#so my car is broken and i text this dude who fixes cars and who my parents mostly use when we have car issues | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

homerforsure · 3 years

Text

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

#whumptober2021 #no. 5 #betrayal #fic #911 #hanging out at the angst end of the spectrum #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #hockey au #allison can’t write a short fic to save her life #minimal edits #messy ending #questionable formatting #230 am #😴

61 notes · View notes

moonlit-imagines · 3 years

Text

The Doctor Is Out

Stephen Strange x reader

warnings:

a/n: wrote this a while ago and its been sitting in my drafts. part 1/2

prompt:

In (2)

Without opening your eyes, you stretched your stiffened body against the silk sheets and rolled over to face your husband.

“Good morning, dear.” You whispered through a yawn, which led into a smile. Stephen was already awake and reading one of the many books he kept at his bedside.

“And good morning to you, too.” He leaned over and gave you a kiss on the temple, letting your eyes flutter open. “Did you sleep well?”

“I’d say so.” You reluctantly sat up on your side of the bed, pushing the covers away. “Any plans for today?”

“Not in particular.” Stephen decided to get out of bed with you and get ready for the day, although he was in a gray jacket and blue jeans in the blink of an eye. “We don’t have very much to eat, I might go run out for lunch.”

“Lunch?” You asked as you pulled on a pair of pants.

“Yes, well, you seem to have gotten a late start on the day.” Your husband explained. “I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so content with your dreams.” You took Stephen’s wrist to take a look at the time.

“It’s half past eleven?” You stared in shock at your husband’s watch. “You just waited for me?” He shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, but Stephen rarely ever let himself lag behind, it was truly sweet of him to keep you company while you drifted through the peace of your head, thoughts you’d already forgotten. “It seems the odds were in our favor when our paths first crossed, huh?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, my dear.” Stephen’s barely shaking hands cupped your face and right before he leaned in for a refreshing kiss to the lips, he whispered, “I’m not as great a man as you make me out to be.”

You hummed into the kiss he gave you and pulled back just a tad. “Oh, you’re right. You’re just the worst.” Sarcasm failed to escape you in moments like these, it was more entertaining than anything else in the eyes of your husband. “Now, I’m starving. Want to go to the deli around the block?”

“That’ll work. We should ask Wong if he’s hungry, too.”

—————

“You don’t have any money?” Stephen asked as the three of you walked through the Sanctum in a fixed line.

“Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual.” Wong’s wise words rung in your mind as you tried to figure out what he did before the two of you had moved in with him.

“I’ll tell the guys at the deli.” Stephen snarked. “Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye.”

“It’s fine, we’ll pay for your lunch.” You interjected after hearing enough of that. Somehow, the trip down the stairs was unsuccessful since your steps from only a few seconds ago were nothing but rubble. You fell to the floor as Stephen and Wong took defensive positions.

“Thanos is coming.” An unfamiliar voice spoke as you lay on the cold floor. Were you able to get up on your own? Probably, but that fall would definitely leave a mark. After a moment’s time of your lonely visit with the floor, your partner rushed over to you.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” He crouched beside you and helped you back up, lightly brushing your cheek as he checked for any injuries.

“I think I’m okay.” You nodded. “Hit my head on the way down.” Peering over his shoulder while he checked your head for any bumps, you saw Dr. Bruce Banner crawl from the rubble. “Do I have a concussion or was it a gamma scientist that just crashed into the Sanctum?”

“Hi, I’m Doctor—” He waved just before you cut him off.

“I know who you are, Doctor Banner.” You replied with a smirk. “I’m Dr. L/N-Strange, specializing in neuroscience, but formerly gamma research.” Stephen smiled himself when he heard you say your name and just a little more when you described your profession. Maybe he was just proud to be near someone so accomplished.

“I don’t think you have a concussion.” A kiss on your forehead was the best medicine he could give, but you knew that it also meant he needed to get to work.

“‘Formerly gamma?’ Why’s that?” Bruce asked, somehow ignoring the big picture here. I mean, you were just happy to get some visitors, I suppose. You’d answer anything.

“For a while, they went hand-in-hand for me. You’d be surprised at what could be accomplished when you put them together...” You explained, Stephen patiently listening beside you.

“But?” Bruce pried a little more.

“But then I heard about your little ‘accident,’ decided to take a break just in case. Refocus my research.” You felt your partner’s hand rest on your shoulder and slide down your arm as you watched Dr. Banner’s guilty expression surface. It wasn’t your intention to offend, you were just obliging to his curiosity.

“As much as I love hearing you talk about your career, darling,” Stephen finally stepped in, “I think we need to talk about the threat to our planet?”

“I was wondering when you’d stop me.” You chuckled. “That’s alright, I’ll just go pick up lunch for you three. Dr. Banner, do you like sandwiches?”

“I...yes? I guess so. Turkey and swiss is...I haven’t had that in a while.” He stammered, leaving you to peer over at your husband and have him give you a near-identical look. Sometimes, the two of you just thought that same exact things, no words needed.

“Will you two stop doing that weird thing where you stare at each other in silence? We have work to do!” Wong interrupted and you decided it was about time to head out.

“Love you, Stephen.” You said with an amused shake of your head, giving him a quick peck in the lips.

“Love you, too. Don’t be too long if you can help it, Dr. Banner seems to have a pretty good idea of dangers to come.” He told you as his cloak gave you a quick pat on the arm. You didn’t know whether to say goodbye to his outerwear, as well.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You winked and pat the red cloak back, heading for the door that your bag was hung beside. Now was the time for a walk to clear your mind, no “Thanos” or whatever the hell that was. Just the music to your ears that was Bleeker Street traffic and insufferable pedestrians. You just kept your eyes front and went on walking, you’d walk straight through crowds if you had to.

A few block’s worth of steps and you’d reached the deli that was so dear to your husband, now it was time to wait in line, a pretty long one, nonetheless. Maybe it was time to shoot Stephen a text.

Just made it to the deli ;) Anything I should be worried about out here?

Tony Stark is here. Outlook not so good.

Did you just magic 8-ball me?

“Dude, are you texting right now?” Tony asked in disbelief of the wizard looking down at his phone. It wasn’t very typical of him to check it in times like these, but you had a specific ringtone. Once he hears that ringtone, he replies. No matter what.

“I always answer my s/o.” He cleared his throat and stashed his phone away.

“At least we have something in common.”

—————

The line at the deli took so long that you got caught in the crossfire of an alien attack. Was it unbelievably amazing? Of course. Was it one of the most terrifying days of your life? You bet.

You could no longer get ahold of your husband and you soon knew why when he flew overhead in an attempt of offense. You’re guessing that these people were looking for the Time Stone.

Desperately hoping for one of your wizard “pals” to come and save you, maybe have you fall through a portal and back into Sanctum, you just hid in an alley. This may be one of the lows in your life, but you’d see worse days soon enough.

And the invasion was over just like that. You, like many other New Yorkers, stepped from the crevices of the streets to witness the damage firsthand.

“Uh, Dr. L/N!” That same voice from earlier spoke, causing you to swivel your head and see Bruce waving you down. Since he was the first person you recognized out here, it’d be best for you to head his way. It was a maze of cars, bricks, and broken glass before you’d made it over to him.

“Where’s Stephen? Or Wong? Tony Stark?” You bombarded him as if he weren’t stressed enough, but scientists always wanted answers. He knew that from experience.

“The aliens have your husband.” A line you never thought you’d have to hear. This better be a sick dream. “Wong said he was going back to the ‘Sanctum’ to protect it, and Tony is also with the aliens.”

“At least my husband has backup.” You sighed with a slight hint of relief, but your stomach was still turning just thinking about what they might do to Stephen. If they wanted that Stone, they’d do whatever they could to get it. Stephen was as smart as he was stubborn, it’d take a lot to get him to hand it over.

“Are you going back home?” He asked as he snagged a phone from the rubble.

“I figure you have a plan, I’m coming with you.” You watched him freeze for a moment with a name on the phone highlighted. “Trying to reassemble the Avengers, huh?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, it’s going to be dangerous.” Way to state the obvious. You didn’t know if you could handle it, but...

“I have to get my husband back, I can’t just wait around.” You wouldn’t back down, but it was a little comforting to have someone backing him up. “Don’t worry, I’ll try to put myself to good use.”

—————

It has been...twenty days since the disappearance of several Earth-based heroes. Among them was Spider-Man, Tony Stark, and your husband. But today was the day you’d know the truth.

Half the population had vanished into thin air. It was hard to tell if anyone had survived the trip to space. You’d been staring out the window all day, just trying to spot the cosmic wonder that was “Captain Marvel.” If anyone could find them, it was her.

Just as you were about to nod off, a bright glare intruded in the sky.

“Guy? Guys! She’s back!” Everyone had been on edge today, so they were ready to dash outside. Your heart was beating out of your chest, this was the moment of truth.

Carol landed a beat-up spaceship onto the open field and out stumbled Tony Stark and what looked to be an alien. You stared at the ship’s door, waiting for one more person. Just one more.

Everyone was staring at you now, waiting for you to realize that your husband wasn’t in there. Once Tony caught sight of you, he pieced together who you were.

“You must be the wizard’s s/o?” He leaned against his fiancée and Captain America, struggling to look you in the eye. “He wanted me to give you a message. Uh...sorry, I’m going blank, rough ride.” He rubbed his forehead as you stood there in tears. “‘This will make sense later.’ Oh, and he loves you.”

“I...” Everyone was still looking at you with pity in their eyes. Yes, they all lost people, but you were still clinging onto hope. All of your optimism had been destroyed in these past few moments, you didn’t even know how you were supposed to take this. “I need a minute. I’m sorry.” You stormed off into the guest bedroom of Avengers HQ, leaving everyone around you worried. You didn’t know them long, but it was easy to bond through a trauma like this.

“Y/N?” Bruce knocked on the door. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” You reluctantly answered and Bruce let himself in.

“I brought you carrots.” He offered the bowl. “It was all we had in the fridge, sorry.”

“We have to find Thanos.” You grumbled though tears. “I won’t give up until we fix what he did.” Bruce stayed silent out of fear, he knew what could happen to someone in mourning. People can get...crazy.

“We’ll do the best we can. We’re working on it.” Bruce explained as he set the food down on your end table.

“Take me with you. I have to be there this time.” You were in no way qualified to face an intergalactic being capable of that much destruction.

“Y/N, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He shyly countered you, using this calm tone was an exercise he learned during “anger management,” maybe it could help.

“I wasn’t asking.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisqueer // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys // @ghost-bich // @wonderful-writer // @of-a-chaotic-mind // @groovyfluxie // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @lxncelot // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @blizzardbabe // @agentshortstacc // @rosadiaz-sarayvargas-harleyquinn //

#stephen strange imagine #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #dr strange x reader #dr strange imagine #dr strange #bruce banner imagine #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner #hulk #hulk x reader #hulk imagine #marvel #avengers #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

301 notes · View notes

hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Stay With You

You get the call after Rook’s accident and go to the hospital to take care of him.

Requests: “ Could you maybe write another Rook story about where you get the call after his accident that he’s in the hospital and just always staying there with him and when his dad shows up he sees you leaning on the bed sleeping holding Rooks hand or something and he knows you’ll take care of him? I just really love Rook “ “ I was wondering if you know what happened to rook and if you could write something cute like taking care of him after being worried at first about him. I had a mental breakdown when we got the news I'm hoping he gets well soon “

JP “Rook” Cappelletty X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of the accident (violence, broken bones, etc.), angst

A/N: I have been following every update from Rook and his Dad bc I have been so worried. It looks like he’s finally able to go home tonight but I’m still going out of my mind. I tried my best to do what happened justice (without being too depressing) and ended up needing a part 2. I had to reread what happened like 30 times so y’all better enjoy this just for my heartbreak alone.

Word Count: 3409

part ii

You were always scared when you got a phone call from an unknown number when Rook was out for the night. You’d gotten calls from the police station and hospital more than once, so you’d learn to expect trouble when your phone rang.

But this was not what you were expecting.

“Excuse me, is this Y/N Y/L/N, the emergency contact for JP Cappelletty?” A female’s voice rang out through the line. You rolled your eyes.

“This is her, what did he do this time?” You smiled, figuring he’d gotten hurt doing something stupid and just needed stiches.

She cleared her throat, “Mr. Cappelletty has been involved in a serious accident. He’s currently at Southern California Hospital awaiting treatment.”

You felt like your entire body stopped working. Your throat closed up and you started shaking. A normal phone call wouldn’t use the words “serious accident,” they would just say he’d been admitted for “minor treatment.”

“Can I come see him?” You barely got the words out, mind spinning in a million directions. The lady on the end of the phone gave you an affirmation and you thanked her, hanging up quickly and packing a small bag for you and Rook. You threw some of his clothes in, some hygiene supplies for you both, and anything else you could think he’d want. You texted your boss a quick explanation and asked for the next few days off before grabbing your keys, wallet, mask, and Rook’s insurance cards, and heading out the door.

