside of a slightly crushed car to reach a patient, while Thomas began to gather equipment and a team for the van. 

Stepping over to said vehicle as you waited, you pressed your hand to the back of the van in a feather-light touch. Skimming your fingers across the cold surface of the backdoor, your fingers hooked under the handle, pushing down on the button and pulling the warped metal out, the door swinging open. 

From what you’d been able to see through the windows along the side, there was no movement, but there was still hope to get a verbal response as you called out. The cabin remained silent, and you peered inside, finding only one person sitting within there, a driver slumped across the steering wheel, airbag deployed and beginning to deflate. You suspected lacerations and possible broken lungs, as well as a concussion and one hell of a headache when they woke up. 

Pulling back, you rounded the car, peering over the barricade over the edge of the road and swallowing thickly at the height of the drop down into the river, the waters raging below you, and you checked the sights of the engine. You were no mechanic, and you couldn't tell much from the outside, but it didn’t look like the metal had crumpled too much, meaning you wouldn't have to cut away metal around his legs to get him out, making your job a lot easier if he wasn’t trapped under an engine that had been forced into the main vehicle compartment. 

“Ready when you are!” Brenda was waving a harness at you as you turned to face her, and Minho was busy planting anchors in the ground. Enough to support you, the passenger inside, and the ropes that would be secured around the vehicle to hold it steady. The team were working quickly and efficiently, threading them through the tyres and around the van in various locations to keep it still while you crawled inside. 

Taking the bundle of fabric from her, you dropped it to the ground, beginning to become familiar with these harnesses now, and you were certain you could get it on yourself. Pulling it up after stepping one foot into each loop, you eased it up your legs, tightening it at your waist and around each thigh, making sure that the straps were secure enough to reassure you. 

“You’re going to have limited rope, alright? So, try not to get it stuck on anything, because we need a lot of these anchors, we’re going to have to stand far back and away from the cracking concrete to have any grip.

“How much rope is ‘limited rope’?”

“About three metres.” She winced, and you turned to look at the vehicle, a brow raising. 

“Bren, this van looks about three metres if not more, can’t we get a longer rope?”

“We need all the rope we have for securing the van.” You knew she was right, there was more distance to be covered there, and it as important to keep both yourself and the passenger safe and secure, but it didn’t make it any easier to navigate the carbon and be able to move when you’d be tugging on a leash with no give. “Take a harness into the van, try to secure the patient inside of it. We’re getting another rope and anchor grouping set up, by the time you tend to them, we should be ready.”

“Gotcha.”

She grinned, holding up her palm flat, and you chuckled a little, before slamming your own hand against hers. It may have been a childish gesture, but something about the silly actions of high-fiving in support of one another had relieved just a little bit of the crippling tension looming over you both in the moment, and so as you grinned to one another, it was worth it. “You got this!”

“You bet I do.” You winked, hearing her let out an encouraging cheer, before she was hanging over the spare harness to you and walking away to take the end of your rope through all of the anchors and support set up to take the weight off of her. Thomas was working on another rope, giving you a simple nod as he watched you go, approval and encouragement you were sure, before you were placing your first foot onto the metal of the van, and then a second, climbing up and into the precariously hanging vehicle.

Once you were balanced within, both feet on the wooden backing of the van, you were left to try and navigate your way through the space. It was cluttered, work tools and plywood, all strapped down for security, and you were grateful to see that at least those restraints were intact; if they’d swung forward when this van had hit the railing, there was a likelihood they would have unbalanced the van.

Setting your bag and the spare harness down on the passenger seat the driver was still strapped in, and as you took another step forward toward him, the breath was forced from your lungs, the harness pulling tight around your stomach as the rope ran out, going taut through the anchors and giving you no budge. 

“You okay in there?”

You turned back to look at Chuck, his eyes scanning over the inside of the van, bright eyes and flushed cheeks as his curls blew around his face in the breeze, and you nodded. Looking over the man before you, your fingers took his chin gently, tipping his head up to sit straight instead of at the uncomfortable angle it had fallen to lay at, and checking for a pulse in his neck. It was weak, and his breathing was shallow, but it was definitely there. 

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can grab a neck brace and the board from the ambo’, I don’t think this guy is waking up anytime soon.” Chuck nodded, moving away to gather the supplies you’d listed off to him, the heavy sound of his boots scuffling on the tarmac fading out as you focused on the man before you. There was a nasty graze across the side of his neck, a fleshy burn from the friction of his seatbelt against his skin, but he could simply be glad he was wearing it, because otherwise, he would have gone through the windshield. 

The airbag was going down, and you pressed onto it, the hissing of air sounding out as you pushed it to help it deflate, giving you more space to work with, and see what you were doing, trying to reach across his body as you waited for the fabric safety precaution to reside. 

His nose was bleeding and it was swelling with purple bruises under his eyes and across his cheeks, a broken nose that was bad and would need professionally resetting, but that was the only initial examination that you could do with your limited range of motion. 

Tugging a little on your rope again, and hoping it would offer a little more give, you were disappointed as it held strong, trying to work out how to get closer to the patient, to be able to properly reach him, and start examining him for the further injuries you suspected he might have.

“Okay, I got the brace and the board.” Chuck was panting slightly, lugging both pieces of equipment, the support like a surfboard under his arm as the padded brace swung in the other hand, and you chuckled. “Alright, set the board down, I’m not sure how I’ll get him into it, but you can tell Brenda we aren��t going to need the spare harness, he’s out cold. I’ll trade ya’.” He nodded, placing the board down on the ground and letting the brace follow. 

Picking up the edge of the fabric you’d left with your bag, you shifted, swinging it over your shoulder and the van rocked a little at your sudden movement, your blood running cold, but it stopped after only a moment as the ropes that the Squad team had set into place held it steady; Chuck’s eyes as wide as yours. “Maybe no more sudden movements, then?”

“I think that’s a good idea, kid.” You grinned a little, trying to reassure the young candidate despite your heart leaping into your throat with fear. “Now, pass me that neck brace, nice and gentle. Roll it cross the floor.”

He did as told, tucking the straps in carefully and pushing it down the slight slope of the van, watching as the plastic rolled unevenly across the floor before getting wedged behind the passenger seat, stuck just underneath it, but the bright yellow plastic was still partially visible. You reached, the straps around your waist restricting your movements and digging into your flesh, almost to a painful degree, and your fingers brushed over it, but you couldn't grab a hold of it. 

“God, I can’t do anything on this freakin’ leash.”

“Oh, please don’t do what I think you’re going t-” You ignored him, fingers working over the latch on the carabiner that was keeping you secure, and you felt the tension around your waist give way from the second that it was unhooked. “You terrify me, do you know that? Do you have no concept of danger?”

“There is no danger, Chuck, I’ll be fine.” Clipping the band onto one of the poles in the headrest so that you could reach it again easily, you stripped off your coat to give you more flexibility, and left it in the footwell of the seat you currently resided next to. “You guys got this van all roped up, and it’s right there. I just need to be able to move if I’m going to save this man’s life.”

You rubbed sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants to dry them off, your first call was to unzip your bag, and to locate a pair of sanitary gloves, before interacting with him at all. Once the plastic covers were sealed over your hands comfortably, you were settling into a slightly uneven passenger seat to get a better look at him. 

Ideally, you really needed the seatbelt out of the way, but in his unconscious state, doing that would probably make the man fall forwards, and so you tried to work around it. Pressing your fingers gently along his chest under the unmoving strain of a locked safety belt, you pressed for hard patches, finding none under your fingers, breathing a sigh of relief as you found no external signs of immediate internal bleeding, muscles tense but skin not having hardened up.

Moving up to his eyes, you lifted one eyelid open, finding the keyring on your bag and unhooking it, flashing the small torch across his eyes, and watching for any pupil reaction. It was fast, an immediate reaction that was impressive and reassuring, and everything about the situation with the man in the truck was looking up. He was incredibly lucky. You were progressively growing more confused, however, as to why he was so heavily unconscious when so little seemed to be wrong.

Even the nerves in his legs were twitching when given stimulus, suggesting that he didn’t even have any kind of paralysis or delayed response time. His body seemed to be handling the shock and the adrenaline exceptionally well, and he should be awake. 

Reaching under your seat, you leaned forward, finding the brace and tugging it out, brushing it off and undoing the velcro seals that Chuck had put into place as it rolled, the ripping down of the two sides separating filling the cabin. 

“Chuck, time for you to go and grab another fireman, I’m going to work out how to get him loaded up onto a board, and out to you guys.” 

“I’m on it.” He gave you a salute, an ‘aye, aye, sir’ following it, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his antics, a heart of gold in the kid for being able to find amusement in the situation. You assessed the situation, ready to try and get him out of here, so that you could follow swiftly behind him, not wanting to be caught in the metal box any longer than necessary. Once you had him out and being carried to the ambulance, you could properly tend to his wounds. 

You’d need to put some disinfectant on the raw skin where his seatbelt had been, clean up his nose, and do a more thorough bodily exam to confirm your results but as far as you could see, there was no harm in moving him. There was only the trouble of getting him onto the board by yourself, in such a cramped and awkward position. Sweeping your eyes over the vehicle for anything to help, you scanned the chair, raising a brow, and twisting to look at your own. 

It took a moment, but your suspicions were confirmed, a handle on the outside of the chair near the door was present, to adjust the angle that the chair was sat at. Testing it, you reached around your seat, pushing the handle down and feeling the chair spring forwards, the wrong directions, and you huffed. Instead, you tried pulling up next, and it began to retract. The more you inched the chair backwards, the further it went, never reaching a limit as it sat halfway flattened, a good bet that the driver’s seat would do the same, and it was the best option you had so far.

 The door on the other side was a little more battered, the metal warped in, and as Chuck returned with Thomas by his side. He took a single look over the cabin, before his eyes were widening, and then narrowing on you. 

“Did you take off your harness?”

“No!” You moved, kneeling a little, half between the man's chair and half on the passenger as you hooked your thumb under the edge to show him. “I just undid the rope so that I could move around and actually do my job.”

“Are you insane? Do you have absolutely no concept of danger?” Thomas hissed, and you stuck your tongue out at him, moving to get a better look at the gap between his chair and the door, and whether you were going to be able to get your hand to the lever.

“That’s exactly what I said!” Chuck agreed, and you sighed at the pair of them.

“Put your rope back on, right now, or else-”

“Or else what, Tommy? What are you gonna’ do, huh?” You paused, raising a brow at him, and his jaw snapped shut. “You gonna’ come in here and make me? Unbalance the van with all your stomping around as you wrestle me back onto the rope? I think not.” His lips flicked up at the sides, lips rolling together to contain his smile, and his head ducked, but you didn’t miss the quiet chuckle he let out. When his head lifted, however, the amusement was gone, and that same endearing concern was back, making you sigh. “You got this whole thing hooked up with wires, I’m perfectly safe. I trust you.”

He swallowed thickly at your words, nodding his head, before his shoulders slumped a little. “Alright, fine. So, you got a plan or what, sweetheart? Because I don’t see how you’re going to get him onto that board alone, so maybe I will have to come in and wrestle you back into your ropes anyway.”

“Oh, ha ha.” You scoffed, adjusting yourself to be able to reach, and wincing as the screeching sound of metal and the slight wobble at the uneven weight distribution toward the driver’s seat brought back unsettling memories of your time in the elevator month’s prior. “I’m going to lower the chair back, and loosen his seatbelt as best I can. We can wiggle the board under him slowly, I’ll get the neckbrace on him, and push him up far enough for you to drag him the rest of the way.”

Thomas chewed on his bottom lip, nodding slowly as he thought through, and watching as you moved to lean over the man. Your hand was pressed tightly between the side of the chair and the metal as you worked your way down, blindly searching by touch for the lever you needed, and finally, you squeezed your fingers over the handle, but barely able to move to pump it and lower the chair carefully. “No sudden movements, okay? I don’t want any extra stress on those ropes.”

“No sudden movements, I promise.”

You flexed the handle, the chair lowering by an inch, maybe a little more, and you kept it up, your arm beginning to ache from the angle you were working at already, but with each squeaky sound, his chair was lowering more and more, straightening his spine out carefully as he lay down, your other hand resting against his forehead delicately to keep his head straight.

As he was lowered further and further, you pumped the chair as far as it could go, getting his body as streamlined as you could, and you were already making progress with him. Chuck was ready, holding the board up for you, and you nodded your head, letting go of a tense breath and leaning back to rotate your arm slowly to ease the cramp that was building in the muscles and tendons of your shoulder.

Shifting between the seats, and standing hunkered over as not to bump your head against the roof, you positioned yourself before him, Thomas holding one side of the board for stability, and Chuck on the other, watching for your advice silently. Cupping his head carefully, glove covered palm under the back of his skull to keep him steady, you lifted his head forwards just slightly, holding him still and curling your fingers in a motion as though to say ‘come hither’, and the board inched forward. 

As the plastic came into your peripherals, you reached out, guiding it to rest on the fabric of the chair under his head, pressing in until they reached the junctions of his shoulders, and then they stopped. Your palm was held up flat to them in signal, and while it would have been just as easy to talk, something about breaking the tense silence felt wrong, as though it would disturb the concentration you all had going.

Supporting his head still, you moved your other hand to lift his shoulders up, grunting a little at the added weight and strain on your arms in the less than ideal position, but it worked. With each wiggle and shift, they got the board a little further down under his body, sometimes stopping when it got caught on the safety belt or his clothing, but otherwise being completely successful. As the board bumped the backs of his legs, still bent over the seat with his feet pressed to the floor, you placed his head down, facing a whole new challenge. 

“What now?”

“I need you to get in here with me.” His face deadpanned, and you grinned, the blank look on his face amusing you. “Relax, not right up here with me. I just need you to pull him upwards very slowly onto the board while I adjust him. Once he’s on the board, I can strap him securely, and get the neck brace on him. You guys get him out, I get out of this death trap, and I see some other patients.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Try to keep his head still, okay? We don’t want him getting any more injuries that we could have prevented.” Thomas only nodded in conformation, before he was stepping up, the van wobbling a little as he did, and he lowered himself down to one knee.

Reaching over the man, and inching two thicker-gloved hands under his shoulders, finding it harder to get a grip than you did in just your rubber gloves. He didn't move, though, waiting to be told to do so as you unclipped his seatbelt, the material slinking away across his body and back into the holder. Just as you prepared yourself for the neck brace, turning back to the passenger seat beside it, you watched his head roll to the side, cheek pressing into the fabric limply.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Thomas' voice raised a little, insistent he hadn't, and you fixed him with a questioning look. “I swear!”

You didn’t get a chance to question him, before a loud gasping was sounding in the van, followed by a groan that bounced from the metal walls of the van, and his eyes were snapping open. Everything was still for only a moment, and you tried to process your words, mind spinning and you didn't have a chance to think before he was sitting up roughly, the car rocking with his movements, and he let out another agonised noise at the motions.

“Sir, I need you to rel-”

“What happened?” His head whipped from side to side, face screwing up before he was wincing, and the blood that had dried on his skin from his nose was soon replaced by a fresh gush of red, dripping over his lower lip and along his chin as he panicked. Sitting up further, the car rocked, and his hands flew out, gripping onto the edge of the van for stability. “What the fuck happened?”

“(Y/N), put your ropes back on!”

Your head snapped up to Thomas, his eyes wide as he pointed to the rope you still had clipped to the opposite chair, and you nodded your head at the precarious rocking of the vehicle. A hand grabbed your wrist, jerking roughly in fear as your attention was brought back to the man, and there was another shout of your name from Thomas, falling on deaf ears as the pleas of your patient drowned him out;

“Are we over the river?”

“I need you to calm down for me, okay, can you do that?” You tried to place a hand on his shoulder, to stop the moving that he was doing, but the whole vehicle groaned under the pressure, the sound of snapping and crumbling concrete making itself known, and then came a tearing, a loud banging against the side of the van, and Thomas jumped a little as he backed out of the van to peer over the top.

“What was that?”

“(Y/N) put your damn rope back on, now!”

“What was that, Thomas?” Your voice raised, demanding again as the vehicle swayed and you struggled to remain upright, his jaw clenching and nostrils flaring. 

“One of the support wires snapped, the movement is too much, it can’t take the weight.”

“The supports are snapping?” The patient sounded more panicked than either of you, and the grip that had been almost bruising around your wrist was released, your hand snatched back to your chest as you gripped it supportively. That same large hand landed on your shoulder, a brief push as he struggled to his feet and pushed past you in a haze of blinding fear and adrenaline, the vehicle moving violently as he tried to clamber his way on shaky legs from the van. 

You fell, the pressure from his push making you stumbled and your legs caught on the edge of the passenger seat chair, your body falling backwards and head hitting against the dashboard, shoulder landing on the handbrake and a sharp shock of pain ran along your entire body at the feeling. The sounds of your team members shouting at you, at the patient, at anyone else all became muffled for a second as your ears rang at the collision, your eyes squeezed closed, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath in and out as you processed the pain and tried to suppress it to be dealt with later.

The car came to a steady rest, no longer moving so aggressively but simply swaying, and you tried to adjust yourself carefully to be able to sit up. Thomas and Chuck were watching, with no sight of the patient, and both of them relaxed a little as you came into view. 

“Is he alright?”

“Is he alright?” Thomas seethed, and you blinked a little to clear fuzzy vision as you focused on your surroundings. “That idiot almost just made this van tip. He ran off to find Newt, I assume. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just a little achy.” You muttered, the understatement seeming to make the throbbing in your shoulder seem worse. “It’s not his fault, he was in pain and confused, he wasn’t thinking clearly, it’s not his fault, Tommy.”

His anger didn’t seem to die down at all, but his resolve broke, and he choked back whatever he had to say, shaking his head. “Can you reach your rope? We need to get you out.”

You regretted using the passenger seat as your test for the lever one, because even at the most outstretched your arm could get, you still couldn't reach it from here without moving. Shifting up onto your knees, the van jerked again, tilting a little further as a sound of metal on stone so piercing it made your stomach churn and body shudder sounded out, another lurch forwards, another wire giving way, and you still couldn’t reach your rope.

“No! No, don’t move! There are two wires doing four wires’ job right now. Please, just stay still. Let me think of another way to get you out, just give me a minute, I can do this!”

Thomas’ voice was frantic, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as well as him, knowing that while he was all worked up, his mind wasn’t going to be clear at all. “You need to relax first, you’re going to work yourself into an anxiety attack.”

“Relax? You’re hanging over a river in an unstable van that could go at any moment! How could you possibly tell me to relax?”

“Thomas!” His head snapped up, eyes wide, his gaze steady as his eyes found yours, and you watched his shoulders loosen a little. “Please, just take a breath. I need you to not be Tommy right now. I need you to be my Lieutenant, okay?” He nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath despite how shaky the inhale was, and letting it go slowly. 

“Yeah. You’re right. Okay.” It was like watching him shift into a new person before your eyes, a single deep breath, before he was letting out a sigh, and he stood up from his hunched-over position to look around the area surrounding you both outside of the truck. He let out a ragged sigh, trying to steady his own nerves, and you were struggling to do the same, feeling you the rushing of blood inside of your ears was almost deafening as your heart pounded, palms growing sweaty. 

Distracting yourself, you peeled off the rubber gloves, fixing flexing when they were free of the latex, and you tried to control your jitters. The van was tipped at an uneven angle now, and as you leaned forward, it wasn’t much of a strain to catch sight of the raging river below. The river was raging, the normally calm and steadily flowing waters were trampling anything in their path; branches, twigs and debris jostled in the rolls of water as the storm floods were washing away all the broken branches and eroded concrete it had created, the barriers up the side almost flooding over as the heavy rainfall you’d had was drained away.

One thick blue rope was pulled to its maximum tightness around the front of the vehicle, caught against the car’s metal insignia across the front, and some of the strings were beginning to snap, one thread of cotton at a time coming loose. 

“Hey, Lieutenant?” He ducked back down, eyes wide as he stared at you, cocking a brow in silent questioning. “Not to rush you or anything, but that last rope is fraying, and I don’t think it’s going to-”

The van screeched against the concrete, dragging forwards a little more, and the sound of several voices suddenly shouting filled what had only a second ago been reasonably calm quiet. You couldn't pick out a single voice, it was a calamity of panicked yells and commanding orders, and Thomas had disappeared from the end of the van, leaving you entirely alone. 

It wasn’t a feeling you liked, sitting in a metal tin as it rocked unevenly, the sounds of the tearing rope becoming louder and more common, the more strain put on fewer threads was speeding up the rate at which the rope was giving way, and there was a burning in the back of your throat as tears threatened to burn. 

You sniffled, cursing yourself for being on the verge of tears when you had bigger priorities right now than crying, but you couldn't help it. You were terrified, you were facing a drop of twenty feet while trapped inside of a van, into water that would be well below zero in temperatures, travelling at speeds you’d never be able to kick your way to the surface within, and it was overwhelming. 

A gasping breath, and another one, before your eyelids were growing heavy and as you shut them, you felt tears begin to leak free. You were barely balanced in the passenger seat, your legs aching and muscles tensed as you tried to hold yourself steady at the uneven angle, and parts of your body were growing numb as the dull pain became overwhelming. 

“How ya’ doing in there, (Y/L/N)?”

You couldn't help the weak laugh that you let out, wiping at your cheeks and looking up to face Thomas, his eyes flickering over with concern, but he kept his emotions steady, handling this much better than you were; but then again he wasn’t the one hanging over the edge of a bridge. “You know, just hanging out.”

“Can’t be that bad if you can still make puns.”

“Oh, I’m loaded with them, ready to drop at any time.” You insisted, silently thanking him for the fact that he was overlooking the tears still running down your cheeks and the wobble of your lower lip, instead just offering you a chuckle at the ironic words you had spoken. “So, how’s that rescue plan coming along, or are you just planning to leave me in here? Just when I thought we were getting over our issues..”

“Well, this would be a pretty convenient way to solve all of that.” He grinned, and you wiped your cheeks clear, skin stinging from the hot salt. “We’re just going to get some new anchors into the floor. If we can get a stabilising rope around this van then we’ll send someone in to get you, okay? Just keep holding on for me, you’re doing great, an-”

You squeaked a little at the tremor that shook the vehicle, your eyes going wide and Thomas’ words dying in his throat. That preamble seemed to be the warning, because only a  second later, the van was jerking again, another foot or so over the bridge and the back wheels were almost over the edge now too. 

Your body fell forwards, side colliding with the edge of the dashboard, ribs flaring up with pain and your leg twisted a little as it was caught in the gap between the chair and the flooring. The van was almost perpendicular now, you were pressed to the glass, the board you’d intended to lift your patient out on had slammed into the glass and it as fracturing in one corner, and despite the fear you had expected to be racing through you at this point, you felt an unsettling wave of calm. 

The voices outside were louder, the two ends of frayed rope hanging by the passenger windows, destroyed and useless, and you swallowed thickly, pushing yourself up a little bit and trying to gain your bearings, a headache forming behind your eyes from the stress and the panic bubbling inside of you, but crying no longer felt appropriate. 

“Hey, Tommy, are you still there?”

“I thought you wanted Lieutenant?” He sounded about as stressed as you felt, and you could no longer see him, all of the weight being held on the rope that Brenda was supposed to be holding for you, and you had no doubt that she must be under immense pressure on the other end of the machinery to hold it steady, but the thinner ropes designed for you weren’t going to hold very long. 

“Yeah, but now I want Tommy.” You mumbled, knowing that he couldn't hear you, and you tried to sort through your thoughts. “I’m scared.”

“I know. But I have a plan, alright? You’re just not going to like it.”

“I can’t say I’ve been all that fond of any of your plans, if I’m honest.” He gasped, a false sound of offence echoing around the cabin, and the weight on your shoulders lifted a little. “You can’t be all that surprised. So far, you’ve had me crawling between buildings on ladders and abseiling into elevator shafts that were dropping. It would seem that me and these harnesses just have some bad luck.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d stayed on your rope both of those times, you’d have been just fine.” He teased, and you scoffed at his statement, knowing that there was an air of both truth and falseness about it. “I’m going to lower another rope down to you, and you need to clip it to your harness, alright?”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“Yeah, but then comes the scary part.” He was trying to sound brave and you knew it was for your own benefit, but you were seeing right through him. “I need you to hold still and let the van drop away. We’re going to cut the rope, and the vehicle is going to drop out from under you. We can’t get any more anchors in the tarmac because of the cracks, so we’re going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”

There was a rope being lowered, and the glass underneath of you cracked a little bit more as you reached for it, fingers brushing against the metal of the carabiner, and you felt relief flood through you at simply having it in your hands. Your fingers worked over the catch quickly, unscrewing it to be able to hook it onto the front of your harness, and making sure that you did it up as tightly as you possibly could with the trembling you currently had. Tugging twice on the rope, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, we’re going to cut the final wire, and you need to slide between the front seats before we do. Don’t try to climb, you’ll unbalance the van and it could drag you over the edge with it.”

Your body tensed as you stayed still, daring to shift fractionally to press your feet to the cracking glass underneath you, and it splintered even more, chips beginning to fall away as it threatened to break entirely. “I’m ready.”

It was a lie, a blatant, stone-cold lie, and yet you knew it needed to be done. Only a second after you’d said it, the ground underneath your feet was falling away, the already unstable vehicle tumbled forward with a groan, and your eyes squeezed shut. The breeze it created as it passed you by, the spray of water that came up from the almost deafeningly loud crashing it made as it hit the surface of the icy waters, and ten you were swinging. 

Dangling precariously over the edge, the muffled shouts of everyone above seeming like white noise as you tried to focus on simply holding off the upcoming panic attack that was bubbling within you, the droplets of cold water on your cheeks a direct contrast to the tears that were leaking free. You felt nauseous, a hand coming down to cover your stomach as the other cupped over your mouth, a precaution as you felt your gut twist into knots at the way your centre of gravity was spinning. 

It was the same way that your stomach would flip on a rollercoaster as it shot down a steep cliff, but continuous and without the rush of thrill, each jerk in the rope as you were tugged a few inches back up towards the surface making more adrenaline surge through your body to drown out the screaming fear that was threatening to consume you.

You waited, simply trying to catch your breath, trying not to let the stress get to you any more than it already had, and as the edge of the crumbled and broken concrete came into sight. The tips of your fingers were stinging and sore as you scrabbled against the stonework of the road pulling yourself up until you were on your hand and knees, head hanging, and head pounding.

It was all too much, your body feeling weak and your mind buzzing as you thought over it all, and the flashing lights around you were almost blinding, but it reminded you of where you were. You reached out, a hand wrapping around your own as you were pulled to your feet, and the flushed face of the man who’d saved your life was standing before you. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You whispered, and he chuckled, using his teeth to pull off his glove and drop it to the ground, before a warm palm was closing over your cheek. The other soon followed, thumbs wiping away tears you had forgotten were even present, and you sank a little into his touch as he held onto you. “You have a job to do, Lieutenant.”

“I can spare a second to make sure you're okay.”

You nodded, sniffling a little, and shaking your head free of his grasp to wipe at your cheeks yourself. There was enough adrenaline racing through you right now to give you the power to fight a pissed off bull, your entire body jittering from head to toe, and you could barely think straight. “Really, Thomas, I’m fine.”

He stiffened slightly, and you knew you were shutting him out, but you couldn't help it, you’d been so scared in the moment, and yet, it hadn't been alone. You were scared because for the first time you could remember in your career, there were people who cared about you, and that had somehow made it all the more terrifying a prospect. You’d never had so much to lose before now.

“I should get back to work.”

The silence felt weighted as it hung between you, and your arms wrapped around your body at the chill of the winds that were sweeping over. You knew he hated the change of topic that you’d made, he was reaching out to you once again, and you were too afraid to return it. “I think Newt is just about done here, why don’t you head back to the ambo’ and get him to patch you up, instead.”

“Thomas..”

“I have a team to run.” His voice was firm again, and you felt locked out. You knew you’d messed up, you had done it to yourself, but you hated that he was disappointed in you. It was an unfortunate turn of events, something unexpected that made everything seem like a risk, and yet you weren’t used to having people who cared around you, to feeling like such a close-knit member of a team that it would affect them all so deeply.

He was walking away from you, a frown on his lips, and you wanted to reach out, but you didn’t know how to.

You turned away yourself, regretting the action as you did, and you wanted to glance back over your shoulder, but you knew he was angry. Still, it didn’t help the pain you felt, the pit in the bottom of your stomach, and every step you took away from him with bad blood still sitting heavy between you made you feel like you were wading through wet concrete. It was odd, how only a few months ago this kind of arguing had been the usual between you both, and yet now, it made you feel like you could barely breathe, a weight sitting on your chest. 

You couldn't take it. “Thomas!”

When you turned, he was glancing back over his shoulder, face sitting neutral and a single brow raised as he waited for you to keep speaking, but as you took further steps towards him, his face softened a little further. He turned to face you fully, eyes widening a little and his jaw dropped to ask you what was wrong, but he didn’t get a chance. A soft sound left him as your body collided with his, your face pressing into his chest as your arms circled his waist, and his breath was rushed from his lungs at the impact. 

You didn’t know what to say, and so you didn’t say anything, because, after a moment of shock, he seemed to silently get the message. His head boxed, his arms wrapping tightly back around you as he pulled you up to his height, his head bowing as he held you just as securely as you were holding him, and you let the tension in your body slip away for a second, to let him hold you up.

“We’re okay, I promise. As long as you’re okay.” You barely caught his words, mumbled into your hair, and it took you a second to process them but then you were nodding, and pulling yourself even closer to him in that moment. He was warm, and comforting, and now that you were actually holding him, everywhere he wasn’t touching felt cold.

His arms loosened around you, coldness sweeping in around your hands as he moved, and you stole a further second in the embrace, before his arms were falling away fully, and you were letting him go. His jacket was shucked down his arms, his eyes flickering over your face slowly before he was lifting the heavy jacket up and wrapping it over your shoulders, pulling it tightly around you, the fabric already heavy with heat and comfort he’d created. 

He waited as you pushed your arms through the sleeves, a hand closing over your hand, thumb brushing over your palm as he held it up, your skin littered with grazes and raw flesh from the broken concrete you had climbed over. “Go and get cleaned up, alright?”

It felt easier to walk away now, his gaze hadn't been so harsh and his smile was burning into the back of your mind as he turned from you again, jogging over to join Minho and Fry as they were using the cutters to pry open the metal on the side of a car that had become quite contorted as it had roughly collided into another. Newt was already waiting for you, tinkering around the back of the ambulance as he waited, and when he turned to find you at the scuff of your shoes on the floor, the scowl on his face melted away, only to return a second later with much more power. 

“You took off your damn rope?”

“I couldn't reach the patient.” You whispered, a growl leaving his lips, and as he hopped down from the vehicle, wincing a little at the sudden pressure on his leg but ignoring it to walk over to you, your body tensed up. You were prepared to be yelled at again, to be chastised by your friend, and your walls were shooting back up in protection. 

“I was scared. Don’t fucking do that. That’s not what ‘bestest friends in the whole wide world’ are supposed to do, okay?”

You couldn't help the relieved laugh that bubbled from you, your head shaking a little as he stood before you. “Yeah, well, it’s not official until you get it stitched on a t-shirt for me.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll get an extra-large one. You and Tommy can share it.” He was smirking now, tugging at the jacket you had wrapped around yourself, and you flushed with heat, but didn’t flinch. Instead, you wrapped it a little tighter around your body, like a piece of armour, and smirked back.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn't you?” He scoffed as you walked past him, hopping up into the ambulance to reach for the med bag of his that was sitting on the floor, and he took it from your grasp, a hand on your shoulder as he pushed you back to sit on the stretcher. 

It went quiet after that, as he held each of your hands up one at a time, mumbling apologies as he wiped disinfectant over each twisting fingertip, and cleaning the small cuts and scrapes across your palms. You had torn nails with dirt stuck underneath, and he took his time to file them down gently so as not to catch and tear any further, and you bit on your lower lip.

It was startling to be cared for so lovingly by another person. 

He took a clean wipe and cleared the dirt from your face, the aloe cooling against your skin as he said nothing about the tracks within the dirt you were sure existed, made by your tears, or the raw flesh of your lower lip from nervous biting. When it was all done, he brushed a delicate hand over your head, tucking your hair away behind your ears, and offering you a friendly and reassuring smile, before packing away his equipment. 

“You were right.”