You drove to the hospital, calling Colson on your way, on speaker, of course. “Whaddup?”

“Rook is in the hospital.” You rushed out, still in a bit of a panicked mode.

You could hear his breathing pause before he continued, “it’s probably nothing, you know Rook. He probably just punched a guy or something stupid.”

You had tried to convince yourself of that, but something felt wrong about it. “I know, but the hospital said he was in a serious accident.” You emphasized the word “serious.” “Maybe I’m overreacting but I have this really bad feeling right now.”

Colson’s voice held more worry after your statement, too. “Okay. Just get there and figure out what’s going on and then call me. What hospital is he at?”

“Southern California.”

“That’s like 10 minutes away from me. If it is serious, just call me back and I can be there.” His voice was much calmer than yours, which you were thankful for.”

“Okay.”

“And Y/N,” He paused, “try to stay calm. If it is bad, he’s gonna need you to take care of him.”

You took in a deep breath, trying to slow your heartrate. “Yeah, yeah okay. Thanks.”

“Let me know what’s going on.”

“I will. Thank you, Kells.” You hung up the phone, pulling into the hospital parking garage and turning your car off. You sat in the dark for a few moments, gathering your thoughts, before heading towards the hospital. When you reached the front desk, you gave them Rook’s name and waited as they read your temperature from the touchless thermometer. You had to stop yourself from groaning as she started reading the Covid questionnaire, answering no to every question.

The lady gave you directions to his room, telling you they’ll take your ID once you get up to the fourth floor. Your hands were shaking as you rode the elevator up, and you tried to calm yourself down before you saw your boyfriend. Colson was right, you worrying wouldn’t do anything but make him nervous.

You gave your ID to the security guard on the fourth floor, impatiently waiting for him to print out your visitor’s sticker. Once you had put it on, you walked down the hallway, counting the room numbers to find his. Once you reached the door, you took a deep breath, unsure what you would find beyond it.

You opened it slowly, a sigh of relief when you saw him sitting on the bed, an ice pack pressed against his face. “Babe!” His face lit up when he saw you. He tried to lean forward on his own, but his grimace told you that it hurt him too much.

You smiled, setting the bag in your hands on the floor and adjusting the bed so he didn’t have to lean. “What happened?” You whispered, taking in his state, and pulling down your mask. He had a small bruise under his left eye and there were wires and tubes running up his left arm. His right arm was wrapped in layers of hospital bandage.

He frowned at you, left hand reaching for your hand and motioned you to sit down beside him, so you did, gently. You wanted to hold his hand, but you were worried it would hurt him more, so you settled to rubbing his thigh gently. “I was walking around in the hills, and then these two guys came out of fucking nowhere. They jumped me and my friend and took a bunch of our shit. I punched one of them but the other one ran to his car and said he had a gun.” Your eyes went wide. “He didn’t have a gun, but he did have a car. And he literally came full speed at me and his partner.”

You tried to stay calm, but his recount of the night made you want to wrap him in bubble wrap and keep him in your house forever. “That sounds so scary, love.” You whispered, your free hand reaching out and stroking his right cheek. He leaned his head into your touch, a small smile on his face. “Did anyone see anything? Or does anyone know who they were?”

He shook his head lightly, “the guy in the car got away, but the other dude got hit too. Pretty sure he’s in this hospital. The cops came in and asked about it earlier, but I’d never seen those guys before.”

You nodded, leaning in, and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m very glad you’re okay.” You moved the ice pack from his face, observing the purple mark on his face. You may not know how to take care of broken bones, but you’d been with Rook through more than a few bruises and busted lips. You peppered kisses over the skin lightly, making him smile, which was the best thing you could do at the moment.

“The doctors are supposed to come back in soon. They did some X-Rays earlier to figure out exactly what’s broken, but my hand is definitely fucked up, and my legs.” He raised his right arm, showing you the cuts that ran along it. You frowned. “They said I’ll probably need surgery, which sucks.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Your voice was soft. You reached your hand to move his braids out of his face, something you’d gotten in the habit of doing quite often.

He shrugged, “I’m fine with it, you’re the one who has to take care of me afterwards.” You smiled and shook your head teasingly.

“I do that anyways, loser.” You chuckled, before a thought popped into your head. “Should I call your dad? I told Colson but I didn’t think to call your dad.”

He shook his head lightly, “Once they told me they’d called you I texted him. He said he’d be here in an hour or so.” You nodded, moving to sit in the chair beside the hospital bed so you could be at eye level with your boyfriend instead of leaning down uncomfortably. “What did Kells say?”

You chuckled, “he said you’d probably just gotten in a fight or did something stupid.” Rook pouted dramatically. “I told him we’d let him know what was going on later and he could come to the hospital if you were up for it.”

He smiled at you as you leaned your head onto the bed, near his abdomen, and looked up at him. He reached to rest his hand on top of yours, even though you could tell it hurt him to do so. You sat in silence for a few moments until you heard a small knock on the door. “Come in.” Rook called, and you sat up, putting on your mask and turning to see who was coming in.

A woman in her early 40s walked in, followed by two younger men. “Hello again, Mr. Cappelletty. I’ve got the results from your scans.” She spoke as the other two placed X-Ray films onto a small lightboard in the room. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.” She said as she noticed you.

“Oh, it’s okay Dr. Tambi, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” He smiled, looking towards you. You smiled kindly at the doctor. “She can stay, right?” He asked, his hand curling around yours lightly, you could feel the motion straining him and you flipped your hand around, holding his in yours lightly. You hoped it would hurt him less.

Dr. Tambi gave a nod and flashed you a smile, “of course.” She turned back to the films, pointing at the first one. “This is your left hand. If you look at this part right here, you can see where your second metacarpal fractured at the bottom near the carpal.” She raised her right hand, pointing to the bottom of her pointer finger near the knuckle. “So, we’re going to need to do a minor surgery to fix that up a little bit.” Rook nodded and you ran your hand up and down his arm gently. “Your right hand got off a bit easier,” she pointed to the next X-Ray. “No surgery, we’re gonna put it in a cast for a little while just in case but it might be off before you even leave the hospital.” You could feel him relax under your touch at that.

“But then your legs,” she pointed to the next images, “are a bit more complicated. I would imagine they took a brunt of the hit, correct?” She asked. He nodded again and you bit your lip, trying not to cringe at the image of your boyfriend being hit by a car. “The lower portion of your right tibia shattered into 3 pieces.” She pointed to the bone fragments in the X-ray, and this time a shiver physically went through your body. “So, we’ll need to do surgery to fix that up, too. And your left ankle has a hairline fracture that won’t need surgery, but you will have to stay off of it for a while.”

You looked at Rook, taking in the clench of his jaw. He was trying to look tough, but you could see through him, you always could. You knew he wouldn’t ask, so you did. “How long will they take to heal?”

He turned towards you, a soft smile on his face. You two worked so well because you balanced him out. Whenever he would almost get into a fight at a bar, you would be the rational one to pull him away. When you got too stressed out or uptight, he knew just how to get you to relax. When he was too nervous to think straight, you were there to ask all the right questions. You took care of each other, and you could read him like an open book.

“The left hand won’t need to stay in a cast for very long if the surgery goes well, but the left leg might be in a boot for 6 to 8 weeks, and the right leg will probably be a little bit longer, closer to 8 to 12 weeks.” Rook took in a deep breath, and the hand on his arm squeezed lightly, subtly telling him that you were there for him, and he would be okay. “Once we get the surgeries out of the way we can talk more about the treatment plan going forward, so try not to worry about it too much.” She smiled.

One of the men stepped forward, “I’m Dr. Stenson, I’ll be the anesthesiologist working with you.” Rook nodded towards the man, who continued to go over what Rook could and couldn’t do before the surgery. “How often do you drink or smoke?” He asked, and you let out a small chuckle.

Rook shoved you lightly, a small smile on his face. “Often.” He said, and you tried not to laugh.

“And what do you smoke?” He asked.

You mumbled under your breath, “what doesn’t he smoke is the better question.” Rook heard you, sending you a glare and you giggled quietly.

“Weed and cigarettes.” He said, trying to hide laughter as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. The man nodded and soon after the doctors left, leaving you and Rook alone again. “You’re so mean to me sometimes.” He pouted.

You laughed, “If it wasn’t so easy to make fun of you, I wouldn’t be so mean.”

“I got hit by a car, you have to be nice to me.” He whined and you rolled your eyes jokingly. “That’s a law.” He stated.

“Oh, is it?” You smiled, leaning forward, and pressing a kiss to his lips. “I guess I can be a little nice to you. For now.”

Rook’s expression turned serious, his eyes gazing into yours. “I’m kind of freaking out right now.” He whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not gonna be able to play for at least 8 weeks. What if I forget how to? Or what if they get into surgery and find out that it’s worse than they thought and I can never play again?”

You sighed, knowing these thoughts had been festering in him since the accident. You brought your hand up to his face, your thumb rubbing circles into his cheek. “Babe listen to me. You are the best drummer I know; you’ve been drumming for what, your entire life? You’re not gonna forget how to drum from 8 weeks off. And even if they get in there and find out its worse than they thought, which they won’t, we’ll figure it out. Everything is gonna be okay. They’ve seen worse fractures than these, trust me, they know what they’re doing.”

He nodded, letting out air through his nose. “But what if I could never drum again? I dropped out of high school. I’ve literally never done anything else except drum. I wouldn’t have money, I wouldn’t have friends because they would be touring all the time, I would lose everything.”

“You’d have me.” You whispered, “You would have me, and your dad, and all the people who really matter, even if they go on tour.”

“You would stay with me even if I was broke?” He sounded so small, so scared, and yet so amazed that you would even hint at the idea.

You frowned, confusion on your face. “I would stay with you if we were living on the streets and eating out of trash cans. But we wouldn’t be, because I also have a job and you’re going to be able to drum in no time.”

You simultaneously loved and hated this side of Rook. He never showed anyone how insecure he could be, and he was so insecure sometimes. You hated seeing him so sad. But you loved it, because you were one of the only people who did see it, because he trusted you enough to let you.

You guys had been friends for years and started dating 3 years ago after he kissed you, completely sober, in the studio while he thought the other guys were taking a break (they were really spying on you two the whole time). In those three years you’d come to know just about everything about each other. You trusted him with every piece of you, and he trusted you. You’d moved in together 2 years ago, and now everyone seemed to be waiting for a ring.

You didn’t mind waiting, you didn’t need to get married to know that Rook loved you or to know that you were going to spend the rest of your life with him. It was clear in the way you looked at each other that there would never be anyone else for either of you.

“I love you.” He mumbled, bringing a smile to your lips.

“I love you too.” You pressed another slow kiss to his soft lips. He closed his eyes as you did so, relaxing into it. You realized how tired he must be. “Why don’t you take a nap, J?” You whispered, and he mumbled a sound of protest, but you could already see him struggling against his sleepiness. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” You ran your free hand over his forehead, his braids having fallen into his face again, before adjusting his bed so he was laying down more.

It only took you 15 minutes before you fell asleep, your head resting against his stomach and hand still in his.

A little while later, Johnny rushed in the room, worry on his face until he saw the two of you. He smiled, taking a quick picture that he would definitely be showing on your wedding day. You got a good one, son. He thought to himself, feeling a sense of his pride that JP had finally found someone as good as you who would put up with his shit.

He took the seat on the wall opposite of the hospital bed. You came to consciousness 20 minutes later, finding the older man and smiling. “Hi Mr. Cappelletty.” You whispered, not wanting to wake Rook up.

“Hey, darlin’. How’s he doing?”

You looked up at your boyfriend, a soft smile on your face as you took in his peaceful features. “He’s doing good, a little freaked out, I think, but he’s good.” The man nodded, and you continued. “They’re doing surgery on his hand tomorrow and then on his leg a few days from now.”

“Damn. Did he tell you what happened? All I got was a very vague text.”

You nodded, the smile falling. “I guess these guys jumped him while he was out and one of them got in a car and hit him.” Your breathing got heavy thinking about it and you could see Johnny’s eyes widen.

He took in a deep breath, processing what you told him. “Jesus, I just thought he’d got his ass kicked at some bar.”

“So did Colson.” You let out a short laugh, your heart not in it. Your hand moved up to run over his arm again. “He’s scared he’s not gonna be able to drum again.” You whispered, tears coming to your eyes as you took in Rook’s sleeping state. For the first time since you’d gotten the call you allowed your emotions to hit you fully, thoughts of how much worse it could’ve been and how scared he must’ve felt floating through your mind.

Johnny could hear the slight crack in your voice, and he walked over to where you were sitting, pulling you into his stomach. “He’ll be okay.” He whispered, “I raised a strong kid.”

You nodded, trying to hide your sniffles. “I know, I just- I can’t stop thinking about how much worse it could’ve been. If he-.” You bit your lip, not wanting to voice the thought out loud. “I can’t lose him.” Your voice was weak, and you weren’t even sure that the words came out.