“I usually am, love.” He grinned, closing up the backdoors of the ambulance and locking them tight, ready to make your journey back to the firehouse. Your legs swung under you as you watched him pack away, pouting a little bit as you realised that you’d lost your own medkit, your lucky charm that didn’t quite feel so lucky anymore, but it had at least found you House ‘21, and that's all that mattered now. 

“About a year. I know it hasn’t been a full year yet-”

“Almost has!” He chirped, and you followed him up to the front, taking a seat in the passenger seat and doing up your seatbelt securely.

“What I’m trying to say is.. thanks.” He started up the engine, backing out of the spot slowly as his job was all done, and you were well in need of getting back to the house. “Thank you for making me stick around, Newt.”

“Thanks for sticking around.” It was a simple reply, but you caught the meaning hidden underneath, and clearly, you weren’t the only one who struggled with really putting your thoughts and feelings into words. Newt was one of the best friends you had ever had, and for the first time, you were finding a home in a firehouse that you weren’t immediately looking to escape from, but saw a future within. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” He shrugged, eyes fixed on the road, but flicking over to you occasionally. 

“You’re shaking a little.”

You glanced down, finding that you were, in fact, shaking slightly. Your hands balled up into fists, and you tucked them a little further within the sleeves of the coat that you were wearing. “It’s just an aftershock. The adrenaline wearing off.”

It wasn't exactly a lie, the adrenaline you’d been flooded with was beginning to slow down, to fade away, and you were left with slight trembles and some nausea that wouldn't go away for hours, but you could handle that. You’d had the same feelings after the elevator drop, and after going into any burning building for at least thirty minutes, it was always scary. 

You just didn’t want to look any deeper. 

He didn’t push further, but there was a frown on his lips, and despite watching out of the window at the scenery flashing by, you could feel his gaze sometimes move over you, studying you, but silence hung heavy. The car was pulled into the docking bay, and you were still trembling, your mind spinning with everything that you’d encountered, and you hated that it was taking so long for your mind to clear. 

Ever since you were little, all you’d ever wanted to do was help people, to save lives, but there were times when you put yourself at risk to do so. You couldn't help it, when you’d spent so long living alone, you forgot what it was like to have to take other people into consideration. You didn't have much of a family to rely on, but every passing day made the crew of Firehouse ‘21 more and more your family, the people who would be there with you for the rest of your life, and that same burning was coming rushing back to your throat, and the ache behind your eyes. 

The door on the other side of you slammed shut, Newt exiting the vehicle, and your bottom lip shook. Your chest felt tight, and you gripped at your chest underneath the material, a hand freeing from the sleeve to press over your chest, your heart beating erratically underneath. Tears pooled in your eyes, and you took a gasping breath, everything suddenly coming crashing over you, and you could barely suck breath into your lungs despite how much you were gasping and trying to. 

The thoughts in your mind were spiralling so much that they seemed to go into overdrive, a  dizzying array of thoughts that made you feel like you were drowning. It was almost blinding, the flashes of thoughts from within your one head making you feel like you couldn't see, couldn't hear, everything was slipping away into background noise as the unsteady race of your heart, and the support of the door you were leaning on fell away. 

Two hands were holding onto you tightly, pulling you out of the vehicle and your legs gave way, a shock running up your body as your knees collided with the concrete flooring. It was a shock of cold, chilled metal and biting winds against ear stained cheeks, and your lungs were burning as you tried to breathe. 

A warm presence to your side, a hand wrapping over your own and undoing your fingers from the clutching that they held, your nails having dug painfully into damaged palms, and you clung to them instead. It was Newt, the shushing in your ear told you so, holding you tight and steady as you tried to focus, tried to clear your mind and sort through your thoughts, until there was nothing left but the sound of your own sobs echoing around the room. 

You were stronger now, and despite the crying that you couldn't seem to stop, you were able to be pulled to your feet, out of the cold and a wash of heat rolling over you as your feet followed the guidance Newt gave to you, the lights in the rec-room flicking on at his motion over the switch, the pair of your being the first of the team to re-enter upon coming back from a call. You settled down on the couch, curling into the cushions, and trying to get a grip on your raging emotions. 

“You wanna’ take this coat off now? Get comfy?”

They were the first of the words spoken to make any sense, to not be a garbled blur in your ears, and it was at least a good sign as you began to refocus. You nodded slowly, sitting forwards enough to peel the coat from your arms, and it was left sitting over the back of one of the armchairs.

He reached for the remote, the television flickered on in front of you, a movie you didn’t recognise playing on the screen but it gave you stimulation to focus on, your head pressing to the cushion as you sat steadily, shoes kicked off and legs pulled up tightly to your body. 

You didn’t understand much about what was happening on the screen, the characters flicking past and the conversation going over your head, but it was stable enough for you to use as an anchor. The doors opened and closed, you heard the firetrucks pull up, and they progressively trickled into the room. Newt was tinkering in the kitchen behind you, the hob flicking on and the sound of pots and pans clattering lowly, and the couch dipped a little beside you as Brenda sat down.

“Hey, how you doin’?”

Her shoulder bumped against yours, and you twisted your head to look at her, shrugging slightly and offering her the best smile you could. “Better now.”

She only nodded, glancing away over your shoulder, and you had no doubt that Newt was giving them a different story, but it was true. At this moment, you may be fragile, but you had a sneaking suspicion that the panic attack you had was unrelated to the accident at all. You were a paramedic, you worked with firefighter’s, risking your life on a day-to-day basis was just a part of the job description, but you’d made a crack in walls within yourself that you didn’t even realise you’d put up.

You had made breakthroughs in your own mind that you didn't realise needed to be made, and it had been so thoroughly overwhelming that you hadn't been able to handle the influx. Brenda moved, her own coat still sitting on her shoulders and she wandered away to get changed, taking Thomas’ coat with her, and she squeezed your shoulder as she passed you by. 

“Made you some tea.”

Chuck was next, a steaming mug held out in front of you, a mixture of herbal essences curling up into the air and you hummed happily at the smell, reaching out to cup the warm porcelain, your favourite mug holding the drink, and you smiled. “Thanks, Chuck.”

“It’s Gally’s. It had the word ‘relax’ printed in large letters across the front of the box, so I figured it might help.” You brought it closer, sniffling it lightly, and the smell of chamomile and vanilla flooded your senses, your mouth watering a little, desperate to taste, but you resisted. Instead, you blew cool air on it, your eyes flicking up over Chuck’s head as a shadow took over. The boy twisted to look too, his Lieutenant glancing down at him, and he took the hint, offering you a final smile, before he was moving away. 

Thomas took his place, and you sipped your drink as you watched him take a seat before you.

“I’m sorry for getting angry at you.”

“I was being reckless.” You conceded, and his head tipped to the side, his gaze fixed on his hands as he played with his fingers. 

“You were trying to save lives, you were doing your job, and I got protective. If it had been anyone else, I would have understood that. I shouldn’t have gotten mad, when I was supposed to be doing my job, being a Lieutenant, not something else.” He gave out a sigh, like he was chastising himself, and you didn’t want him to, even if he was right. 

“I’m not used to having people who care about me so much. I should have thought about that.” He dared to glance up, a nervous look in his eyes, and your voice remained low, a hushed whisper for a conversation only to be shared between the two of you. “I don’t mean to shut you out, Thomas. Especially not after the other day.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” You mumbled, a pink heat spreading across his cheeks. “It’s all just very new to me. I know you must feel like I’m playing hot and cold, and I’m really sorry about that, but I’m trying to work everything out. I’m trying to work out how I feel. I don’t know how to act around you, sometimes.”

A cheeky glance passed over his face with that, and you rolled your eyes at him, biting on the inside of your cheek to contain your smile as he grinned. “Oh, cut it out. I don’t mean you, I mean all of you. I’m not used to having a family, or such close friends. I’ve never belonged anywhere before.”

“You belong here, with us.” He was honest now, and a hand was pushing out across the cushions between you both, and offering, and you rested your hand over the top of his own. “So, not even a little bit of it was about me?”

“You’re insufferable.” He was beaming once again, clearly knowing just which buttons he was pushing, but his thumb lifted up, closing over your own. “Maybe it was a little bit about you. There’s something, I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s there. It’s different.”

“It’s different for me too.” He mumbled, and his fingers parted, letting yours slip between his to weave together, and that cocky smirk became more of a bashful smile. At least you know that while he may make you flustered, you had the same effect on him. That smile was back, the one you rarely ever saw, cute and shy as he looked at you, and you felt warm under his gaze, but you were unable to look away.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of your chest as you confessed it all, a rock you didn’t even know was there, like someone had been pushing down on your lungs and you were finally able to fight them off. His hand lifted, moving over the back of the couch, until his fingers were toying loosely with the ends of your hair, a tied back bunch that was falling loose from the stress of the day, and his fingers inched up towards the bobble. 

He waited, checking it was okay, before pulling it loose, fingers working through your hair as it was eased down and out of the pattern you’d put it in, to fall loose around your face. His fingers skated over your scalp, soothing the ache within, and you let your eyes fall closed as you sank into the touch he gave you. 

“That was your right of passage!” You bounced on the couch as Brenda fell into place beside you, unbalancing you a little, and her arms wrapped around you as she twisted you to face her a little bit more. Thomas’ hand fell away as he chuckled, and you didn’t even need to ask her what she meant, before she was barreling on; “You almost died-”

“Brenda!” You grinned at the loud shout Newt let out, and she shrugged. 

“What? She did! She knows she did, it ain’t a secret!” The blond huffed, and went back to his cooking, and you turned to face her again. “As I was saying, you almost died, and we rescued you. You really are a member of the team, now!”

“She already was, you moron!” 

“Newt! Shut your mouth!” She hissed, and he stuck his tongue out, and you felt the cushions shift again, lifting your mug to your mouth to hide your expression while waiting for the next voice to chime in. 

“It’s true, I wasn’t a part of the team until I almost fell into a mince grinder in a factory four years ago when the bridges gave it.”

“Oh, dude, c’mon. We’re cooking.” Fry huffed, and Minho shrugged. “Alright, well, mine wasn’t as exciting. Just a fire where the doorway collapsed, eight stories up. Brenda drove the truck around to the side and Gally smashed the window out, he made me jump out of it to reach the ladder.”

“I caught you, didn’t I?” Gally was stirring his own tea, before he came to sit in the armchair to the side of you all, and your attention turned to him, waiting for his story. “I got trapped in a crumbling building, debris fell on me. Thomas dug me out.”

You turned to face Thomas, his hand still sitting behind your head stretched out along the couch, tapping at the cushions, and he directed his gaze to you when he realised he had your attention. “What about you?”

“My story?” You nodded, and he swallowed thickly. Everyone else seemed just as caught in curiosity, as though they didn’t know the story, and he seemed lost in his thoughts. “Mine is a little different. It came before the firehouse. I was in a house fire when I was younger, my mom was pretty badly hurt, a lot of trauma, she never fully recovered. Newt lived across the road, we couldn't have been any more than six, but he came over the next day, and asked me if I needed a friend. I don’t think I’d be the same person I am if it wasn’t for him, he’s stuck by my side ever since. Does that count?”

Silence hung over you all, and you turned to face him a little more, his eyes locked on yours, despite everyone else in the room, and you nodded. “It counts.”

“So, you’re telling me that I need to almost die to be a part of this team?” Chuck sounded utterly appalled, and you couldn't hide your laughter, the sound mixed with everyone else's as it echoed around the room, harmonious mixing like wolves howling.

“Well, that and passing your exams, kiddo.” You bit your lip upon speaking the words, and the amusement in the room only continued, the hand from behind your body slipping down to rest over your shoulders, and you leaned into him once again. 

The stories continued being passed around, and there was an overwhelming sense of camaraderie as they all relived the moments that had bonded them so intensely. This was what made them a family, and what made them so important to one another. This was what you’d never had before, you’d never fit into a team like this. Every house was different; dynamics and friendships and interpersonal relationships, but you’d never found your fit before now. 

You wanted to fit in, you had wanted it for so long. Craved family and friends and to know that you had a place, and being here with them felt right, and yet it was like dread was hanging over you, sitting on the throne but having a sword on a fraying rope overhead. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong, to prove to you that you weren’t supposed to be here, that your life would be spent as a wanderer, and that this was as close as you would get.

“So, what movie are we watching? It doesn’t look very good.”

“That’s because it’s not an action movie, Minho. They’re all you watch.” Thomas sighed, and you shrugged. 

“I don’t know, Newt chose it.”

“Uh, no, wait a damn minute, missy.” The voice was closer than you expected, and Newt came to round the couch, kicking a foot at Chuck and telling him to move up on the other couch, offering you a bowl of pasta by placing it down on the coffee table before you. The gesture went unspoken but not missed, still trying to help soothe you, as though he knew you even better than he knew himself. “I did not choose the movie, it was just what came on when the television turned on.”

“So I can pick something else?”

“No, Min, you have awful taste in movies.” Your partner scowled, snatching the controller from him, and the group began to bicker, discussing what movie you would all watch, as though you wouldn't likely be interrupted by another call, or the end of your shift. You could always hope to reach the end. 

Lips brushed over your ear, and you paused, breath held as you waited to see what Thomas had to say. “What are you thinking about?”

It was a loaded question, the real meaning hidden between the lines. He wanted to know if you were thinking about him, or more specifically, all of them. It all felt too good to be true, too tempting, like a siren song. 

And yet, as warm honey eyes stared at you expectantly, soft and patient, a plate with a freshly-made snack from someone who loved you sitting on the table and a hot drink that was cooling in your hands, you placed the mug down, knowing that right now, you were willing to take part in the illusion, to put all thoughts aside and just accept what you had right now.

“Nothing. I don’t want to think right now. I just want to be here with you all.” He nodded his head, and you leaned forward to put your drink down on the table with your meal. “With you.”

“Okay, angel.”

The pet name made your stomach do flips, his confirmation having a deeper meaning beyond simply acknowledging your statement. He was accepting your feelings, and accepting that you needed time, but that you were processing how you felt. He was just accepting you for your trying, and giving you the time you needed. He leaned forwards, pressing a kiss to your forehead that made something spark in your guts, an excited anxiety at the gesture. 

He backed away, giving you space, and yet you didn’t want it. Shuffling forwards a little more, his face little up in something indescribable as you rested against him, head settling on his shoulder and an arm wrapping around his waist, and barely a second passed before he was holding you back. You didn't want to talk about it, or put any kind of label on it like ‘cuddling’, which Newt would undoubtedly do the next time he got you alone, because you still didn't know what it meant. All you knew was that right now, you wanted it.

For the first time in what felt like decades, you allowed yourself to be truly vulnerable with the people around you.

#thomas #firefighter!tommy #ff!tommy #SAF #smoke and fire #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #thomas the maze runner #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut

[totallyexhausted]

So, I am re-watching Danny Phantom and the idea of Lancer caring for an ill Danny crossed my mind after I read all the ones I could find. I also toyed with Danny’s powers; him being able to change, obviously, but also seance and see dead spirits (and ghosts; leaving spirits and ghosts as separate entities) walking around. Basically, I upped the rating on Danny Phantom and combined Klaus Hargreeves powers with Danny’s own abilities.

Also, I’ll say, and maybe it’s the song I’m listening to, or the fact that I was reworking Greenberg and Coach from TW, but I got the picture of Danny showing up at Lancer’s door, high off his ass mumbling about Sam, Ghosts, and other teenager things.

…………………………………..

Lance Lancer had never seen a kid so sick, nor did he remember his own son ever being this ill. Danny groaned loudly, curling further into himself, his arms tightly protecting his stomach as his nails dug bloody indents on his forearms. He was shivering, his ghost sense going off every few minutes, creating a barely visible burst of cold air biting back against his sweaty flesh. He clenched his eyes shut as he tried to forget about the spirits flooding the room. As he tried to forget their voices, their screams, their hands brushing over him as they pleaded for him to look. As they begged for him to help.

Lancer bit his bottom lip as he pressed his hand harder against the 17-year-old’s shaking front shoulder, his other trying to work through some of the knots plaguing the boy’s shoulder blades. He shouldn’t have this many tight muscles, this much stress forced in his back at his age… and the fact that Danny seemed to curl tighter into himself, straining his muscles further every time he took a slow, shallow breath, worried the English teacher more.

The teenager groaned again, clenching his eyes shut tighter as he swallowed quickly, letting out a shaky breath. He stilled, hoping his lack of movement would help ease the nausea stampeding through his body and after taking several slow breaths, he relaxed. He hated being sick… not that anyone loved puking their guts out for hours, let alone in someone else’s home, but his ghost sense always made him on-edge, unable to sleep peacefully or unwind. Every spark of Ghost-breath as Tucker called it, sent violent shivers through him making it harder for his body to heat or cool properly.

The last time Danny remembered being this sick was a few days after the Accident. He’d been on a famous “Fenton Family Vacation,” which was just code for some lame ghost-convention his parents attended every year, forcing their two kids to cram in the RV for a 12-hour car trip to some middle-class hotel. Usually, Jazz and Danny occupied their time exploring the city or making fun of the people who attended the convention. But since the Accident a few days before, for Danny, the family vacation turned into 3-days of complete feverish hell as his body tried to figure out how to survive with only half an immune system, half the person he used to be.

There wasn’t much to remember from that experience except cold showers, endless puking, aimless wondering in some sauna-type hotel as Danny tried running from himself, and the vague memory of leaning against his father several times as his mother coaxed him to take whatever foul-tasting liquid she wanted him to drink. Whether or not his parents actually attended the convention, or if Jazz had explored the same boring city, Danny couldn’t remember. But he remembered his parents arguing, his sister cradling him to her chest on the bathroom floor, and at some point, crouching under the bathroom counter as he forced himself small, trying to hide from the green-eyed, white-haired kid in the mirror or the bloody, contorted people following him. Since then, sickness never came easy despite his immune system being half-dead or ghosted or whatever it was Tucker had told him.

The 17-year-old pressed his face against the comforter, lessening the pain shooting through his temples as the thought of puking again slowly began to evade, and his head welcomed the soft cool fabric cushioning the migraine eating away at his jawline. He was lying at the edge of the bed, curled into what had to be a pathetic sweaty ball, his knees pulled halfway to his chest as he braced his arms across his stomach. This was hell. It had to be. Because only some sick fuck would make him miserable, feverishly grasping what little reality he could hold onto, and so nauseous he couldn’t move, away from his parents with only Mr. Lancer as his only comfort. It was some kind of sick joke.

Danny’s stomach churned, and he swallowed hard, his hands clammy against his overheated skin, trying to will whatever else he could possibly still have in his stomach, back down. He stilled again, breathing shallowly through his nose, feeling his stomach relax slightly. He sighed internally, praying to God he was done puking as heat lit through his veins, and Danny lurched, retching loudly as he shut his eyes, willing for everything to stop. He had no strength left to hold himself up; his mind fuzzy and everything hard to piece together through sweaty nauseating moments. He whimpered as he lurched again, retching as bitter acidic bile spewed from his mouth, running down his chin, and the 17-year-old coughed harshly, tightening his grip across his stomach, and clenching his eyes shut as he struggled to breathe through the rest of it.

He felt something wipe across his chin and mouth, his stomach lurching further at the thought of the humiliation of being so exhausted and sick he couldn’t even be bothered to wipe any of his vomit away from him. Danny whimpered loudly, letting foul saliva pool from his mouth as his stomach heaved, hanging his head off the edge of the bed over what he had been hoping for the past two hours was a wastebasket… but considering Lancer had rapidly become more concerned with other ailments such as the teenager’s temperature or the tight muscles straining in his shoulders and back, the 17-year-old was willing to bet the dark wooden floor wasn’t pretty. He’d also been too scared to look, not wanting the guilt of Lancer having to clean up his vomit added onto the guilt and humiliation he already felt.

“Alright. Easy, Daniel. It’s alright… just let it all up. It’s alright,” Lancer said as softly as he could. He was pretty sure the kid was mostly delirious by now, his fever spiking as sweat layered on top of him, soaked through damp clothes and sheets that were plastered to the teenager’s pale skin. He couldn’t even hold himself up anymore, his face pressed against the edge of the bed while Lancer kept a firm grasp on his shoulder so the kid wouldn’t topple off.

Lancer pressed the disregarded and mostly warm rag from the nightstand against the teenager’s face; forehead, cheeks, neck, trying his best to mop up as much sweat as he could, trying to cool Danny off as much as he could without physically carrying him into the bathroom and forcing him under a cold shower. It wasn’t ideal, and Lancer knew from previous experience with his own son, it wouldn’t be pretty; but considering Lancer was currently in charge of the poor kid, he was willing to do whatever was necessary. He’d just never seen a kid so sick.

Lightening flashed outside as a branch scrapped against the glass windowpane, thunder clashing loudly as rain continued to beat against the old house. The small leak in the roof audible in the kitchen as tiny droplets fell against some crappy tin figurines his wife failed to take in the divorce. Lancer had always hated them… but he didn’t have the heart to toss them… or admit to himself that those stupid scrap metal trinkets were his last thread he had tied to her. His last hope that maybe she’d come back. But it’d been 12 years… and she wasn’t coming back. Neither was Charlie.

Danny coughed harshly, flinching as something cool touched the back of his neck, brushing sweaty sticky hair matted to his neck from his burning flesh. He felt like he was on fire. No, worse… his core was always cold, freezing almost; so, his temperature was lower than any other humans. So, the fire eating away at his muscles and memories, was excruciating.

He coughed again, wheezing slightly as his heart skipped. He had to be breathing faster than normal… hell, he was breathing faster than normal. Air sucked through achy lungs and forced out through a dry mouth as his heart tried keeping up the pace. He swallowed, pulling his knees further to his chest, shivering again as his ghost sense went off, and he opened his eyes slightly, wincing as the dark room spun in a multitude of blacks, browns, and dark purples. Red mixed against almost translucent flesh as faces inched closer, and Danny’s stomach lurched, hard, as his eyes met the contorted and split face of a middle-aged man in coveralls.

The teenager choked, swallowing loudly as his stomach cramped again, barely feeling Lancer’s hands trying desperately to work out the clenched muscles in his back. Blood dripped from the man’s face; his appearance split into two as his smile dropped in opposite directions. Normally, Danny could ignore it; ignore them… but it was worse when he was vulnerable. He couldn’t block them out. And to be completely honest, the past couple of months hadn’t been easy on him.

He and Sam had broken up before they ever began dating. Tucker had maintained under the radar both boyfriends and girlfriends while helping his childhood crush, Valerie, pick off the ghosts Danny had missed. They were still close, the three of them; but Sam had been more distant, avoiding plans with Danny when it was just the two of them… and deep down the teenager knew it was his fault. Everything was.

The 17-year-old bit his lip, blood coating his tongue as he buried his nails further against his flesh. Sam had almost died. She had been willing to sacrifice everything for Danny… and that was something Danny would never have been able to live with. He had fucked up. He had tried to help… and she had almost died. The faint tan scars still visible against her neckline, shining as a reminder in the sunlight and under the florescent lighting in the chemistry lab. Since then, she’d been doing her best to avoid Danny, and Danny let her. He couldn’t face her. He didn’t know how.

That had been months ago, but it still flooded the teenager’s mind every time he glanced in her direction. Every time their hands touched in chemistry… every time she forced a watered-down excuse past purple lipstick. The sigh. That sigh. She had been scared of him that night. He saw it. The fear plagued across her face. The horror. And Danny didn’t blame her because he scared himself nowadays too.

He felt colder than he had been in his youth, emotions concrete against things that troubled his peers. His demeanor seemed further away as he toppled over the puny shadow of his early years. He wasn’t a pushover; Dash didn’t come near him anymore… but he was still outcasted, marked freakshow as newer threats and tougher bullies appeared. Sam had borne witness to things Tucker knew nothing about; she had seen a darker side of Danny that the teenager tried so damn hard to hide. But it was getting harder… the spirits were bleeding through more and more, scratching his mind and haunting him with nightmares that kept the 17-year-old up most nights. Nothing was a comfort anymore. Not even his friends. Not even his sister.

The teenager’s stomach lurched again, and he felt cooper flood his mouth as he bit his lip harder, forcing his eyes shut, cutting off the images around him as the spirits continued to scream. He breathed through his nose slowly, feeling Lancer’s hand grip his fingers as he tried to pry the teenager’s grip baring against his sweaty flesh.

“Wuthering Heights, Daniel!” Lancer breathed, still trying to force Danny’s fingers away from his arm as the small bloody marks from his nails became visible. Despite visibly shaking, and his breathing coming in teeth-chattering waves, Lancer was surprised Danny’s grip remained resilient. Likewise, when Danny had grabbed his wrist in the hallway earlier, when Lancer had startled the teenager, his icy-blue eyes daggered towards him, watching the older man’s actions, his fingers tight and threatening around his wrist… Lancer had been taken aback by the teenager’s strength. Just like now.

The English teacher sighed, giving up and pressing his hand against the 17-year-old’s shoulder once more as Danny lurched, coughing harshly. Concern and sympathy ate away at Lancer’s expression; his own actions feeling clumsy and foreign as he tried to soothe the teenager as much as he could. As much as he remembered. But he hadn’t comforted his own son in almost 12 years… and Danny had become much more distant and independent over the past three. So, the comfort Lancer used to try and reassure the kid, felt awkward, just as the sickened pain written across the teenager’s pale face, looked wrong.

The lights flickered above, and Lancer glanced up, hoping he wasn’t going to lose power as that would add to his already worrying list of problems. Lightening cracked again, a tree in the front yard visible momentarily as a branch fell against the window, rain threatening to break glass, and the distant sound of a tornado signal blaring through Amity Park.

Danny whimpered loudly, clenching his eyes as voices cut through his skull, pounding against the pain enveloped in his forehead and cheekbones, trailing down his jawline and neck. The bed spun despite the teenager being curled into a tight motionless ball, sweat falling from his hairline as the smell of body odor reached his nostrils, and the 17-year-old gagged.

Lancer pressed a reassuring hand against the teenager’s shoulder, murmuring he’d be right back before rising, grabbing the lukewarm rag from the nightstand, and trashcan from beside the bed as he made his way towards the kitchen. After replacing the trash bag and running the rag through cold water, Lancer sighed loudly, pressing his hands against the counter as he watched water droplets forming through the small hole in his ceiling and ping against the metal statues harbored on the bar.

He huffed again, running a tired hand over his bald head as he stared at his reflection in the dark window. The electricity shut off as the lights flickered before the microwave beeped loudly as the powerlines fought against the storm. He didn’t need this. And if there was any type of superior being looking out for him, they’d keep the lights on. At least, Lancer would have one thing going for him then.

He sighed again, glancing towards the direction of his guestroom then back towards his reflection. It was nearing 5am, and despite the sun aimed to rise in an hour, Lancer doubted it would bleed through the storm that had showed no signs of letting up. He wished it would, wished the skies would clear… wished flights would take off because that meant Danny’s parents and sister could fly home. They’d be able to take better care their son… they’d know what to do. Lancer didn’t. He hadn’t been a dad in years… he hadn’t looked after someone in years…

Danny had been miserable all day, this had become evident to Lancer in 4th period as he berated the teenager for once again sleeping in his class. His cocky, sarcastic attitude pushing the English teacher to his limit as he awarded the 17-year-old with another days’ detention. But it hadn’t been until later that Lancer began to notice things he should have seen to begin with. The dark circles, pale complexion, the bloody nose, and red tint painted across sharp cheekbones; his voice, cracked and sudden, as Danny retorted sarcasm aimed to hurt… his stare gazing past whatever Lancer had been teaching, staring at nothing but looking at everything.

Lancer shook his head as he glanced down at the red coffee cup and abandoned bowl of cereal lying in the sink. This had not been in his Wednesday evening plans… then again, there was no way in hell Lancer was going to let the teenager go home to an empty house. Lord knows what could have happened, and the fact that Danny’s temperature had spiked in the night, confirmed any doubts the older man had of letting the kid stay with him until his parent’s plane landed, which had been grounded until tomorrow evening, at best.

The older man glanced back towards his reflection, catching sight of the radar flashing across the television in his living room, silently. The storm was huge, coming from the Gulf, pressure building from the North and East as it moved slowly over Amity Park. And it was only expected to get worse which was ironically befitting. Lancer had played with the idea of taking Danny to the Emergency Room several times within the past few hours; the only thing stopping him was the question of what was more dangerous: Danny’s illness or the storm?

Jack Fenton had argued while on the phone with Lancer that he had half a mind to rent a car and drive back, despite it being a 20-hour drive back to upstate New York. But much to the English teacher’s amusement, Mr. Fenton’s plan had been shot down from his wife in the background, asking Lancer the condition of her son. Danny’s sister groaning loudly in the background, yelling something about embarrassment. But that had been yesterday evening…

And now. Danny couldn’t keep anything down, not even the miniscule amounts of water Lancer had encouraged him to take to prevent dehydration. His fever had spiked from 102 yesterday to 104.8 through the night, and most of the hardened demeanor Lancer had come to expect from his pupil over the years, was vanquished within a matter of hours. The tough, fuck-you-attitude Danny had adapted, was replaced with the youthfulness of his age. Only 17. He was still a kid; scared, alone, and whether he wanted to admit it, trying his best not to cause his teacher any further inconveniences than he already had. And despite Lancer finding the teenager’s attempts admirable, he found himself at a loss of trying to convince not only the teenager, but himself, that he only wanted to help, to make the kid feel better. But Lancer was so far out of his parental element, and he’d never seen a kid so sick before.

It hadn’t taken long once Lancer had settled down for the night, warming his hands against a mug of tea, quietly watching the news, for things to take a turn. Danny had been rather quiet during the drive to Lancer’s house, slumped in the passenger side, forehead pressed against frosted glass and still mumbling in disagreement with whoever thought he needed a babysitter every couple of minutes. The 17-year-old had attempted to convince Lancer he was fine, that he felt better since puking in detention, and his parents were overreacting. And despite sloppily scribbling through his homework, half of which the older man was certain Danny hadn’t even bothered to read, the teenager remained sullen, flushed, barely touching the sandwich Lancer had offered.

After some time spent brooding in a chair at the kitchen table, Danny had apparently concluded his English teacher wasn’t going to take him home anytime soon. He seemed more compliant then, taking up to inspecting Lancer’s memorabilia instead, trying his best to leave everything exactly as he’d found it. The older man had admired how careful the 17-year-old had been when picking up photos or knickknacks, casting weird what-the-hell-is-this glances towards his teacher as he explored.

Something sounded to his right, and Lancer blinked, running another hand over his head as he cleared his mind. Most of the things taking up refuge in the old house were objects ghosted with the memories of previous family, previous love, a previous life. He had never had the heart to take them down… it was creepily comforting.

Lancer sighed, reaching for the water-soaked rag puddling on the counter as something moved in the corner of his eye causing the older man to jump. He turned, facing the 17-year-old leaning heavily against the wooden arch of the hallway, shaking as he pressed a hand firmly against the wall for support, the rest of his lanky form hunched.

“Great Gatsby, Fenton! What are you doing up?” Lancer advanced, his tone slightly harsher than intended causing the older man to grimace. The teenager looked fairly close to passing out, a hand on his stomach firmly, the other grasped at flat wallpaper. Sweat trailing down his flushed face, forming in droplets at the kid’s chin before melting into his sweat-soaked shirt. Red set high across the bridge of his nose, painting his cheeks as he opened his mouth to speak before closing it, confusion setting across his features.

Lancer made a move towards the teenager as Danny stepped back, his eyes wide as they observed the older man cautiously. The English teacher raised an eyebrow, taking another step forward, a sick feeling sitting in the pit of his stomach as the teenager recoiled once more. Lancer cursed softly, pushing his hand towards the 17-year-old slowly, his voice low and calm as Danny reeled back. Lancer hesitated, “I’m not going to hurt you, Daniel.”

Danny pressed against the wall as Lancer took another step forward, leaning a shoulder against the wall, his eyebrows furrowing together as he tried to focus on the swimming interior around him. He couldn’t breathe, the air around him sucked from tired lungs, voices piercing through his head as he raised a shaky hand to his ear, wincing loudly as the spirits around him grew louder. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling his body struggle against the wall supporting him as he jerked away, wincing again as questions pelted him, begging, pleading for his help, for him to look. Look. Look! Just look at what had happened to them!

“Daniel?” Lancer questioned quickly, stepping forward again as the teenager gasped loudly, forcing a hand against his left ear as blood began dripping slowly from his nose, his shoulder slamming against the ugly wallpaper, “Daniel? Danny! Hey!”

The 17-year-old felt something brush against his wrist, and he forced his eyes open against the harsh lights flickering above him. Everything was hot, confusing, mashed together in a nauseating off-kilter vibrancy that hurt; his legs refusing to support him, lungs unwilling to take air as panic took over as he tried to clear his head, as he tried to remember where the hell he was.

He grimaced, sliding against the wall as his legs fought to keep him upright. He felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, weird, gone. He swallowed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, fear crossing his face as he pulled back, red sticky liquid coating his fingertips. Tears threatened to spill as he tried to catch his breath. This was his fault. Everything. And now he had blood on his hands. Sam’s blood.

Piercing cut through as Danny pressed a shoulder to his ear, crying out as the man in coveralls laughed, reaching towards him. Danny dropped to his knees, his fingers trembling as they slid down the wallpaper, forcing a picture of a little boy in a baseball uniform to the ground; the glass breaking around it as it smashed against the wood flooring. Tears clouded his vision as he glanced towards the photo, the blonde-haired kid morphing, mirroring Danny’s own reflection through splintered glass.

“No,” The 17-year-old choked, pulling the photo from the floor, glass splinters slicing his trembling fingers as the kid’s gap-tooth smile distorted. He couldn’t breathe; suffocating fear eating away at him as he realized he was gone. The kid in the photo was gone. Taken, dead, his soul split, lifeless as the portal had taken everything from him. He had died, leaving behind grief and broken disappointment. His friend’s hurt, bleeding out on the side of the road as Danny struggled to hold onto any humanity he had. As he struggled to save those he should have left long ago.

Blood dotted the photo, the boy’s face hidden by crimson, and Danny wiped his hand under his nose again, smearing blood across his face. The innocent boy in the photo was gone; he had killed himself in the Accident, left behind by evil contentment and a nightmarish reality that he’d never been good enough. He was broken, built in a sweetness that no longer existed, a black gaping hole where his soul was, under aching ribs, sweaty skin and a tormented, fucked up version of himself. A black pit of beautiful disappointment. An unlovable thing. He had become something unlovable, the portal killing the good and resurrecting the bad, and even that wasn’t worth much. He wasn’t worth much.

Danny gagged harshly, crumpling the photo in his hands as the leftover glass pressed into his palm. The floor swaying under his body as he grasped the wall for any support he could find. He wanted to go back; to be his parent’s innocent little boy again, to forget about the shitstorm around him, forget about the portal, forget about those he’d hurt, the blood he’d shed. But that was unfixable. He was. And unforgivable. He’d hurt Sam; hurt others, the blood of death splattered on what was left of himself, his human self. And in the end, he was the cause of everything; the collector of souls, the Grim Reaper labelled by Freakshow years ago. The bringer of death.

Lancer took another cautious step forward, crunching down before reaching once more towards the teenager as Danny crumpled sideways, slamming against the wall beside him. The older man faltered. Sweat glistened against the 17-year-old’s face as he gulped for air, his breathing harsh and sporadic as he pressed a trembling hand against his chest, eyes towards Lancer, clearly alarmed by his own breathing. He coughed roughly, doubling over as he caught his breath, and Lancer reached towards the kid, his fingers brushing against the sweat-soaked cotton fabric clinging to Danny’s shoulders.

The 17-year-old flinched, shoving his English teacher away from him harshly, wincing again as he pressed his shoulder to his left ear. He fell backwards, his knees failing him as he slammed against the wall, his head smacking against the small hall table. Darkness swallowed him momentarily, his hands shaking as the photo was crumpled tighter in his hands, letting out a strangled cry as the spirits towered over him, their eyes white, pupils missing as they shouted his name.

The electricity failed as the teenager recoiled violently, and Lancer swore the kid’s cold-blue eyes flashed green before the lights flickered back on, the light in the living room broke, glass shattering to the ground as Danny flinched, gripping one of the iron legs of the hall table, tightly. He eyed Lancer, his knuckles white against black, his forehead pressed against the cold metal, his breathing labored as he pulled his knees towards him in an effort to make his lanky form small.

The 17-year-old coughed, the sound hurting his chest, forcing his headache to crawl, spreading across his shoulders. He grasped at the metal leg of the table, yearning for more cold than the iron rod was willing to give as he sucked in breath after breath. He couldn’t think anymore, the heat had taken everything from him, had taken his core, leaving him with a spinning floor, voices flooding in dizzying waves, and the horrifying notion he was surrounded by death. He had died… the portal had stolen half of him, and now, the nightmares screaming at him, had killed whatever he had left. And the photo crushed in his hand was all he had of forgotten innocence.

Phantom had taken everything. And no one knew. No one understood. The beating, aching heart pounding in his chest was a lie. He was soulless; Phantom was soulless. Welcoming the darkness that swallowed the person Danny once was. And everything else, everything he did, was insignificant. His life was insignificant, a short dull buzz, a flicker. Just shit that happened and none of it meant anything. It was the flick on his lighter as he tried cupping his trembling hands against the wind, trying to spark one of the cigarettes he’d stolen from his father; the light fading, barely there; lighting what has killing him. Because no one wanted Danny Fenton. He was just a mask of stupid disappointment, broken and haunted by his past, damaged by unlovable fear. A shell of a person; a shell of a kid with nothing else to offer the world except the blood he was willing to spill. And then, life moved on.

Something pressed against his wrist, and the teenager yanked it back quickly, clawing at the back of his neck with both hands as he pressed his forehead against his knees, trembling as he tried blocking out all of them. Tried blocking out the tormented and lost souls swallowing him. He clawed again at the back of his neck, pressing his head between his sweaty arms as he rocked on his heels.

Something wet splashed against his joggers, barely noticeable against the heat plaguing him as the 17-year-old coughed. He clenched his arms over his ears as he realized he was crying, hard. He felt sick, wrong, the ghost sense no longer going off because he had nothing else left to give. Tears sliding down overheated flesh, meshing against black cotton as loud pleas left his mouth, the taste of blood sitting on his tongue. Something grabbed his arm, and Danny choked, “Please go away. Please go away. Go away. Go away. Go away...”

His parents would be disappointed. His sister would be a wreck. If they knew. Knew he had killed himself years ago; that the innocence that he once had, was gone; eaten away by the things his parents aimed to hurt. Danny Fenton had surrounded himself in a hypocritical tranquility; believing nothing past the Ghost Zone yet praying to God every night that there was a way out, a way away from himself, from Phantom. Because despite the good he’d done, bad followed him further, bathing his body in the blood of those around him. Sam’s screams, her tears, the fear she felt as Danny shred the last remaining hope of becoming more than the ghost killing him.

Some people deserved to die, and yet, he was the exception. An unkillable thing because the Accident had done that for him; and no amount of pills, cuts, stupid mistakes, or blood could take that from him. A cosmic joke of isolated soulless bullshit. The 17-year-old dug his nails harder into the back of his neck, coughing on the blood in the back of his throat as it smeared further down his chin. Tears mixed with the monster he’d become, crushing his heart as the reality of himself, the fact that no amount of water could wash away the pain he’d caused others, was coated in blood on halfa hands. An unholy thing.

Someone laughed, and Danny flinched, digging harder as something sticky coated his fingertips. The spirits were louder, yelling for him, scratching his skin as they tried forcing him to look; to look at their pain, to look at what had happened to them, at what he had done to them. The 17-year-old gagged as the scent of blood, dirt, and rotting flesh overpowered him. This was his fault. Their lives. Their souls. Death had collected those around him, pulling their individualities from themselves as the teenager tried to hang onto his. Danny was drowning in death, spirits shredding him, ghosts pulling him apart molecule-by-molecule as he constructed more damage than his parents ever could.

Air fell between his lips as his lungs refused to take any more. He couldn’t do this anymore. He needed his friends, his family- but they didn’t need him. They needed Phantom. Leaving Fenton as nothing more than a liability, a liar with cops and parents, a part-time substance abuser as he tried killing what everyone needed. Danny refused to move, pressing his body as hard as he could against the wall as spirits crowded him, ripping skin from his body, screaming for him to look at the damage around him, the lives he had taken.

The grip tightened on his arm, clawing at bruised skin as his world morphed and the ground hovered below him. He was pulled up, his body slamming against the spirits pulling towards him, no longer able to cooperate himself. He gagged loudly as he forced his eyes open, meeting the upside-down bloodied split face of the man in coveralls, an elderly woman praying in the corner, the back of her head blown off revealing dark grey matter.

Danny heaved as some of the grey matter fell from the woman’s white hair to her rosary, liquid meshing against him as the man in coveralls slapped another man, his head decapitating slightly, spewing blood across his vision. The teenager groaned as he glanced towards a German couple screaming at each other in the hall, the wall moving as hot fingers braced against the memories etched in the wood paneling and ugly wallpaper. He whimpered as he locked eyes with a small boy reading in the corner; the boy glanced up from his book and waved towards Danny as the 17-year-old wheezed.

Words passed his ears, muttered and useless as the pleas continued to pierce his mind. Red tears of pain he’d caused, spirits forcing him to look; their bodies distorted and warped as they screamed for the souls he had taken. The ones that had left him, a bloody and tormented ending of human life. His death was coming fast, Danny knew. He could feel it. A sudden drop-off from connection, any humanity left, falling moment-by-moment, a punctuating ending happening so involuntary fast as those would soon realize the monster he had become; realize the death he had collected. Danny retched weakly as the man in coveralls forced his head together, pain screaming from his mouth as lips that no longer wanted to meet, met, and hatred ate away at his features before the heat that fell from the 17-year-old washed over them, their bodies disappearing in the flames.

Danny gagged as the smell of menthol and stale sweat filled his nostrils, his head falling back further as a heartbeat echoed around him. Sweat trailing upward as blood fell back down in a disheveled passion, choking any air left, and the teenager’s body gave out. His eyes connected with the flames engulfing the man in coveralls, his disgust bleeding from his eyes as his face separated again before he disappeared in the fire. Danny whispered, “I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry I couldn’t save anyone…”

His vision failed as he continued floating through those he couldn’t protect… and death swallowed what was left.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Danny had fallen asleep, and relief settled across Lancer’s features as he took another slow sip of his tea, leaning further back in the couch. The teenager had been pretty quiet, but his looks and constant moving had become a distraction to the older man as he tried re-reading Pride and Prejudice. It’d been a long time since there’d been a kid in his home, and Lancer had forgotten how annoying they could be despite wrangling them during class as he desperately tried to pour some type of education into his students.

Lancer set his book down, glancing towards the television as the weatherman showed another map of the storm outside, the pictures flashing silently across the screen as Lancer hit mute. He sighed as rain began to pelt against the roof, the shutters on his windows slamming against the old brick harshly, and thunder echoing around a few other houses in the neighborhood as wind threatened to tear down the old house. It was going to be a long night if the storm kept up and the damage was probably going to cost him a fortune considering his salary wasn’t worth a lot these days.

The teenager coughed, and Lancer turned to see the kid curled at the other end of the couch. His head resting on the armrest at an awkward angle, his knees drawn to his chest as he refused to take any more space than needed, as he tried to force as much distance between himself and his teacher as possible. He shivered slightly, and Lancer wondered whether he should have told his charge to take the guestroom or given him a blanket… or checked for fever. After all, the 17-year-old had been trying to convince the teacher he was fine over the last few hours, but something about him, something about his demeanor told Lancer otherwise.

Lancer sighed again, setting his mug on the coffee table, eyeing the pile of books crammed into the rickety wooden shelf as it slanted forward. He needed to fix it, to buy another one before it fell, or before the weight of the books forced it down. He swallowed loudly as his eyes met the ripped, yellowed copy of Catcher in the Rye, dust coating it as it lay on the top shelf, untouched and abandoned for years. Despite all the books Lancer had reread, all the books he spent his nights enveloped in, that one, that book, he refused to touch… refused to move, to think about, to reread. Memories sat in its pages, crushed between folded pieces of paper from being read over and over, and that was something Lancer didn’t want to revisit, to think about, to remember.

Danny shifted uncomfortably, and the English teacher leaned back again, pulling his book from his lap once more, opening to the page he’d left off on. Considering it was closing in on midnight, Lancer debated heading to bed, but he hadn’t reread Jane Austen in a while. And besides, with the storm raging outside, and a kid he would feel guilty about waking, the older man considered waiting to see if he would need to dig the flashlights from the back of his silverware drawer before making any further decisions.

The ceiling fan sputtered slightly as the lights flickered, and Lancer grit his teeth as the teenager shivered again, his teeth chattered momentarily. Lancer sighed. The situation was uncomfortable needless to say; but Lancer had been a teacher and dad long enough to know that kids were good at hiding things… especially Daniel as he always had some excuse for his tardiness, his absences… his injuries. And a simple cold could turn quickly because most of the students at Casper High were walking petri dishes. Besides, Lancer and Danny’s parents agreed it was best, if the teenager were to become ill, to be surrounded by someone who could look after him or take responsibility for him if he were taken to the hospital seeing as he was still a minor and given the circumstances.

So yeah, the situation was uncomfortable; and Lancer knew that pissed Danny off. But the Fenton’s had gone with Jasmine to visit several Universities, refusing to let their only daughter attend if they couldn’t ensure the campuses were safe from ghosts. An amusing and almost stupid idea but considering Amity Park had seen its fair share of ghosts, not ridiculous. Besides Lancer could understand the Fenton’s concern, their protectiveness over their children as he once had felt it too. He knew what it was like to want to hide your kids from the evil in the world… to protect them, to hurt anything that hurt them, to give them everything. But that was gone now.

The lights flickered again as the screen door slammed against the side of the house. Wind howling outside as the news channel flashed a weather advisory warning across the screen, and Lancer exhaled, setting his book down, and leaning further against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest, closing his eyes. It’d been a long day… like most. Lancer spent a good portion of his time trying to keep a classroom of 17-year-olds from laughing over the cringing dramaticism of The Mysteries of Udolpho. Considering most of the books he taught were classic romanticism or gothic, the English teacher understood he was faced with a level of immaturity from his students. After all, it was hard for 17-year-olds to fully grasp the concept of metaphorical and real monsters of society.

The other portion of his day was spent grading poorly written essays over whatever topic he had sought to assign his students for the week. Honestly, Lancer had come to the conclusion that the only capable student in his class, after Jasmine Fenton had graduated two years prior, was Tucker Foley. If only his intelligence would rub off on Daniel, Lancer would have very little to worry about. Clearly, the teenager was capable of decent grades as Lancer had always been surprised when Fenton passed an exam or book report. But he seemed more concerned in his peers, in his life outside academics, to give his grades the attention they needed. He wasn’t stupid, Lancer knew that… and considering he came from a family thriving on higher IQ’s than half the city, the English teacher was sure that if Danny put even a little effort in his studies, he’d have no problem climbing to number one in his graduating class just as Jazz had.

But Jasmine Fenton had been competitive; aiming for greatness through academics and challenging those who threatened her perfect GPA. Daniel, however, competed with his teachers, refusing their help as he challenged them, challenged Lancer on a daily basis. Danny’s comments and cockiness had become a problem in his classroom; his antics or clownishness, difficult, as he proved how very little he cared about his grades. And despite his attitude problem, the older man was almost certain the teenager suffered from ADHD, which would explain his inability to focus most of the time and his forgetfulness.

Today had been no different. And Lancer had given the 17-year-old several chances to correct his behavior, letting his less-than-quiet remarks slide under the radar as he continued teaching. But with the constant bickering between him and Tucker, the annoyed whispers from Sam, falling from his seat twice, and the inability to explain what page the class was even reading from, Lancer had had enough. He’d tried to push back, pointing his ruler in Daniel’s direction and explaining there was an idiot at the end of it; but this resulted in the teenager’s sarcastic question of which end? After the laughter had died down, Lancer retorted that the 17-year-old could find out in detention.

Normally, detention was Lancer’s chance to unwind; to bask in the quiet as he encouraged his students to take the time to go over their studies. But today had been different. Not only had the lights gone out more than twice during his 3-hour prison sentence, but Danny had seemed different than earlier that day. Distracted, his eyes out of focus, shivering, and his quiet, slumped demeanor. Usually, the 17-year-old was pouting, refusing to do any real work, or trying to rally those who shared detention with him. But today he just sat there, quietly tracing some type of drawing on his textbook with his finger, his head resting against his desk.

Lancer had let it go for a while… after all, it was beginning to become obvious something was wrong. But into the 2nd hour, the complete lack of motivation, had become annoying, eating away at the older man’s patience. The other students in the classroom had taken Danny’s character as an invitation to abandon their own work for better things such as texting, making paper planes, or horseplay. Through the 17-year-old’s melodramatic and pitiful attitude, Lancer was losing control of his classroom. That had been when things had taken a turn, going from long to endless.

The older man had risen, scowling the other students into compliance as he made his way towards the cause of his current problem. Lancer scoffed when the teenager didn’t even bother reacting to his presence, but continued tracing over the outline of Thomas Jefferson on his torn-up history textbook. And it hadn’t been until Lancer had slammed his copy of Northanger Abbey on the 17-year-old’s desk that Danny reacted.

He jumped, flinging his book from the desk as he jerked towards Lancer, a look of horror crossing his face as he straightened slightly. The older man crossed his arms, a stern look casted down as he raised an eyebrow while the teenager scrambled to grab his textbook from the floor, flipping to a random chapter. Lancer stood there for several minutes, ensuring Daniel was at least pretending to read the words in front of him, and to enforce his authority as the superior in the classroom to his other students. This didn’t last long.

Once he had situated himself back at his desk, opening his book to the last page he’d read, Danny had raised his hand. Lancer raised his head towards his pupil but ignored him and continued reading. After a few minutes, the teenager put his hand down but forced it in the air a few moments later. Again, the English teacher refused to acknowledge his student’s attempt to leave detention. Normally, Danny would give up and ride out the rest of his punishment, partially compliant. Lancer had learned this during the kid’s Sophomore year; refusing to acknowledge or give the teenager permission for whatever excuse he had, was the only way to ensure he completed detention without further incident.

Lancer watched from his peripheral as the 17-year-old dropped his hand, sighing loudly as he continued scanning the words in his barely passible history book; Lancer smiled slightly. Some quiet had passed, relaxing the mood in the room as the older man felt himself beginning to unwind from the day once again. A few seconds later, however, there had been a noise, and the older man had glanced up to see Daniel rushing from the room, his book once again smacked against the tiled floor. The remaining students had jumped, conversing amongst themselves as their eyes watched the open-door slam against the wall.

Lancer grit his teeth, a scowl crossing his face as he calmly rose, placing his book on his desk before glaring towards the remaining students. They straightened, returning to their tasks as the older man exited the classroom, closing the door gently as he traced over the small indent in the wall from the door handle slamming against it. He shook his head as he glared back inside the classroom to his students watching him before looking busy as the wooden door clicked shut.

Out of all his antics, Danny had never defied Lancer enough to leave. And something in his gut told the English teacher this was either a new low from the teenager or an incident that needed attending to. Lancer had hoped all that was needed was a harsh conversation and another week of detention, but as he rounded the corner past the lockers, the root of the 17-year-old’s behavior became evident.

The older man closed his eyes briefly, sighing loudly as he ran a hand over his bald head and made his way towards the kid. Danny was hunched over one of the trashcans in the hallway, retching loudly as his arms trembled slightly, threatening to bring him down from his own weight. He had expected the unpleasant smell of half-digested food, but what Lancer hadn’t expected was the warmth radiating off the teenager as he reached out to grasp his shoulder. Both him, and the 17-year-old gasped, and Lancer stumbled back slightly as Danny pushed him away, slumping against the wall as he slid to the floor.

Danny had landed with a small smack, and he groaned as he eyed his teacher before closing his eyes and leaning his head against the wall. He mumbled something that sounded like a half-assed apology as Lancer inspected his character. Pale, sweaty features set in a flushed undertone as pink ate at his cheekbones. The English teacher ran another hand over his head as he glanced towards his classroom, then back towards his pupil, before turning and advancing towards the class.

After explaining that he felt like cutting detention short due to the storm clouds forming outside, Lancer had gathered his belongings, slinging Danny’s tattered backpack over his shoulder as he crossed through the halls towards the teenager still slumped against the wall, pitifully. He knelt down, reaching a hand out to rouse the 17-year-old, his fingers brushing against his hairline as he made an attempt to check his temperature before the kid jumped. He grasped Lancer’s wrist, pulling it from him harshly, his fingers tight enough around his arm that the older man could feel Danny’s fingernails digging into his flesh.

The teenager’s eyes were locked on his English teacher; the warm blue turning cold and hard as a menacing look crossed his face. Lancer had opened his mouth to speak but closed it a second later as Danny tightened his grip. He’d been surprised by the amount of strength the kid possessed seeing as he always seemed lanky, awkward, and weak. And the threat crossing the 17-year-old’s face sent chills down Lancer’s spine as Danny blinked, releasing his grip before apologizing quickly.

The older man stilled, his eyes glancing over his student as the kid refused to make eye-contact with him. Lancer sighed, offering the teenager a ride home, only to find out that his parents had been out of town for the past few days and weren’t due back until later that evening. And after a very awkward but short conversation with the Fenton’s and finding out their flight had been cancelled due to the oncoming weather, Lancer was driving a pissed off teenager to his own house until his parents returned. Thus, claiming an uncomfortable situation which neither Daniel nor Lancer liked much. But the older man wasn’t a monster… and if a night of letting Danny occupy his guestroom until he was convinced the 17-year-old was fine was what it took, then the English teacher would bare through it.

Lancer sighed again, letting his mind drift as he felt his body relaxing, sleep creeping towards him. Outside, the wind ate away at the chimes and shutters surrounding the house, lightening sparking against powerlines as the lights wavered in and out. Thunder roared overhead, creating a low rumble through the old house as the imminent threat of a tornado loomed in the horizon. But silence engulfed the English teacher as the thought of just resting for a few minutes evaded his tired mind…

It hadn’t been the flinch that woke Lancer, but the loud crash of things falling. Panic clouded his mind as the thought of a tree crashing through the front windows washed over him as he jumped up, cursing loudly. He glanced towards the windows quickly to find them intact and instead turned his attention in front of him as another sound hit him. Heaving.

“Lord of the Flies!” Lancer remarked as he turned his attention towards the sound. The coffee table had been overturned, laying on its side, its belongings littering the floor. And the rickety bookshelf the older man had been wary of earlier, had fallen slightly; its shelves no longer apart of it as the books wedged between non-existent space had crashed to the floor, surrounding Danny as he struggled to breath.

Lancer made his way around the overturned table, crouching down next to the kid as he gagged again, vomit coating his sweatshirt, puddling on the floor below as sweat trickled down his temple. The older man put a steady hand on the teenager’s shoulder, running his hand between his shoulder blades as the muscles in the 17-year-old’s back spasmed between heaves. Lancer let out a slow breath, his voice low and calm, “Alright. It’s alright, Daniel. You’re alright, just get it up. It’s alright…”

The teenager tensed, breathing through his nose lowly as he spit foul-tasting salvia from his mouth, and concentrated on settling his stomach. He felt disgusting, sweaty and embarrassed. He could feel vomit squished between his fingers, and the fact that he had just emptied the contents of his stomach on his English teacher’s floor, mortifying. But considering he had forgotten he wasn’t home, and in attempt to seek out the bathroom, tripped over the coffee table, not only taking it and its belongings down, but falling against the bookshelf, bringing a pile of books crashing to the floor with him, was more humiliating than the acidic puddle in front of him.

Danny closed his eyes briefly, breathing slowly as he leaned back on his knees, scrapping a hand against his mouth and chin. He turned his head towards his teacher but refused to make eye contact because he was afraid of the expression on the older man’s face. The 17-year-old groaned inwardly, setting a hand on his stomach as he let the short silence pass over them; the television cutting off then flicking back on a second later.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Lancer asked softly as he glanced around at the state of his living room. Surely, the shelves or books had fallen on top of the kid when he fell, and given the state of the coffee table, Lancer was betting the kid had tripped over it or something. The splintered shelves could have cut him, or his foot could have gotten caught on the ledge, and injury wasn’t something the older man really wanted to add to his list of problems right now.

Danny was quiet for a while, making brief eye contact with Lancer before looking back towards the floor. He swallowed loudly against the hiccups forcing themselves up his throat and hunched his posture further. He looked downright miserable which didn’t help Lancer’s current situation. The 17-year-old swallowed again before muttering quietly, “Sorry, I’ll help you clean up… I’m sorry about all the mess.”

Lancer sighed, relief washing over him as the kid finally spoke. He ran a hand over his head as he bowed his head, trying to get the teenager to look him in the face, “That doesn’t answer my question, Mr. Fenton. Are you hurt?”

Danny froze for a few seconds before meeting the teacher’s gaze slowly. He shook his head, his body twitching slightly as hiccups still resonated through his chest. Lancer nodded, glancing over the kid quickly, looking for any visible injuries but finding none, and ran his hands over his knees before standing, exhaling loudly.

The wind howled outside, and the branches on the tree outside knocked against the window forcefully as Lancer glanced towards the clock hanging on the wall. It was around 2am, which answered two questions: Was he to be expected at school tomorrow and was he going to get any sleep tonight. The 17-year-old coughed gently, and the older man turned his attention back towards the teenager.

“Well,” Lancer started carefully, “Let’s get things cleaned up.”

Danny cast his gaze back towards the floor as he moved to pick up one of the books next to him. Lancer crouched down again, pulling the book from the kid’s grasp, “What are you doing, Daniel?’

The teenager glanced up slowly, “You said to clean-”

Lancer shook his head, cutting the kid off, “The state of my living room doesn’t concern me right now, Mr. Fenton. You, however, do. Despite what you and your friends may think of me, I’m not heartless.”

Danny’s expression shifted as the older man grasped the kid’s arm, pulling him to his feet. He put a hand on the teenager’s shoulder as he swayed slightly, an eyebrow raised as a silent question flashed across the teacher’s face. The 17-year-old swallowed and gave Lancer a weak nod before crossing his arms over his stomach gently, stepping around the chaos as he followed Lancer into the hallway.

He shivered harshly as his ghost sense went off, and his eyes danced over the photos nailed against the ugly wallpaper in the hallway. Pictures of family- of times no one at Casper High knew of; a different side of the English teacher never shown. Danny lingered on the photo of a young boy with blonde hair, a huge gap-toothed smile swallowing his face as he held his ice cream cone towards the photographer. Confusion crossed the teenager’s face as he glanced over some of the other photos, the blonde kid present in almost all of them… and a pretty woman in a few others, posing next to the kid. As far as everyone knew, Lancer didn’t have kids, and he wasn’t married.

His ghost sense went off again, and Danny shivered as he paused momentarily, the photos around him blurring together, spinning into a colorful mess as dizzying fatigue washed over him, his limbs shaking as they fought to bring him down. He made a slight noise as he glanced towards the end of the hall, towards a small boy hiding behind a half-closed door; his green eyes huge and alarmed as he watched the teenager. Danny swallowed, Lancer’s questions floating over him as the boy peered further out the door, motioning for the 17-year-old to follow.

The teenager made an attempt to move, the hallway spinning as the pictures on the wall melted together in an array of sickening colors, and Danny blinked slowly as several spirits began to crowd around him, blood forced from gruesome wounds. A sharp noise escaped his mouth as he glanced back towards the boy, only to find the doorway empty, the door fully open now. Chills washed over him as his knees gave out, and his ghost sense sparked again.

Someone grasped at him, a hand gripping his arm while another snaked over his torse, pulling him back on his feet. Black filtered through Danny’s vision momentarily as his body went limp before he groaned, looking towards his left as Lancer adjusted his grip on his torso, asking something Danny couldn’t grasp. The teenager’s feet dragged against the wooden floor as he struggled to gain his footing, but his legs felt clumsy and foreign. He felt like shit, weird, split into two, leaning heavily against his teacher as the older man led him slowly down the hall, towards the room that’d been previously occupied by a scared little boy.

The 17-year-old hadn’t realized he’d been deposited on a bed until everything stopped moving. The room swaying slightly but no longer spinning in a multitude of nauseating colors. Heat pressed against his body as he glanced over the side of the bed towards the boy he’d seen earlier, hiding behind the rocking chair in the corner. His eyes fixed on the teenager as cold air pushed past Danny’s lips, and he shivered again, turning towards the ceiling fan as his shoes were slipped off his feet, followed by his socks.

He groaned as Lancer pulled his hoodie over his head gently, forcing his arms from the sleeves, leaving him shivering against the warmth dotting against his skin. He was freezing. His ghost sense going off every few minutes, causing his body to ice, goosebumps breaking out over his arms as warmth rushed through him a second later. He blinked slowly, feeling something press against his forehead, and he squinted towards Lancer leaning over him.

“We need to get that fever down, Daniel,” He whispered, running his hands through the kid’s messy black hair. Danny groaned, tuning out his teacher’s movements as he turned back towards the boy hiding behind the chair, hoping that this was as worse as his night got…

……………………………………………………

Heat. Heat blistered against tired flesh and limbs that refused to move… and warmth. Warmth pressed against bruised flesh gently, killing the heat sweating against him, weighing him down in thick blankets. Warmth poured over him, comforting him, drowning the confusion and panic etched in his veins, and Danny suddenly found himself calling to his childhood memories.

“M-mom?” He whispered, his voice barely audible as it scratched past his throat, rough and raw. He swallowed harshly, trying to force his eyes open but finding the task difficult. His body felt heavy, weak, tired… he felt like he had gone several rounds with Skulker… or someone worse.

“Shh, don’t talk, Daniel,” Someone said softly, and Danny blinked slowly, squinting against the dim lights swaying next to him. He shivered as shadows danced around him, and he groaned loudly as he tried pushing himself up. Strong warm hands pressed against his chest, keeping him in place as any strength the teenager had, left him momentarily.

Warmth threatened to pull him under again, and Danny swallowed, his head lolling to his right as he forced his eyes to stay open against flickering, dancing lights. Something pressed against his temple, his cheek, his neck, dampening the fire momentarily wherever the warmth touched, lingering against his skin just long enough to cool the sweat clammed against his body.

Danny coughed harshly as he opened his eyes sluggishly, unaware he had closed them, and he glanced around disoriented, his neck aching from the little effort he put into turning it. His vision wavered slightly, and the 17-year-old groaned as he made another feeble attempt to move only to be stilled by calm hands.

“Just relax, Daniel. Otherwise, I might be obliged to add to your weeks’ worth of detention,” Someone chuckled softly, and Danny forced his eyes open again, “Mr. L’ncer?”

The 17-year-old winced as his voice met his ears, weak and small; the syllables barely leaving his mouth as his tongue felt heavy against his teeth. He swallowed, his mouth feeling cottony and thick as his eyes lazily met his English teacher’s face hovering above him; a stern expression settled on tired features.

The teenager groaned loudly, closing his eyes briefly as the room began to spin, leaning his head back as he listened to the silence surrounding him. A quiet popping echoing around him, and Danny squinted, noticing several candles sitting on the counter and next to him, their flames flickering wildly. Confusion crossed his face as Lancer leaned further over him, “The power went out a while ago, so I had to improvise as I couldn’t find any batteries for the flashlight.”

The older man held up the flashlight, shaking it gently as confusion continued to sit on the 17-year-old’s face. He blinked slowly as he tried to piece together everything. But it was hot. And he felt weird, sick, his mind a muddled mess of exhaustion; his headache still pounding behind his eyes. He tried moving again, sitting up slightly before being pushed back down gently as Lancer sighed, “I swear, Mr. Fenton, do you ever listen?”

Danny swallowed, doing his best to understand his surroundings. He sighed loudly, letting his head fall behind him as he slowly connected the dots. He was in a bathroom. More importantly, he was lying in a warm bath, shivering against the heat beaded on his skin. And more embarrassingly, Lancer was soaking washcloths in the water, pressing them against his face, wiping down the sweat that was forming on Danny’s body. It took him longer than he liked to realize his shirt was gone, gentle fingers pressing lightly against his torso, covering every inch of heat that surrounded the bruised and scarred flesh. Whether or not he was wearing further clothing wasn’t something Danny tried to think about, and if he had the energy, he would have protested this level of comfort. This level of embarrassment. This level of weakness. But he felt too tired, too sick, and too hot to care.

Something moved in his peripheral, and Danny peered at the end of the tub to find the boy from earlier sitting on the edge, his gaze still watching the teenager. He bent down slightly, his blonde hair covering his face as he touched the water before jerking his hand back and shivering. Warmth hit him as Lancer washed over his chest, and the 17-year-old squinted, his eyes still watching the boy, refusing to let his exhaustion overpower him.