Johnny pulled you closer, “I know, sweetheart. But you have to remember that he’s okay, it wasn’t worse.” You nodded. “You’re allowed to want him to stay inside for the next few months out of fear, that’s natural. You just gotta remember how lucky we are.”

You wiped your eyes gently, smiling up at the father of your soulmate. “Thank you.” You whispered.

He nodded, “He needs to remember how lucky he is to have you. There’re not many people who would stick around with him for 3 years. Not people like you.”

You smiled softly, looking at Rook with fondness in your eyes, “I’m lucky to have him, too.”

Johnny patted your shoulder, going back to where he was sitting. You grabbed a spare pillow from the table next to you and propped it on the bed , slightly on Rook’s lap. You laid your head on it, making sure Rook’s hand was in a comfortable position in your own, and drifted off to sleep.

#Rook #rook cappelletty #Rook Cappelletty imagine #Rook Cappelletty x reader #rook angst #rook fluff

171 notes · View notes

thekillingjoke-haha · 3 years

Text

Just You And Me

Summary: Sam and Dean are on there second hunt to find John. They need help from the one person who hates Wendigos the most Y/n Winchester

Prequel to What's Worse Then Wednesday?

Ten years ago John had his first encounter with a wendigo a family went hiking with a full group of fifteen and no one has came down from the mountain in almost a month. Having asked a more experienced hunter John wrote down things he needed to remember as he went up the mountain a bag with Molotov ,lighters,and flare-up. It took almost a week to find the small mine shaft his brown eyes widened at the seen. Male and female limps were torn of and only some still had enough meat and clothing to be identifiable. Some bodies were on hook that resembled mountain climbing gear. None of them moved except for one. Stepping closer a six year old girl was hanging from her binder wrist her eyes look into his scared before gazing over down a tunnel a thick trail of blood went down it as tears spilled down her face. "Mommy and Daddy are gone. I next." Her voice cracked and a unhuman beastly type growl echoed. "I'm gonna get you out of here, darling." That's how John Winchester met his adoptive daughter Y/n.

Its been seven years since then and the little family the Winchester's made for themselves was falling apart. It broke John's heart that he pushed away his youngest son when he wanted a way out of this life, but when his adoptive daughter wanted to hunt more big league he almost blew a fuse. Y/n was young really fucking young to be hunting on her own,but it could have been worse she could have cut off contact with John and Dean. Now two years later John's missing and the siblings need each other.

The h/c teenager hissed as she cleaned the deep cuts on her shoulder looking into the bathroom mirror. A fucking blood suckered clawed at her shoulder taking advantage of the other two she beheaded. The burner phone on the back of the toilet rings as she grabbed it putting it between her ear and none injured shoulder. "Kinda busy Dean-o." She mumbled slipping the antibacterial cream in the cuts making the surface pink. "Dad went on a hunt and hasn't been back yet. I got a call last night and it sounds Ike somethings under it." He said the sound of baby let be know he's in the car. "Send it over to me and I'll have it back to you by the hour. You leaving New Orleans?" She ask starting to Butterfly stitch closing up the cuts. "Yeah left about two hours ago heading to California." Pausing and shacking her head. "No no no no no! You're not involving Sammy! He got out the life let him stay away and safe." Y/n finished up wrapping her shoulder as she walked out the bathroom to put on a shirt. "I need to,n/n. I won't keep him long we are just gonna check out the place dad was last at. The question is are you coming." Licking her lips she sighed. "I can't I'm in New York right now just took care of a nest in Brooklyn. I won't make it cross country for a couple of weeks." Dean let out a heavy breath. "I know,but I also know you're avoiding Sammy." Maybe the youngest wasn't the only one heart broken after one of her protectors,her best friend left in a huff and hasn't answered a single call.

The silence was drawn out as Dean's phone buzzed against his ear. "There your voice-mail put it through a gold wave. Sounds like a vengeful spirt bring rock salt for the shotgun." Dean chuckled. "Thanks baby sis...wait did you put me on mute to ignore me!?You bit—" That's when the line went dead. The h/c girl giggled as she layed on the stiff musty motel mattress. Her eyes closed,but her mind ran ramped.

The woods they were dark and seemed to loom over her. It was so quite no sound came from anywhere not even the wind dared blow. Crying filled the the air it was that of a child. It grew closer till it disappeared all together the claw marks on the trees marked the familiar place the blood soaked leaves crunched behind her causing the teen to go stiff. She knew what was behind her it was the same thing in every dream for ten convective years even if she knew her body wouldn't allow her to act she was that same scared little girl paralyzed as the horror show continued. The creature yelled,but it echoed in all directions. "HELP US!" Dean and Sam's voices shocked her awake her body pinned in fear as she looked at the Wendigo on top of her. It successfully restricting movement if her whole upper body. Blinking hard it was gone and air filled her lungs like rushing water. It meant nothing...nothing at all.

It's been almost a two weeks since Dean's call. He often text since Sam tried to high jack his phone last time he tried calling. Sam and Y/n didn't exactly end on the best of notes. "Come with me." Sammy looked at a younger Y/n who shook her head. "No. I can't leave dad and Dean. Not like this." The dust has settled after the heated argument between father and son and the rules were clear the moment he walked out those doors he stayed gone. "Don't call him that." His mood seemed to shift back to angry,but something else was there. "Call him what? Dad?" The young girl was confused now. "He's not your dad." It wasn't a secret that Sam harbored negative feeling against his sister they were never anything serious,but he still somewhat loved her just not like a sister. "You're not apart of this family you can get away,but no you're going to stay here and become their weakness!" He points at John and Dean who were just behind her. "I'm not a weakness! I got their back like they've got mine. That's what's family's for!!!" She shouted her eyes welling with tears not letting them fall,but they slip out at his next words. "Your family is dead! Did you save them then?! Maybe if you did we wouldn't be stuck with you!!!" The room was still no one dared breathed Dean stared wide eyed at his baby brother as John grew tense grasping the neck of his beer bottle in a vise grip while same looked like a deer in headlights. A sniffle brought the three men's attention to the girl. Tears streamed down her face before she used a open palm to whip her face dry. "Just go. Cause that's what you do best you runaway from your problems and wait til Dad or Dean can fix it." The thirteen year old snapped at him as she pushed on him as he just stumbled back. "You're nothing,but a coward and a pathetic one at that. I don't want to loss the little family I got for myself you're so willing to walk away from them it shows how different we are...nothing,but two strangers." He stood in the doorways as the h/c teen grabbed his packed duffle bag and threw it into his torso making him fall to the ground.. "So just FUCKING LEAVE!!!" With that she slammed the door shut. What Sam couldn't see as he drove away from the dingy motel was the mess he left behind. A father struggling to keep his kids safe,a brother torn between hunting and normalice,and lastly a adoptive sister that can't help,but be different. Sam Winchester left his family in a worse state then imaginable.

Sitting in bed I looked at my phone hoping it rang or buzzed with a incoming message that said they were fine. Y/n jumped as the screen lit up the name Batman lighting the screen. "About fucking time you jackass!" Her words were harsh,but the relief filled her voice. "Yeah we just got out of Stanford campus heading to .... now." Dean said the sound of cars and wind slightly muffled his voice. "H-how's Sam after...after you know?" One thing that Winchester’s hated was emotions and even if they weren't blood she grew up the same. Nature and nurture going toe to toe. "I don't know. You can always ask him yourself you know." The h/c teen laughed as she ran her hand down her face. "Dean-o he's the same shaggy haired asshole that said I wasn't family. I'll give him a chat when we're cheek to cheek in hell." And another thing Winchester’s sure knew how to hold on to a fucking grudge. "God you sound like Bobby said if he ever saw dad again he'd be looking down his shotgun barrel." They both chuckled as the faint sound of a ding of a convince store rang out. "Well tell Samantha same goes for him." She picked her nails as she decided to get up. "What are you morons hunting anyways did dads ex-marine crap give you a clue?" The crunch a gravel on the line grew louder. "It just had coordinates,my name,and a note saying safe place with your name." Dean opened the car door and got inside as Sam approached him. "I don't know Dean I don't have a safe place in the middle of nowhere so keep me updated,Batsy." Sam looked over at Dean who switched hands to the furthest from his brother. "Copy that talk later,Robin." That's when the keep away match started.

"Dude what the hell I want to talk to Y/n." Sam huffed as his brother closed the flip phone dropping it on the floorboards next to his feet. "Your chances of talking to her are zero to none,man. Sammy she'll talk to you when she's ready." Dean sighs as he starts the car. The youngest huffed he will admit he was a shitty brother that night and everyday following he didn't like it,but he ignored her calls for a months till they just stopped.At first he was still heated,heated, he felt guilty,then he was too busy. Sam tried calling,but it disconnected immediately meaning she blocked him. He thought he'd see her when Dean broke in but finding out she's been taking her own hunts scared him shitless. And from what Dean told him she started after the first month she trained harder taking own bigger hunts with Dad before doing normal ones alone. Sam realized by leaving he took away her only need for normalice,her want to have something other then hunting. He took her slice of the apple pie for himself.

The brothers were in the fucking woods in jeans and flannels walking with a makeshift search party for a missing kid. They were in a abandoned campsite after they lost their supplies. The signal was shot and Dean's phone was useless in most areas. He sent a text as it waited for any signal to send. "' Going in the woods with unknown creature. You know the coordinates I'll call if we need you'" That was a bit of a lie. He knew what it was before nightfall,but he didn't want her to have a panic attack he wouldn't be there to help her. The guide Roy? shot blindly in the woods after something rustled and growled like no animal. The boys ran after him as he got snatched up into the treeline which made them quickly escape back to the camp. As Haley and her brother Ben slept Dean had first watch they weren't prepared and this was the last creature he wanted his sister to hunt. Not after last time.

Dean was on a hunt with Dad and Y/n while Sammy stayed at uncle Bobby's for exam week or some shit. John never told them what they were hunting they had to discover it themselves. The hunt that was suppose to last three days,but took almost a week the tried tracking it yet nothing came up,but more missing persons. The trio decided they'd go back into the national park when it was daylight again,but they didn't need to wait that long. That night they slept Y/n sharing the bed with Dean as dad slept in the bed to the right of them it was probably the quietest night they've every had so the fact that something breezed in under their noses scares them most. Dean rolled out of the bed to the bathroom closing the door after he turned on the light it illuminated the pale skinned beast in the corner. It creeper closely to the only adult in the room gazing at his body before turning to the smaller figure in the bed breathing evenly. It crept onto the bed leaning over her body the old motel mattress creaked as it settled onto her. The weight of the creature was crushing causing her breath to come out in a hissing wheeze as her e/c eyes opened before they filled with shock. Going to scream the crushing weight on her chest pushed all the air out along with breaking a few ribs. Her hand wiggled out from under him as she wiggled her arm to hit the lamp off the table it broke onto the ground and John shot up with his gun and Dean busted out of the bathroom both froze before jumping into action the young boy running to get a lighter while John shot at it just to get it away from Y/n. The boney supernatural creature screeched getting up allowing the girl to try and roll out of the bed it struck her back blood soaked her clothing as she fell coughing roughly knowing the fall made one of the ribs stab into her lungs. The males in the room were able to set the monster ablaze quickly getting out of the room John holding his daughter. Y/n was in shock like many victims they've seen that monster was her nightmare and it casual gazed at her having the ability to kill her at any moment. After going to the hospital she stayed at Bobby's for almost a month to recover physically and mentally. Wendigos are her yellow eyes.

The next day as the followed the tracks of the Wendigo a sigh left Dean's lips as he tried to call her it rung for awhile before dial tone at least it went through,but she must have been busy. About to hand up the girl took off running after the beast made itself know Dean ran to keep up with her Sam yelling for him to wait as he stayed with her brother. She managed to trip as he went to pick her up he was hit over the head as she screamed for help as he started fading in and out and the voice-mail ended with Cries of help.

Y/n sat in her car waiting for a update text form Dean she started driving close to where he was,but didn't involve herself yet she almost got a room at the motel when her phone buzzed with a text. It was a update to come if he ever called to head over and help with a thankful sigh she back tracked from the motel and went to the dinner as she left her 0gonw on the table to order food it vibrated with a incoming call. One missed call and a voice-mail. As she grabbed her bagged lunch she grabbed the stuff off the table going back to her car as she got in the driver's seat she opened her phone to see a missed call and a voice-mail. Dean never sends voice-mails so Y/n opened it and she almost broke her foot as she hit the pedal to get to the woods. "Dean wait up~*crackle of leaves and grunts*~Come on we gotta ge—~*Female Screams followed by a thud*~ DEAN!!! *Inhuman roar before cut off*" Y/n almost had a panic attack in the car,but the adrenaline made her move faster that was sent five minutes ago. Taking a deep breath she began calling any hunter supernatural or not that knew the area well enough. "Hello?" "Hey this is the ARIA. I'm F/n F/L/N you have been hunting in the area for forty years are there any identifying landmarks within those woods? So incase of emergency?" The old man happily spoke about clearings,cabins on the edge,river,and a abounded mineshaft and where they were. She quickly thanked the man before hanging up she pulled out a satellite gps as she got looked over were she needed to go. Grabbing a backpack she loaded it with everything she needed as she took off into the wood watch as she got closer and closer with each click.