The boy disappeared momentarily before returning to his spot at the edge of the bathtub, a rubber duck in his hand. He set it in the water gently, pushing it in Danny’s direction before smiling widely, his two front teeth gapped, three missing from the bottom. The 17-year-old stirred, pressing against Lancer’s hands as his eyebrows furrowed together, and he yelled, “Hey!”

The boy jumped from the ledge, fear setting on his face as Danny struggled against his teacher’s grasp. His ghost sense went off, goosebumps breaking out over his naked skin as the boy disappeared, and the teenager let out a strangled cry as he shoved Lancer’s hands away, leaning over the edge, water splashing to the floor as he scanned the hallway for the boy. The 17-year-old gripped the slippery ledge of the tub as he scrambled to pull himself up, water slapping against the ground loudly.

Lancer gripped the kid’s shoulders, forcing him back down as alarm crossed his face. He held the teenager down as the candles flickered, water soaking into his khakis as the 17-year-old continued to thrash. The older man let out a quick breath as he tried grabbing the kid’s attention, “Daniel! Danny!”

The teenager stilled, his gaze moving from the hallway towards his teacher as his nickname left Lancer’s mouth. The older man sighed softly as he felt the kid’s body relax, his grip loosening on the bathtub as the teacher eased him back down. The alarm that crossed Danny’s face earlier, vanishing as confusion set in, his head smacking once again against the back of the bathtub as exhaustion ate away at his features.

He exhaled loudly as Lancer pressed a washcloth against his forehead, leaving it there for several minutes before repeating the action. Danny swallowed softly, closing his eyes against the dimly-lit room as his teacher cleared his throat, “I’m sorry about the circumstances, Daniel. But your temperature spiked again causing you to pass out, and I had no other way of bringing it down quicker. I know it’s uncomfortable. My son freaked too.”

Danny turned towards his teacher’s voice but kept his eyes closed as his mind spun violently. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to understand the information, as he tried to recall the pictures on the wall in the hallway. He coughed, sweat dripping from his hair plastered against his face, “The kid…”

“In the photos. Yeah,” Lancer sighed, wiping across the teenager’s chest again before pressing another rag against his forehead, “He passed some time ago… a car accident.”

The 17-year-old’s eyes opened slightly as he met his teacher’s sad smile before his focus lazily danced towards the hallway. The boy stood there, leaning against the doorway as he fumbled with the zipper on the bottom of his blue jacket, worry flashing across his face as he met Danny’s gaze. The teenager swallowed again, closing his eyes as he turned his head away from the door, sweat rolling down his cheeks as it dripped from his chin.

“Hey…” He muttered softly as he tried calling the boy closer, as he tried to connect the dots. He felt like shit. Even after being extremely sick after the Accident, he didn’t remember it feeling like this. Then again, that had been 3 years ago… and Danny hadn’t really been sick since. But maybe that had to do more with Phantom. Maybe he’d left… leaving the 17-year-old as a barely alive thing. Maybe this was his immune system dying, the other half giving out as it had struggled to survive with half function over the years. Maybe this was the portal killing the other part of him, claiming what it had started.

Danny’s teeth chattered loudly as he shivered against the warmth, “I shou-should call my parents…”

“I assure you they’re fine, Mr. Fenton,” Lancer said calmly, rewetting a washcloth and pressing it against the teenager’s neck, “They’re just concerned, trying to find a quicker way back to New York… unfortunately, the storm is making that difficult.”

The 17-year-old swallowed slowly, confusion washing over him before swallowing again. He coughed, his throat raw and his mouth dry like sandpaper, feeling his mind slipping, the reality he could understand becoming harder and harder to grasp. Everything was muddled, fuzzy, hard to comprehend.

“I- I should call them,” He muttered softly, “Apologize for killing myself… they’re going to be-be so- disappointed in me…”

Lancer froze, alarm flooding through him as he choked. He watched the confusion on Danny’s face melt, his features relaxing slightly as moments passed. The older man turned the teenager’s face towards him, shaking his shoulder gently as he let out a sharp breath, “What? Mr. Fenton- what! What does that mean? Daniel? Daniel- Danny!”

The kid whimpered but other than that, showed no sign that he had even heard Lancer’s questions. The English teacher took a few slow breaths, closing his eyes as he forced the panic back down. Perhaps he had misheard… or the 17-year-old’s temperature was getting to him. Hallucinations and muddled speech were common, so perhaps, that’s all it was. Thoughts of a delusional and feverish mind.

Then again, Danny’s attitude had shifted over the years as he still maintained his cocky and sarcastic demeanor… but darker things lurked over him. Lancer knew the kid smoked from time-to-time, and he had heard from a few rumors that Fenton had become no stranger to weed or alcohol. Then again, the aspect of rebellion was fairly common in teenagers, and Lancer couldn’t see the Fenton’s letting their son get away with anything too serious. But perhaps they didn’t know… perhaps they didn’t know about their son’s newer habits. Or the fights. The grades. The attitude problem. The bruises or scars. Perhaps Danny was hiding his true self from them just as he was from his peers.

But it wasn’t Lancer’s place. Not exactly. Sure, he cared for the kid, as he did for many of his pupils. But Jack and Maddie had become neighborly to him after the loss of his son, and the divorce. They expected Lancer to keep Jasmine and Daniel on the straight-and-narrow when they entered high school… which Jazz was no problem… but Danny. Danny was a different story.

Every direction Lancer took, the 17-year-old steered in the opposite direction. And it seemed even worse the last couple of months. Lancer knew something had happened between Fenton and Manson… and Danny seemed really broken up about it. After all, he had overheard Foley’s comment that the two had begun dating… among other things. And rumors were they’d been caught in the Janitor’s closet several weeks prior… But for the past few months, both Danny and Sam could barely sit next to each other, let alone look at each other. And most of the flirting Lancer had come to expect from the two, was replaced with cold stares, harsh short comments, and feeble excuses as to why they couldn’t work together.

Something sounded behind him, and the English teacher jerked, turning his head quickly towards the hall, squinting against the flame’s shadow dancing over the dark doorway. He scanned the empty area before closing his eyes briefly, breathing slowly through his nose, allowing his thoughts to calm as thunder roared overhead. Most nights Lancer could swear his house was haunted. Haunted by the memories of his past, the memories of his wife, his son… the life he missed every day. But that was ridiculous. An idealization deluded from the minds of Jack and Maddie Fenton… and nothing more.

The lights flicked several times as one of the lightbulbs above the bathroom counter popped, before burning out. The TV in the living room spluttering to life, news blasted through old speakers loudly before silence and darkness once again evaded the small house. Lancer sighed, running a hand over his head, listening to the rain pelt against the roof. Despite it being close to 10am, the storm hadn’t ceased… in fact, it seemed worse with every passing hour which was ironically befitting given Lancer’s current situation, and Danny’s condition.

The English teacher sighed loudly, wringing another washcloth out before pressing gently against the teenager’s forehead, cheeks, and neck as lightening cracked against the house. The 17-year-old whimpered softly, his eyebrows drawing together momentarily before Lancer shushed him, forcing another rag against his forehead lightly. Despite trying his best to bring the kid’s fever down, the older man was more than certain he was doing little to cause a significant change in the teenager’s temperature. Or at least it felt like that.

When the 17-year-old had passed out in the hallway, collapsing against Lancer the second he was pulled from the floor, going limp in his arms as the older man tried his best to hold Danny as gently as he could, Lancer had been at a loss. But when the lights spazzed, the shutter door slamming against the entryway and the power gave out, Lancer was close to both panicked tears and self-consumed anger.

He’d been angry over the situation. Over the power going out, the storm wreaking havoc outside and forcing flights to ground. Angry with his own useless attempts to soothe the teenager he thought he could care for. Angry he hadn’t taken Danny to the Emergency Room earlier and angry, that in spite of everything, the teenager seemed to be getting worse rather than better. Panic had eaten away worry and concern, leaving fear racing through thoughts riddled with questions; his own parental instincts, despite having died long ago, blaring as every sound, every cough, every whimper, and every unconscious groan that whispered from the 17-year-old’s mouth, sent Lancer’s senses on high alert.

Something that had scared Lancer more than he could account for was the fact that the 17-year-old was crying, hard, and his temperature. The moment he was near, the heat melting off Danny was deeply concerning, sweat plastered down pale flesh, dripping in puddles down his face and soaked through hand-me-down clothes Lancer had given him earlier. The teenager had been on the verge of hyperventilating when Lancer pressed his hand against his forehead, worry and panic lacing his tired mind as Danny cried harder, pleading with fevered hallucinations to leave and forgive him.

The thought of which was worse, the storm or Danny’s illness, no longer a debate but a firm decided answer that should have been sought long ago. But Lancer wasn’t sure if he would be able to find his keys in the dark, the rain pounding sideways against the windows as it threatened to break glass… and even though it was early morning now, the sun having rose two hours prior, it was still black as hell outside. Lancer’s own attempts to calm the teenager were futile. He was out of his element… so beyond his own familiarity, and he had forgotten how to soothe his own child. Lancer needed help, he needed another adult, and Danny needed a parent, but the older man hadn’t been a parent in a long time…

…………………………………………………………………………………….

He wasn’t a hero. Because a hero wouldn’t do this. A hero couldn’t. And Danny Fenton was no hero. He’d shed blood through Phantom hands, ghosted in hellish torment as he sat, throne to bodies and souls collected at his feet. Human hands forever red with mortal lives, halfa instincts more dead than alive as Fenton became a facade for Phantom. A mask. A plaything. A puppet of normality and bitter resentment as Phantom was forced to live in a barely alive flesh suit. And now, only now, was the teenager hit with the realization that he was no hero. He’d never been.

He’d been a boy. Stupid and ignorant in childish idealization, playing make-believe, costumed in his parent’s clothes, pretending to be something more. Something better. But he wasn’t. He was joke. A harsh cosmic occurrence of puny humanity and preemptive temperament of selfish actions. Cocooned in the tranquility of his youth as he tried to convince himself that he was more than the blood dripping from halfa hands, that he was the savior of death instead of the bringer. But he’d been stupid. Weak. Pathetic. Insignificant. A joke.

Danny Fenton was a joke of unlovable fear and horrible outcomes. Death followed him. Shadowed by terrible posture and cold features. Sam had fallen for the wrong boy. Had loved the wrong boy. Fenton wasn’t a hero. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t save her… fuck, he couldn’t save anyone. He was just a stupid kid with stupid luck. A false identity born to humanity, mirrored from the reality of Phantom, a messenger, a front for what had killed him years ago. Fake bravery. Fake chivalry. Everything fake.

Ectoplasm oozed down his temple, sliding past his left cheekbone, gathering at his chin as sweat and dirt fell past, splattering against ashen snow and green puddles of forgotten souls. Blood pooling from open wounds, forced between busted knuckles and broken fingers as red stained white. Danny choked, his fingers pressing tighter across Sam’s neck as blood gushed from wounds he couldn’t close… from a death he couldn’t stop. From a love he couldn’t lose.

The purple haloed around Sam no longer vibrant or visible through dark crimson, eaten away by the innocence of her youth, and the immorality dripping from Danny. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t a good guy… and Phantom? Phantom couldn’t save her. Phantom couldn’t save anyone. Ever. But Phantom wouldn’t have done this… he couldn’t. Fenton had.

Fingers slipping from flesh, Sam’s necklace pulled from her neck as Danny fought for a better grip, forcing the broken bones in his right hand to bend, to curve, to keep blood from puddling around him… to fix this. But he couldn’t. There wasn’t a way to fix it. A way to fix death. To restore what was lost. What he had taken. What he had always taken. Over and over and over again.

And now, because he wasn’t willing to live without Phantom, Fenton had destroyed the one thing he loved more than anything. The one girl he loved more than anyone. The one girl willing to fight for him instead of Phantom. But that had been a mistake. Sam loving him had been a mistake. He and Sam had been a mistake. An intimate beautiful mistake.

Danny wasn’t the same person she’d fallen in love with. He wasn’t the same person he used to be. He was different. Darker. Quieter. Colder. He was awkward in his own shadow, uncomfortable in a foreign skin as he allowed Phantom more and more control. Danny Fenton was a waste. Danny Phantom wasn’t. He was the thing people needed. But Phantom wasn’t the one Sam had loved. He wasn’t the one she trusted. He wasn’t the one she tried so desperately to save… He wasn’t the one who had killed her.

The fight was over the second it’d begun. Box Ghost had slipped through the Ghost Zone, followed by Skulker and Johnny; the three musketeers of complete failure as they threatened to destroy the state of New York. But Danny had barely broken a sweat. Ghosts were easier now; less challenging than in his youth, repetitive and old, and most of the time, the teenager had bigger things to worry about. Like Spirits. The Veil. The Spirit World. And Vlad. There was always Vlad fucking Masters. A pain in the Fenton family ass… not that Jack would ever admit it.

Snow had started littering the ground in heavy flurries by the time Vlad appeared. Danny had sat on the park bench for hours, waiting for the stupid pointy-haired bastard to make an appearance; after all, Danny had gotten his message the night before when he was pulled into the Veil. He always got the message while in the Veil. He wasn’t welcome. He was never welcomed. And the Spirits collected within made sure he knew it, made sure he stayed long enough to understand the damage he had caused, the lives he had fucked, and the lives he had taken. Many in the Spirit World knew him, but he knew very little about them.

Despite knowing almost everything about the Ghost Zone, the teenager knew almost nothing about the Spirit World. About summoning. The Veil. The Spirits. He only knew how to tune them out, but the older he got, the more his power grew, the harder it was to keep them in check. Too many times had he been caught in public, or with his parents, or his sister, talking, ranting, yelling or even fighting Spirits that refused to leave. He couldn’t block them out. Their voices, cries in the dark, hands pulled through murky water towards his body as he dreamed, screams echoed through restless thoughts. They were getting harder to ignore… harder to kill.

Drugs didn’t really work anymore, barely a dull buzz of quiet whispers, and other outlets were laughable options. Weed made it hard to focus between Fenton and Phantom, his abilities harder to control… and the Spirits had barely left. Ecstasy was great, the screams a distant thought, the Spirits warping into smokes of green, yellow and red; but Phantom disappeared too, refusing to appear for several days after. And Acid… Acid just made the teenager more jittery, more paranoid, more on-edge than he already was.

Vlad had taught him a few tricks to keep the Spirits quiet enough to function before he died. He’d promised to teach Danny more, but his death made that almost impossible. Unlike the Ghost Zone, the Spirit World lacked a supernatural possession; rather turning anyone such as Vlad, normal and human- barely able to summon Danny through the Veil to talk. And Danny? Danny’s powers were pretty much useless inside the Veil, humanity coursed through fragile bones, muscle, and skin as blood beat through a half-alive thing. The teenager could barely summon, barely survive a night in the Veil, of being pulled through, forced out-of-body through airless lungs and the stillness of a barely beating heart.

In the Spirit World, the teenager was human. So very human. And so very vulnerable. A War progressed through the Veil, the Spirits capable of darker, more sinister realities than Ghosts such as Skulker or Freakshow could ever procure. A world of Death. True Death. The promises of the Ghost Zone vanquished through shreds of paper-thin souls of victims to the War. Death in the Spirit World meant no Ghost Zone after. No other World beyond. No connection or tie back to humanity. To the Human World. Nothing. Just black. Just…

The 17-year-old’s ghost sense had been going off for hours; his teeth chattering as he pulled the thin green jacket closer, cursing Vlad for taking his sweet time. To any untrained individual, the teenager appeared to be alone… but Danny was never alone. Not anymore. His shove through the Veil on his 16th had killed any isolation or solitude he had. They were always there. Always watching. Always with him.

The teenager grit his teeth as he smacked his head against the bench behind him, staring towards the grey sky as white dust fell in clumps, blanketing Amity Park… and most likely, the rest of New York. The weather had been unpredictable lately; a chaotic shitshow of indescribable patterns, something his father chalked up to some weird readings in the Ghost Zone. Despite never really seeing a ghost, his parents still obsessed over them, inching closer and closer to diving into the portal with each passing week. But Danny, Danny wished he’d never have to see another fucking ghost in his life.

More and more of the transparent bastards had been slipping through the portal lately. Part of that was Danny’s fault. The other, unknown. Valerie had helped pick up the slack, along with the Fenton Duo, but the teenager had more important things to worry about like Spirits. The harder they were to ignore, the more of them appeared… and they could touch him. Hurt him. Kill him… the scars plastered against his right ribs should be evident enough to speak to their danger. He’d barely survived his first trip through the Veil, and Vlad kept pulling him fucking through… mainly because summoning wasn’t something the 17-year-old had mastered yet. And with Vlad dead, Danny doubted if he’d ever actually be able to master summoning… leaving no hope for resurrection.

Something kicked against the teenager’s red converse, and Danny shot up quickly, expecting Vlad to be standing over him. A smile crawled across his face as his eyes met Sam, her black hoodie blowing viciously against the winter air, small specks of white clinging to the fabric. She kicked his foot again, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Danny smirked, forcing his hands in his pocket, his right hand clamped around the red lighter he had stolen from his dad’s secret stash. Whether or not Jack Fenton had noticed a few of his smokes were missing, the teenager would never know. After all, if his father ended up confronting him about it, then that meant Jack would also have to come clean to Maddie about smoking… something he supposedly gave up a few years after Danny was born.

Sam slumped down next to him, her shoulder hitting his as Danny turned towards her, smiling. Sam rolled her eyes, her purple lipstick twisting into a grin as she leaned her head against his shoulder. She sighed, “So, I take it Vlad hasn’t shown?”

The 17-year-old shook his head, before clearing his throat, “No.”

“That’s pretty unusual for him, isn’t it?” She asked, pulling her head up as wind forced her hood down, short black hair flying chaotically. She glanced in Danny’s direction as he flicked some snow off his jeans. He hadn’t really thought about Vald’s behavior- about his pretty punctual habits, but now that it was mentioned, it was rather worrisome the older man hadn’t shown yet. Especially given he seemed rather paranoid the night before. But surely, the older man would have said if he was in danger.

Danny shrugged his shoulders, meeting Sam’s gaze, biting his bottom lip. Pieces of ice clung to her hair, freckled across her face, and the 17-year-old hesitated, before brushing his thumb across her cheek carefully, wiping away some of the fallen snow. He paused, his fingers pressing gently against her jawline, following the curve softly before Sam pressed her hand over his. Danny froze, warmth flooding his face as he refused to advert his gaze.

Sam had been weird lately. She’d been acting weird… almost feminine… which was weird for both Tucker and Danny as they had always seen her as one of the guys. But between a few awkward non-date dates, a few fake-out make-outs, and being caught half-naked in the Janitor’s Closet a few weeks prior when Danny had phased through the wrong room after a fight; Danny was finding it harder to act normal around her. And then there was the Annual Winter Dance last month which neither Sam nor Danny refused to acknowledge, involving some sloppy drinking, heated kissing, and one awkward morning after at the Fenton household as Danny tried sneaking Sam from his room only to be caught by his sister.

Since then, Sam had become more… Well, it was hard to explain because Danny was pretty sure he’d become more of it too. Every moment he was around her, it seemed like he had reverted back to his weird, awkward, clumsy demeanor. He couldn’t talk around her anymore, let alone act normal anymore. His ghost sense unpredictable, his powers uncontrollable as his body forgot how to be him around her. He couldn’t eat or sleep and paying what little attention he normally did in class, unbearable. He couldn’t get Sam out of his head. Her purple lipstick. Her laugh. Her hands clasped around his. Her mouth… Her. And it was driving him insane.

Mentioning it to anyone was out of the question. Tucker had them married in 9th grade. His parents were too hyperactive and weird to be able to deal with their only son dating- let alone his sister’s recollection of her very awkward first date that involved more of Jack Fenton than Danny wanted to picture. And Jazz? Jazz had freaked when she had caught Danny and Sam together the morning after the Annual Winter Dance, forcing both teenagers to attend a lecture involving responsible actions, so asking Jazz for advice was out of the question. Honestly, Danny had found some console in Vlad, but that bastard’s advice was wishy-washy and outdated.

Sam’s fingers brushed over the rough scars on his hand before she trailed up his arm. Her hand hesitating on his shoulder before cupping the back of his neck, her fingers tussling his hair softly. The wind whooshed past, snow raining over them as Sam met the 17-year-old’s gaze, a small smirk painted across purple lips. Danny shivered slightly, brushing his thumb over her cheek again, “I-”

“Shut up,” Sam cut him off, pulling herself from the bench as she pressed her lips against his, pushing the 17-year-old back slowly as he dropped his hand from her cheek, trailing down her shoulder slowly, arm, back. He inhaled loudly, a hand pressed against the small of Sam’s back, the other pressing her closer to him as she kissed him again, one of her hand’s slipping underneath his shirt. Cold fingers pressed against the warmth on his back. Black nails scrapping gently over scarred flesh, fingers through black hair, and Danny’s hands dragging her closer. Sam was driving him insane… but maybe this time, they could acknowledge it… maybe this time, he could tell her how he really felt.

Maybe this time he could tell her he couldn’t get her out of his mind. That he couldn’t concentrate around her, he couldn’t get that night at the dance out of his mind… that she made everything better, made everything okay. He needed her like he needed air. She was a reminder that he was still alive, that he was still human, that he was still more than Phantom. Because she seemed to want him more than Phantom… She liked him. Not Phantom. And that- that was all Danny ever wanted from someone. From her…

Her nails scrapped harder against his back as Sam straddled him; her hair flying in the wind, covering her face, smacking against Danny’s face comfortingly. His hands gentle as they trailed down the rest of her back, her thighs, holding her steady against him. Her lips forceful against his, nails marked against skin, her heart pounding against his. She breathed deeply, “Danny…”

“Well, isn’t this nice,” Someone sneered. Danny pushed Sam off him gently, jumping to his feet as he pressed Sam behind him, his stance protective as he met the stranger’s gaze. The 17-year-old watched as a woman stepped forward, a smirk on her face as she pushed some of her long blonde hair behind her ear. She eyed the 17-year-old, sizing him up as she walked around the small bench. She scoffed, “They said the halfa was young, but I never would have thought this young… Tell me, handsome, do you even know how to tie your own shoes?”

Danny tensed, “Do you want to find out?”

The woman laughed loudly, circling them once more before standing a few feet from him, “Oh, and that wit. I bet you’re a troublemaker, uh?”

She crossed her arms, straightening her posture until she was eyelevel with him. Her skin almost translucent against the white ground, blood dotting against her neck where a necklace should have been. Her bright pink and blue jumpsuit standing out against the snow, fitting the ideal clothing for an 80’s teenager… her blonde hair in half-buns, purple triangle earrings dangling from her ears. She laughed again, shaking her head, her red lipstick twisting slightly as she peered towards Sam.

Sam had risen from the bench, pulling her hoody back over head as her hair still fought against the wind. She forced the sleeves past her hands, her fingers intertwining gently with Danny’s as the 17-year-old stepped forward, “Where’s Vlad?”

The woman cocked her head, her smile offsetting as she held up her hand, inspecting her chipped blue fingernails, “I wouldn’t worry about Grandpa anymore. He’s been taken care of.”

The teenager swallowed, dropping his hand from Sam’s as he took another step forward, his hands burning slightly as Phantom threatened to appear. Danny swallowed, “What did you do to him?”

The woman laughed again, shoving her hands on her hips as she faced the 17-year-old again, “You’ve become quite the gossip in the Veil. Did you know that? Everyone talks about the halfa; the teenage boy with a hitlist bigger than… well… for decency, think of someone historically bad. The merciless angel. The bringer of death. The red. You could say you’ve become very popular amongst Spirits… and to hear, the little ghost boy could be harmed,” She paused, clasping her hands together as a smile painted her face, “Well, that was like Christmas morning.”

Sam reached for Danny’s shoulder, her fingers gracing over the fabric of his hoodie as he stepped forward again, “What did you do with Vlad?”

The woman smirked, “Me? No, honey, I’ve done nothing. See, I don’t really care for the creepy-uncle-lotion-in-the-basket types. You, however, are much more interesting. Much more powerful than Vlad would be… I can feel it. Radiating off you like the wind around you. It’s beautiful… And we can hurt you. We can touch you. Something those pathetic airbags in the Ghost Zone could only dream of. And believe me, pretty boy, there are many in the Veil eager to show you their real power. Eager to walk this Earth again… all we need is the blood of the halfa.”

“Fuck you!” Sam yelled, stepping in front of the 17-year-old, her finger’s gripping Danny’s wrist. Sam took a step forward, her stance tense, her hood down as wind washed over her. Snow beading in black hair, melting down her face as hatred flashed across her features. Her grip tightened around the teenager’s wrist, protectively; and Danny swallowed softly as he realized she wasn’t about to let go.

The woman stepped forward slowly, smirking again as she chuckled, “Call off your guard-dog, Daniel. I have no intention of killing you today… besides, in order for us to be reborn, you have to come to us willingly. Which I give you… a year before you enter the Veil for the last time.”

Danny scoffed, “Unlikely.”

He shivered as he met the woman’s gaze, her smile hiding something that scared the teenager more than the threat. An understanding… knowing. She knew what went through his mind. What he thought about, how he thought about himself… The way she looked at him, the way she smirked towards him, sneering… she knew. About the drugs. The blood. About the recklessness. She knew what stimmed through a tired mind in the nightmarish reality of Fenton from Phantom. She had to know… but the only way she would, would be- Vlad.

Danny glanced down for a second, swallowing loudly. Him and Vlad had had their differences, but they seemed to work it out over the years… so would Vlad really tell people about him? Would he really betray his secrets to other people, well, Spirits? The teenager had confided in him over the years. Not about everything… but about himself, about how he had come to hate Phantom. How he had become forced to live with Phantom’s pain and torment. How he felt, as the years past, and he let Phantom have more power, he could feel reality crumpling around him. Crumpling in, and slipping through his fingers, through the cracks created by Phantom, opened and birthed through the Ghost Zone and Spirit World. How it felt like he was being drained… that his humanity was dying. Would Vlad really betray him like that? After all this time?

The woman scoffed again, “Perhaps. But I’m willing to help you out… give you another nudge in the right direction.”

Confusion crossed the 17-year-old’s face as he stepped forward again, only a few feet from the woman as she crossed her arms, raising her head. She shook her head slowly, “I can see you’re confused, so I’ll make it simple for your stupid hormonal teenage brain.”

There was a flash, and Danny dropped harshly, his hands and arms burning as he felt the shift starting to take over. Phantom gaining control as the Fenton canister, forgotten on the park bench, exploded loudly, and the teenager pressed his burning hands against the snow. Cold braced against his fingers as he looked up, wiping away some green ectoplasm that litter across his body, blood dripping down his chin slowly from a cut on his upper lip. His eyes flashed green as he let Phantom gain control, his body burning slightly as he shifted, the aching pain that plagued him, gone as Phantom took over.

Within a second, he had the woman pinned against the tree, a smirk twisting against his lips as she struggled pathetically. He huffed, his tone cocky as he tightened his grip, “You missed.”

The woman hesitated before laughing loudly, snapping her fingers as Phantom reverted back, forcing Fenton through translucent skin as he was shoved back into his teenage body. Sweaty fatigue washed over him as she kicked his leg, slamming him against the ground harshly, pinning him against the snow. The 17-year-old squirmed, trying to coax Phantom out, trying to shift but finding the task difficult, his fingers tingling and sparking green but refusing to change.

The woman snorted, grasping his hand in hers, smiling down at him as her blonde hair brushed over his chest. She pressed her fingers between his, humming softly before jerking her hand back, bending Danny’s fingers as she clawed at his palm, bones cracking, causing the teenager to scream loudly as he fought against her. After a few seconds, she let go as wind rushed past them, and she pressed her chest against his, stroking his hair back gently. She bent down further, her lips brushing against his ear, “I wasn’t aiming for you, honey.”

The 17-year-old twisted; his head jerked towards Sam as he tried forcing the woman from him. Blood splattered against the snow as Sam fell, her face pressing against the ice, her hand, bloodied and shaky, as she reached in Danny’s direction. The teenager cried loudly as Sam’s hand dropped in the snow, her body going limp as red bled through white. The woman pressed her fingers against the 17-year-old’s cheek as he screamed again; his hands and arms burning as heat clawed through his chest. Sam opened her mouth, purple lips parted but no words came, only tears trailing down pale flesh before green eyes shut.

The woman laughed softly, digging her nails painfully into Danny’s cheek and chin, prying his eyes away from Sam and towards her. Rage ate away at his features, his skin scorching against Phantom as green began to steam off him, his eyes flashing bright green before darkening as his eyes met hers. The woman tightened her grip as green smoke continued to envelope them; a smirk plastered to skin pulled back too tightly as she pressed her clammy forehead against his, gently. She took a deep breath as Danny struggled against her, his skin itching as black ectoplasm began to drip from his nose and ears, running down his face before smacking against the ground. Cold soaking through his clothes as his skin began to burn away, green fading to black, and black sparks radiating from his fingertips as the woman pressed her lips against his.

The teenager jerked away, his gaze meeting Sam’s stilled face. Her features silent, and Danny choked again as he yelled her name, fighting against the woman’s grasp again. Her nails dug once more into his flesh, pulling his face back towards her as black tears fell down his cheeks in thick trails. She thumbed some away slowly before licking the liquid from her thumb and smirking, pressing her chest once again against his.

“Such power. Such a waste,” She bent down further, her lips pressing against his temple, “Two down… See you in a year, lover.”

Pain seared across his chest, and the 17-year-old screamed as her hand pressed over his heart, burning against flesh as the greenish black swallowing him, ceased. His eyes flashed back to blue as he choked, grasping towards her hand before realizing she was gone. His hand pressing over the bloody handprint stained against his shirt as the pain slowly began to evade, and he twisted around, stumbling to his feet as he forced himself towards Sam….

#in the mood to watch danny phantom #danny phantom #fandom life #i need some fanfiction in my life right now #sick Danny #I was told to stop writing this and create a book out of this lol #posted on archive #lancer taking care of Danny #kb

[anna-justice]

too Close for Comfort - Upstead

Summary: Throwback to the aftermath of “Lines,” in season seven. This is the conversation between Jay, Voight and Hailey that we didn’t get to see.

Warnings: swearing, PTSD?, angst

Requested: Yes! #75, “What did you need to tell me?”

…

“Shut the door.”

Hailey slammed the door of her car shut, falling breathlessly into the driver's seat. It was freezing, the air inside being even colder than the frigid wind outside. Hailey threw her head back against the seat, numb to the frosty touch, she shook ever so slightly, having left her coat on her chair in the haste to get out of the district. 

“So this is something we’re doing now?” 

Soon, the temperature began to set in and Hailey broke her trance long enough to turn her keys in her ignition, suddenly being blasted with air as cold as Chicago winter wind. She didn’t bother to turn it down, it would warm up eventually and hopefully her with it. With no feeling in her ears or her hands, she hit the steering wheel, a single tear escaping her eye. She was surprised it didn’t freeze against her cheek. She had no idea what she was doing. 

“Do you understand, you crossed the line?”

She did, she knew what she did was wrong, but she just wanted to feel something. The cold air circulated throughout her car, making it borderline inhabitable. If her fingers were moving against the dash, she didn’t know, she felt nothing. She wanted to feel something: guilt, fear, remorse, even. But she didn’t. All she knew is that she had crossed the threshold of something she couldn’t even see, and all she felt was void. Part of her thought she would be happy, or maybe prideful. She had helped put away a violent criminal and saved another man ten years of life wasted, but the Hailey that had done that wasn’t recognizable to her anymore.

“The lines, they are real clear.”

And she wished they were, in Chicago at least. She knew that at the FBI there was almost a marked path of steps on the floor to take, you couldn’t miss it. But she wished it were that easy at home. She wished that she was afraid of them, like she always was before. But everything seemed different now, ever since Jay was shot her world had been upside down. She watched him cross the line with Marcus, and then with Angela. He was just trying to do the right thing and it almost got him killed, it was so clear to Hailey. 100%, without a doubt, get Jay out of this. He was crazy, supporting the family of the man he got killed, he was too close. But then, she was too close to see that he was never going to move on, not without doing everything he possibly could to help them.

God, it was so normal. It felt like everyone around her got the benefit of the doubt but her. Letting Angela walk to keep Jay’s secret was wrong, an oversight that the old Hailey never would have made. But the old Hailey didn’t watch her partner bleed out on a basement floor, the old Hailey didn’t plant evidence in peoples cars, the old Hailey didn’t dare take a step out of line.

“I don’t want you to be me.” 

She didn’t want to be him, but she didn’t see any other way. There was no going back now. Not after Cameron’s death, not after Darius. She wasn’t the same person who walked in and spilled coffee on Platt all those years ago. She felt like a fraud, and the only person that could really see her may never forgive her. Why would he? Hailey put on her seatbelt, willing herself to drive out of the parking lot, she had a lot of packing to do. 

“Hailey, I’m starting to wonder if you can do it.” 

She did too, she wondered what happened to her. Maybe it was the job: maybe she was hardening, losing her morality or just getting bored. But it felt like so much more than that. She had a family now, a real one, and she would do anything to protect them. She loved Vanessa, and she hated seeing her hurting. Of course she had to help Luis, she couldn’t watch Vanessa spiral. She was attached, something she had never let herself be before. 

Hailey’s phone buzzed in her cup holder, bringing her back to reality. Her car had finally decided to warm up, and now she felt on the verge of overheating.

Jay Halstead: I’m at Backdoor, text me when you get here. I’ll wait to go in.

Hailey groaned, feeling her eyes well up again. She forgot that she had plans to meet Jay at their bar, it had been a rough case, a rough day. It was their thing. She was dreading it, but she had to tell him. She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. 

…

Jay’s phone buzzed in his hand showing Hailey’s caller ID. He picked it up immediately. “Hey.” He said, a smile gracing his face.

“Hi.” She said, her voice coming through quiet and cut off.

Jay sat forward in his seat, “What’s wrong?” Worry laced thick. 

“Jay,” She said, almost like she was bracing herself. “I’m going to New York.” 

“What?” The words just kind of fell out of his mouth.

He heard Hailey take a deep breath on the line, “Voight is loaning me out to the FBI, the field office in New York. I leave tomorrow.” 

“I don’t understand…” Jay trailed off, “Why?”

“I-I messed up Jay.” She said, her voice breaking. “I did something really stupid and I guess this is my punishment.” 

Jay was seething and he wasn’t exactly sure why, “He can’t do this, he can’t just ship you off-”

“He can and he did.” Hailey cut him off. They were quiet for a moment. “I should go, I need to pack and my flight is early. I just wanted to tell you.” 

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Jay stumbled over his words. “Thank you, for letting me know.” 

Hailey breathed out a little laugh, “You think I would just disappear in the middle of the night?”

Jay froze for a second, she didn’t understand the weight of her own words. “You? No. Just, still, I appreciate it.” He had a million questions, but it seemed like she wasn’t really up for answers. 

“You’re my partner,” She said without hesitation, “And you will still be my partner when I’m there and you will still be my partner when I get back.”

Those words were his anchor, she was coming back. “Damn right.” He paused, “Get some sleep and text me before you take off, so I know you got through security okay.”

“Of course. Goodnight Jay.”

“Goodnight Hailey, have a safe trip.” And with that the line went dead.

Jay could feel his blood boiling, he smoothly threw the truck back into gear and high tailed it out of the parking lot. There was someone he needed to talk to.

…

10 minutes later Jay burst into Voight’s office. “You’re sending Hailey to New York?”  

Voight put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, he should have seen this coming. “The FBI needs a loan out officer, I thought it would be a good opportunity.” He said, calmly. 

Jay paced around the small office, his hands resting on his hips. He was so mad he couldn’t form a sentence. “How could you do this to me? Again?” 

“This isn’t about you Jay…” Voight said, his voice getting a little louder. 

Jay scoffed, “Like hell it is.” They stared each other down for a moment. “Kevin would have loved this chance, Adam too, and you’re telling me that Kim didn’t need an escape right now?” He didn’t understand why it had to be Hailey, punishment or not. “Why Hailey?”

“Upton knows why.” Voight said shortly.

“Then tell me!” Jay exclaimed, exasperated. “I’m her partner.” 

Voight stood, throwing the file he was reading down on his desk. “She needs this.”

“Well, I need her.” Jay snapped, gripping the back of the chair in front of him. 

Voight scoffed, “Jay, I told you a long time ago that if you want to be in my unit, you keep it in your pants.” 

“Oh, believe me,” Jay spat. “It’s in.” He sighed. “Hank, I can’t lose another partner to the feds. I can’t start over again.”

Voight took a breath, looking at the hurting young man in front of him. “Erin leaving was hard on me too, but ultimately it was her choice. She chose to leave and not come back. I gave Upton a temporary assignment, she is welcome back wherever she is ready.”

She is coming back, she is coming back, she is coming back. He almost felt like he was manifesting it. “What is she doesn’t?”

“Then that’s her choice.” Hank said, “Either way, you are yelling at the wrong person right now. Go home Jay.” 

Jay nodded, “Yeah, okay.” 

“See you tomorrow.”

Jay gave him a short nod before quickly leaving the office. He was feeling so many things he could barely stand it. He was embarrassed for blowing up on Voight and basically admitting his feelings for his partner to his boss. He was dreading the next few weeks without Hailey, he was dreading the constant stress of her deciding to stay. He was sad, all this New York talk was dredging up old memories, ones he wished he could just erase. He was angry, but he wasn’t sure who he was even mad at. And now he was scared, because somehow his truck ended up outside of Hailey’s house. 

He wasn’t sure why he was there or what he was going to say, but he just needed to see her. Jay made his way to the front door, knocking. The door swung open to reveal Vanessa, looking a bit more disheveled than normal. “Hey.” Jay said, he had forgotten about the roommate situation. 

“She’s upstairs.” The young officer said, skipping all niceties. 

Jay nodded, “Thanks.” He looked up the staircase, debating just calling her downstairs. This felt like a line they have never crossed, one he wasn’t sure either of them were ready for, but tonight wasn’t the night for playing it safe. He made his way up the carpeted stairs, the pictures hanging along the wall catching his eye. He was surprised to see that he was in most of them. 

There was on at the very top of just the two of them, he remembered the day it was taken like it was yesterday. They had just made a big bust, Voight and Antonio had taken the suspect in while the rest of the unit stayed behind to work with patrol. They were all so excited to finally get the guy off the street, it was one of those really good days on the job. He was pretty sure Kim took the picture, but they were both leaning against a squad car. You can’t see it, but Jay had his arm resting on Hailey’s back while hers and his other one held their vests. She was leaning against his, grinning like she normally was. 

When he willed himself to leave memory lane, he made his way to the top of the stairs, wandering for a moment down the hall to what he assumed was Hailey’s room. He met the threshold and was taken aback. Hailey had his back to him, an open suitcase on her bed. There were clothes everywhere in different folded piles and strewn across the floor. He knocked on the door frame and Hailey turned around immediately. “Hey,” He said quietly.

“Uh, hi.” She said, running a hand through her hair. She had on leggings and an oversized t-shirt, something that Jay had never seen her in. “What are you doing here?” 

Jay shrugged, “I just wanted to see you before you left. Make sure you were okay.” 

Hailey shook her head, going back to throwing things in the suitcase. “I’m fine, Jay.” 

Jay took a step into the room and then a few more, crossing yet another line. He made his way to Hailey, trying not to get distracted by the fact that he was standing less than two feet from her bed. “Hailey, talk to me.” 

Hailey sighed, “This is a really good opportunity, but I’m not sure I’m ready, and I don’t think I even want it. Is that ungrateful? This whole thing just feels tainted.” 

“Hailey you are a good cop, if anyone deserves this, it’s you.” Jay said softly.

“Jay, you don’t know what I did-”

“It doesn’t matter Hailey.” Jay said, cutting her off. “No matter what you did, you are going to kick ass in New York.” He was being completely serious, even if it was the last thing he wanted, he knew she was going to thrive there. “You’ve got this.” He stood up to leave, he couldn’t lay all his fears and worry on her now, he had to be supportive. 

“Jay-”

“Have a good trip Hailey, call or text whenever you want.” His chest felt tight as he reached the doorway, debating not looking back at her. Every part of him knows he needs to walk out that door, but he can’t forget all the times this has happened before. “What were you going to tell me?”

“Jay, I don’t want to leave.” Hailey calls across the room. 

There are a million things he wants to say, but not now. Not right before she flies 800 miles away. “I don’t want you to leave either.” 

Hailey gives him a soft smile, it’s enough confirmation for them both. She’s leaving, but she will be back. And for then,that was enough.

…

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this fic, I haven’t done one like it in a long time. I got the inspiration for this while listening to Meet us at Molly’s @meetusatmollys (check out this podcast on Podbean, you won’t regret it!). Thank you for reading! <3

P.S. comment/reblog to be added to my one-shot tag list

#jay halstead #hailey upton #upstead #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead imagines #hank voight #chicago pd #one chicago #chicago pd imagines

[soda-fawn]

Well I got bored and my brain refuses to work on anything that I should be working on so.. uhm have a meet-cute with UF Sans.. sorta

Sans grumbled as he moved through the streets. It felt as if hell froze over today, and the snow just wouldn’t let up. His car wouldn’t start, Papyrus left early and banned him from using his bike during the winter months. Sans didn’t blame him, but he still hated that he couldn’t use it. 

He would have preferred that today. To put on a helmet that would keep his gold tooth from freezing. Sans got used to this feeling when he lived in Snowdin, but it got worse on the surface. There was never this bad of blizzards in the underground, there was never this bad of cold in the underground. Hell, they were surrounded by the mountain walls on all four sides, so it was never that bad. 

So it was understandable that Sans found winters a little unpleasant on the surface. Sans wore a few layers today, an old scarf Papyrus “offered”, aka he forced him to take it for these last few weeks, his bright red turtle neck, an old worn hoodie that still smelled of his room in Snowdin, his signature jacket, some sweats that he found and just threw on, and finally his sneakers that he refused to get rid of despite Papyrus’ demands. 

He was a little surprised he wasn’t overheating, then again that was a little hard for a skeleton to do. 

The snow crunched under his feet as he made his way to a nearby bus stop. It was a familiar sound, the busy cars and people weren’t. Sure he’d been here for a few years, but he never got used to the number of people. 

He also didn’t want any sort of interaction today, he was tired and irritated. So you can imagine how thrilled he was to see someone else at the bus stop. 

He huffed and shuffled inside the little shelter. It was cold but better than being out in the snow. He took a glance at the other person at the bus stop.

….

His jaw became slacked. 

It was a small, well not really but most looked small to him, human huddled up in the corner trying desperately to stay warm. Their face red from the cold while they tried so hard to huddle in what looked like a thin sweater. They just seemed to have said sweater, jeans, and boots that were soaked at the bottom. 

They looked up at him, their eyes glazed over with regret. They scooted even closer in on themselves as if to give him room to sit down. It was adorable. 

Sans couldn’t lie, he did find humans attractive, only a few though. 

So seeing one that he did find attractive, fucking adorable right now, huddled up, shivering, cold, and offering him a seat was almost a dream come true. 

He took the seat next to them and gave them a curious glance. 

“You okay?”

They looked up at him, confused. they shivered again and gave him a curt nod. 

“..Ya don’t look it dollface. Yer shiverin” he pointed out. 

His pride swelled when he noticed their face flush. 

They bit their lip and began to fidget with their hands nervously. 

“Yes, i’m okay, just a little cold” they muttered. 

Sans’ grin grew, “I can see that.”

They laughed.

Sans’ soul swelled and pounded. God their laugh was adorable. 

“W-Well I was in a hurry this morning. It doesn’t look like I needed to be though, the bus is..is pretty late” the shivered again and shuffled a little closer to Sans. He figured it was because he was giving off body warmth. He most certainly didn’t mind it.

“Explains yer choice in clothes” he chuckled. They seemed so surprised by his laugh, their eye’s held a soft wonder and amazement. It made him a little embarrassed, he couldn’t say why. 

They snapped back to reality and laughed again, his soul thumped hard. 

“I didn’t think it would snow!” they defended. It caused another chuckle to come from Sans. 

He was pleasantly surprised when they started laughing with him. 

They shivered again, a small sneeze following after. 

He stared at them as they sneezed for a second and third time. “Ya gonna stop any time soon doll?” 

They laughed and nodded. 

They sniffled and shuffled again, hugging themselves now. Sans felt guilt swarm in him again. He was just letting them freeze! 

He slid off his jacket and pulled his hoodie over his head. It was a little obvious that he was more built than the average human skeleton now that he had two layers off. He placed the hoodie in his lap and slid the jacket over him once more. He glanced at the human next to him and his grin widened when he noticed their face had gotten redder. 

“Ya see somethin ya like dollface?” he teased. 

Their face flushed even deeper and it caused a roll of laughter to leave Sans. 

“Heh..’m just pullin your leg” he finally said. They puffed their cheeks.

“You think you’re funny don’t you?” they asked. He chuckled again.

“Oh sweetheart I think I’m hilarious” he got a significantly closer to them. He could smell them, they smelt sweet of vanilla and lavender. They stared at him for a second, a small smile cracked on their face. They analyzed his face a little more, taking the time to look at his teeth and his eye lights. 

Now he was the one becoming embarrassed again. He simply placed the hoodie in their lap and moved back to his seat and out of their personal bubble. He desperately tried to ignore the red dusting his cheekbones. 

They made a noise of confusion as the began to examine the hoodie. It would be too big to fit them, they simply placed the hoodie next to them and gave Sans a patient smile. 

“Wear it ‘fore ya freeze.”

“Oh no, sir-”

“Sans”

“..Sans. I can’t take it”

“Sweetheart do ya want to get sick?” He asked, finally facing them. 

They didn’t answer, just looked down at the large hoodie next to them. 

“But that doesn’t mean I can take it”

Sans huffed and grabbed the hoodie and scrunched it up. He gave them one more mischievous grin and rudely placed the hoodie over their head. They made a small surprise sound, which sans loved, and tried to stare at the skeleton before the hood engulfed their vision. Sans resisted the urge to laugh at how cute they were. 

They grumbled out a thank you and pulled their arms through the sleeves. They had to pull the sleeves up a little to even get their hands out. Their fingertips were a bright red and it made Sans wince. They must have been even colder than he thought. 

They pulled the hood back a little and gave Sans a bright and genuine smile. 

Sans’ soul thumped harder. 

“Thank you so much si- Sans, it’s so warm and comfy” the smiled. Sans could almost melt when he saw how happy it made them. 

“Keep it”

“What?”

“Keep it Sweetheart, suits ya better than it ever did me” he laughed off. 

They stared at him for a moment, confused and surprised by Sans’ generosity. He was a little surprised too. 

“I’d hate for ya to freeze doll, but y’know, if ya want I could warm ya up a different way” He purred. It sounded a lot more like him. 

Their face flushed and the hid their face in their hands and laughed. 

“You’re awful!”

“Oh but ya love it doll”

The two of them laughed. There was a small screeching sound and Sans looked up to see a bus that stopped by. It opened it’s doors and the human sitting next to him stood up and waved him goodbye.  

“I’m sorry to cut this short, I hope I see you again Sans!” They called out as they rushed towards the bus. 

Sans felt his stomach drop. 

He really didn’t want them to leave, he was just beginning to enjoy himself and relax. He didn’t even catch their name. 

He regretted not asking as the bus drove away. He hung his head and waited for the next bus to come. The “Monster” bus. 

It was downright insulting that he had to use a different bus, people tried to justify that “Monsters were just bigger than humans, they need more room!” Sans understood the real reason, humans weren’t accepting of their own species, why would they like monsters? 

He was damn happy Papyrus worked with the king on getting this bullshit fixed. Sans just let out a loud growl and exited the bus stop. No point in sitting there and let his anger boil over and ruin his mood, he just had the loveliest interaction with a cute little human. Better yet they liked him and had his hoodie. 

He took his time as he waltzed his way to work with his brother today, taking the time to imagine how cute and flushed that adorable human was when he gave them the hoodie. That genuine smile. To Sans of all people. 

---

Sans grumbled as he walked into Muffet’s bakery, the loud shrill of the small bell above him announcing his arrival. He really didn’t mind the spider monster, but he was craving his beloved mustard more than anything now. Mustard that Grillby would make. It had a slight kick to it that Sans couldn’t really describe.  It was basically alcohol to Sans at points, took a lot to get this skeleton drunk though. 

Sans wasn’t allowed in Grillby’s establishment for the time being. Grillby was always doing shady things, from underground to the surface the man never changed. But he never expected the entertainment that he provided to haunt Grillby. 

Grillby really wasn’t a bad guy, he never let a worker do something they were uncomfortable with. He still turned a blind eye to many dealings in the underground. From hosting illegal fights and biddings to adding poles in the far corner of his speakeasy underground. 

Asgore was pretty unhappy with it, and if word got out Asgore would have Grillby’s head. Everyone needed things to go right with the humans, even one little slip-up or bad impression could leave all monsters in a sticky situation. 

Even if they had been here for a few years, people still didn’t like them.

So here Sans was, in this overly purple bakery. It looked like a knock off Halloween store. But Sans had to admit, Muffet had gotten better with her baking skills and hired a few helpers. She had also become very successful, had her own clothing line. Sans wasn’t surprised. 

Muffet could really be as greedy as she wanted on the surface. Monster treats were becoming more popular, that’s why Grillby was in hot water and why Muffet had increased her prices. She was one of the only bakeries that served both humans and monsters. 

Felt like the 1950s.

Yeah, Sans had to go through basic school so that he was up to “Human Standards” as Papyrus called it. Good thing Sans was a fast learner. 

“Hello sir, how may I help you?” 

Sans turned to see a relatively short spider monster. It wasn’t Muffet, which surprised Sans to say the least. Their skin color was a soft maroon and instead of six arms they only had four, or at least four visible. Instead of a short bob, their hair was in a long braid that reached their waist. Sans was suddenly thankful he didn’t have a need for hair. 

Sans glanced over at the many deserts that littered the cases. “Aster usual” was all he said as he pulled out his wallet. The employee seemed surprised and quickly nodded. “T-That’ll be-” She was cut off by Sans handing her the exact amount. She gave him a quick glance and began to count out the money. Sans stuffed a few bills into the tip jar and turned on his heels. 

He was met with those same eyes he had met months ago. The two stared at each other in disbelief for a second. Sans gave them one quick glance and saw that they wore the exact hoodie he gave them. 

He met with their eyes again and they nervously smiled, probably noticing Sans’ gaze. His feet seemed to move without his permission. 

“What’s a dame like ya doin here, doll?” he teased. 

They lightly laughed, “I could ask you the same thing” they answered. 

Sans moved to the chair that sat across from them, “ya mind if I..?” They quickly shook their head. He took the seat across from them and examined them more. 

Their hair seemed a little shorter and they seemed much happier and healthy. Then again the last time he saw them they were freezing cold, and it was summer now. Not the unbearable winter. They held a soft and genuine smile at Sans. The hoodie seemed to be washed more times than Sans could count, no mustard stains near the collar, and it actually smelled nice rather than a room that wasn’t cleaned for months on end.

 Sans felt his soul thump. They didn’t just throw it away, they held on to it and took care of it. 

“It’s been a long time since I last saw you Sans” they smiled. 

He was surprised that they remembered his name. “Heh I guess it has been, I neva caught yer name” 

They looked at him surprised, “Oh! I guess I never really did introduce myself! I’m (Y/N)” they said. 

“..(Y/N) huh?” 

It rolled off his tongue nicely. He could get used to saying it more often, as much as he enjoyed calling this lovely little human nicknames, their name was just as sweet. If not sweeter. 

They nodded and leaned towards Sans a little, not a big gesture or really a noticeable body language change, but Sans noticed and loved it. 

“So Sans, what are you doing on this side of town?” 

Sans was taken back that they seemed to want to talk to him. He really shouldn’t be so surprised that they were treating him with kindness but he couldn’t help it. 

“I’m just pickin up lunch for me an’ my bro” he grinned. “What about ya dollface?”

They seemed to think for a minute. “Well, Papyrus and King Asgore went along with what they promised and have been decreasing the segregation between monsters and humans. I’ve been wanting to come here for some time, I wanted to come in when it was first opened but, uhm, I couldn’t. So I’m taking advantage of this while I can!” 

Sans’ grin grew even more. “How ya likin it? The food.”

“It’s a little odd I have to be honest.”

“Yeah, that’s cause it just turns into energy. Human and monster food are very different” Sans spoke up. 

There was soft amazement in their eyes when they glanced back at their own food. They were easy to entertain and it made Sans’ soul soar. Sans was brought out of his trance when a brown paper bag, with a small illustration of Muffet with the title “Muffet’s Bakery” plastered on the front. There was a little note at the bottom saying “Thank you for stopping by!” 

Another conversation with this adorable human was cut short again, this time by Sans. He wasn’t very happy with it. He muttered a ‘thank you’ as the maroon spider walked away. 

Sans gave (Y/N) an apologetic smile as he stood up. “It was really good seeing you again sweetheart, would you like to get a drink with me sometime?”

They gave him a curt nod, “Yeah I would love to! Is there a time and place you’d prefer? I heard that speakeasy ‘Grillby’s’ was really good!”

Sans stared down at this adorable human. He knew he wasn’t allowed in the establishment, but, who was he to say no?

“Yeah we can go there, how about tomorrow night at 7?”

“Yeah I’d love that” they smiled. 

Sans relaxed and grabbed the bag, heading for the door. He stopped when he heard the chair scoot out quickly, “I’ll see you then Sansy!” they called out. They missed it but the nickname made Sans blush, hard. He walked out the door with a large grin on his face.

#underfell #underfell sans #x reader #underfell sans x reader #Underfell Sans x #He's not mean #He's got a soft spot pretty quickly #underfell x reader #Undertale #meet cute #UF Muffet #uf sans

[fordanoia]

I Think I Saw You [Ch 1: A Place to Start]

Fandom: Gravity Falls || CW: - || Stan comes to Gravity Falls upon receiving a postcard from Ford, but he can’t find him and he has to figure out what’s going on. || Ao3 || Fic Tag

Prologue || Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || - || - || -

______(~3.5k words)______

After an hour he still hadn’t seen Ford, and it was still freezing. When he checked the thermostat he saw why the heat hadn’t changed, out of the side of it there a few wires poked out and when Stan pulled the cover off he saw the bundle of mangled wires that had been shakily cut and pulled.

An hour and a half ago, this would have been something he could play off, instead it just added onto the pile of everything else he had found since. The blood, the locks, and then all the writings.

The paranoid scrawls of Ford’s handwriting across papers scattered both on the floor and his desks, none of any that made real sense. Most of his cursive had turned illegible with haphazard lines and out of what wasn’t it was mostly technical talk about machinery and electric waves that Stan didn’t understand the first thing about.

There was only one idea that Stan could get out of the writings, because Ford had written it over and over in different ways, and it was creepy as hell.

‘I’m being watched.’

The idea echoed throughout the entire house - into the excessive amount of locks on the front door, the extra nails in the thick boards pressed against the windows, the barbed wire strung out in the snow around the house.

It even followed Stan himself when he had gone outside to grab firewood from the stack of cut logs near the edge of the trees. He only felt it though because he’d been reading the idea over and over while in some kind of horror movie murder hut looking cabin out in the middle of the woods.

It somehow felt even colder inside even after he closed the door. The icy wind from outside whipping inside after him and scraping at his sides and around his shoulders persisting until he was halfway down the hallway. He supposed that’s what he got for breaking a window for all the wind to come in through.

Stan carried the logs to the fireplace and lit a fire there, settling down on the floor in front of it for the heat.

His gut insisted something was wrong, but Stan had already figured that when he’d gotten the letter. Only difference now was it was a lot harder to think that Ford had sent him the postcard so they could reconnect or- or something like that.

There was no denying something was wrong by this point. He just wished Ford would show up so he could ask him what that something was.

Stan waited by the fire, letting crackling heat fill the space and time with half thoughts flitting every which way.

One particular rabbit hole of thinking kept pulling him back down every time he tried to convince himself that Ford would be back any minute.

Where would his brother have gone out in the middle of a blizzard so bad it frosted over Stan’s car in five minutes? And why?

After a half hour, the question was too big to ignore.

“Dammit, Ford, where the hell are you?” He muttered absently. Another cold wind wound its way into the room.

Grimacing, Stan got up off the floor, leaving his duffel bag in the middle of the floor and went to the kitchen. The fridge wasn’t empty, but it was clear not everything in there was meant to be food so Stan turned towards the pantry instead. As he did though, his eyes caught onto the window and stared. Between the wooden boards, the view outside was darkening.

If Ford was still outside - what if he was stuck somewhere close? Just nearby, Stan could check that far. Ford himself couldn’t have gotten that far on foot himself, and if he was in a car then he at least had something to hide in to keep himself from turning into a popsicle.

Even if he didn’t find anything, Stan couldn’t stand just waiting around and doing nothing like this, not when something bad was looming over this whole situation.

Stan turned on his heel, out the kitchen and unlocking the back door before remembering to zip his jacket closed and pull up the hood. Stepping outside, he pulled on his gloves. He didn’t bother locking the door back.

The white expanse in front of his feet quickly led to the tall forest, and Stan walked forward, keeping his hands in his pockets for the time being, only pulling them out to mark snow against a tree side to help him keep track of where he was at or for balance going down a steep little hill.

“If you’re stuck in a damn ditch right now...” He swore aloud, nearly losing his balance and falling. With the light of the sun dying he couldn’t stay outside long, and he knew it and he knew walking into the woods when it was getting dark was stupid, but it was better than nothing.

As Stan turned right, walking in a large circle around where he knew the shack was, he shouted for Ford as he went. Nothing around him looked like a person and the only colors around were white and brown.

Stan got increasingly frustrated as the light dimmed to the point that he had even less of a chance of making anything important out.

Ford was supposed to be here. Not outside here, but- but when Stan had showed up! Instead Stan came up to an empty cabin. Something was wrong enough for him to call Stan and he couldn’t tell what because Ford couldn’t even just be here for when Stan showed up!!

He looked like he’d been the one needing help though. Maybe a gang was after Ford. He didn’t really think Ford would have gotten involved with a gang much less people at all looking at the state of his house, but it’d at least make sense.

All the little details inside the house screamed that Ford was scared of something or someone, and that wasn’t even bringing into the fact that Ford wrote like someone was after him, watching him.

Stan’s foot snagged onto a covered tree branch and he tipped forward with a curse - hands going out to catch himself. He hit the snowy floor on his gloved hands and then down the hill, sliding onto his side.

He stopped halfway down the hill, his entire right side covered with snow. He turned to a sitting position and carefully stood up, wobbling against the wind. He numbly wiped the snow off of himself before it all melted, gloves wet by the time he was done.

He sighed, biting down on his lip and taking in his dark surroundings. He wouldn’t be able to see Ford even if he was here.

Stan took in a deep breath, then cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted one last time. “Ford if you’re there then just say something!”

He waited in the dull hum of wind broken up by dense trees and softly shifting snow, straining his ears for a response.

Standing still like this and waiting for a noise only made him feel all the more alone.

He glanced down at his hands and took the wet gloves off to shove into his pockets up against the brass knuckles. Turning, he headed back up the hill towards the shack, pushing his hands into his pockets.

He started shivering after a couple minutes, clenching his jaw tight to stop his teeth from clacking.

Stan pressed his arms into his sides bracing himself as he made it back onto flat ground again. The wind has since started to die down, at the very least.

A little while later he finally saw the shape of the shack through the trees, and turned direction to make a beeline towards it.

His right arm and leg felt like they were overheating by this point, but he’d been around enough to know when he was actually in danger of frostbite. That being said, he needed to change and light that fire again because the house was cold enough he’d definitely catch frostbite if he didn’t do anything about it.

Still shaking, he started the fire again. It took a few minutes because his fingers weren’t exactly cooperating right now, but hey.

He went upstairs to swipe some clothes from Ford’s room. He snorted at seeing the few sweater vests hanging in the closet, instead going for a plain black shirt and some pants.

After he changed, he raided through closets until he finally found one with a blanket inside and wrapped it around himself before going back down and sitting in front of the fire to warm up. He was still hungry, but he could deal with that later.

The more he warmed up the more bone tired he felt.

Stan tried to let himself fall asleep, and he was well beyond the point of being tired enough for it, but it took a while. He knew he’d wake up if Ford did come back in the middle of the night, he was a light sleeper. Not knowing what was going on though wasn’t helping.

Eventually though Stan fell asleep.

______

When Stan woke up the fire in front of him had burnt out and the cold was creeping in at him where he wasn’t covered.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and blearily staring at the burn out embers turned black and gray now.

After a while he finally got up and changed into his dry clothes, calling a couple times into the empty house for Ford. It was worth a shot, even if Ford was nowhere to be seen, of course.

Stomach growling and rolling in on itself, he went to the kitchen and pulled a sleeve of crackers out from the pantry to eat on at the small kitchen table and sitting near the window so he could look out between the wooden boards.

Finding Ford was- hell Ford was the only reason he was here in the first place, he had to find him. And if he hadn’t showed up by now he wasn’t coming back here.

Stan sighed heavily. It was either finding him or figuring out what happened so he could find him. Neither one was going well right now though.

“Okay,” he said to himself. “Okay.”

“So-” he ran his hand through his hair and sighed again. “So, what do I got? He thought someone was watching him, built this place up like he was expecting a raid or something, and now he’s not here.” Stan tapped his finger on the table and chewed on another cracker.

Both doors were locked too so it didn’t look like he was dragged out. Even if someone did drag him out of here, locking the door wouldn’t have made a difference and would have been more work than it was worth.

Stan pulled the postcard Ford had sent him out of his pocket now, looking at it and flipping it over. It had gotten crumpled and the texture had changed from where it had gotten wet last night, but everything was still readable.

He frowned. No send date stamped on it, so that didn’t help him. It could have taken the mail system anywhere from a few days to a few weeks for the post card to reach Stan from Oregon.

So... why would Ford have left this place after he’d fortified it this much. He couldn’t have had somewhere more secure than this, right? Not unless there was secretly a castle in the woods he could hold up inside. Did being watched matter so much that he had to get out of here?

Stan was still looking down at the postcard, thumb tracing over the bent corner that was close to falling off.

Where would he go if he thought this place wasn’t safe?

“Who’d even be watching you out here...?” Stan muttered, tucking the card away and getting up.

Stan went back through the rooms, grabbing any scrap of paper he saw with writing on it and dumped it all onto the desk in a relatively empty study.

He turned the lamp overhead on and started going through the papers for any information, quickly slapping all the stuff that only had equations on it into one pile to look if he got desperate.

What he was left with was - still hard to read just like yesterday, but this time he took the time to try and figure out the actual messy scrawls where they happened and find anything that could help point to what was going on.

The most legible stuff was full of technical jargon and Stan had to focus hard to not read the same sentence over and over again or look at the occasional doodled triangle.

It seemed to be about some machine to do with... electric omega waves? Some kind of waves. The more Stan read the more he picked up on the less scientific stuff inside. Supernatural barriers and rituals that definitely hadn’t come out of a physics textbook.

There was a room here that had been half filled with photos and samples of supernatural things, like mushrooms three times as tall as Ford himself and the needles of whatever a gremloblin was. It was a nice reminder that even if he hadn’t seen Ford yet, his brother still hadn’t changed that much.

After reading through most of the boring stuff Stan was able to piece together at least something. Ford had made two machines.

The first one, which Stan was going to call the problem machine, had made some kind of problem that Ford was trying to fix. He kept briefly mentioning this problem - a hole, a rift, a breach, never anything specific enough to know what it actually was though. No matter what though it always sounded like something about it was a problem or had made a problem.

The second machine was supposed to fix that. Stan didn’t really know how, kinda didn’t look like Ford had figured that out either, but it had something to do with waves and something supernatural.

Going from knowing zilch to knowing something was great, really it was better than the absolute jack all he had yesterday, but he still didn’t know what these machines were actually for.

If he was trying to use the supernatural with the fixer machine though maybe the problem also had something supernatural to it. And whatever the problem was, it was definitely big. Big enough that someone was after him.

Stan nearly gave up on the really illegible stuff, but half way through one page he realized that for several lines Ford was writing the same thing over and over ‘can’t sleep.’

Stan felt a pit drop into his stomach, looking for the very worst writing he could find across the pages and nearly every sentence he managed to trudge through sounded like that. Over and over again, Ford kept talking like even a nap like it was the end of the world.

Finally- god damn finally- Ford mentioned someone.

‘I have to stay awake. I can’t let Him win.’

“Come on, give me a name or something here." It was like the most annoying game of 'Guess Who' but from a vague piece of paper that nobody else besides Stan probably would have bothered to read through considering it was torn nearly in half and smudged in dirt.