Sam's eyes fluttered open as he grabbed his bearings. Dean was next to him which mean he got captured not long after Dean and got taken. Haley,Ben,and Tommy were to the right of him they were stuck as he tried to move or at least hit Dean and wake him up. His brothers eyes sluggishly opened as he looked around before turning back to Sam in shock. The heavy foot steps creeped closer as the half clothes supernatural being looked down at them even though they were hanging on meat hooks. It moved down the line of people about to grab Tommy when a soft cry echoed in the cave. It turned around and listened closely. The brothers strained their ears to hear what it was. The Wendigo sprinted off to investigate when something else came into the Winchester’s view. Y/n stood infront of her brothers mud,sticks,and leaves on her body to mask her sent. Walking forward with a knife she cut Dean down before doing the same for Sam. The oldest went to cut down the siblings as Sam stopped his sister. "Y/n how did you get here? You shouldn't be here the monster is a—" She cut him off with a anxious smile in her face. "A Wendigo I know,but you guys needed a hero so I'm here." Dean came over to them as he stood next to his taller brother. "Sammy's right though,N/n. You got to get out of here after what happened last time. This thing is different from the last one it won't sit still for us to shoot it." He had a point, but he knew that was years ago he was still scared he couldn't protect her. "I got this I can defend myself. Get these people out of her I can distract the man eater." Handing them both a flare guns She turned towards the opposite tunnel the beast went into. "That leads straight to a river follow the flow and after it stops you're only two miles from Baby." About the protest they hear a growl. Y/n quickly sprinted further into the cave making enough noise to cover them escaping.

"OH OH HERS SHE COMES WATCH OIT BOYS SHE'LL CHEW YOU UP! OH OH HERE SHE COMES SHES A MAN EATER!!!" She sung running lighting flares leaving a trail as she ventured deeper. Y/n pulled the rubber top igniting another about to drop it when a snarl came form behind her. "Well hello beastie." She didn't turn around evening her breathing before spinning. The red light illuminated the monster in a devilish glow she wasn't a scared little girl anymore she was a Winchester and Winchester’s chase after their demons. "Just you and me now." A roar sounded throughout the damp cave. The boys turn to look back they both wanted to run back,but both of them would have pit her in more danger they were injured and a extra body to look after would put her at risk. They saw the orange hue of flames and the sound of glass breaking. Standing anxiously waiting for her to come out they were thrown back by the force of a explosion pressurized by the small space. The rock of the cave entrance was about to crumble when a head of h/c hair running out with a limp as it collapsed dust clouded the scene before them they could tell if she even got out until it settled. The youngest Winchester stumbled forward as she smiled at her brothers blood coming from her head and her split lip. "That was awesome. I did a Indian John's." Dean ran as fast as he could capturing her in a bone crushing hug. "Do some shit like that again I'll kill you then myself." She giggled as she hugged him back. "Sorry can't hear you. Explosion ya know deafening me." Y/n joked as her brother pulled away from the hug. Sam walked over slowly almost testing the waters. "Hey Y/n." He said shaky as he looked down at her. She's grown alot since last time he saw her she had more scarred and hard exterior. "Heya Sam." Her e/c orbs looked up at him they were uneasy as she smiled at him before hugging her as well. "I missed you,Jackass." Her voice was muffled by his shirt as he returned the hug. Their relationship will never be the same they both had Dean as a buffer between them,but for right now in this moment it was just the two of them Just you and me against the world.

#supernatural x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #john winchester #dean winchester x sister!reader #sam winchester x sister!reader #winchester #spn #sister!reader #adopted!reader #john winchester x daughter!reader #s1 ep2 #hateloverelationship #broken sibling relationship #Just you and me

120 notes · View notes

staticscreenwriting · 3 years

Text

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 3

THREE - Little Shop Of Horrors

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Bucky vividly remembers being about 10 years old and sitting on the living room floor watching his father assemble a heavy cabinet made from dark, massive wood. It had intricate gold ornaments along the sides and around the edges and even at that young age, he knew that it must’ve been expensive.

He likes thinking back to that memory, mostly because it’s one of the few that he can still tightly hold onto and recount the exact way he’s felt then, and partly because it’s so seemingly insignificant. It’s nice to know that some of the memories he regained after having his mind wiped clean, are tiny unimportant ones. It’s not just the big moments and grand gestures that make life worth living. Sometimes it’s the little things, the small details you look back on and fondly remember with a smile on your face.

Looking at the furniture before him, Bucky can’t imagine what his mother would think of these cabinets. Everything is white or beige or grey and there’s a lot of shiny black fronts and glass doors. The place is huge, so huge they have to tape arrows on the floor so people don’t get lost, and it smells of artificial vanilla and sawdust.

It’s not like he hates the furniture here, it’s just a lot and quite honestly, he’s not sure what really matches his personal style. Hell, he hasn’t had a personal style since before he went to fight in the war.

“ Ooooh, this one is very you! “ (Y/N) exclaims as she lets herself fall onto a fluffy brown 2-seat sofa.

If it wasn’t for her, Bucky wouldn’t be here. Not only because he wants her to come around more often and actually be able to sit on a couch, but also because she was literally the one driving them both here.

“Watcha doin? “

That was the text that started it, and before he knew she had pulled up to his apartment building, arm hanging from her open car window, and yelled “Get in loser, we’re going furniture shopping! “

Bucky assumes that is another movie reference though he doesn’t dare ask her about it.

“Nope, that’s a two-seater. Too small. I want to be able to sleep on it. “

“ Or, and hear me out on this one, you could get a new bed to sleep in. “

He doesn’t have any reply to that. It’s not like he doesn’t want to sleep in his bed, it’s just — it’s too soft. It’s too comfortable. It makes it easy to fall asleep and dream. And it’s never pleasant dreams. It’s nightmares. It’s faces that haunt him. Innocent faces. Eyes filled with terror. Fear. Fear of him. It’s nightmares. It’s memories.

When he doesn’t answer, (Y/N) pulls herself back up from the sofa and wanders on “or we’ll just have to find a bigger couch, that’s fine too. “

And at that moment he’s entirely grateful that she doesn’t push him any further.

They wander around the store for a while longer, slalom in between sofas and recliners, swerve in and out of mock-up rooms, all the while (Y/N) keeps throwing puns at him incorporating the Swedish names of the furniture.

Hanging out with her kind of reminds him of the times he hung out with Steve when both of them were so much younger. Of course, it’s nothing alike. He’s not even close to the person he was then, the boy he was then. The thing is, back then everything was easy and light. Being here with her and listening to her horrible puns, that’s easy too. For right now, he doesn’t even notice the weight that’s constantly resting on his heart or the perpetual shadow that seems to rest above him. This is easy and it feels so nice.

They step into yet another room, this one painted a dark forest green. Against the wall, there’s a dark wooden cabinet holding books and a fake tv and in the middle is a corner sofa made from dark brown leather. It’s big enough to fit both him and (Y/N) and maybe even Lady if she’s okay with cuddling up a little to either of them.

“ I like that one,” Bucky says and lets himself plop down on the couch. It’s comfortable but not too soft. It’s just right. Is this what Goldilocks felt like?

(Y/N) sits down next to him, rests her feet on top of the couch table and for a second it’s just them and the black screen of the fake tv and the intercom system calling out for little Kyle to be picked up at the Småland play area.

“ Honey, “ (Y/N) speaks up after a moment, “ I think the tv is broken? “ her voice ringing through the mock-up in a thick Transatlantic accent, making her sound like the women in the movies he grew up with.

“ Huh. Ain’t that something ?”

“ Well didn’t you fix it like I told you? “

“ Guess I must’ve forgotten,” Bucky plays along, trying to suppress the smirk pulling the corner of his lips upwards.

“ Ugh, remind me again why I married you? “

Bucky shrugs his shoulders casually “ my good looks? “

“ Oh, don’t flatter yourself. It’s very unbecoming. Good thing is — “ she announces as jumps up, pulling Bucky up with her and right over into the next mock-up living room. “ We have another tv.”

As Kyle’s parents are called out again, (Y/N) and Bucky tumble from one room into the next. From kitchen to bathroom to fake little balcony. All setting the stage for another chapter from their made-up marriage. Scenes from a movie never made, a book never written. A beautiful kaleidoscope of could-be and never-was. A nice fantasy to get lost in.

If this was a rom-com, (Y/N) thinks, this would be the falling in love montage. Some killer indie track would play in the background and it would be featured in at least one Buzzfeed article about romantic gestures.

But it’s not a movie, it’s real life and she isn’t the romantic lead and Bucky is — well he would make a great leading man now that she thinks about it.

They make their way back to the green living room with the brown couch and the ‘broken’ tv and fall back against the leather, laughter shaking their bodies, tears of joy stinging at the corners of their eyes. As she catches her breath, (Y/N) taps Bucky softly on the right shoulder and drops her voice to a whisper.

“Honey,” she says “I don’t know how to tell you this but uh — there’s a family on our balcony.”

Bucky’s eyes follow her outstretched hand and sure enough on the adjacent fake balcony is a family of 4 staring back at them. And just like that, they fall back into a beautiful harmony of laughter.

“So explain to me again what this movie is about?” Bucky asks as (Y/N) takes another sip from her coke can.

“Dude buys a plant, it starts eating people.”

“And this is gonna show me what women want these days?”

A joyful chuckle falls from (Y/N)’s lips. “I mean … there is a love story and a moral about how far you’re willing to go for the people you love even if it might be morally questionable, but maybe — maybe we should consider this one the Halloween special.”

Bucky shrugs his shoulder as if to say “okay fine with me” and leans back against the car seat. The massive screen of the drive-in is currently playing some kind of ice cream commercial that has (Y/N) softly humming along to the jingle.

This trip wasn’t planned, in fact, they’d been on their way back home when a billboard at the side of the road caught (Y/N)’s attention and put a huge grin on her face, so wide it could’ve split her face in two.

That’s how he ended up parked neatly in a row of cars, Coca-Cola in hand, popcorn resting in between him and (Y/N) waiting for the commercials to end and the movie to begin.

“You’re gonna love this one,” she’s told him beforehand. He’s a little skeptical about it but he’s not gonna tell her. Bucky is just so appreciative of the fact that she bothers trying to introduce him to these things. They might not end up being for him but it’s a good feeling to have someone care this much. Someone who hasn’t been with him through all the shit. Someone who doesn’t feel responsible because they pity him. Someone who doesn’t owe it to Steve to look after Bucky…

“So … I still have some homework to do.” He chimes in thinking back to their conversation on his living room floor.

“Homework that involves me?”

“Mmh. Doc thinks I should learn some more things about you. Apparently, it’s not enough to know that you’re crazy about movies and talk a lot.”

“I do talk a lot.” (Y/N) agrees and pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you. What you want to know?”

“Anything.”

Since coming back from oblivion, Bucky hasn’t really made an effort to get to know anyone. Growing closer to people only means there’s more for you to lose. More people you can potentially hurt. He doesn’t usually learn new things about people because he doesn’t ask. Because he doesn’t want to know. It’s a lonely life but it’s safe. It’s comfortable.

But this is different. He’s in too deep now to stop. And yeah, maybe this is his homework. Maybe he asks because his therapist told him too but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. He wants to know about (Y/N). Even the little things. The insignificant details.

“Well as I said before, I’ve studied literature and creative writing. I want to be an author. That’s uh — that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. The thing is it’s very hard to actually get people to give your writing a chance. Especially now. The world is in such a weird limbo after everyone came back. There’s no room for my art right now. So I work as a waitress to make ends meet. “

“What would you write about?” Bucky asks and in her eyes, in the surprise that’s so clearly written on her face, he can see that people don’t ask her that all too often.

“I don’t know, life? “

“Love stories?”

She lets out a mix between a scoff and a snort “what do I know about romance? I can tell you all about the love the movies and the songs and the books want to sell us, and don’t get me wrong, I love that. But I don’t think I’ve ever really experienced true and honest romantic love. So how could I ever write about it ?”

For a moment silence falls upon them. It’s neither comfortable nor awkward. It just is. Sometimes that’s enough.

“Look, I might not know a lot about love either, but I do know that dreams are worth holding on to, no matter how out of reach they seem. If it’s something you believe in and that you’re passionate about, it’s worth fighting for it.”

“Huh, didn’t put you for such a motivational speaker. Where’ve you got that from”

“Didn’t think the skinny boy from Brooklyn was ever gonna save a whole bunch of lives and fight in a war. Steve was the walking proof that you can do anything. “

“You miss him, huh?”

People don’t usually ask about Steve. They either don’t care how Bucky feels about the whole situation or they know it’s a tough topic and avoid it altogether. The worst part is he doesn’t even know how to respond. Yes of course he misses Steve, more than anything really, but there’s also a little bit of resentment swinging along. With Steve here by his side, it always felt like there was someone there who understood exactly what Bucky was going through. Someone who also had to figure out how to navigate this new life. But now with Steve gone, he feels so utterly alone.

“Every day.”

“Look I’m not going to ask what happened because quite honestly I’m still trying to grasp the fact that there are aliens and superheroes and wizards — “

“Wizards are not a thing.”

“You sure?”

Bucky lets out a slightly annoyed sigh “Yup. 100%”

“What’s the Strange guy?”

“Sorcerer.”

“That’s not the same?”

“No.”

(Y/N) considers for a moment, eyes screwed up in uncertainty before she shrugs her shoulder “ alright if you say so. Anyway, my point is, I don’t know if you have that many people to talk to and I don’t know if you even want to talk about Steve but if you do … well you can talk to me. I know I talk a lot but I’m also a really good listener. “

There’s no doubt in his mind that she is. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to talk about Steve yet though. Not when his heart is still at war whether or not to be angry. Not when he’s still so uncertain about his own complicated emotions.

“Thanks, I uh — I appreciate it.”

Loud music starts to play and (Y/N)’s head snaps towards the screen just in time for the title card to pop up in big colorful letters as three women shimmy across the street and start singing.

Bucky can’t help but let his gaze travel back towards (Y/N) every once in a while. There’s something about her he can’t quite figure out, but the way her eyes light up as she watches the movie and the smile on her face, it gives him a warm feeling. Like bad things don’t exist for the 90 minutes they sit together and watch a film.

“Sooooo?” (Y/N) asks as she parks the car in front of Bucky’s place. Her eyes still hold a sparkle that’s both mischievous and excited.

“I actually liked this one a little.”

“A little?”

“Look it’s not gonna be my favorite movie but I had fun. But uh — maybe that’s just because I’ve watched it with you.”

(Y/N) grants him a beautiful smile. It’s full of warmth and care and honesty. And he’s glad he told her, even if it makes him vulnerable.

“You telling me I’m a good friend?”

“Guess so.”

“Well, you’re a good friend too, Bucky.”

He hopes she’s right though he has a hard time believing it. He’s never seen himself as the greatest friend. Everything he did for Steve he did because he knew Steve would do the same. It came so naturally from both of them that it never felt like he was doing anything special or exceptional. It was as easy as breathing.

“Do you wanna come up? We could order some food.”

“Oh, I can’t. Gotta pick up Lady from Robin’s place. But as soon as your couch is delivered count me in as the first sleepover guest. “

“Will do. Hey, you think I should name the plant we bought (Y/N) 2?”

“Depends, you wanna feed the neighborhood Dentist to it”

“Maybe.”

They fall into another fit of laughter and even though it’s not that funny, and even though it’s really dumb and silly actually, Bucky enjoys it so much. He can’t remember a day when he laughed this much, felt this light.

“Oh, by the way, I’m throwing a pre-Halloween-party next weekend. If you’re free you should totally drop by.”

“I um — A friend is coming around that weekend.”

“Then bring your friend! The more the merrier, right ?”

Sam is gonna be down, there’s no doubt in Bucky’s mind about it. Sam isn't the problem, he never is. It’s Bucky. Going to a party is terrifying for someone who’s never known anything but the 1940s. This can only end up in disasters.

And yet …

“Okay, I’ll let him know.”

“Cool. Awesome. Just uh — Just text me when you know. Also, there’s no special theme so you can dress up as whatever.”

“I’m not dressing up.”

(Y/N) blows a raspberry against her arm “lame! But whatever, you do you.”

He guesses that means as much as “suit yourself”.

They bid each other goodbye with a hug and a promise from (Y/N) to Bucky to text him once she’s home just so he knows she’s safe.

To her, that’s a gesture so sweet and endearing it sends a jolt through her heart. To him, it’s as natural as breathing. You do what you can to keep those safe that you care about, even if it’s just a simple little text.

“You dressed up!”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Man, You’re wearing a costume. I’m looking at you right now. I can see it. You dressed up.”

“These are just my clothes.”

“These are just your clothes? Your normal clothes?”

“Yes.”

“You’re wearing Converse now?”

“ mmh.”

“Your Jeans are cuffed, man. I’ve never seen you cuff your jeans.”

“It’s something I do now.”

Bucky isn’t a very religious person. He doesn’t pray very often. At that moment though, he prays to god and every higher spirit one might choose to believe in, to open up the earth and let it swallow him whole.

“Look,” Sam says and gives Bucks a friendly pat on the back “you don’t gotta be embarrassed by it. I dressed up!”

“Yeah, what even are you, by the way? An exterminator?”

“I — what? No! I’m a ghostbuster.”

“Okay. Whatever that is.”

“Whatev— Bucky, Man you really gotta go with the times a little. I know you’re practically ancient but the Ghostbusters? Catch up!”

“Whatever. I'm not dressing up. Can we go?” Bucky sighs in exasperation, making Sam’s grin grow even bigger. Bucky knows that he’s just playing into his game, that Sam loves riling him up. That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to not let it get to him.

“Alright alright. Hold your horses. I’m ready. Let’s go … Danny Zuko.”

Bucky wants to punch him then but Sam is out the door faster than Bucky can even react, his loud laughter sounding through the hallway.

There are people everywhere. Sitting on the kitchen counter, lounging on the couches, leaning against the wall by the open windows. Everywhere. The apartment is small and with so many people inside, it looks absolutely packed. Like sardines in a tin.

Music echos through the place, a song Bucky faintly recognizes from the radio but can’t name. Sam seems to enjoy it though, his body already swaying along to the tune.

“Hey Buck, where’s your girl?” He asks as both of them let their eyes travel across the room and over the crowd.

“She’s not my girl and I don’t —“

In the middle of the room is a fish tank. It separates the living room area from the dining room and kitchen. Blue and green hues radiate from it as colorful fish circle around and swerve in and out of the plants.

But Bucky hardly noticedsthe fish, as his eyes fall onto the girl at the other side of the tank. The water sends a blue shimmer across her skin but her smile doesn’t lose any of the warmth it always holds. She looks beautiful. She always does but there’s something about her tonight that’s different from all the times he’s seen her before. Something ethereal.

At that moment, Bucky feels a fluttery feeling in his heart, in his bones, in his blood. He knows this feeling, has felt it before, a long time ago. Maybe, he thinks, maybe there could be more than friendship there.

And that thought absolutely terrifies him. Because falling for someone makes you foolish and dumb and vulnerable. And that’s awfully scary.

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynzierulez // @je-like-you // @dracoxxyoflam // @jackiehollanderr // @majo240820 // @kay-gilles // @booksb4looksstuff // @jckie94 // @charmed-asylum // @shawnie--jo // @yllwtaxi //

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #winter soldier x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier imagine #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #james barnes x reader #james barnes x female reader #he has too many names this must be enough

118 notes · View notes

touyasdoll · 3 years

Text

Complicated - Chapter Two

Chapter One: Here

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x reader

Warnings: self-degradation/self-doubt

Word count: 2.2k

A/n: Gonna rework this and ditch the first person POV, jsyk.

A/n pt. 2: This story does contain spoilers for the show/manga. The dates/ages of characters are going to be shifted around a bit.

------------------

It's been two days. Is he gonna call? Text? Completely forget I exist?

I sigh, trying to expel the anxiety balled up in the pit of my stomach.

Why would he call? We talked for, what, five minutes? He seemed older too. You were in your damn school uniform, idiot. He's obviously got more important shit to do than chat up a schoolgirl who can't mind her own fucking business.

"Ugh," I groan to no one but myself in my apartment. "I'm really just the biggest fucking jackass, aren't I?"

Flopping down on my bed, I let out another weighty sigh and bury my face in the plethora of pillows piled beneath me.

Relax. Maybe he'll text. Maybe he won't. And if he doesn't he's just sparing you the embarrassment that you would inevitably bring upon yourself.

A yawn escapes my lips as I feel a wave of drowsiness wash over me. Glancing at the clock, I could see it was hardly 5 PM.

Fucked up sleep schedule, here I come.

The familiar comfort of my bed allows me to quiet my thoughts enough to fall into a shallow sleep, until I'm startled awake by a vibrating sensation coming from underneath my chin.

I blink against the harsh light emitting from my phone, squinting to see who was disturbing me.

What the--oh shit!

It was an unknown number. Recognizing that it could be him, I sit up faster than I have ever managed to after a nap and fumble the phone into my palm, eagerly sliding my thumb across the screen to accept the call.

"Hello?"

My breath hitches and I bite my lip in anticipation as I wait, eager to hear his deep, silky voice on the other end.

But the pause on the other side of the line seems just a little too long. Something is off.

Is this him? Is it..just some creep? A prank? What the hell?

"We've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty."

My eyes slam shut, a shake reverberating through my spine as a cocktail of anger and embarrassment wash over me.

That's it. Hope is off limits from now on.

"Fucking great."

I tap the end button, half ready to throw my phone out the window.

Instead, I decide to check and see if I missed anything else while I was out.

Hope is off limits.

I shake my head, trying to erase the little embers of hope that persist, praying that maybe he did reach out.

To my surprise, there's a text from an unrecognized number.

Unknown: You free tonight, doll?

Holy shit.

Looking above the message, I see: Today 6:58 PM. I wince as I dare to look at the clock, which mercifully reads 7:26 PM.

Tapping the text box, I don't give myself the chance to overthink this opportunity.

Me: For you? Sure thing.

Tossing my phone onto the bed, I nod my head, processing the sudden burst of confidence I seem to have found.

I'm not like this. What is it about this guy? He's just that--a guy. One that I don't know. And now I'm just gonna meet up with him?

He's literally a stranger. Who the hell do I think I am?? Is my vagina just running things now? Gonna run out and meet up with some strange dude, because he's pretty and charming?

You know who else was pretty and charming?? Ted Bundy.

That's right, you said it. This is dumb, logically. This is everything everyone’s ever warned you about.

My phone buzzes and my heart rate spikes in response, tearing me from my spiraling doubts.

Unknown: Our spot. 30 minutes. See you there.

A noise that I've certainly never made before eeks past my lips as I process his instructions.

Fuck it. The possibility of this guy being a serial killer has been assessed. I'm going, risks be damned.

You're an idiot. You're an idiot. You're an idiot.

I sigh for the umpteenth time today, waging war in my own mind.

I don't know what it is about him, but I have to see him again. Nothing bad is going to happen. It'll be fine.

That's what I tell myself as I exhale, until I catch my reflection.

My hair is disheveled, my mascara askew. I didn't even bother to take off my uniform before I passed out.

As if I weren't flustered enough, now I gotta make myself looking somewhere near presentable and get down there in time.

Here goes nothing.

Fifteen minutes fly by and I think I've managed it as I step back to look myself over in the mirror once more.

The shortest pair of high-waisted shorts I own, paired with a low-cut black crop top and my favorite slip-ons. My make-up doesn't look perfect and there's not much of it, but it's touched up, and my hair is at least brushed.

Okay, no turning back now.

Grabbing my keys, I tuck my phone in my back pocket and make my way to the meeting place.

+++++++++++++++

Our spot. The man is smooth and I think that he knows it.

I re-read the last message he sent for probably the thirteenth time in the past five minutes.

The clock in the corner of the screen reads 8:02.

Maybe he won’t show. Maybe this is a joke. He and his buddies with come around a corner and laugh as they speed off.

Damn, can I chill? No. He’s going to be here. And I’m going to act like a human fucking being. A normal girl. Someone he could like; I’m capable of that.

Aren’t I?

Scanning my surroundings yet again, I take in the scenery. I never really get out at night, but the city looks so pretty this way. There’s not too much traffic, especially considering that it’s a Friday night, but there are some people milling about up and down the sidewalk. Some look like they’re on their way home. Some look like they’re on their way out for a night on the town.

“Hey there.”

My eyes are quick to follow the sound of his voice. I look up and he’s strolling up to the bench where I’m seated, the same one where I bandaged his arm the other day.

His hands are shoved in his front pockets, thumbs pushed through the belt loops of the tight, black jeans he’s sporting. His white t-shirt dangles off of his frame in a way that suits him, offering a glimpse of his muscular chest. A black coat completes his ensemble and he certainly looks the part of the typical bad boy.

But, damn, does it look so good on him.

“Hey, there. How’s the arm?”

I scoot over a bit, allowing for ample space between us if he were to take a seat. To my surprise, he sits towards the middle of the bench, so that his thigh brushes against mine as he settles.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, glancing down and covering the noise I want to make with a quiet clearing of my throat.

“It’s good. You do make a pretty decent nurse, sweetheart.”

He grins and pulls his coat sleeve back, revealing the still bandaged wound.

“Wait, have you changed that?”

You’re such a mom. You better hope he’s into MILFs, because otherwise this ain’t gonna get you where you wanna go, girl.