Tapping his foot, Stan tried to quickly read and just winded up getting frustrated when he couldn’t, before he finally tossed the paper away from him.

His imagination got away from him, seeing Rico’s guys coming after Ford - except as soon as he imagined them creeping up to where Ford was tucked into the cabin it stopped making sense and the picture in his head fell away.

There were no bullet holes anywhere around the house, not even any forced signs of entry besides the one Stan made himself. So what had been going on when Ford had been here?

He wasn’t sure if he’d prefer if it was like the people he’d dealt with before, it’d be bad, but at least Stan knew how to work with that. This guy? Stan didn’t know what this guy had been doing or what he’d been planning to do that had Ford this scared.

“What was this guy watching you for anyway?” He asked the paper, the only damn thing around here that could even answer his questions.

The lamp light flickered three times before returning to normal. “Better not be cameras in here.” Stan muttered, before picking up a new page to read.

The lamp, however, started going in and out, electricity failing for long enough that it got distracting.

Stan stood up and unplugged the lamp from the wall then securely plugged it back in, looking back at the light a moment to make sure it wasn’t about to go on the fritz again before sitting back down.

He didn’t get far though because the light flickering again, stopping when Stan turned his head to watch it for a moment. He leaned back in his chair, tipping it back onto two legs and letting his eyes glaze over in the direction of all the paper piled up in front of him.

Maybe the guy had nabbed Ford while he was out of the house. It made enough sense. It’d explain why everything had still been locked up when Stan got here and why Ford wouldn’t have come back to his fortress of solitude.

If he was watching Ford then sure he’d know when he left the house and Ford couldn’t stay inside forever if he ran out of food.

The only other option Stan could really think of was that Ford decided this shack wasn’t safe anymore, but again - Stan had no idea where Ford could have gone.

Technically, he also had no idea where anything in town was or where someone could be trapping Ford, but finding a shady place sounded a lot easier than finding whatever Ford would consider safe from this guy’s eyes when a remote cabin out in the woods wasn’t. If Ford left for a new hideout, paranoid that he was being watched, then chances were he made sure he wasn’t seen and left no traces behind.

Stan started to feel grounded, with some options finally sliding into place.

Ford was either being held captive somewhere or he had hidden himself somewhere nobody would find him. So all Stan had to do was look around until he found someone that fit the bill, or if Ford was hiding out somewhere then for him to notice Stan running around and eventually leave him some kind of sign.

Stan's eyes focused as the light from the lamp started to quietly buzz, darkening to a low light before it began flickering.

Stan tipped his chair back to the ground, and reached inside to twist the bulb in tighter.

He watched the lamp expectantly and for a solid couple seconds it seemed like it had done the trick.

Then the light began to flicker on repeatedly, flashing three times and after a pause the light held on for a moment before the bulb darkened again.

Stan watched the faulty light flicker along for a few seconds before he finally stood up and just unplugged it from the wall entirely. He was done reading anyway.

Plus he could eat pretty much anything he wanted when Ford wasn’t here. Even if Ford wanted to get mad at him about it later, he’d just say he couldn’t get to the store for food anyway. Not that Stan had any money to buy food even if he went to town.

Stan went downstairs and into the kitchen, ready to rummage something more than crackers this time.

When he flipped the light switch on though it started flickering and Stan groaned. “You gotta be kidding me.”

He flipped the switch back off. Then on. “Work.”

The light turned on and Stan stayed poised with his finger at the switch and waited. When nothing happened he finally went over to the pantry. “That’s what I thought.”

He pushed aside the box of crackers and started to inspect the cans for soup or something good when the light started slowly flickering again. He ignored it for the first couple seconds, but it kept going.

After a dozen seconds he finally shot a scowl at the still flickering light before walking back towards the switch. The instant he took a step, the light started going completely haywire and he swore he could hear the electricity from it buzzing.

“Alright, yeah that’s-”

Stan had made it halfway across the kitchen when there was a loud pop and the light over his head burst, plunging the room into darkness with the tinkling of glass and a crackling noise of uncontained electricity that soon died down.

#gravity falls #my fics #stan pines #Fic: I Think I Saw You #c:mullet stan #c:stan #stanley pines #atots au #man ford must have been really bad about changing light bulbs :/ #((adding ao3 link after a day so this doesn't banish it from the tags alsdfjasd)

[imaginesmai]

Tony Stark-According to the plan

Plot: Tony Stark has a plan. Tony Stark builds a plan. He couldn’t have known both of them could go to shit in an abandoned HYDRA base in Siberia, by the hands of his ex-best friend.

Tony Stark, for the good or bad, was familiar with a lot of things. He had been betrayed by his friends and family, had found out things he wasn’t supposed to and had been hurt by them. That was why the whole deal with Steve, the accords and even the betrayal of Natasha wasn’t new for him.

He had dealt with it before. His father leaving a legacy of lies behind him. One of his closest friends trying to kill him. The world hating him even when he tried to do his best. Tony Stark wasn’t scared of facing betrayal. He didn’t care of Rogers turning his back on him again, if he decided to lock himself in a cell besides his best mate Bucky or if he got Tony in trouble. He didn’t care about it, because he was familiar with it.

But Tony Stark wasn’t familiar with things not going according to his plan. And that was what was happening.

Sitting in a small quinjet, with FRIDAY on the wheel, not knowing exactly where he was going, wasn’t his best plan for a Saturday evening. Tony was supposed to be locking up Steve and the rest of the rogue avengers, shaking hands with Ross and complaining about the pain on his back with his favourite person in the world tucked under his chin. Instead, he was chasing a feeling through the middle of the ocean with no back up and a possible threat ahead him.

That wasn’t even the worse part. The worst was that a small part of his original plan was going alright; he was complaining about something with his favourite person in the world tucked under his chin. Tony wasn’t familiar with that, and he didn’t like it.

“Stop pouting” you said, eyes closed.

“I’m not pouting”

“Yes you are. I might not see you, but I know you well enough Tony. I can feel you pouting from the other side of the world.”

Your breath hit Tony’s neck, where a bruise was forming from being slammed so hard between a pill of cars. He bit back the wince.

“That’s where you were supposed to be” he groaned, frustrated. “Other side of the world, taking care of those bruises and keeping an eye on the spider kid. Not that I don’t trust him, but maybe Happy wasn’t the best choice. I’ve seen his cardiogram.”

Tony knew it would have been impossible. Actually, he had been lucky. You had found him getting into the quinjet, the suit already loaded in and a guilty look on his face. Years with him let you guess what he was doing. And, if you hadn’t noticed by any chance, you would have probably chased him with your own quinjet. Or by water.

“You’re doing the right choice of the year, I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”

“Very funny. Though if I have a say in the matter, I think that the thermal suit I built you last month was quite the catch.”

“You almost melted me in a pool of water. That’s not a succeed, Tones”

“Not my fault that you can’t control the Elsa in you”

You rolled your eyes, icy fingers purposely sneaking into Tony’s shirt and scrapping his neck. If you had wanted, you could have frozen his heart and have him dead in seconds; but the way that heart beat was the reason of your existence.

Tony smacked your ass slightly and muttered something about being a brat, but you just laughed. It would be a long way to Siberia, and you were already tired from everything. Even if you weren’t very fond of the accords, you would do it for Tony. He could and would do anything to keep you safe, so you trusted him. In the argument with Ross, in the airport fight and then in the attempt to make things right in Siberia.

“I love you” you mumbled, nuzzling your nose against his neck.

It was hot in the quinjet, Tony being mindful of your awful capacity of thermoregulate, A shiver ran through his spine at your touch, and he breathed in.

“Me too, Mrs Stark” he said, the new name rolling off his tongue like candy. “If this goes right, we’re creating another army. Instead of robots and suits, of kids. An army of smart kids that will control the world.”

You blinked surprised, and your head moved forward so fast that you hit Tony square in the chin. He moaned in pain and you apologised. Tony was, for sure, the man. He was a superhero, genius, billionaire, philanthropist, playboy and very, very bad with his feelings. Tony blushed under your gaze. When his body overheated because of shyness, nervousness or anger, there was a curious chemical reaction as your hand touched his skin. Soft vapor started to form on the air, and he always laughed and calmed at that. That time, he only blushed harder.

“Is that your way of asking me to form a family with you?” you inquired.

“No, I’m just talking about the future. As in general future. It can be pretty relative, we could die right now from all we know. So-“

“That’s a shame, I was thinking about asking you about it” you shrugged, watching as he choked on his words. “But it will have to wait, I guess.”

“Or no”

The floor of the quinjet shook under you when Tony threw you on your back, his body on top. You got to squeal in surprise before he claimed his mouth with yours. As always, Tony Stark tasted like bourbon. And home. You winded your arms around his shoulders and pushed him closer.

“Should I take that as an offer to form a family?” you teared away and asked between giggles. Tony’s hair between your fingers was soft.

He smiled down at you, the small dimple you adored showing, and you couldn’t help but poking it softly with the tip of your finger. You chuckled and his heart melted.

“I hope, if that’s it, that they have your smile”

“And I hope what you’re saying is serious” Tony said, voice thick with emotion. “Because I… I really want this with you.”

The moment was, as half of the beautiful seconds you managed to get with Tony, stolen by Tony’s hand hitting your covered behind. You glared at him as he laughed freely.

“I swear, you’re the worst” you muttered.

“You love me” he said, before diving again from your lips.

Next time he smacked your ass, there wasn’t any cloth on it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sex was wonderful. With Tony, it always was. Your favourite part was the cuddles after it, where Tony would finally open up a bit to you and show you how his heart, the real one, beat for you. You were a sucker for those moments.

But you weren’t really lucky that day. And, as Tony’s plan that had gone to shit, yours were too. Stepping out of the quinjet and watching Steve’s surprised eyes had been the easy part. The hard one had been watching the video of Bucky killing Tony’s parents and your friends fighting your husband to death.

“Just stop!” you shouted once more, hands hurting from gripping Steve so tightly. You were holding back your powers, knowing that if you used them he would be screwed. “It’s not your fight!”

“He’s going to kill Bucky”

Steve was as powerful as you and, while you held back the itch of freezing him again, he didn’t hold back the shove that threw you to the ground. Your back hit the ground with a painful  thud, and you whined in pain. The bruises of the previous fight were reappearing, so were the anger and frustration.

Propping up on your elbow, you saw Steve trying to make a run towards Tony, who was stopping Bucky from leaving. What your husband was doing wasn’t right, and you knew it. He was blinded by pain and sorrow, and Bucky wasn’t the same man who had killed his parents. Yet he was there, alive and trying to escape, and his parents weren’t.

The ground that Steve was stepping on became ice in seconds, and he fell face first. His nose met the stone with a sickening crush, and soon covered it with thin blood. You winced, sorry for what you had just done but knowing it was necessary. Steve got back up and so did you, arms at your side and more ready than ever.

“Steve, I don’t want to hurt you” you tried once more, eyes glowing blue. It was getting painfully cold in that place. “Step back, let me talk to Tony. Violence is not the way.”

“He has started it!” Steve shouted at you. “I have to stop him, Y/N. You’re too blinded to see what he’s doing.”

“I’m not-“

Your quick reflex, developed after spending so much time in the lab with Tony where pieces of the suit flew all the time, saved your life. You ducked your head down, the shield hitting the wall behind you. It created a small gap on it, and you gasped. It was meant for you head.

Bucky’s body hitting the ground distracted you, and Steve took advantage of your worry for his friend to punch you in the face and leave you in the ground. Tony’s propulsors flew through the small space, following Bucky. He threw the soldier a few meters back again, the mask covering the tears on his face.

Because, even if he was wearing the suit, you knew Tony too well, and he was suffering with all of that.

He turned to face you but was thrown back by the shield, and that was when you saw red. Tony was Steve’s friend. Tony was the one that had fought Ross in not experimenting on him. And he was the one that had travelled across the ocean, ignoring the law he was trying to protect, to make things right.

When you discovered your powers years ago, you had discovered along with Bruce that you worked better in the cold. They grew stronger, and could be explosive if you didn’t measure them good. Hence why Tony always made sure to keep the rooms you were in warm enough.

The sound of punches, screams and blasters was all background while you blocked the winter’s soldier escape, and literally froze his arm to a wall. Bucky tried to fight you, much less aggressive than Steve, and managed to hit you with a heavy brick. The air was stolen from your lungs, but Tony didn’t have time to reach you, as you were back at your feet and launching Bucky across the ground.

If there was a part of Tony’s original plan left, it went down to hell when Steve managed to push him down, and rose the shield over his head. The mask had fallen long ago, along with part of the armour around his left shoulder. His eyes widened at the determination in what used to be his friend’s eyes.

For the first time in a while, he closed his eyes, afraid of what was to come. Not of death, but of the lost future he had promised you not even an hour ago. The hit, however, never came, only a sudden cold breeze that made snow fall on his eyelashes. It all felt like one of those nights where he would wake up with you having a nightmare, snow falling on the room. But as he opened his eyes there was no room to calm him down, just his own nightmare waiting for him.

The seconds dragged on. Time and space stopped, and there was no Captain America in front of him, just a man. A criminal. For all he knew, a murderer.

“Y/N”

Steve was angry. Furious. He wanted the world to see Bucky as he did. The good soul that had been tortured and manipulated for years. He was desperate for Tony and you, his friends, to see that. Steve was willing to drive his shield through Tony’s arc reactor to prove it.

“Y/N”

Movements, actions, and decisions crossed through Steve’s eyes without any order. He was going to kill Tony. Bucky was stuck to a wall, his arm nearly ripped off because of the ice and his body hanging unconscious. His arm, ready to strike. Then it was cold, really cold, and he thought he moved. A little to the right, maybe. He stuck the final blow anyway, ready to end it all.

“Y/N!”

Despite the pain, Tony got to his knees and his weak arms pushed Steve to the ground. He wasn’t holding himself very well on his own, anyway; the sight in front of him blurry. Tony crawled while he tried to breath. It did feel as if the shield had hit the arc reactor, breaking it forever. Instead of his light heart, it had hit the real one. And instead of hitting him, it had hit you.

You had been thrown backwards with the force of the shield. The grey sky was greeting you, and there was a strange noise. Almost as if a kitten was crying somewhere. Or as if Tony’s suit was getting started next to you, having difficulties. It took you a while that the sound was you trying to breath.

“No” Tony was crawling with his elbows, dragging himself. “No! You asshole! Y/N!”

He reached you, and wished he hadn’t. The shield, along with Steve’s full force, had hit you on the throat. There was growing red and purple bruise forming on your throat, and you were wheezing. Tony’s hand cradled your head, trying to get your unfocused eyes to see him.

As soon as they did, he regretted his decision. You looked at him with such a despair, fear and pain that he sobbed. He broke down in sobs and cries, messing with his words and breaths. His fingers shook against your skin, pushing the hair out of your face.

“No, no, no…” the suit retracted, showing his bleeding side and bruised body. “Please, no…”

Tony shouted to Friday to call for help. He shouted it more than once, urging the AI to hurry. His mind shut down when the system tried to read him your vitals, too hurt to listen to them.

On his right side, Steve rose up. It was as if he had woken up from a dream, and just realised what he had down. With shaky legs, he walked towards where Tony was cradling you, repeating you not to be afraid. He could see your eyes falling shut, the panic attack hitting Tony and the world falling on his shoulders.

“Tony, I-“

Steve Rogers didn’t get to say anything, as Tony’s suit blasted him away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You asked to see me, Mr Stark?”

It felt weird, but you were in front of him. One hand in the handle, the other holding a bunch of papers. You had a cocky smirk and a raised brow. You were happy. Before he could answer, you closed the door and hugged the documents in front of you. The suit long gone, a pencil skirt on your lap.

“Come sit down” his voice didn’t seem his. Had it always been that deep? “Right here”

Tony was pointing at the floor, but he didn’t know why. You looked at him with a sceptical look, but crossed the room and sat down in the most ladylike manner you could, since the nylon rights and skirt would not take kindly to sit cross-legged. Not that he hadn’t seen that before, but he knew you weren’t alone.

Suddenly, a little boy with an adorable, doe-eyed expression appeared from behind him, and broke into a wide, half-toothy baby grin. Tony’s heart ached in love.

“Mommy!” the boy squealed, and climbed into your lap. “I missed you so much! Working with daddy is soo boring!”

You laughed, and Tony smiled. It felt familiar. It felt good. You reached a hand and let the boy grab onto it with both of his tiny hands. He used your arm as support as he stood up on his wobbly baby legs, beaming at you. In an exaggerated motion, he planted a mouth open kiss on your cheek.

The beeping of the monitor woke him up once more, and he actually fell from the chair that time. His body hit the floor with a loud thud, and he groaned in pain. The sling moved and he whined, before putting it back on its place.

The same dream, just different hour. Tony was afraid of falling asleep, because in his dreams everything was much better. And it tempted him into letting go.

“Same dream?” a mechanic voice said, and he looked at you. Your eyes were already on him, sad look on them.

“Yeah” he shifted, coughing. “Have to say, our kid is going to be damn beautiful. We’re going to have to keep the ladies away”

If you could, you would have laughed. But there was an opening in your throat, with a tube and a ton of meds flowing through. Your fingers shook over the small screen that let you type and say everything you wanted to. FRIDAY would say it for you. Sometimes, it wasn’t enough.

“Hey, don’t worry”

Tony must had sensed your distress, because he was moving to your bed and sitting beside you. He cradled your head, the same way he had done for two weeks, time you had been lying on bed. You offered him a small smile, but your teary eyes betrayed you.

Slowly, you broke down in sobs. Silent sobs, only the tears escaping your eyes and ugly pouts in your mouth. The temperature of the room decreased, and when Tony leaned down to hug you he shivered. But he didn’t move, only kissed your cheek.

“It’s okay, we’re okay” he assured you. “Just give them a little more time to figure this out”

“I’m scared”

That had been Tony’s most hated words over the past few weeks. He had been scared when you had closed your eyes for the first time. He would have been scared on the ambulance, when they couldn’t find out what was wrong; but he had passed out from the panic attack. After the surgery, the therapy and the time following, Tony had been afraid.

But you were there too, and in a way he was glad for it. The doctors had said that the damage done to your throat wasn’t too threatening; just a few months of recovery and you would be out of the hospital, chattering Tony’s ear off.

Until then, all he could do was to reassure you.

“Come on, move your beautiful ass” he whispered, already sitting on the small bed.

Tony had a good collection of injuries for himself. Broken arm, fractured collarbone, three cracked ribs, sprained knee and multiple lacerations in his back and chest. A concussion, too. And he had to be monitored 24/7 for a possible heart attack.

You moved slowly, Tony’s hand keeping a steady grip on the tube on your throat. While you moved, he took notice of your much thinner body. There had been all the time an IV connected to your arm, giving you the nutrients and vitamins your body needed. He made a mental note to yell and shout at the doctors for a while when you were asleep.

As if nothing had happened, your cold nose touched his neck and your fingers grazed his side. He welcomed the cold touch, because it meant you were alive.

“I’m gonna get a heater brought here” he started, his arms circling your waist. “Hell, I’ll get Happy just to get this room into the tower. I’ve thinking about making a few modifications. If we want to do this, no sharp ends. Weak and expensive glass. Sorry Y/N, we’ll have to get rid of your mother’s weeding gift. You won’t hear me complaining about it.”

You tried to smile, although it came out as a grimace. Pale fingers tapped on the screen, that was already half frozen from your powers.

“For a person who hasn’t asked me yet, you have a lot of plans”

Tony chuckled at the mechanic voice, still to get used to the mechanic voice instead of yours. Thankfully, it would be for too long. He had plans; plans for your suit, which would be made of vibranium as soon as he was back on the lab. Plans for you, and a already bought room covered in bubble paper, where you would spend a long time. And plans for the little one he was willing to have.

“You don’t forget, hm?” he teased, and you slapped his chest. “Okay, so I guess here it is. Get ready for the second most extravagant petition of your life. I’m not doing again the dropping off a building, once for the proposal was enough”

You knew he was nervous. Tony Stark had been trying all his life to keep the emotions under control. But he didn’t do a good job with you. Before you could assure him that he didn’t have to do so, he talked again.

“Y/N Stark, after me, you’re the second best person- ow! Okay, okay! I’ll get to it!” he laughed, pushing your icy fingers away from his crotch. “I really want to start a family with you. My… my father wasn’t the best, but I want to be. Maybe, maybe I’m not ready for it. Who is ready to have a little monster licking everything on the house? No one. But I want to try with you. If you decide to start another crazy adventure with this excuse of a mechanic.”

Behind all the sarcasm, Tony was just a scared boy. You saw it in the way his right foot kept colliding with the bottom of the bed, how the arc reactor shinned with different patterns, and how his chocolate eyes travelled between your eyes to your nose. As if you would ever say no to anything Tony Stark said.

With a small nod, you signed up for another plan with him. Odds were against you, as always. There was the possibility of being kidnapped, killed, tortured, hurt, drowned, electrocuted and even cut in a half.

The majority of Tony Stark’s plans went to shit. But they were worthy if he could share them with someone was amazing and incredible as you.

Tony Tags:

@snoopy3000​

@hannie-c​

#tony stark #tony stark imagine #tony stark one shot #tony stark x reader #tony stark angst #civil war #ca:cw #iron man #iron man imagine #iron man x reader #iron man one shot #avengers #avengers one shot #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

[mermaidxatxheart]

Overheated

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Warnings: The usual, swearing, smut 18+ I can’t emphasize it enough, if you are under 18, please don’t read.

Word Count: 2074

Summary: Bucky moved to one of the hottest countries for you because you missed being home. But now the super-soldier is really suffering in the hot, hot heat of Brazil, so you come up with a way to help him out. 

A/N: I wrote this for my lovely friend @everythingisoverrated because Brazil gets so hot, it’s insane. I did not convert the temperature to Celcius, for those of you that live outside the US, sorry about it. Don’t panic, the world isn’t on fire. lol. Also, my lovely, perfect mood board was made insanely quick for me by @captainsteveevans Seriously, she’s amazing. I asked for it and I was expecting her to have it in a week and she comes back an hour later with this absolutely perfect masterpiece that fits perfectly with what I was picturing. I can’t thank you enough!

(It’s fucking gorgeous^^^)

James Buchanan Barnes is not happy.

 He was not built for heat.

 He is 6’1”, and 275 pounds of solid muscle.

 He was designed with coldness in mind.

 Not 112 degrees of Brazilian summer.

 Who lives where it’s 112 degrees?

 What the hell was he thinking, moving here? 

 You walk into the kitchen and suddenly he remembers why he suffers so terribly. The girl with the beautiful eyes and a smile so charming that you can talk him into doing anything.

 “How’s my super soldier today?” You ask, sitting on his lap. Even though the extra contact makes his suffering worse, it’s worth it to have you so close.

 “Miserable. Why did we move here?” He asks with a sigh, resting his forehead against your bare shoulder.

 “Because I missed my home. And you’re a sucker who agreed.” You grin, swiveling around so you’re facing him, straddling his lap. “And I love you for it.” You kiss his lips slowly, teasingly. 

 His hands slide around to your hips, kissing you back. “What time do you have to leave?” He asks quietly.

 “I don’t. Day off today.” You grin. “Which reminds me why I came in here in the first place.” 

 “You mean it wasn’t just to torment me with how good you look in those shorts?” Bucky loves modern fashion. He loves to peel these short shorts and your tank tops off you, revealing inch by inch of your beautiful body.

 “No, that’s just a happy side effect.” You smirk. “I found someplace you can cool off. It’s a little bit of a hike, but I think you’re up to it. It’s very private. I didn’t see any signs of other people being there.” 

 “Alright. Lead the way, doll.” He says, guiding you off his lap and you pull on his arm until he stands up.

 You hand him his keys and grab your beach bag. He hesitates at the sight of it. He hates the beach; he’s told you that. The sand gets everywhere, in the chinks in his arm, in his always messy hair. He can’t get rid of it, but you love it. You love the warm sun on your skin, the sand between your toes, the lovely ocean breeze in your hair. You’re a complete beach bum.

 “Relax, it just has water in it, babe. I told you, it’s a hike.” You smirk.

 “Fine.” He follows you out to his car and opens the passenger door for you. 

 “God, you’re so hot when you’re a gentleman.”

 “I’m very hot now and it doesn’t have anything to do with being a gentleman.”

 You laugh and it’s completely worth it. He climbs in behind the wheel and starts the car. He can feel you watching him and he can’t really tell what you’re thinking.

 You direct him out of town, towards the edge of the looming jungle.

 “You can’t be serious.” He rolls his head to look at you and you laugh.

 “Have a little faith, meu amor.” You lean over and kiss his cheek. “We walk from here.” You climb out as he parks and sticks the keys in his pocket. You slip into the dense foliage and he has to hurry to catch up to you. 

 You’re so full of energy, so full of life and he finds himself so mesmerized by you. He trails behind, enjoying the view immensely when suddenly you stop and turn to look at him. Your shirt is soaked through from the humid heat of the jungle, your hair is a frizzy mess, plastered to your face and neck and fuck, you’ve never looked so beautiful.

 “Come on, slowpoke. We’re almost there.” You laugh and he catches up, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close.

 “I love you.” He says and you smile, a knowing thing like you’ve known this your whole life.

 “You must, if you moved all the way here just for me.”

 “I go where you go.” He smiles and kisses you slowly, his big hand cupping the back of your neck and tilting your head up, kissing you as deeply as he possibly can. 

 You lean against him and he can feel your pulse racing under his fingers. He backs you into a tree and you groan, your fingers tangling in his hair.

 “Easy, cowboy. We’re almost there.” You pant as you break away from him. He can’t imagine the willpower that must have taken, because he certainly wasn’t about to pull away any time soon. In fact, if you had let him, he would have had you against that tree. Shit, he would have had you in the car if it wasn’t so damn fucking hot outside. 

 In fact, there really isn’t anywhere that he wouldn’t let you have your way with him. 

 “How close is almost?” He grumbles as you take his hand and lead him over some stumps.

 “Close your eyes.” You instruct and he hesitates. “Trust me.”

 He places his metal hand over his eyes and lets you guide him up a little hill. You position him just the way you want him and stand back.

 “Okay, you can open your eyes now.” You say quietly.

 He lowers his hand and stares at the sight before him. A beautiful waterfall about twenty feet tall pours into a basin about half the size of a football field. Brightly colored wildflowers surround the banks, and he can feel the cool breeze from the crashing water. 

 “This is gorgeous.” He mumbles. “How did you find it?”

 “On my hike yesterday. I saw it and immediately thought of you. Come on.” You venture down the crest ahead of him and drop your bag by the bank. You peel off your tank top, revealing your bare torso and his cock stirs in his pants.

 “So, it’s gonna be that kind of a swim?” He calls down to you. 

 You laugh as you shimmy out of those damn shorts. You wade out into the water and duck under. His heart counts the seconds until you’re on top again and he lets out a sigh.

 “It’s freezing! You’re gonna love it!” You call, dunking your head back to get your hair out of your face. His eyes trace the curve of your neck and fuck, he needs you. 

 He makes his way down to you and strips out of his clothes, following you into the water. Shit, it’s cold and it feels so good. He can feel his body temperature regulating the deeper he goes. 

 He ducks under the water and comes up next to you, snaking his arm around your waist. You let out a yelp and he pulls you closer, laughing.

 “So mean.” You grumble, turning to face him. You wrap your legs tight around his hips and he supports your weight. You curl your fingers into his hair and kiss him so softly. 

 He sighs happily and kisses his way down your jaw to bury his face in your neck. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, tilting your head back and giving him better access to your neck. He loves having you so close.

 “It’s been two weeks since we’ve had sex.” You murmur in his ear, making him shiver.

 “We should fix that.” He replies, shifting you forward and kissing you deeply. He lines the head of his dick up with your slit and lowers you onto it. The feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him almost makes his knees give out. 

 He backs up, moving deeper into the water, finding a little cove. He sits on a rock at the perfect height, his hands gripping your hips tightly. 

 You’re everywhere, all over him, your hands pull at his wet hair, claw at his neck and shoulders, dig into his chest. You rock your hips wide and slow, taking his deep inside you as you kiss him hungrily.

 Apparently, he wasn’t the only one suffering from the heat.

 He holds you close, his fingers leaving marks on your flawless skin as he ruts up into you, moaning your name as your walls stroke and pull at his throbbing cock. 

 Fuck, you feel so good.

 He guides your hips faster and you crush yourself against him, panting hard in his ear, his name a wicked gasp on your sinful lips as you bite his lobe, fingernails digging into his scalp. 

 “Bucky,” you gasp. It’s a plea, you need more, need it faster-harder. Normally, he’s inclined to give you everything you could ever want.

 But today, the first time in two weeks he can breathe, he can enjoy your touch. He’s not going to rush it for anything.

 He pulls you up, supporting your light weight so that just the tip of his swollen cock is nestled inside your warm opening. You whine and he chuckles, kissing down your chest. 

 He sucks your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, biting and laving and sucking and starting all over again until you’re a pleading, begging mess.

 You always have control over him, he’s freakishly happy to do anything for you-but here, these stolen moments that he doesn’t deserve-he takes back his control. 

 He lifts you up completely, easily, lifting your legs over his shoulders, supporting you. You screech anyway and grip his head.

 That’s fine, you will anyway.

 He lowers his mouth to your perfect cunt, licking up the sweet nectar that he craves. It floods between your legs as he licks and sucks, knowing just how to treat you.

 “Bucky!” You gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair as he devours your honey, drinking it all up. You tremble, shaking from the intense pleasure he’s bringing you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, right there. Oh, fuck yes! Meu amor!!” You cry and he does as you ask, tormenting that perfect spot until you gush with your orgasm. He drinks it up, this life-saving sweetness that he can never get enough of. 

 He slowly lowers your shaking body back into the water, turning you around so that your back is against his chest. 

 He pushes into you as you lower down, a moan escaping your lips as he stretches you. “Bucky.” You moan, reaching back for him. Your fingers twist in his hair and he buries his face in your neck.

 “You taste so good; I couldn’t let it pass.” He whispers against the soft skin of your throat. His flesh hand is wrapped around you, cupping your breast as he plays with your sensitive nipples. 

 You make a sound in your throat, something similar to a purr, so content with him inside you, his strong arms finally holding you close. 

 “Y/N.” He sighs, inhaling against your skin. His metal hand slips down your body and between your thighs. He strokes your clit slowly, still not having moved an inch inside you.

 He can’t get enough of you. He wants to stay here all day, wrapped up in loving you, forgetting that the world exists. 

 He stands up, letting you slide down a little so the tip of his cock is nestled right up against your womb. You moan as he fills you more. 

 He turns and braces your hands against the rock. You hold your position, ready for him to finish inside you, needing him to finish inside you. 

 That’s the only way this would be perfect. 

 You push your ass back against him and he pulls out slightly, his metal fingers picking up the pace on your clit. He slams back in and you grunt in heavenly bliss. The rocks bite into your hands as he begins to thrust home, his fingers working your nipples and clit as he begins to fuck you with all the passion you need. 

 His breath is hot and harsh on the back of your neck, contrasting perfectly with the cold water surrounding your body. 

 You mewl and whine as he pumps into you, stroking your body higher and higher. “B-Bucky!” You cry out, bliss and pleasure crashing over you as you cum around his pistoning cock. 

 With a groan, he pulls you back against him, burying his length inside you, cumming harshly. He pants in your ear, holding you close, sinking into the water until his breathing comes back to normal.

 You float with him, high on loving him.

 “Can we come back tomorrow?” He asks against your ear.

 You laugh, turning to capture his mouth with yours.

Tag List (If I missed you, or you’d like to be tagged, let me know. Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag you)

@everythingisoverrated @dsakita @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff​ @after-avenging-hours​ @alexblrus​ @thinkingsofamadwoman​ @i-dont-want-to-be-called​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @fortheloveofallthatsholy​ @crazychaotic​ @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety​ @redstarstan​ @septic-boye​ @justreadingfics​ @themistsofmyavalon​ @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​ @wkemeup​ @thiccbinch​ @glide-thru​ @moli1497​ @ellaenchanted91​ @part-time-patronus​ @janeyboo​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ @uncledaddykelbo @thirstybitchqueen​

#marvel #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #fluff #sweet #mermaidxatxheart #romance #18+

[gaycrouton]

oh my goodddd i loved your underwear fic and would be so happy if you ever decided to continue it

Thank you so much!! For those that didn’t see it, a while back ago I posted this fic called Lingerie. Here are a few more random bonus takes!