His brow furrows in an expression that tells me all I need to know before he even speaks.

“What do you mean? Changed what?”

A quiet sigh leaves my lungs as I hold out my hand.

“May I?”

His puzzled expression doesn’t falter, but he shrugs and offers his forearm up for inspection.

Carefully, I pull back the tape holding the bandages together and slowly begin to unwrap them.

That is, until the smell hits me. I barely catch of glimpse of the reddened skin before my nostrils detect the scent of burned flesh and excess viscera.

“Oh, dear. Have you even unwrapped this thing?”

Trying not to agitate anything further, I delicately wrap the bandages back around his arm, taping them down once again.

“No, should I have?”

I look up and my gaze meets his, a sense of true ignorance evident in his expression; I try not to laugh. I really try, but a soft giggle escapes nonetheless.

“Yes! I mean, if it doesn’t hurt, I’m sure it’s not that bad right now, but you should be cleaning and redressing a wound like that once every 12 hours at the very least. It’s been what, like, at least 50 at this point?”

His good arm reaches for the back of his neck, scratching at it as he dons an apologetic half smile.

“Sorry, I’m not exactly nurturing by nature, doll. I don’t know the first fucking thing about this kind shit.”

I cock a sympathetic smile as I look at him, sitting there looking almost helpless. I guess he is, in a sense. It’s actually kinda cute how he doesn’t seem to have an inkling of how to properly care for himself.

Because that’s absolutely what you want in a potential relationship. Someone to fix, how fun! Why not open up a shop for broken boys? Girl, when will you learnnn??

“Well, I don’t have anything on me right now, but if you don’t mind coming back to my place, I could clean it up there? And I’ll teach you how to keep up with it this time.”

I guess not today, motherfucker.

“Coming to my rescue again. You must be in a hero course, huh, doll?”

His smile is so naturally disarming as he stands and offers his hand out before me.

“I don’t mind, if you’re sure you don’t. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable and I don’t wanna be a burden. I didn’t ask you out tonight for you to have to play doctor on me again.”

He seems so sweet, so genuine. Maybe he is broken, but everyone deserves kindness. He looks like he hasn’t seen much of that. And as cliché as it is, maybe I can help him. Maybe he can help me.

I slip my hand in his, smiling as flirtatiously as I can manage as he pulls me to my feet.

“I don’t mind. I was kind of hoping I might get to play doctor on you again anyway. Maybe you could even return the favor.”

I brush my fingers against his as our hands disconnect, taking a page from his own book and watching his expression as my skin glides against his.

Or maybe we could just do this. This works too. No muss, no fuss. But oh my goodness what if what I just did was weird and he’s not even interested??

His eyebrows rise for just a moment as he chuckles and glances down, still grinning as he puts his hands in his coat pockets.

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t know much about medicine, but I do know how to give a pretty thorough physical exam.”

Something twitched deep inside my belly as my breath caught in my throat and I damn near tripped over my own two feet as we started walking.

Thankfully, his reflexes were quicker than my inate ability to fuck things up and his good arm reached out to steady my frame as he stepped in front of me.

The delicious scent of his cologne mingling with remnant cigarette smoke nearly made me dizzy as my hands connected with his chest, now completely unable to ignore the muscles just beneath his thin shirt.

“You all right there, doll?”

Long, slender fingers find their way under my chin. His thumb just barely brushing the edge of my bottom lip as he strokes it over my chin.

His eyes are practically piercing mine as he carefully lifts my face to his. Who knew being in such close proximity to someone so beautiful could be this paralyzing.

Holy fuck. Forget fixing me. He can break me and I’ll probably thank him for it.

The strong hand on the small of my back threatens to rob me of my breath all over again and I have to fight to keep any semblance of composure in his arms.

“Yeah.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and will myself to break eye contact. “You always have girls falling for you this quickly?”

I pity laugh at my own joke, wishing my quirk was something that would allow me to disappear.

But then he’s chuckling too. It’s melodious at first, but then it morphs into a deep reverberation that sends all the right chills down my spine as I level my eyes with his again.

He looks like an enigma personified. His eyes look so gentle and warm, but his smile reads so sad. The words that leave his lips sound like both a warning and an invitation to my flushe red ears.

“Trust me, princess. You don’t wanna fall for me. I’m no good for you.”

Oh, but it’s too late for that.

125 notes · View notes

gxccistyless · 3 years

Text

11- “Excuse you, I can be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want, outside of work hours. You can’t stop me.”

It started out with you being a part of his touring team, you were his PA’s assistant and would organise all the things he needed in his dressing room, ensuring it was ready for him. Then his PA got pregnant and he needed someone to fill temporarily, that’s where you came in... “It’s only for three months tops till he can agree to someone else, the dude has interviewed six people in three days and didn’t like any of them!” So you said yes. But three months turned into six and six turned into a year and soon enough he was no longer hiring anyone else, his PA wasn’t coming back and he had, of his own accord, decided that he wouldn’t be looking for someone new to fill the position as you would be staying in it. You weren’t complaining though. You had grown close to Harry over the last 12 months, tending to his every need between the house of 9am and 5pm, and then enjoying his company after hours too.

He had grown to feel some type of way about you somewhere there in the first few months. He enjoyed spending time with you, he knew that much, but he was also well aware of the fact that he was a public figure and you were just a normal Californian girl, he didn’t want to throw your life into a loop. What he didn’t know was that you had grown to feel some type of way about him too. Neither of you knew how the other felt, he had convinced himself that you were into the coffee guy who would flirt with you each morning, and you had convinced yourself that he was into his new costar. So the two of you continued to suppress your feelings.

Gemma came to the set to visit, she was in town and staying with Harry which meant you didn’t have to go and hang out with him at night, even though it was a break and allowed you to catch up on some personal business, you did miss him.

She knew how Harry felt about you, in fact between the hours of 5pm and 9am he wouldn’t shut up about you, her only time of quiet would be when he eventually fell asleep. “Gemma, she’s so beautiful... Gemma, one day I will ask her out.... Gemma do you think she’s dating the coffee guy?.... Gemma do you think she likes me back?” Gemma had enough.

She asked you if you wanted to grab lunch whilst Harry was busy doing hair and makeup one day. It wasn’t out of the ordinary as the three of you would usually eat lunch together. She asks about your love life, you laugh in reply. “what love life, I spend my days looking after Harry and I spend my nights either sleeping or hanging out with Harry or doing both of those things at the same time. I don’t have time for a love life” Gemma nods and you continue to ramble until she cuts you off “maybe you and Harry should date” you laugh at first not really knowing how to reply... was she being serious? Or was it just sarcasm? “I don’t know why you think that’s so funny, you spend enough time together and you already bicker like a married couple” Gemma roles her eyes.

Gemma what are you talking about... I’m pretty sure Harry is dating Cecily or whatever her name is...” “what makes you think that!?” “dunno that’s just what the tabloids and the twitter are saying” again she rolls her eyes. “Y/n, has he spent any night in the last twelve months, apart from nights where I’m with him, away from you?” Come to think of it he hadn’t. After work he would either be at yours or you would be at his. You shake your head to reply no. “In the last twelve months has he had ANY dates?” Again you knew that he hadn’t, you were in charge of his calendar and truthfully the boy couldn’t make a reservation even if he wanted to. Gemma decided that the hints she was giving you were falling on deaf ears, much like the hints she had been dropping for Harry.

Somehow however, she had convinced both you and Harry to go on a blind date the following week, neither of you knowing the other was going to be there. Harry was planning on bailing on the date, not wanting to leave you on your own but somehow you had found the courage to text him on Saturday morning.

Y/n: hey sorry this is short notice, but I’m not feeling well and I don’t want to give you anything ahead of your performance next weekend, let’s make tacos another night!!

Harry: I can come and look after you! I’ll bring the tacos to you, you won’t have to do anything except for rest. Screw the tacos, I’ll make you some chicken soup....

This made you nervous, how would you turn him and his chicken soup down without a) telling him you were going on a date and b) hurting his feelings. Y/n: Harry, I promise I’m okay... nothing a bit of sleep won’t fix... I’ll see you tomorrow if I’m feeling better!

Harry: okay :( but message me if you change your mind or you start to feel worse. I’m only a text away :)

Y/n: thank you Harry ❤️

Harry had gotten ready, driven to the ice skating rink where Gemma had told him to meet his date and parked in the car park. He had half a mind to turn around bail on this date and go and check on you. But he knew how much you hated too much attention and he didn’t want to push passed boundaries that you had set. So he got out of his car and made his way inside. You were already there, and as he walked up the stairs your eyes locked with each other. At first he was upset that you had lied and you were embarrassed to have been caught, but the two of you engage in conversation anyway.

“Feeling better I see?” He lifts his eyebrow at you. “I’m sorry I lied to you, I just didn’t know how to tell you that Gemma set me up on this blind date and I don’t even know if this is a thing and I —” halfway through your rambling you stop to see him smiling. “What are you smiling at, styles?” He’s realised his sisters plan as soon as the words fell out of your mouth. You’re yet to pick up on it. Just as his shout to reply to you, both of your phones buzz. It’s Gemma messaging in the group chat the three of you had.

Gemma: have the two of you suckers figured it out yet? You both like each other, you’re both single, she’s not dating the coffee guy and he doesn’t have the hots for Cecily... Enjoy your date! 😝😝

You’re cheeks are glowing red at this point. She’s exposed you, but at the same time she’s exposed him too. “Cmon then” he says as he reaches for your hand and the two of you walk into the rink. He pays, because well he’s a real gentlemen and even though he loves your feminist side, he refuses to let you spend a cent, after all... it is a date.

After five minutes on the ice rink, and Harry falling for the sixth time, you start to panic, even though he tried to play it off, skating was not his forte “Maybe we should just go home, you’re not very good at this and I don’t need to be ringing your manager tomorrow to tell them you’ve broken your leg and can’t perform next week” he giggles at your worrying expression and the way your whole forehead was creased during that entire sentence. “Calm down love, I think you’re being a but dramatic.. I’m not going to break my leg” you pout your lips and fold your arms “Excuse you, I can be as dramatic and ridiculous as I want, outside of work hours. You can’t stop me.” He giggles at you.. “You’re right, I’m not paying you to be here am I..... did my sister pay you? Is this a prank?” It’s you’re turn to laugh. You shake your head and the small but of panic that he felt is over “You’re sister was right, I do like you” your eyes focus on your feet, not daring to make eye contact with him. “yeah she was right, I have a thing for ya too...”

The night continued on, you two had a fabulous time. You continued to spend each night with Harry after that, just as you had been. Except now there were no doubts. You were dating each other, not the coffee guy and not the good looking costar. It was the beginning of something both of you had only ever dreamed of. Gemma never let either of you forget that she was the one who set you up, you were both thankful for her scheming and never let her forget how grateful either of you were.

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry x y/n #Harry x reader #harry styles tpwk #tpwk #hs2 #harry styles imagine #Harry styles imagines

109 notes · View notes

catsplushellhounds · 3 years

Text

favorite headcanons (and theorys?) of glee that i created

i was thinking if i really was going to write this, but im bored so lets go, this got so long and i am so sorry (not really it was fun and i liked it, if you like big metas you probably gonna like this)

*this can have some triggers for some people because i will be talking about bullying, abandonment, depression and violence*

(also i would like to say that most of this are things that i like to believe happened, and idk if the rest of the fandom agrees or if someone said it before and this is all blaine related, i left it glee on the title because it sounded better idk)

- blaine's dad is filipino and he left after blaine came out

i know that blaine said he was there in shooting stars, but hear me out

first of all, to me his name is tod anderson, dont ask me why it just makes sense and i like how it sounds.... so

in sexy, blaine tells burt that his dad tried many times bonding with him, but apparently that didnt work, because he also says "you think my dad built a car with me because he loves cars? i think he did it because he thought getting my hands dirty might make me straight." and after 4x18, he is never mentioned again? and he wasnt on his son's wedding too

so my theory here is that he never accepted that blaine is gay, and all of his "efforts of bonding" were actually because he thought he could "fix" blaine, and when that didnt worked he left, (that also explains blaine's abandonment issues) but he did came back im the shooting episode because he felt guilty for what he did, but after he saw it was a false alarme he went back on pretending he didnt have a gay son

to be really honest sometimes i pretend that his dad wasnt on the shooting day because i feel that it doesnt fit that well into this and i really like this one because its kinda obvious to me that blaine have daddy issues??? so usually i just put on my character-backstory that blaines dad left after he came out and never came back

for the first year that he was gone, blaine spended every night trying to contact him. sometimes he just texted, but most of the times he called and left a message crying begging him to come back and tell him what he'd done that made his father hate him so much, his dad never called or texted back

- blaine's parents

(im not sure if this is canon but blaine's mom is named pam)

i know that technically i've already talked about blaine's family when i was talking about his dad but that is so complex i felt i had to do a topic exclusive for that

i believe blaine has and always had a good relationship with his mother, yes she was usually gone because she works selling a really famous cosmetic line she created (to me the andersons are a really known name) that would explain how blaine could study in a school like dalton (he said so himself that dalton isnt a school that anyone could afford), and why she is never there

but despite her being busy with her job, she always tried to keep im touch with blaine, texting him, and calling and skyping

blaine always missed her, but he tried to not make her feel guilty about working too much, because she loves her job

sometimes he got really depressed, because he wished she could be there to see him sing with his friends, or just be there so that he could hang out with his mom like all of his friends did with their parents

his das was a businessman, i dont know why it just fits to me, also idk what kind of business because i dont understand any of it so thats up to imagination

before he came out, he and his dad were super close, sure his dad a lot of the time was busy but he was at home more than his mom, his dad was the one that introduced him to liking sports, and they always watched games together (cooper would join in too) and his dad always let him have a sip of his beer, blaine always loved those moments and his dad was like a hero to him, he was sure that coming out to him would be easy, because he would love him no matter what

all of the andersons have always been brodway babys, all 4 of them liked to sing, tod was a little bit more serious and didnt dance around the house like cooper, blaine and pam but he enjoyed seeing them having fun

the andersons were like the perfect family of the neirbourhood, all 4 of them are very good looking, talented and educated so yes everybody thought they were perfect

they all lived in the philippines until blaine was 5, and then moved to ohio because tod got a really good job offer there

after blaine came out, his parents argued A LOT. tod would ask himself and pam of what he had done wrong and pam would say its nobodys fault and thats just how blaine is

(to me that was the time tod was revealed to be an asshole and not long after he divorced pam and stoped talking to all of them, except for cooper, he and cooper still talked)

- blaine's bullying

the bullying blaine went through was a lot like kurt's, people laughing at him, shoving him around, beating him up, etc

he tried putting a brave face through it but he started losing all of his light, even more when all of his complains didnt matter at all

it only got sort of better when he met skylar (thats the kid he went to sadie hawkings with, i read in a fic that was his name and stuck with me so im calling him skylar)

skylar was going through the same thing he was, and one time blaine saw him getting shoved at lockers, and helped him pick up his books and thats were they started talking

maybe they liked each other, they never got to find out because after the bash, skylar never spoke to blaine again

blaine was in a 2 week coma after getting beat up, and the first thing he said when he woke up was "where's my dad" and his mom had to gently tell him his das was not there. that was when blaine realized he actually meant nothing to his dad and that broken him even more

he was bashed about 3 months after his father left him, and for the rest of that school year he was homeschooled by a teacher his mother hired

- blaine joining dalton and the warblers

so, since blaine is a year younger than kurt, in my head goes sorta of like this

he came out when he was 13, that was the time he was bullied, beaten up abandoned and homeschooled, and he joined dalton when he was 14, but to be a warbler he had to be a little older than that, so he had to audition to join (im guessing you dont have to audition to be a warbler, just to have a lead, i mean kurt didnt auditioned, right?) and and trent auditioned together, they became friends and were roomates (dalton is a boarding school DONT @ ME EVERYBODY KNOWS ITS TRUE)

it took blaine a while to take the step to audition, because he was still scared, but wes and david helped him and gave him a little seed of the confidence he pretends to have later on, but when he sang for the warblers for the first time they were all blowed away by how good was his singing voice even if he was only 14

after he felt comfortable in the warblers, he became friends with nick and jeff, and they were a trio of dumbassess, wes and david (usually the most mature of all the warblers) sighed everytime they saw nick, jeff and blaine doing something stupid

trent joined in sometimes but he always had been a really chill dude, and he saw blaine as a older brother (even tho blaine is younger than him)

jeff, nick and blaine pulled pranks on wes and david like hiding stuff from them and act all inocent when they asked if they saw said thing

the warblers had a bet going on how long would it take for kurt and blaine to start dating (and yes all of them shipped klaine, and even after kurt and blaine went to mckinley the warblers still kept hearing about them and seeing them on jacob ben israel's blog)

jeff, nick, trent, wes and david were the only real friends blaine had there

wes and david has already gratuated when the slushie happened, and nick, jeff and trent all apologized to blaine after that (even though they had no idea that was gonna happen) but their friendship was never the same

- blaine and cooper's relationship

as we know, blaine and cooper didnt got very along when blaine was growing up, cooper is 9 years older than blaine, and has always been really hard on him and thaat made blaine really dislike cooper, even tho he really wanted for them to be friends, he always has bitter feelings towards him duo to all of the pressure and expectation he was under because cooper was the oldest, and blaine felt like he had to be just as good or better than him, so he also had a lot A LOT of jealousy

but that started to change after "big brother", when they talk things out, cooper finally realizes how blaine feels, and starts doing his best to be best brother to blaine

they dont become besties immediatly, blaine helps him with his audition (which makes kurt really proud and happy seeing cooper being all excited talking to blaine, while blaine is trying to pretend like hes cool but actually hes just as excited), and they start to talk more and more after that

after finn dies is when they start getting actually close, after the funeral, he calls cooper but dosent say the reason why, he just says that he loves him and that he misses his big brother, they call and talk to each other a lot more after cooper finds out about finn

when cooper has a son, he and blaine teach the little guy how to dance and they play a lot of happy and fun piano songs to him

- the anderhummel family

blaine and burt are actually really close, they both like sports and beer so they watch games together and bet about whos gonna win, burt sorta of became the dad blaine lost, but in a non weird way, because they both agreed that blaine calling burt "dad" after he married kurt was just... weird

finn and blaine played a lot of videogames together, sam and puck played with them too, but when kurt was helping on dinner or more interested in a magazine or trying to convince carole to let him do a makeover on her, finn and blaine played videogames and maybe sometimes gossip about kurt and rachel (after he became besties with sam he did that same thing but hey playing videogames and talking about your s/o is fun!)

carole took care of blaine when he was in the hospital for the eye surgery, and when he was hangover at kurt's after biota she helped him with all the vomiting and headaches and all of that

pam met carole and burt when blaine got slushied, blaine was already like family to the hudson-hummels at that point, so when burt found out what happened he ran to the hospital, (carole was already working there anyway) and thats where they met, it wasnt ideal and all of them wete stressed and worried but they got along pretty well

pam, burt and carole werent really close since pam was usually out working, but the few times they sat down to talk to each other they really liked. pam thinks burt and carole are a sweet couple, that raised two wondeful boys and burt and carole think that pam is a sweet and funny lady, they all exchanged embarassing stories about kurt and blaine (that made them go "MOM DONT TELL THEM THAT" or "DAS STOP I WAS 7")

pam absolutely adores kurt, he was fascinated when he found out she had a line of cosmetics and spended hours talking to her about skincare routines

blaine can always make carole laugh, she thinks hes a sweetheart and usually keeps burt from bursting into the room when the door of kurts bedroom is closed ("i told them already, leave at least 2 inches open, is that really so hard??" "honey, relax they're just watching a movie" "im going in there" "no you're not leave the boys alone")

burt has walked in a few times on klaine making out on the couch and he always makes a joke about it to not make it awkward

burt was thrillled to know he was gonna be a grandpa, and he spoils tracy anderson to OBLIVION (blaine doesnt argues because he sorta of does the same thing)

even after both breakups, burt and blaine had always kept in touch, maybe it wasnt what it used to be when he and kurt were still mad at each other, but once they go back being friends, blaine is a little more comfortable in hangin out with the hudson-family

- blaine's depression in s6

i think is canon thay blaine had depression and anxiety during the whole show, right? it just got worse in s6 because kurt breaking up with him was sort of what pulled the trigger

it begun when his father neglected him, and it only got worse and worse, he was abandoned by his father and sometimes felt like by his mother and brother too, he had anxiety and it got worse after sadie hawkings, then kurt and him broke up for the first time, and he kept bottling it all up until it all reached the boiling point and it all exploded when kurt broke up with him

(side note, i think that when kurt started pulling away from him in s6, it reminded him of his dad pulling away too, his dad tried to bond with him but i feel that as harder blaine tried to make his dad stay, didnt matter and his dad kept pulling away until he was gone, that makes a parallel to s6 breakup, and why blaine was trying so SO hard to make kurt stay, because he had been there before, and he wasnt good enough for his dad, and he really wanted to be good enough for kurt)

so, after they breakup, blaine stays in a cheap hotel, not getting out of bed and feeling empty inside, his phone buzzed a little with missing calls from his friends but at some point the batery died and he just ignored, he only charged after 2 days because he probably had to let people know he's still alive

he went back to the loft in the afternoon, because he knew kurt wouldn't be there, he was going away and leaving nothing behind when kurt showed up, blaine was kinda of embarassed because he was probably stinking and his hair and clothes were a mess

im not sure if they talked at all after the breakup night, but i kinda feel that blaine might have said to kurt something like "you think i'm broken? when are gonna realize the problem here isnt just me? i should have known, everytime things get serious and scary between us you run, you're so afraid of something and honestly i have no idea of what, please just stay away from me" (i dont knooow he was angry and being all cold to kurt and shit i think that happened and maybe thats what made kurt go to therapy)

he got kicked out of nyada because he didnt left his hotel room for anything other than food, and he felt even more lost after receiving the email saying he was no longer a student there, thats when he decided to go back to lima

in lima, he barely left his room, he didnt ate for days and when he wasnt crying he was sleeping, his friends would call, text and sometimes try to visit him but he never texted back, answered the calls or opened the doors for them, sam was the only one that had some success because he was living in lima too and could go to blaine's house more often, sometimes he got lucky and blaine would open the door for him

at first he tried to do pep talks to help his bestie get better, but nothing helped so at one point he just sat there with blaine and did nothing with him, because at least like that he wouldnt be alone

one day blaine felt a little better and started trying to be okay again, it was never easy but he got a job at breadsticks, and even tho he would much rather be in his bed he kept working because at least like that his mind was busy with something

after he started therapy, he still felt empty inside, the world was still sorta of grey to him and he didnt felt like doing anything, so he had to take meds for that, and kept taking them even after kurt cane back (but as blaine was getting better they slowly became less and less needed)

when blaine started working at dalton, he was already in a much better place that he was when he came back, and throughout s6 he was still battling depression, and wasnt always okay, sometimes he would still want to just be alone and dont talk to anybody or do anything, and if that happened when he was surronded with people he would just be more quiet, that sometimes got rachel and kurt's attention, because they're not used to this "new" blaine and when they asked him if he was doing okay he would just say "yeah, im just tired" sam later on explained to them what that usually meant, it meant that blaine needed some alone time because he was draining himself a lot

- blaine at nyada vs blaine at nyu

soooo i have a good theory about this one, at nyada blaine was constantly surronded by people who would probably kill someone to get at the top, to be the best

and was such a competitive place, that ended up being toxic for blaine. i used to think that he didnt fit there because he always was one of the best in show choir and dalton and he was always *that* guy, but now i think he didnt fit there because actually he dosent like competition that much

okay, sure, playful competiton with your friends its fun, show choir competiton is fun, fighting with tina, mercedes, rachel, santana and unique about solos was fun because it was serious but he was with his friends so okay, whatever

but the competition they had at nyada was just SO MUCH, and lets agree nyada is kinda of a toxic place in general, people made fun of kurts face and clothing there, rachel's "friends" ditched her when she lost the diva off to kurt and started kissing up to him, and (im not sure about this one but like 99%) people laughed when blaine lost to kurt at combat's class

my point is, in nyada, people only like you if you do well in classes, there's a lot of lying and backstabbing going on and c'mon blaine pratically grew up like this with cooper

always not good enough, always behind, always made fun of, never being great at anything, so maybe thats why blaine felt so stressed at nyada, and why he gets so insecure in 5x16, seeing kurt being praised and getting all of that attention might have reminded him of the years he and cooper didnt get along so well

he didnt found himself at nyada, mostly he was there because it was said to be the best school and rachel and kurt were there, so great, right?

but i get the feeling that at nyu things were a little lighter, not easier, but lighter, it didnt had so much toxic people, it wasnt a place where it was kill or be killed, people helped each other when needed and yes there was still competition, obviously but (almost) nobody made fun of people for failing

(i said almost there because im sure there was some douchbags there too, they're everywhere, but i hope you got my point)

- blaine's friendships

i am almost done i am so sorry this is so long i've been here for like 2 hours

i have some small headcanons about blaine's friends, because we did NOT get enough of his friendships (im leaving kurt out of this one because maybe one day ill do a meta/hc/theory about klaine....... maybe)

mike and blaine were besties on s3

they both like to dance and sometimes they+brittany would do a dance number together, sometimes for the glee club to see, sometimes only to themselves because thats fun

mike talked with blaine after the its not right but its okay number to see what happened and if he was okay (actually it was mostly blaine just venting about it "AND THEN HE SAID HE WANTED TO MAKE KURTS VOICE HIS RINGTONE I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK????????")