Lingerie Bonus:

I

“Scully?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you wearing your coat?” he asked, finally broaching the question that’d been on his mind for the last two hours. He’d initially not taken much notice, but then he started picking up on the way she kept trying to roll up her sleeves and failing miserably because of the bulk. He’d thought she’d just forgotten until it became overwhelmingly obvious this was a purposeful suffering she was putting herself through. he knew his new partner had some quirks, hell so did he, but this just seemed uncomfortable.

“Um, I’m just a little cold,” she shrugged. That might have passed if it weren’t for the extreme binaries working in the basement in winter came with. In this realm of the building, the heat was always either broken, leaving them to freeze, or it was overcompensating, leading them to boil. This was a boiling day and he was uncomfortable even looking at her.

“Scully,” he repeated accusatorily, not letting the lie slide.

“I’m dressed innapropriately for work,” she replied, letting her eyes fall back down to the paperwork on her desk as if to signal her indifference on the subject.

Every fibre in his body wanted to make a suggestive joke, but he was too worried about her overheating in the name of modesty. “It’s just a paperwork day,” he offered. She didn’t say anything and he followed with a sympathetic, “It can’t be that bad.”

“I’m not wearing an undershirt,” she blurted as if it was a big reveal. 

It wasn’t.

“So?” he prompted, uncertain of what was causing the issue.

“I’m wearing a thin white blouse and a black bra,” she elaborated, still not making eye contact, but not making much progress on the paper she’d been staring at.

Oh.

He laughed sympathetically and did his very best not to imagine what that looked like. “No one ever comes down here but us,” he offered.

She finally looked up at him and she looked like she was carefully trying to choose her words.

Double oh.

“I hope I’ve never made you feel uncomfortable-” he started apologetically. Was she really suffering because she thought he’d just leer at her?

She cut him off immediately as if already knowing what he was thinking. “No, it’s not you, Mulder.”

They stared at each other for a moment before awkwardly laughing off the uncomfortable situation. “I just didn’t want you to think this is how I normally dress. I didn’t even realize how noticeable it was until I took off my coat at security.”

“You can dress however you want,” he offered. At her raised eyebrow he quickly added, “I mean, what’s important is your work. I’d never judge you for whatever you choose to, or not to, wear.” He was digging himself in a hole, but based off her smile, she wasn’t mad.

She stood up and started unbuttoning her coat. “Good, because then I’d have to start being vocal about my opinions on your ties.”

He let out a little laugh before looking down at his current tie with pigs on it. “Hey, what’s wrong with my ties?” he asked before lifting his eyes back up to her.

No wonder she’d been shy. The silk blouse was nearly see through and her black bra was undoubtably visible through it. He’d taken a big glimpse of her back as she hung up her coat, but only saw the two front cups for all of one millisecond before giving her privacy and darting his eyes down to his work.

“Aside from the fact they’re tacky?” she teased goodnaturedly. He could hear the smile in her voice, but didn’t want to look at her and accidentally look down and make her regret her decision.

He was able to keep his eyes away for the whole rest of the day and for that, when the coat was back on her shoulders in preparation for the walk out, she gave him a grateful smile and an appreciative “Thank you, Mulder.”

He was proud of himself for proving that he was a good partner and would never oogle her, but later that night his thoughts kept flashing to that hint of black lace and he remembered a millesecond’s glance can go a long way with a photographic memory.

II

“Mulder! I need your help!”

The bright flash of the crime scene techs make him blink his eyes and wipe a hand over his face. He’d been here once before, when he quite literally kicked her door down to rush to the bathroom and find her fighting with Tooms.

Sometimes he liked to imagine what it’d be like for them to be the average, everyday partners. Would she have ever invited him over for a cup of coffee? Or would he have never seen the inside of Scully’s domain if it wasn’t the scene of a crime?

Wordlessly, passively listening to the ongoing conversations around him that were saying nothing more than abduction, blood, missing, is that her partner? He had to see everything - he had to make sure no stone was left unturned.

He entered forbidden domain without hesitation. Of all the times he imagined being in Scully’s bedroom-

He shook the thought from his mind and glanced analytically around the room. It was as he’d imagined: clean, orderly, feminine, so very Scully. A closet in the corner was cracked open and he mindlessly went over to it. Realistically, he knew it was his memory of her telling him about Donnie Pfaster keeping her in the closet mixed with his desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, Duane Barry was stupid and this was all a misunderstanding and he’d find her there. But, as his heart knew, as soon as he opened the door there was nothing.

Well, nothing wasn’t accurate. This was the closet that she kept her clothes and hamper in, and upon opening it he was met with a strong waft of her scent and all the clothes he’d do anything to see filled again. 

His eye was caught by a cup of a white bra dangling off the laundry basket, caught on the rim by the bridge in the middle and a matching pair of white panties sitting on top of the other dirty clothes. He swallowed thickly and felt a crashing wave of guilt for feeling like he was invading her privacy.

He needed to find her.

III

Either she didn’t hear him knock on the adjoining door or he didn’t hear her tell him to wait. His brain was too overwhelmed in this moment to actually know which it was.

All he knew was that he just walked into see Scully on all fours with her ass in the air towards him as she looked under her bed for something. That in and of itself would have been enough to kill him, but she was currently in the middle of getting dressed and all she was wearing was her underwear. Which, he was eternally greatful for because he may have just died on the spot if not. 

Her back was pale and milky with an intermitten smattering of freckles that reminded him of starlight, but what stood out most in this moment was how round and perfect her-

“Mulder!” she screamed as she completely fell to the floor, as if trying to dissolve into it. Her hands quickly came to her front to cup her breasts as she whipped her head over her shoulder.

He only met her eyes for a moment before snapping them shut and running back to his room, slamming the door behind him. “Scully, I’m so sorry!”

IV

It would be a miracle if he didn’t crash, plain and simple. It was just impossible not to look. 

Scully’d fallen asleep in the passenger seat, a gift he’d forever be envious of, but as she slept she inadvertenly unbuttoned the top button she’d previously had buttoned which opened her blouse down to the front middle clasp of her bra. She was dead to the world, her lips parted slightly as her chest rose with each deep breath. It was just him alone in the car now with the sounds of the seventies and Scully’s sleeping body turned towards him.

Because of course she was.

What really didn’t help was the intermitten groans she’d release as she’d squirm in her seat in an attempt, he presumed, to get more comfortable. Oh, and to add to it all, her skirt was riding up as her hand just innocently rested at the hem. It was a sight that was as endearing as it was arousing.

She made a gasping sound and his eyes left the road to look at her face, which was now accented with a furrowed brow of sleepy concentration. Was she having a nightmare?

His own brows furrowed in concern as he glanced between the stretch of desolate highway and the passanger seat to make sure she was okay. From mile marker 66 to 78, she gasped three times, moaned twice, and readjusted one time that resulted in her brushing her breasts against his arm that was resting on the middle console, and now Mulder was cursing himself for not wearing better pants. 

“-der,” she whispered. He’d heard those three letters together enough to know it was the ending half of him name, but he’d never heard them in quite that inflection. Curiosity started to turn into hopeful understanding as he realized that Dana Scully, his beautiful partner, sounded like she was having a sex dream.

But there was no way-

He glanced at her colored cheeks as she sleepily nuzzled herself against the headrest. Against his better judgement, his eyes darted down to the valley of her breasts and stared appreciatively before she breathily whispered, “Fuck.”

Then, with the timing and grace of a bull in a china shop, he drove over a rumble strip and she woke up with a start. “Wha’s wrong?” she slurred sleepily but alarmed.

“Sorry,” he coughed, readjusting himself in his seat while praying she didn’t see his hard on. “I was looking at a billboard and drove over a rumble strip,” he explained, hoping she didn’t turn around and notice the large expanse of nothingness behind them.

Luckily she was too preoccupied with herself to notice anything else. She started pulling down her skirt and rebuttoning her shirt before squirming in her seat uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, uh-” she started, but stopped herself.

“Hm?” 

“Did I talk in my sleep at all?” she asked nervously.

With her behaviour confirming his hopeful suspicions, he bit back a smile. “No, not at all.”

Extra Bonus

She wasn’t sure if there was a sight more jarring but welcome to her than that of a sleeping Mulder in nothing but his boxers in her bed. It was a sight she’d imagined countless times over, though she’d never admit it, but she didn’t think it would take these circumstances for it to have to happen.

She’d seen his body in an assortment of ways and segments throughout their partnership, but she’d never gotten a chance to really appreciate it up close. It truly wasn’t fair that he lived on a diet of fast food and Kraft Mac and Cheese yet could simply run on occasion and have a body like this, but she was too stunned by it to be resentful. 

This is what he was hiding beneath his clothes every day. Mulder was always kind, gentle, and sweet towards her, but this was a body of elegant strength and power. He wore his masculinity well and she wasn’t saying that jsut because, in her efforts to document his recovery, she’d observed his nocturnal tumesence come and go in flares. 

It just amused her to no end he was sleeping like an angel on the very same spot she’d been in while imagining him with her hand between her legs. 

Though he’d been wearing a little less in her imagination.

#gaycrouton #my fanfiction #I feel very rusty so I hope this is even decent lol #THANK YOU FOR THE PROMPT BOO #x files fanfic #mulder #scully

[atamascolily]

lily liveblogs “terminator: dark fate”, part 2

“It’s raining men (and women)”.... hallelujah? Or not, as the case may be.

(For those just joining us, part one is here)

I was kinda hoping they would run the credits  after the title, but I guess filmmakers... don't do that anymore, because we all have short attention spans these days?? Some of that is George Lucas's fault, I know, but tbh I kinda enjoy the creative ways in which filmmakers USED that space occupied by the opening credits... like how The Karate Kid uses it for Daniel and Lucille's road trip between Jersey and California, how it establishes how many friends Daniel had, the importance of his bike, and the whole "putting the car in neutral" and rolling it to get the engine going AND the motif/promise of the pool... all in a minute or two. Magical.  I kinda miss that compared to earlier films.

Anyway, highway at night in what the screen tells me is Mexico City 22 years later. Okay, then. There's ice... and then lightning crackling on the road edge, which can only mean one thing -- a visitor from the future!!

There's a woman making out with her boyfriend underneath the highway, and she says "Oh, my god," and the boyfriend thinks it's all his doing, LOL. Sorry, dude, not today.

THE SPHERE IS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HIGHWAY OVERPASS, HOLY FUCK, WHO SET THOSE COORDINATES?? It's a good thing the spheres destroy everything around them, or else this movie would be very, very short.

As it is, Grace falls naked from a great height, banging on supports as she goes down. Ow. Great way of showing she's not quite human.

Of course the watching girl goes over to help while her boyfriend sits there slack-jawed until she shames him into going along. They pick her up and carry her towards their car, only for the police to show up and demand to know what's going on. They think that they're drug dealers (?) and don't believe that she fell from a bridge.

"I love it when it rains naked ladies," says the cop, which is movie-speak for, "I'm an asshole about to get my ass kicked and the audience is going to cheer while it happens".

He grabs her, and Grace sees his gun, and goes for it. Yup, he's down. She's got some sort of augmented vision like the Terminator though anyone who's seen the trailer knows already she's on the side of good.

Grace takes out all the cops completely naked, and I love how this scene is filmed because it's so not focused on anything sexual and it's not sexualized at all, at least for the male gaze that I can tell. It's just... a naked woman kicking ass without obsessing over the fact that she's naked, and it's so goddamn refreshing.

The boyfriend thinks she's amazing. His girlfriend walks over and hugs him. Grace strides up to him and compares her bare foot to his boot. "Don't thank me yet," she says in a deadpan.

Cut to Grace wearing his clothes driving away in his car as the boyfriend stands around in his boxers and yells for her to go to hell. And I like this because it's so much more effective  this way to leave the details in the reader's head and show us the results. The girlfriend steers him away, and he starts blaming her, for getting them involved in the first place. Fuck you, dude. I hope she dumps him that night, too.

Cut to Dani in the street somewhere, carrying flowers and chatting with a tamale vendor. We learn from this that she always has flowers -- an association with life and spirit, and not letting the grind get you down. I approve.  

Dani has a brother, Diego, who wants to be a pop star, and a father whom she reminds to go to the doctor. Caretaker of the family! Of course they have a dog, named Taco. I'm sure this will be relevant later. I hope Taco survives. Diego tries to chat up a neighbor named Julia, and I'm sure this will all end tragically. I hope she survives.

Dani and Diego leave just in time... for another naked person to drop from the sky in a glowing electric sphere! What are the odd??!

Okay, I don't remember the spheres forming ice in previous films, but it's a cool detail that it makes all the laundry on the lines freeze and shatter... so it's gotta be SUPER COLD. Like, liquid-nitrogen levels of cold.

Like Grace's sphere, this one drops its inhabitant off in mid-air, but the Terminator is able to do a beautiful leap and land on his feet like a cat. He looks like a marble sculpture here - beautiful, smooth, polished, muscled grace. Hot damn. There is absolutely no emotion on his face as he stands up, and even without the music cues, you know right away something is wrong.

There's a woman staring at him when he turns around. And now he looks friendly... earnest, helpful. "Good morning," he says in Spanish as he reaches out to touch the jacket she has in her hand, and it spills up out of his skin HOLY FUCK THAT IS CREEPY AND AMAZING at the same time.

The woman FREAKS OUT and he SMILES at her ever so slightly, and--

Cut to a busy city street. Unlike the highway where Grace appeared, this in the middle of the city, with lots of apartment buildings and traffic. Dani and Diego are on a bus.

Cut to Dani's father answering a knock on the door while Taco the dog barks hysterically. I know, I know, I'm so sorry, Taco. There's the Terminator, and he's so charming and earnest in his plaid jacket, looking for Dani. He claims to be a friend. Her father is shocked. "That's strange. Her friends call her Dani..."

"Dani?" repeats the Terminator. "Yes, of course." AND HE SMILES... fuck. A TERMINATOR THAT CAN MIMIC HUMAN FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AND SHOW EMOTIONS I AM NOT PREPARED FOR THIS.

(but it actually makes PERFECT SENSE for reasons that will be explained later [kinda] in the film!!!!)

Cut to a factory. Arius Motors. Dani and Diego going in to work as cars swing by on the line. There are robot arms and it's all very timely and metaphorical. Somebody goes by on a bicycle INSIDE THE FACTORY and I have no idea how that works, but okay.

Diego's station has been replaced by "a new guy,"--an orange robot arm. Dani asks the supervisor what's going on and he says, "The future," and the manager wants to see Diego in his office. Dani goes in his place, the supervisor says no, Dani pulls out her hair tie, and goes anyway. THIS IS WHY SHE'S THE LEADER OF THE MOTHERFUCKING RESISTANCE, Y'ALL, she’s ALREADY taking no shit from robots. 

Dani's father shows up at the factory claiming his kids forgot their lunch and can he come in? Poor dad is definitely dead. I hope Taco at least survived, but I doubt it. Meanwhile Grace is approaching and just leaps over the turnstile like it's no big deal and I LOVE IT. Then she follows a security guard into a corner and mugs him for his uniform and it's all so goddamn quick.

The security guard tells "Dad" that he can't come in without a helmet and vest, which is bullshit, because most of the employees don't wear them, but whatever. Grace keeps walking. How the fuck did she dress so fast, but she looks great. She's got a jacket awkwardly covering her gun, and it's not subtle, but no one seems to notice.

Dani is arguing with the boss, who is... American? At least he's speaking English. She's trying to keep her brother's job, but he's all "well, he's not as good as you are," and Dani is Not Having It. She threatens to tell them that machines are coming for ALL the jobs, and god, I love her so much because EVEN WITHOUT TERMINATORS MESSING UP HER LIFE, SHE WAS GONNA GO PLACES.

"Dad" goes to Dani's station and she isn't there, but he talks to Diego. (I don't know how he knows so much, but I'm sure it wasn't pretty.) The Terminator makes that lame excuse about bringing lunches, and Diego is confused, because Dani already took care of that--

Then Dani shows up and the lunch morphs into a gun, and I'm not sure how they did that, because wasn't the morphing stuff not supposed to MAKE GUNS--ok, maybe he took the security guard's gun and morphed the lunch OVER it as a cover with his polyalloy bits--but FUCK this dude is SCARY--and points the gun at Dani as she and Diego stare--only to have his head blown open as Grace fires.

Grace keeps shooting as Dani screams, and grabs Dani before she can get to "Dad". Grace is way better at explaining things than Kyle Reese: "That is NOT your father. That was a machine that sent here to kill you. " It helps that the Terminator has lots of metal bits exposed at this point, and rapidly shifting back to normal. Come with me or you're dead in the next thirty seconds!"

Dani doesn't buy this, but she runs as Grace shepherds both her and Diego away.

And that back arch as the Terminator sits up and regenerates back to his "original" persona--which, I'll note, he DIDN't steal from anyone in our present; it was the one he came with UNLIKE the T-1000 in T2--and it's scary as hell. And even watching him run, and leap--it's not human. It's a predator disguised in human form. Well done, filmmakers.

I like how they show Grace's augmented senses here, and how she has the extra warning to shove Dani and Diego out of the way when the Terminator goes flying for her. He slices her cap off with arms that are suddenly sword-knives, and she swings a mallet at him, knocking him flat--and flinging him into a wall when she hits him again. She is really fucking strong, and I've never seen a woman be this strong before and it's AMAZING.

She hits him on the head over and over again, and then he starts crawling up the mallet towards her and it's so creepy HOLY FUCK and then he sends her sprawling and pops the mallet back out of his head OH MY GOD.

Grace starts using a piece of car siding as shield because she lost her weapon, keeping herself between the Terminator and Dani at all times.

Diego crushes him with a machine--I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE, FILMMAKERS, NICE CALLBACK. Unfortunately, it doesn't take, but it does give them some breathing room. Meanwhile, Grace is tired and out of breath, and visibly overheating. The perfect time to introduce herself to Dani!

Grace explains the situation on the run, and throws Diego into the truck they steal outside when he hesitates. I gotta hand it to her, she's doing this whole thing pretty well.

Diego sees her arm. "Are you a machine too?" "No I'm human, like you!" They don't believe her. "No, I'm augmented." THIS IS GOING TO BE A THEME, OH MY GOD. More on this later. Grace can argue with them AND hotwire the truck at the same time. #goals.

They bust out of the factory. The police immediately go after them, not sure how that worked, and Grace says "Oh, shit," seconds before the Terminator (now revealed as the Rev-9) busts through the wall with a truck and a... snowplow? I guess it's for moving stone and metal bits around the factory? Whatever. It's a lot. The police cars go flying.

Somehow Grace manages to drive AND explain backstory at the same time, which I admire, because I can barely talk and drive at the same time.

There's a lot of civilian casualties, mostly due to the Rev-9 snowplowing everything. They end up going backwards up the highway off-ramp and onto the highway. The Rev-9 busts through more things and loses the snowplow. It's a bad day to be driving in Mexico City, let's just say that much.

Grace gets the first "FUCK!" of the movie, as the check engine light of the truck comes on, so Dani gets to drive while Grace makes improvised weapons out of rebar. Oh, wait, Dani can't drive, so Diego gets to do it. (Hahaha, I guess Dani's going to learn how to drive soon because METAPHOR)

Graces eases off her jacket so she can blow off steam and leaps into the back of the truck, yelling for Dani to put her seatbelt on OH MY GOD THIS MOVIE. I love it.

She targets the Rev-9 and throws. He doesn't even flinch at the first one and catches the second one. She stabs him several times through and then he grabs the rebar and moves the polymetallic alloy portion of himself onto the front of the truck while the metallic Terminator skeleton drives.

[COMBINING THOSE TWO PARTS IS REALLY CREEPY AND ALSO THE BEST DECISION THEY COULD HAVE MADE 10/10 APPROVED]

It looks like the skeleton is laughing at Grace, but I think that's just his resting bitch face, lol.

Grace changes tactics and shoots for the tires. The Rev-9 jumps and throws a rebar back at her and Grace deflects it so it misses Dani. Then the truck is dragging the Rev-9's protoplasm while the other half crashes and Grace has to fend him off. Rev-9 takes this opportunity and slashes at the tires with his sword-hands. Grace kicks him off and he gets run over, but it won't take. Diego crashes the truck as the tire blows and Grace rolls and takes a bad fall onto the pavement. The Rev-9's skeleton crawls out of the flames.

DANI WORE HER SEATBELT SO SHE'S FINE WHILE DIEGO DIDN'T AND IS INJURED OH MY GOD THIS MOVIE THE DETAILS FUUUUUUCCCKKKK. Like, Grace knew Dani had to wear her seatbelt BECAUSE SHE'S FROM THE FUTURE AND OLDER!DANI TOLD HER TO DO IT! And younger!Dani DID IT! OH my GOD! (either that or they really are just that drift compatible)

Oh, no, Diego has rebar through him, he's not going to survive AAAAAAAAH no whhhhhhyyyyy

Meanwhile, some poor motorist tries to help the Rev-9 and is murdered for his troubles. sigh.

Grace has to pull Dani over the body of her dying brother seconds before the Rev-9 smashes into the car and everything explodes in fire. Dani tries to run to Diego and Grace holds her back. Grace makes Dani run.

All of the Rev-9's protoplasm is oozing back towards the skeleton in liquid dark smears on the ground and it's so creepy FUUUUCCKKKK

Oh god HE WALKS THROUGH THE METAL HIGHWAY GUARD LIKE IT'S NO BIG DEAL HOW CREEPY CAN YOU GET FUUUUCCKKK

And then the skeleton starts throwing rebar at them from the other SIDE fuuuuckk. this movie so isn't subtle, because there's the machine part and the human-looking part, and they're both working together as one, and this is a METAPHOR, we're meant to see the Rev-9 and Grace as FOILS to each other AAHHHHHH and the Rev-9 is also a SYMBOL OF WHAT HUMANITY CAN BECOME IF IT MELDS WITH AI, AHHHHHHH

Can I just note here that the skeleton part DOES NOT HAVE A ROUND HEAD THERE IS IN FACT A GAP WHERE ITS BRAIN SHOULD BE AAAAAAA

"When they start to kill me, run," Grace says to Dani. But... AN SUV pulls up, knocks the skeleton flat on its ass as the human part of the REV-9 just stares in dull, placid confusion.

next up: my fave returns!

#terminator #terminator: dark fate

[theinfamousdoctorf]

So I’m finally back...

 Those few who know me personally will be aware that me and @theoverworldqueen have purchased a small rural house together. <3 It’s taken the better part of a year to make it happen and several months apart while I negotiated a transfer with my job and she logged work history in the place we were moving too for the mortgage requirements. [So we were apart for several more months then we‘d planned on. ;_: ]

 It took me almost two months to pack our household by myself, and several days to actually load the truck. The ‘friends’ who had promised to help us move faded away when they were actually needed, and I had to utilize some local kids who received cash and some friendly neighbors who were paid in furniture [that didn’t fit in the truck] and booze.

  When the day came to actually leave, I still had no volunteers to drive the truck because none of my friends could get time off work. [I had to drive my car with our eight cats inside.] The only people available to help were my parents.

The exact people I was moving to get the fuck away from.

 My mother refused to do any driving because the big truck was ‘too scary’. My pathetic excuse for a father, [from here on called jackass], would be doing all of the driving. Despite the fact that he’d just had several toes removed for diabetic reasons. My mother planned the route, later I realized she not only planned it with a paper atlas rather then choosing the fastest route via Google, [because she didn’t know how to use the app and wouldn’t ask for help] but also planned a very circuitous route in a vain attempt to avoid driving through any mountains. [Because they are also just too scary.]  So we start driving. A 26 foot Budget rental truck with a small horse trailer on it, and my car with me and the cats. Before we even got out of Texas, the horse trailer hit a bump and lost a wheel. It was then dragged about a mile while throwing an ocean of sparks where the metal edge was grinding against the asphalt. This was because it happened on a narrow highway with no breakdown lane. I barely managed to avoid getting hit with the wheel that flew off as well. We sat in a parking lot all night waiting for a tow driver who basically told us the king nut flew off and it was totaled. I had a partial mental breakdown and had to abandon most of the things I’d packed into the trailer. The truck was already stuffed up to the door and what little I saved was jammed in my car and thrown on top of everything else in the truck.   The cats were riding in a pair of pop-up zippered tents and were pretty mad by this point. My car stank of piss and fear pheromones.

 And then we drove, and drove and drove. Keep in mind that my destination was Washington state and I was coming from Galveston TX. It should have been a 2 and a half day drive with a stop to sleep each night. Around the third day I demanded to see the map and realized she had sent us across the widest part of Texas and New Mexico before turning north. There was a lot of arguing. Especially because I realized jackass was a terrible driver. So I had no choice but to watch helplessly as this colossal asshole drove a truck rented in my name, with nearly all my worldly goods inside, over every fucking curb, bumping it up and down and weaving all over the road. He hit a call box outside a Jack in the Box, he scraped a parked truck, he hit signs at more then one gas station and skirted far too close to the pumps with the back end of the truck. I went beyond the reasonable limits of human stress.

 The cats destroyed the zippers on the carriers and I was forced to just let them roam the car. First panting in the heat and then huddled freezing as we got further north. [I had them all in little safety vests and that kept them mostly calm, pro tip.]  On the fourth night jackass drove into a truck stop and then behind it. Up an unlit dirt road that said ‘dangerous blasting area authorized access only’. He then turned around several times and went back down to the truck stop where I blocked him with my car. He and my mother were having a screaming match because he wouldn’t explain what he was doing or why and wouldn’t stop doing donuts in the restricted area when she told him too.  I lost my shit. I screamed in his face and when he didn’t respond, I grabbed his horrible scraggy beard and then his throat and repeated myself. I took the keys and went to try and get some sleep in my car. [With so many animals in tow I couldn’t get a hotel room and really couldn’t leave the car unattended at all. So I hadn’t been able to properly shower in days. Plus I’d forgotten to bring a spare pair of shoes and my sandaled feet were red and freezing.]  The bastard has always tried to make my mother choose between me and him. He’s a psychotic manic depressive on a whole rainbow of medications. He’s a misogynist who really wanted a son, plus a racist and generally stingy and awful person. A running argument revolved around his insistence on cutting my lawn three times a week with the mower blade on the lowest setting so he was just killing anything green and kicking up dust. [My mother is pure enabler, always apologizing for his terrible behavior and gaslighting me like I’m over reacting.] He’s literally alienated so many people where I was living that I’ve lost out on jobs because he insists that I’m the terrible one and trash-talks me to everyone he meets.  So we finally get back on the road.

 In Wyoming I tried to get some sleep at a rest stop and someone hit my car and busted out a tail light. Several times we almost run out of gas because her planned route avoided any cities in case there was traffic. At this point I have a massive rash under my bra and just take it off.

 On the fifth night we arrive in a gas station in Idaho. I go to pee and come back outside to find jackass laying on the ground with three people hovering over him. I inform my mother that he fell and go back to my car. So emotionally dead at this point I don’t feel anything. 

 I am informed that jackass has broken his hip.

 I’ve spent most of my life praying for him to die, so that part doesn’t touch me. The part that ripped my heart out was that my mother told me that I’m now ‘on my own’. She is going to the hospital with him. She left me in a freezing parking lot with eight cats in a car and a giant moving truck with all my things in it.  Terrified and heartbroken I call my girlfriend Lie. She is eight hours away and leaving now to come rescue me. She’s bringing our friend Ashley as well. So I huddle in the car with the cats and try to sleep. After several hours I get a text from my mother telling me to bring her luggage and such to the hospital. At this point I’m furious. I tell her I will not do that. She says I will. I stop responding.  In the morning my rescuers arrive and we begin the long final limp over the mountains.  I get several more messages threatening me, trying to shame me for just ‘moving on without them’ and ‘not caring if your father dies’.  I was instructed to deal with my own problems like an adult. So that’s what I did. At that point the rental truck needed to be returned and I hadn’t even arrived yet. My job was waiting on me to show up the next day for orientation, and she’d basically wasted all the time I’d budgeted for unloading the truck. There was no way in hell I was going anywhere to give either of them anything.

 But we did finally get here. The Budget guy sent me his ex-wife who happily took some cash in exchange for unloading the truck with me, and we finally got rid of the thing. Unfortunately my car overheated from all the punishment it took and it’s currently non-functional. My job gave me a little extension so I’m using the time to get our household set up again.  My Etsy shop [https://www.etsy.com/shop/PatchworkLaboratory ] is still on vacation for the moment because the previous tenant didn’t like mail and just didn’t have a mailbox, but it should be up and running again soon. My other site is still good though if you’d like some funky cloth and want to throw a few dollars towards me fixing my car. [ https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/infamousdoctorf] I’ve got a paypal attached to [email protected] as well. It’s going to be hard financially to keep all the bills paid, but I just couldn’t stand being near my abusive family anymore.

In conclusion. Take your giant cockroaches, fire ants, heat waves, and hurricanes; and go fuck yourself Galveston. Have fun with my awful relatives.

WA is home.

#patchworklaboratory

[midsommersolstice]

The Little Guy

Whumptober 2019 - Prompt #4: Human Shield

Fandom: Marvel/MCU/Irondad

Summary: Tony knew that Peter was willing to risk his life in order to look out for "the little guy" but he hadn't realized just how little "little" was.

Word Count: 1454

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20888633

@whumptober2019

The August sun pressed down into the streets of Queens, heating the tarmac and making the air above the streets waver and distort. The smell of diesel and sweat was inescapable, stop and go traffic blocking the streets and tourists crowding the sidewalks. Tony hated the city heat. He wanted air conditioning and he wanted shade and he wanted quiet. But here he was strolling along the burning sidewalk in sunglasses and a baseball cap, all because one kid had effortlessly wandered past his normally impenetrable emotional shell. “I told Ned that water can boil and freeze at the same time but he didn’t believe me. It was so disappointing, because I know a lot of people don’t know that, but NED should know that. He said he needed to see it to believe it, so I told him to either bring me some cyclohexane and a turbo-molecular vacuum pump, or look up a video of it on YouTube.” Peter paused long enough to look up at Tony, suck on the straw of his iced lemonade, and take a breath before continuing. “He was at least smart enough to choose YouTube, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually checked craigslist for a turbo-molecular vacuum first. He doesn’t trust the internet.” Tony put a hand on Peter’s shoulder to guide him around a young woman pouring water into a bowl for her labrador. “Can’t you two just look up porn like normal teenagers?” The woman whipped her head toward him in shock as they passed. “Don’t you want us to feed our natural curiosity for science?” “Of course, kid, but I want you to have fun, too. You know, experience all life has to offer.” Tony took a sip of his iced coffee, which was rapidly becoming warm watery coffee. “Like heroine?” The coffee rushed up Tony’s nose in his effort to not spit it all over himself, but after a few forced coughs and throat-clearings he managed to save most of his dignity. “No, brat, not like heroine.” Peter snickered and then glanced around at the nearby stores and restaurants. “What do you want to do now, Mr. Stark? Want to go somewhere air conditioned?” Tony knew that Peter enjoyed being out in the heat. He was only suggesting air conditioning for Tony’s sake. “Whatever you want, kiddo. This is your afternoon.” Peter glanced up at him for only a brief moment before deciding. “I’d like some air conditioning. There’s a bookstore the next block up, want to stop in there for a while?” Tony could already imagine the cool blast of air that would grace his sweaty and overheated skin the moment he opened the doors. “That sounds like heaven.” Peter gave him a bright smile and turned down another street, this one blessedly less crowded. “Okay, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Pete. There’s a one day conference in Newark on recent advances in bio-engineering. I thought I’d stop in and I’ve got a plus one. It’s on the 24th, you interested?” Truthfully, Tony didn’t need to go. He was quite confident that they wouldn’t present any information that he hadn’t already been aware of for months, but he thought it might be a good experience for Peter. In response, Peter stopped in his tracks, stared at him with big eyes, glanced around wildly, and then ran into traffic. Not the reaction Tony was expecting. For a split second he was paralyzed in shock, but then he darted after him, coffee leaving his hands to splatter onto the sidewalk next to Peter’s lemonade. Peter had already disappeared past the first lane of traffic by the time Tony got to it. Then there were tires screeching, horns honking, and a quiet thump. Tony’s mind and body froze, one foot in the street and one still on the sidewalk as the sounds of New York faded around him into a faint ringing. “Get the fuck out of the road, dickweed!” The gruff call barely registered in Tony’s mind, but the young voice that followed certainly did. “I’m sorry, sir, I was saving a turtle!” Then Peter came trotting sheepishly back into view, holding a turtle. Tony let out a rush of breath and ran out to meet him halfway, taking him by the elbow and leading him quickly back to the sidewalk. “For God’s sake, Peter, what the hell was that?” “I was saving this turtle, Mr. Stark.” He held the turtle up to Tony as they stepped back up onto the sidewalk. “You ran into traffic!” He hissed, trying and failing to keep his voice down when he realized how many people were staring at them. Some eyes followed Peter in wonder, others in annoyance, and still others were glaring at Tony in judgement, as though it had been his fault for letting this teenager run into the road. He added jumping in front of cars in the middle of a conversation to the list of ways Peter Parker could give him a heart attack. He kept leading Peter until they rounded the corner into the shade of a less-traveled alleyway, out of view of the main road. “Peter, you can’t, can’t do stuff like that! I feel like I shouldn’t need to have this conversation with you,” Tony reprimanded, shifting about to relieve some post-adrenaline jitters. “I’m sorry Mr. Stark, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just had to save Donatello, he was about to get run over.” Tony looked down at the turtle again and noticed little purple painted designs on the shell. “Is this... is this your turtle?” Peter’s eyes rounded. “No no, he’s not mine! He belongs to a girl named Stephanie. She posted him three days ago, so I’ve been looking for him.” “Posted him?” He watched the turtle slowly draw all its limbs into its shell. “There’s a website for lost pets in Queens, so people can help look for them. I try to go on there every day. I can cover a lot of ground as Spider-Man!” Peter exclaimed. He tipped the shell up so he could peer inside. “I think he needs water.” “Yeah, as Spider-Man. It’s one thing when you have your suit and webs on your side, but God, Peter! You could have been hit by a car!” “Well. I was hit by that car. Do you think the bookstore would give us some water?” Tony stared in disbelief. “Peter!” Peter seemed to sag a little bit as he stared down at the hiding turtle. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. The bumper only clipped me but I think it knocked my shoulder out of its socket. I can’t move it too well and my hand is starting to feel kinda numb.” He glanced up, eyes frustratingly youthful. “Do you think you can help pop it back in?” Any anger Tony had been feeling drained right out of him at Peter’s admission. “Jesus, kid.” He took the turtle from Peter and stooped to put it on the ground, but the teenager cried out and reached to take it back. “Mr. Stark, no! We’ll lose him again!” “I have to put it down to fix your shoulder. It’s a turtle, it’s not going to go anywhere anytime soon.” “We can’t take any chances, Mr. Stark, please! That girl has had him for seven years, she was really upset about losing h-“ Peter reached for it again but then hissed and brought a hand to his shoulder. “Okay, okay, easy,” Tony quickly said, and looked around the alley. He spotted a dumpster with a small cardboard box next to it. Once the turtle was safely in the box at their feet, Tony took a closer look at Peter’s shoulder and found that it was indeed dislocated. It had already begun to swell and turn shades of purple under his shirt, and Peter’s face pinched whenever Tony moved it. He popped the joint back in place for him as quickly as he could, and at Peter’s involuntary grunt, he let his hand linger on his shoulder to try and rub some of the pain away. After a few seconds the tension began to leave Peter’s body and he gave Tony a tired but grateful smile. All for a turtle. It was frightening, sometimes, how selfless Peter Parker could be. Tony gave one final, brusque pat to his intern’s arm and then picked up the box with the turtle inside. “Go ahead and call that girl. I’ll find us someplace where we can get some ice for you and some water for the turtle.” “For Donatello.” “Whatever, yes. Donatello.” He felt Peter’s eyes on him as they started walking. “Mr. Stark?” “Yeah?” “I’m free on the 24th.”

#whumptober2019 #no.4 #Human Shield #Irondad #Spiderson #Hurt Peter Parker #Hurt/Comfort #Fluff

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

in sickness and in health [one-shot]

Flu season returns, and Ben is the first to fall victim to it. But that's okay, because he and Rey have promised to always take care of each other - through thick and thin, in sickness and in health, whether it's seven days or seven months...

(The one in which Ben gets a flu, and Rey gets a stomach flu... or does she?)

After an unplanned month-long hiatus, I’m back! ... with yet another plotless fluffy one-shot, because it’s important to stay on-brand, guys.

Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter or Ko-fi?

Ben ❤️❤️❤️[04:26PM]: I think I’m dying

Rey rolls her eyes at her husband’s dramatic text and huffs out a little laugh under her breath as she replies. His whiny exaggeration and – more tellingly – the lack of proper punctuation are obvious indicators of his condition, but it’s hardly as serious as his message would suggest.

Rey [04:27PM]: Pretty sure it’s just the flu, babe

Ben ❤️❤️❤️[04:28PM]: Come home anyway Miss you Please

She shakes her head at the texts rapidly popping up on her screen and chances a look around the office. The workweek ends in just half an hour, and most people are already winding down for the day, either putting the finishing touches on whatever it is they’re working on or discreetly starting to shut things down and pack up to leave as soon as the clock strikes five.

It’s probably okay for her to leave early just this once.

Rey [04:31PM]: You’re a bad influence, Ben Solo Fiiiine Leaving work soon, will swing by the store on the way home to pick up a couple of things Try to survive without me for a little longer, okay? Love you ❤️

“Hey, Rose?”

Her cubicle neighbor wheels into sight with a smile on her face. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Ben’s sick, so I think I’m gonna leave early and go get some stuff for him. Can you just let people know if anyone comes looking for me?”

“Sure thing,” Rose agrees easily as she watches Rey pack up for the day. “Send my regards to Ben. Oh, and let me know if you guys need anything.”

With one final click of her mouse, Rey’s workstation is shut down and packed up for the day. “Will do. Thanks, Rose, you’re the best.” She shoulders her bag as she stands and leans down to give Rose a quick hug goodbye, and by the time Ben replies to her message Rey is already on her way down to her car.

Ben ❤️❤️❤️[04:37PM]: Thank you thank you thank you Love you too See you soon, Nurse Rey 😉

If the uncharacteristic use of an emoji is any indication, he’s probably pretty feverish already.

Rey sighs as she pulls out from the underground parking lot and straight into traffic. There’s no escape, not even with a ten-minute head start on everyone else. By the time she finally gets home, armed with the spoils of a quick detour, the winter sun has long since disappeared and so has what little energy Ben managed to derive from his feverish state.

She finds him asleep on the couch, curled up in a quilt from their bed while the TV casts dancing shadows across his face. Rey takes a moment to smile at the scene before she heads straight for the kitchen, careful not to wake Ben as she puts the kettle on and sets aside her purchases. It’s only once she’s armed with some lemon ginger tea and a plate of saltines that she heads back out to her sleeping husband and gently shakes him awake.

“Don’t wanna,” Ben whines even before his eyes are open, face scrunching up as he catches a whiff of the dreaded tea. Rey sets everything down on the coffee table before she braces herself against the couch and pulls, a determined force meeting a stubborn object.

“C’mon, up you go,” she insists as Ben groans and grumbles, and eventually he opens his eyes just long enough to take pity on his wife, forehead creased with effort and chest heaving from exertion. “No complaining from you,” Rey orders as she retrieves the tea and crackers and foists them upon a reluctant Ben. “I had to deal with looks because of this, you know.”

Bleary-eyed and two seconds away from a sip, Ben seizes upon the opportunity for a distraction. “Looks? What kind of looks?”

Rey shakes her head at him with a knowing smile and nudges the cup closer, pointedly silent until he gives in with a sigh and gulps down half the cup.

“Apparently Leia’s idea of an emergency flu supply run looks a whole lot like a morning sickness starter pack,” she explains as he starts nibbling on a saltine with considerably less disgust. “Maz even came out from the back to ask if congratulations are in order.”

“As if I’d make you buy your own morning sickness supplies,” Ben scoffs as he washes the cracker down with the rest of his tea, making a show of draining every last bit for her.

She runs a hand through his sleep-rumpled hair before sliding her hand down to gently pat his cheek. “Good boy. Think you can handle some soup?” Rey asks as she gathers his cup and plate and makes to leave the couch. “And for the record, I’d be perfectly capable of getting my own saltines, pregnant or not.”

Ben reaches for her wrist, his grip feverish and looser than usual. “I know,” he assures her, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. “But you wouldn’t have to. I’d take care of you. I’ll always take care of you – you know that, right?”

Even with his eyes fever-glazed, Ben still looks at her like he holds all the world’s sincerity in his heart; she doesn’t think he’s ever made her a promise with anything less than that. Rey smiles as she leans down to kiss his burning forehead. “I know, baby. But for now maybe let me do the caretaking, okay?”

“For now,” he relents, and lets her go with a loopy smile that’s only partially flu-caused.

Ben continues to be sick for the next five days, and by the fourth so is Rey.

“You did this to me,” she accuses him on Tuesday night, squirming as he pulls her overheated body closer to his. “I told you you were going to get me sick.”

“And I told you it was going to happen whether or not I kissed you,” Ben counters easily, his voice almost back to normal after days of sounding like he’s hacking up a lung. “Besides, I promised to take care of you too, didn’t I?”

Rey settles against his chest with a huff. “You better.” She knows she’s being snippy, but she figures it’s well-deserved because somehow, Ben managed to transform his regular flu into some kind of stomach flu from hell before passing it on to her. Her rational brain knows that’s not how it works, but rational thinking went out the window after the fourth time she failed to stomach a goddamn cracker.

Ben presses a kiss to her clammy temple. “I will. I’ll wait on you hand and foot until you’re 100% back to normal, okay? I promise.”

He keeps his promise for a whole week, tending to her every need without so much as an aggravated sigh even when she wakes him up multiple times a night with a coughing fit or sudden bout of nausea. So when Ben does finally suggest she see a doctor, she knows it’s not because he’s tired of playing nurse.

“I’m just worried, sweetheart,” he murmurs against her sweaty temple one morning when he’s running late, sitting on the bathroom floor with her instead of rushing out the door. “At least take another day off?”

“I’ve already stayed home for a whole week,” Rey protests as she struggles to get to her feet, only to have Ben scoop her up and seat her on their counter. “Besides, it’s probably just the last of this bug making its way through my system. I’ll be okay, baby.”

Ben frowns at her, complete with a crease between his brows and everything, but Rey maintains eye contact and refuses to back down. She knows he won’t hesitate to call in sick for her, won’t think twice before taking the day off himself to care for her, but at some point things have to go back to normal. And if her body refuses to acknowledge that, she’s more than willing to force it to play along.

“Look, staying cooped up in bed can’t be good for me,” Rey points out as she takes his hands in hers and gives them a little squeeze. “Maybe getting out of the apartment and actually moving around a bit will help me bounce back.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Ben says, but his shoulders sag and seconds later he lets out a defeated sigh. “But okay. Just… promise me you’ll call if you’re not feeling well?”

Rey smiles and presses a kiss to his jaw, painfully aware of the lingering acidic taste in the back of her throat. “I promise. Now go, you’re going to be late!”

It takes another five minutes before Ben actually leaves, and another hour after that before she makes her way out of the apartment. Rey’s not too worried about that, though; Holdo made it clear yesterday that she doesn’t expect Rey in at all this week, so she’ll hardly mind a little tardiness.

She’s a little over an hour late by the time she gets to her desk, but everyone’s too busy asking after her health to care about that. It takes what feels like an eternity before her coworkers finally break apart from the circle they’ve formed around her cubicle and get back to work, leaving her alone with Rose.

“I know you’re probably sick of talking about this,” Rose says with an apologetic little smile, “but are you sure you’re okay?”

“I mean, I might avoid the breakroom today, but other than that I’m perfectly fine,” Rey assures her. “Really, Rose, I’m practically back to normal. It’s just a bit of nausea being stubborn.”

Rose, already half-turned away, suddenly spins back to her. “Nausea?”

“Yeah, the joys of a stomach flu, right? All my other symptoms disappeared days ago, but I still can’t keep anything down. I gave Ben hell for getting me sick, but it probably wasn’t even him. He was lucky enough to just get the regular– What?” Rey interrupts herself, skin prickling under Rose’s scrutiny.

Her friend has never been one to mince words, not even back when they were just colleagues, but there’s something delicate and careful about Rose’s next question. “Rey… are you sure it’s just a flu?”

“I mean, what else could it–”

She freezes up the second the thought occurs to her, rendered speechless mid-sentence.

Rose gives her a little smile. “Yeah. That.”

They spend their lunch break at the nearest CVS.

When Ben gets home on Thursday, she’s sitting cross-legged on the couch and twisting her fingers together into a hopeless, nervous knot.

“I went to the doctor today.”

He drops everything in a heartbeat, barely stops to kick the door shut behind him before he’s hurrying over to her side and taking her hands in his. “Rey, why didn’t you– I would’ve– oh god, is everything okay?”

She’d planned to build up to it a little, but Rey can’t bear the look of utter terror on her poor husband’s face for another second. “Ben, I’m fine,” she assures him, leaning down for a lingering kiss before she pulls him up to sit next to her. “It’s just…”

“Just?” Ben echoes, looking only slightly less terrified than he had ten seconds ago.

Rey decides to put him out of his misery.

“Remember that deal we made last week, to take care of each other?”

Ben nods. “Yes, of course,” he says as his brows knit together in concern. “Rey, whatever it is… I’m here for you, sweetheart. Always will be. Just tell me, please.”

She rises up on her knees to press their foreheads together, looping her arms around Ben’s neck as his hands find her waist. “I’m okay, I promise. It’s just… you definitely got the short end of the stick, babe.”

He draws back to frown at her. “What do you mean?”

Rey brings one hand up to cup his face, brushing her thumb along his cheek as she smiles. “Well, I only had to take care of you for a week.”

“Okay…?” Ben replies, concern slowly giving way to confusion.

She moves her free hand down to one of his, pulls it from her side to her abdomen. “Meanwhile you’re going to have to deal with this,” Rey whispers, applying the slightest bit of pressure on his hand and her stomach, “for another seven months.”

It takes a second, but she can see the exact moment Ben’s brain breaks. His eyes are fixed on hers but she knows he’s not actually looking at her, a million miles away as his lips part but nothing comes out, not until a full thirty seconds later when he finally says–

“Oh.”

And then, as his eyes trail down to their joined hands – “Oh.”

“Terrible deal, wasn’t it?” Rey laughs when he finally returns his attention to her, only for her laugh to turn into a gleeful shriek as Ben gathers her up in his arms and jumps to his feet to swing her around, his exuberant laugh joining her rare giggles in the moments between kisses.

“Are you kidding me?” he grins once she’s finally grown dizzy enough to ask him to put her back down, and Rey blinks back a sudden well of tears as her husband kneels before her and presses a reverent palm to her belly.

“Best deal ever,” Ben declares, and doesn’t change his mind even once throughout the next seven months of morning sickness and midnight cravings.

Was this just another excuse to write devoted, married Reylo? ... Why yes, yes indeed.

Hard to believe it's been more than a month since I last posted anything, but time's weird like that. I'm glad to finally be back after a particularly hectic month, and I hope I'm not too rusty!

As always, thanks for reading and please don't hesitate to like/comment/reblog!

#reylo #rey x ben #rey/kylo ren #rey/ben solo #kylo ren/rey #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #my fics #fic: in sickness #fic archive

[netflixmomma516]

Her Secrets 4 - 13RW Series

Part 1    Part 2   Part 3

I pull out my phone and see 20 missed calls all from Jeff, Jess, and Scott. Only 8 voicemails though. I decide not to listen to them. I pull myself together enough to drive home. 

I still see the unfamiliar car in the driveway, but at the moment I don't care. I cut the engine by the car, and I take a deep breath. My body is so exhausted. I touch my belly, "we're okay." I whisper to the growing baby in my belly.

I make my way into the house, and see my dad and the woman standing in the kitchen. I don't care about my father's love life, it's his life, he's plenty old enough to make his own decisions without telling his 18-year-old daughter. 

"Oh hey YNN, I wasn't expecting you home so soon." My dad looks shocked that I just caught him in an affair. "The smell of alcohol didn't agree with the baby," I said not trying to hide anything from this woman, even if my dad was probably trying too. "Oh well, YN this is Janet." I half smiled at her. She had beautiful chocolate brown hair, with hazel eyes and tan skin; looking about my dad's age. "Nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you." Oh great. Those words are never good to hear. "Nice to meet you, but don't let me interrupt, I'm going to bed." I quickly say backing up to the stairs 

"Do you want food YNN? I know my grand-baby needs something to eat." I smile at my dad, a real genuine smile. 

I feel like the first time in 16 years my dad is actually concerned about me. "Sure." Food does sound really good since I did throw my lunch up. "Give me 5 minutes and I'll bring it up to you." My dad tells me as he was opening the fridge to pull out leftovers. I smiled at him.

I made my way to my room to change into pajamas. I curl up in bed and turn on the TV.

I hear a knock on my door, "come in." I yell to who I'm assuming is my dad on the other side. The door opens to reveal my half-gray-haired father. He has a plate of food in his hands and hands me it. I gladly take it. "So what happened at the party?" He asked concerned. "Nothing, we got there and I just smelled the alcohol and bugs didn't like it," I said finally taking a bite of the delicious food in front of me. "Did you just run off or did you tell your friends why you threw up?" "I just ran off," I answered with some food still in my mouth. "I know you want me to keep the secret too, but it's going to get out eventually." My dad makes a good point. "I'll take the risk," I tell him. He looks at me with understanding and kisses my forehead.

--

"YNN wake up!" I hear my dad yell from behind the door. I roll my eyes and yell groggily, still half asleep. "What?" My dad opens the door, "you have a visitor by the name of Jessica." Dad looked at me confused as I gave him the same look. I walk down to the front door and see my friend looking at me. She runs for me and embraces me in a bear hug. I stumble backward at the hard contact.

She grabs my shoulders and looks at me in the eyes, "are you okay?" I smile at her. "Yeah." I laugh and pull her into my room. "We've all been calling and texting you like crazy." She informed me like I didn't know. "I know." I huff sitting on my unmade bed. "Why have you been ignoring us? Especially me. I thought we really had a bonding moment last night." She said sitting next to me. "I didn't mean to Jess, I must've eaten something bad for lunch, and I didn't want to be sick around everyone. When I got home I went straight to bed." I lie straight through my pearly white teeth. "Oh, I completely understand. You should've told us you didn't feel good." "I didn't want to ruin the mood, everyone was so ready to party," I confess. I didn't want to ruin the mood.

"Well, Jeff and Scott were worried sick about you." She confesses to me. "Do you feel better today?" She asks hopefully. "Yeah, a lot." "Well good, because you need to be ready for your date with Jeff." I looked at her confused. How the hell did she know about my date, because I didn't tell her? 

"Jeff told me he was taking you to the lake." She said as if she read my mind. "You should feel special he's taking you to the lake." I looked at her super confused this time. Why should I feel special? What is so special about a lake? "The lake is about an hour drive from here, when he gets super stressed out or just needs to be alone he goes up to the lake." I used to have a spot like that but mine was a creek about 10 minutes from my house. No one knew that was my place to escape except one person. That one person ruined my life.

- I start running, I run til my legs give out from underneath me. Sam and I had a fight, ever since I was 14 I go to the creek. I'm sitting by the waterfall, listening to the water rushing down the rocks, an owl hooting up in the trees. The moon seemed to light everything up. 

I see a black truck make its way down the road. I instantly freeze. The truck stops, "YN?" I hear a male voice slowly approach. "Andy?" I ask recognizing the voice. "What are you doing out here?" He asks as he takes a seat next to me. I shrug, "Sam and I got into a fight again." I huff wiping the tears away. 

"Whenever I need to get away from life for a little bit, I come out here. No one rarely comes out here." I confess and shrug my shoulders. My hands go in the water and make circles. Andy quietly sits next to me.

"I promise I won't tell anyone about this place for you." He smiles at me. "Thanks, Andy." I lean on him. -

I looked at her with a smile. "I'm ready," I say unsure if I believe my words. I'm scared. I'm scared of getting hurt again. "Good, let's go eat and then I'll get you ready." I smile, "okay." We walk out of my room and walk down the stairs to see just my dad in the kitchen on the phone. I smile at my dad as he looked super stressed, yelling at whoever is on the other end. Probably work stuff that I don't get. 

I shrug at Jess as she gave me a questioning look because of my dad. She shakes off her look as I open the fridge and freezer. I hand her some waffles. I feel my stomach rumble. I quickly pop the waffles in the toaster. "Do you want some coffee?" I whisper to her, trying not to interrupt my dads yelling match on the phone. "Sure," she smiles at me. I quickly start the coffee maker.

My phone rings on the counter, indicating a text. I grab it and see it's Jeff. My smile instantly appears on my face. There's just something about this guy. 

Jeff; Hey YNN, are we still on for tonight? 

I feel a surge of guilt about last night. 

Me; Absolutely. 

I will apologize on the drive to the lake. 

I want to see if he will believe a bullshit lie I come up with. I might stick to the lie I told Jess that I just ate something bad for lunch and didn't want to ruin the party. "I'm going to pick an outfit for you while you go shower." Jess pushes me into my bathroom. I laugh. "Okay. Nothing too over the top please." I smile at my new best friend. "Of course." She flips her hair over her shoulder. I shut my bathroom door, and strip down and turn on the water. Not too hot. I turn sideways in the mirror to see if I can tell if I'm gaining any weight. A little pudgy but nothing drastic yet. I rub my belly as I smile at my growing baby bump. It doesn't matter what happened, I still love this little baby that is growing inside me.

-- I run to the nearest bathroom, thankfully it's empty, I lock myself in the stall and lost control. It all came out. I sink beside the toilet and start sobbing. "Why?" I instantly knew. -

Jess hands me my underwear and bra first as I stand before her in just my towel. "Okay here," she hands me a really cute outfit. "Thank you. It's so cute Jess." I hug her as I finished zipping my jacket halfway. "You're welcome. Now sit." She pulls out my vanity chair. --

"You look perfect. You don't look like you're trying too hard at all." Jess smiles at me, as I smile back at her in the full-length mirror. I'm still super nervous about this date with Jeff. I look at my reflection, my curly hair cascading down my back. My natural makeup complementing my eyes perfectly. "Jeff will be a fool if he doesn't think you're beautiful right now." I smile at Jess and plop onto my bed next to her. I have 20 minutes left before he was going to pick me up for our date. I pull out my phone and scroll through my social media.

"So did you tell Scott what happened?" Jess interrupts my reading about something not important. 

To be honest, I haven't even thought about Scott in the last 24 hours, my date with Jeff has gotten me too preoccupied. 

"Honestly haven't thought about it," I say truthfully. "You at least need to let him know you're okay." Jess retorts. I huff thinking back to seeing him and Chloe flirting at our lockers. 

"Why? It's not like he cares he's probably with Chloe anyway." I say bitchy, at the ache in my heart that wasn't there 1 minute prior. "Why would you say that?" She asks worried about my switch in demeanor. "Jess you didn't see the way Scott looked at her or Chloe looked at him yesterday in the hall or even lunch." I huff trying not to be too butthurt about this stupid crush. "YNN, Chloe is just jealous because she found out that Scott kind of likes you, and he invited you to guys night at Bryce's place earlier this week." She confesses. "No girl is allowed at guys night, not even me and I'm Justin's girlfriend." She continues. "Chloe sees you as a threat." She looks at me sympathetically. "But honestly you have nothing on her. At least you're not a conniving bitch." She laughs. "Hey, you don't know me that well yet," I say half-joking. 

What will everyone think when my secret does come out. I know it's inevitable that it will get out. What do I say when I gain 20 pounds in the next 3 months? I've been binge eating because my dad actually cooks homemade meals.

I hear a knock on my door, knowing it's my dad, I casually say, "come in." Sure enough, it was my dad, "So am I meeting this boy before he goes out with my daughter?" He smiles at me. Wonder how he knew I was going out tonight? Maybe he overheard Jess and mines conversation. I smile at my over-protective father, "If you want." I shrug, not really caring if my dad meets Jeff. Jeff is a great guy and he seems like a boy my dad would love to see me go out with. "Of course I want to meet the young man that is taking my daughter out tonight." He smiles the same smile I have. "Okay," I smile back. 

I look back down to my phone and quickly type.

Me; Hey Jeff so my dad wants to meet you before you take me out. 

I send it. 

Jeff; Of course. 

My butterflies come back. The first date since everything happened 2 months ago. 

-- Sam hands me a red solo cup, "what is it?" I ask. "Try it." He says. I take a sip, my nose scrunches and I instantly get a warm feeling. I smile knowing exactly what it is. I take another drink. --

I hear the doorbell and I hurry to the door, but my dad beats me to it. I huff as my dad opens the door revealing the tall man. He immediately smiles at my dad, "Hello Mr. YLN, I'm Jeff Atkins." He holds his hand out for my dad to shake. "Nice to meet you Jeff, but you can call me YDN." He takes his hand and shakes it. My nerves quickly subside seeing my dad impressed with his handshake. 

My dad looks at me just as they let go of their handshake. "Hi YN," Jeff smiles his perfect smile at me. His plain white shirt covered by a black jacket. I smile at him. "Hey Jeff," I casually say, trying to calm my butterflies in my belly. "Hey Jeff," Jess interrupts our moment. "Hey, Jess." He smiles a friendly smile. I didn't know guys had a different smile for everyone, my dads was a nervous one, mine was a relaxed perfect smile, and Jess's was a friendly one.

I couldn't help but feel more compelled by this guy.

"So where are you going?" My dad interrupts everyone and turns his attention to Jeff. Jeff's eyes immediately meet my dad's gaze. "The lake, it's about an hour North of here." He says honestly. My dad quickly shakes his head, "What time should I expect YNN home?" He presses again, "11?" Jeff says as more of a question. "Okay, have fun." I let go of the breath I didn't know I was holding. I smile at my dad. This is the first time I've ever seen him act like a normal dad to an 18-year-old daughter. 

"Are you ready YNN?" Jeff asks holding his hand out to me. I smile a relaxed smile and grab his hand. "I love you, dad." He bends down a little so I can kiss his cheek. "Love you, be careful." "I will take good care of her I promise," Jeff answers for me. My dad shakes his head in confirmation at Jeff.

We walk out to Jeff's Chevy Silverado, Jess trailing behind us. "Have fun guys." She says to us as she climbs into her Rover. "We will," Jeff answers. I smile. He opens the door for me to climb into his truck. He closes the door when I'm securely in. I blush, no guy has ever done that for me. He climbs into the driver's side. He huffs. "Hi YN." He looks over at me and smiles to me. "Hi, Jeff." I smile at his nervousness. He starts backing out onto the main road.

"So how are you?" He asks confident, all the nerves that were surrounding us just seconds ago disappear. Relaxed. That's a good word to describe how I feel. "I'm good, I feel a lot better." Remembering my run out last night. I huff preparing myself to lie. "I'm sorry about last night..." I trail off. 

He grabs my hand that was in my lap, he intertwines our fingers, "It's okay, Jess told me your lunch didn't agree with you." I smile guilty, hopefully, he can’t see the guilt in my smile. "I completely understand YNN. I just wish you would've told me, I would've gone with you." He looked at me with a sympathetic look and looked back to the road. His fingers still intertwined in my mine. I smile at his huge hands that swallow my child like hands.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks taking me off-guard. I cant tell him what I'm really thinking about, which is if only he knew the truth would I be going to his favorite place to hide out. The answer is no. He's 18 years old he has his whole future planned out; I assume. "Thinking about how you're taking me to your place." He looked at me confused, "What do you mean my place?" I huff, remembering my place, and how that place is now a haunted memory of what happened to me. "The place no one knows about, the place you go to too hide out from the world. When the world gets to much for you to take, you go there and feel like everything is good with the world again."

I huff remembering when my dad told me he was leaving I ran for a half hour to the creek. I just heard all the sounds of nature, the creeks water talking to the birds in the trees. "Everyone knows about it. Just no one is allowed to come with me when I go up there." His grip tightens on the wheel, like I hit a huge nerve saying that. "Why?" I simply ask. That was like me, no one was ever allowed to go with me down there. "Because when I'm in a bad mood, no one wants to be around me." He confesses. His grip loosens just a little bit. I drop the subject. I'll ask a little more later. I might confess my secret place to him. I'll keep one little detail out though. 

- "YFN!" My dad yells. "No, dad you're leaving me!" I scream with tears streaming down my freckled face. "To make a better life for us." He explains. "No, to make a better life for yourself. To get away from me, my mom." 

I cant stand here anymore. I run out the front door. "YN! YN!" I hear my dad scream after me. I run, I run til my little legs cant do it anymore. I continue to walk. The trees get thicker. The creek is rushing past me. I collapse next to the creek. The birds whistle all around me, the sound of the creek rushing past without a care in the world. No one can find me.

#13 reasons why #13rw #13 reasons why gifs #13 reasons why imagine #13 reasons why imagines #jeff atkins #jessica davis #jeff atkins imagine #scott reed #scott reed imagine

[ravenking-gansey]

Home

Hey! So, first TRC fic here! I, uhhhh, don’t know what this is. Just me rambling about my OTP Bluesey I guess. This probably takes place somewhere between BLLB and TRK.

----------

Pairing: BluexGansey Word Count: 712 Summary: Gansey and Blue take a midnight drive and contemplate the feelings they can’t act on. You can find me on AO3 under the username Xennariel!

-----------

It would have to be a freezing day in hell for Blue to fall for Gansey, yet here she was, riding shotgun in the Pig, silence stretching comfortably between them. Blue wasn’t sure when it happened, but it had become a nighttime ritual to call Gansey. She found she could no longer sleep without hearing his voice. On nights when insomnia was especially rampant, she’d ask him to get her and they’d drive and drive and leave everything behind for a few hours. For a few hours, they could pretend that they just a couple of normal teenagers.

Their strange, tentative relationship was somehow surreal, yet so right. Gansey’s calming presence in Blue’s life was something she didn’t know she needed. Now that it was hers, she didn’t know how she ever got along without it. Gansey would say the same for Blue, of course, her presence bringing much needed catharsis and quiet to his chaotic world. Though they never said it outloud, they knew. They’d fallen so irrevocably in love that there was no way they could ever turn back now.

Blue licked her lips as she stared out the window, lost in thought. Gansey saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and his jaw tightened. It was almost like a game they played. Both hyper aware of the other. Both knowing they could do nothing about the longing raging inside. How desperately he wanted to crush his lips to hers and never let her go.

Gansey pushed back that thought and slammed the gas pedal down, the Pig shuddering as it leapt forward with increased speed. Blue glanced at Gansey and raised a brow. Are you okay?

Gansey caught her gaze for a moment, the corner of his mouth tugging up slightly. I’m fine.

Blue frowned, clearly not believing him, but she turned back to look out the window instead of saying anything. They rarely spoke during these impromptu midnight drives. It felt like if they said anything, whatever spell had fallen over them would be broken and reality would set in again, cold and heavy within them.

None of this was allowed, but they did it anyway. Gansey was going to die. They both knew it -- though Gansey hadn’t let himself acknowledge it yet-- so how could they deny themselves this meager amount of happiness for whatever time they had left? Blue fought the urge to put her hand on his over the gearshift. She crossed her arms and gripped her shirt to keep her hands to herself. Gansey pushed the Pig even harder, needing the speed and distraction to keep himself from pulling over and pulling Blue into his arms.

They raced along the empty mountain roads until the Pig finally retaliated and Gansey had to fight to move the car off the road and into a little grassy clearing amongst the trees surrounding them. Gansey sighed and sent an apologetic look at Blue who huffed and shrugged. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and got out of the car to check under the hood. It seemed to just be overheated. That was good. They’d be able to head back to 300 Fox Way after letting the Pig rest for a while.

Blue appeared next to Gansey and he started, having not heard her get out of the car. She smirked, holding back a laugh. Gansey glowered but he was also fighting back a smile. Without thinking, he reached up and tucked a tuft of unruly hair behind her ear only for it to bounce back as soon as he let go. His touch was electric and Blue shivered despite the warmth of the evening.

She should have stepped back. She should have gotten back in the car. Instead she took a step closer and bumped the back of her hand into his. He looked up at the stars and gripped her hand in his, twining their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world, because it was the most natural thing in the world.

They stood in silence, gazing at the twinkling stars above them, fingers tangled and bodies pressed close. For now, they were safe. For now, they were together and Gansey was home.

#bluesey #trc #raven cycle #blue sargent #gansey #fanfiction