blaine talked to mike about mike's dad because he knew what mike was going through and they both agreed thay family sucks sometimes

after mike graduated he and blaine kept têxtil each other and sometimes sending gifs or videos of dance moves to each other

santana and blaine were actually really good friends

after the glee club found out about what santana's grandmother had done when she came out, when they were alone blaine told santana about his dad, even tho he was afraid she was gonna tell everyone because he doesnt like talking about it, just so that she would know that shes not alone and its not her fault, santana never once teased or told anyone about this, she always sorta of liked him and thought he was nice but that moment she started seeing him as a friend

while preparing for the new directions vs warblers in 3x11, santana tried helping blaine bring out his inner bad boy, she helped him pick his outfit and they planned together the whole performance

(im stealing this one from a post i rebloged i guess a day ago? i didnt found the blog to tag but this is the post) > santana and blaine are friends on facebook, and follow each other on twitter and instagram, and they always spam on each others profiles because they're comfortable to do that with each other

santana kinda sees blaine as a male version of brittany, so she has this need of protecting him (which is kinda why she was super invested in getting him justice for his eye)

speaking of his eye, when he was at home before surgery, santana went there and told that she was gonna make sebastian confess what he'd put on thr slushie, blaine asked her how she knew where she lived but she cut him off, she also came back there after and told him everything, and she and kurt asked him what he wanted to do about it

brittany and blaine really were sunshine twins

they always liked each other, blaine didnt get her at first, but he got used to it

she always talked to him about cats, and what lord tubbington was up to, she tried inviting him to fondue for 2 but he knew that she would ask some really private questions so he always came up with an excuse

after he almost went back to dalton, she (alongside with tina, sam and marley) tried to make him feel as welcome as possible

when she was dating sam, sometimes the three of them would go to her house after school and cuddle in her bed with lord tubbington while watching a movie

when britt was planning their weddings, she asked blaine to try up some suits (with the excuse that she wasnt sure the one she picked was right), but she asked him that like a day after he kissed kurt at rachels party so she could tell he was kinda sad and asked him why, he told her and she said it was gonna be okay because their love was magical (it was weird but it did made blaine feel good, so...) she was also the only person he told that

blaine and britt always have ideas like "we should totally put glitter in the entire room to celebrate our wedding aniversary!" kurt and santana shut down the idea at the same time

blamtina were like 3 chaotic brothers

sam and blaine would have a dumb idea that would result in absolute chaos (but funny tho) and tina always plays along with them even if she thinks its a bad idea

the three of them are completely harry potter nerds, sam and blaine are hufflepuffs while tina is a ravenclaw, in a halloween party in s4 they went as the golden trio

after graduation, sam and blaine still skyped tina and told her all about ny, and she would tell them all about her collage

sam kept his promise of sending his imitations to tina and blaine sometimes would call her to vent about a fight he and kurt had

blaine read all of the harry potter books to sam

after sam talked blaine into staying at mckinley, sam and tina would always be with blaine, always talking to him, and spending time with him, thats how the 3 of them got so close

marley and blaine were good friends

when marley joined the new directions, blaine was one of the first to make her feel welcome

when blaine almost left for dalton, she tried make him see that she liked him in the nd too, and would randomly start talking to him so that he wouldnt feel alone

she would rant about jake to him sometimes, like how he wanted to have sex but she wasnt ready, and blaine told her she should do it only when she felt comfortable

after she got suspended, he apologized for yelling at her because of the performance, and remembered mr schue that she was recovering from an eating desorder and that he shouldnt be so hard at her

unique and blaine were "frenemies"

they started off not liking each other, since they both wanted it to be the new rachel, even after blaine won, he and unique still were kinda competitive with each other

but eventually they became sort-of-friends, they sang together sometimes when no one else was there, and they liked to pretend to not like each other but yes they did and it was just their thing

sometimes marley would do a sleepover and she would call blaine, unique and tina, while marley was talking about jake or tina was talking about missing mike, blaine would braid unique's wig and she would try to convince him to let her see his hair without gel

when the whole plot of unique and the bathroom happened, when mr schue told everyone he couldnt give up twerking, blaine stood up for unique saying that wasnt fair and mr schue should try harder to help her, he also held her hand (alongside with marley) when she was scared of having to go to the bathroom again

blaine and mercedes talked to each other more than twice :O

lol ok im not sorry for that title

mercedes and blaine LIVED together people, she used to be kurts best friend, and sams girlfriend are you telling me they barely talked to each other? no

in fact, they really like each other's company, blaine is kinda of a goofball and mercedes thinks its funny

he would ask her to talk to sam when blaine wanted something from him, and mercedes did the same with kurt

sam and blaine would do stupid things together (like dance around their house in their underwear) just to make mercedes laugh, they swore to never tell anyone, and they never did

sometimes at 3 am when no one could sleep they would all have a little dance party until they got tired

blaine and mercedes are junky food addicts, they eat healthy and stuff but they love some cake at 5 in the morning

one time when kurt and mercedes were arguing about the tots, blaine sided with mercedes and told her he agreed that tots are delicious

#ok i think thats it #if you read it until the end.... are you okay?#i had some more but i want to post this today and i want to go to sleep so lets leave it like that #maybe i should have splitted in 2 parts???? its so long 😳#i hope this didnt get to tiring to read #anywayyyyy #glee #blaine meta #blaine anderson #blangst #ps if you see some mispelling ignore it im kinda sleepy so... hehe

50 notes · View notes

hockey-prose · 4 years

Text

Bitty Breaks the Internet

Summary: The AC in Jack and Bitty’s apartment is broken. So what better way to beat the heat than go out on the water? Bitty wears a new swimsuit, Jack takes his picture, and the picture ends up online. (Cross posted to AO3.)

It all started with that blasted weather. Simply put, it was stifling. Bitty was used to dry Southern summers and slight humidity. But he wasn’t prepared for this years incredibly humid Eastern summer. It made it worse that the AC in his and Jack’s apartment was broken and wouldn’t be fixed until next week.

So, while the two of them were boiling in their apartment, Bitty got a text from his mama.

Mama: Dicky, why don’t y’all just rent a boat and stay near the water for a few days?

That’s a great idea! Thanks Mama!

“Jack, honey,” Bitty said, adopting his extra thick accent. He knew it meant Jack would give him anything he wanted because he was sweet on his Southern side.

“Yeah, bud? What’s up?”

Bitty sat up, allowing the washcloth soaked in ice water to fall to his lap. He looked to his fiancé across the couch from him. It was so hot that the only parts of them that had been touching were their feet and ankles. There were at least 10 fans angled towards them.

“How about we rent a boat for the weekend? It’s the off season for you, and my deadline isn’t until next week.”

Jack lowered his phone, revealing the hair plastered to his forehead. Bitty’s heart squeezed with love for his man.

“I don’t know how to drive a boat.”

Bitty smacked Jack gently on the thigh.

“I do, honey! I spent I don’t know how many hours on boats in Georgia. Good Lord, the sunburns I’ve gotten. The point is that I know how to drive and I could teach you.”

“Do we want to invite other people or just have it be us?”

Bitty thought. As much as he loved every one of their shared friends, it would be nice to be just the two of them. Quiet.

“I think just us for this first time would be nice. Just the two of us?”

Bitty heaved himself forward to slide between Jack’s open legs. Jack’s eyes widened, but he covered Bitty’s hands where he’d placed them on his chest. Jack hummed.

“I like the sound of that. Want me to see if I can find any boat rental places?”

“How about we look together, huh handsome?”

The week came and went, and on Friday afternoon, Jack and Bitty took to the water at Providence Marina. Turns out, Marty had a boat docked there and gave Jack the keys to use it. The cooler that was clutched in each of their hands contained beer, soda, chips, sandwich fixings, fruit, and lemon blueberry mini pies.

After everything had been situated on the boat, and they’d had an awkward conversation with one of Marty’s dock neighbors, Bitty pulled them out to sea. They didn’t go very far, just out of view of the docks, and dropped the anchor.

Bitty turned on his portable speaker to some soft pop music, stripped off his clothes, and began making house on the boat. He could hear Jack snapping pictures with his camera. A quick look revealed that the subject was him.

“Well, now, Mr. Zimmermann. Who said you could take pictures of me just before I was about to fix you a sandwich,” Bitty sassed, planting his hands on his hips.

Jack took the camera away from his face, a love struck smile on his lips. He was also shirtless, and had laid himself on the deck of the boat to get a good angle.

“Sorry, Bits, you’re just so gorgeous I couldn’t help it. That swim suit is definitely doing you a favor.”

Bitty felt his cheeks warm, and a smile cross his own mouth. He’d bought the suit as soon as the boat was secured. It was almost a Speedo with just a bit more length. The print on them was white with light and dark blue sail boats.

“Oh hush now.”

A click.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann!”

The afternoon passed with Bitty alternating between sunning himself on the deck and taking dips in the water. Jack kept mostly on the boat, occasionally dipping his legs in when Bitty swam. By the time they pulled into the dock, his shoulders were bright pink and he winced when he lifted the cooler.

“I told you to put on some more sunscreen, honey. There’s some aloe at home, but it’s gonna take more than that.”

“Bits, bud, don’t feel too bad. I’ll wear sunscreen tomorrow and bring a shirt too.”

“You still want to go out tomorrow?”

The couple buckled themselves into Jack’s car.

“Of course, Bits. You looked like you were loving it out there. As long as it makes you happy.”

Bitty leaned across the center console and planted a kiss on the underside of Jack’s jaw.

“You’re so sweet, honey. As long as you’re up for it.”

By the end of the weekend, Jack had taken over 100 pictures. At least 50 of them were Bitty. There was a handful of scenery, other boats and the ocean. And then a few were of the two of them. One for each day. They had gotten progressively pinker as the days went on.

Sunday night, the couple went to a nice seafood just off the water before heading home to fall into bed for a restful night sleep.

Wednesday rolled around quietly, and Bitty woke to about a thousand notifications on his phone. Some were texts. Some were notifications on Twitter. By far the most notifications came from Instagram. Even though he’d made an account, Bitty barely posted to Instagram except to promote his cookbook.

Deciding to look at the texts first, he was greeted with no context chirps from his Samwell friends. All of them were about him in a swimsuit?

What?

Bitty continued to flick through his messages. There were individual messages from everyone on his former team, but also in the big “Haus 4.0” group chat.

Holster (Adam Birkholtz): dUDE BITTY MY GOD HOW HAVE YOU STAYED SO HOT????

Ransom (Justin Oluransi): Jack’s lucky that nobody saw your ass or the internet would be broken brah

Lardo (Larissa Duan): bro, bitty DID break the internet have you seen his insta and twitter??

Shitty (BS Knight): I swear on the gods above if Bitty was not single and I was not straight, I would sweep him off his feet

Nursey (Derek Nurse): chill. was truly a kim k moment for Bitty

Dex (Will Pointdexter): Love the confidence my dude. Was really a monumental picture tbh

Honey 💞: Can we not talk about Bitty like a piece of meat?

ERB: What on earth are y’all talking about?

Lardo (Larissa Duan): bits, you gotta check jacks insta first before you come in here and ask questions

So that’s exactly what Bitty did. Goodness knows where Jack was because he was not currently in bed with him. The last text he sent was at 8:45 am and it was now 9.

Instagram proved to be a tough navigator. Not because Bitty was media illiterate, but because the sheer amount of new followers he got prevented the app from running properly. After three app crashes, Bitty grew frustrated. He logged out of his public account and into his private one.

Once on his smaller scale Instagram, he searched Jack’s name. The most recent post was of their weekend relaxation trip. It was one of those collections of images. The first three were of the ocean, some seagulls, and the view from the front of Marty’s ship. The next six were of Bitty and Jack in various stages of couple poses. Somehow Jack had even managed to capture Bitty feeding him some grapes. But the last image was what set a fire under Bitty.

The picture was of that first day. Bitty was wearing his, now scandalous in his eyes, swim suit. His sunglasses were perched on the edge of his nose. You could see the heat he held in his eyes for Jack, who had been behind the camera. Admittedly, Bitty had not been thinking of his body image at the time of wearing that swimsuit. But now that he had attracted so much attention to himself due to his body, he figured a once over couldn’t hurt.

The Bitty in the picture had a firm stomach, no defined abs to speak of. What was the need for them? He was perfectly healthy. The cut of the swimsuit allowed the camera to see the faint lines that traveled down from Bitty’s hips past the line of his swimsuit. His hair was shining in the sun. The skin of the Bitty in the picture looked a little pale, but he had no qualms otherwise.

He looked good.

Putting the praise of his body aside, Bitty knew he needed to find Jack.

ERB: Thank y’all for your kind words. It means the world to me. Now I have to find Jack and have a word with him

Shitty (BS Knight): AAH SHIT JACKS IN TROUBLE WITH BITTY AHAHAHAHA

Lardo (Larissa Duan): pls don’t kill jack

Bitty locked his phone and went out into the living room. No Jack. The entire open concept apartment was empty. Bitty knew the bathrooms and home office were empty. The doors always stayed open unless there was someone in there.

As Bitty pondered how to find his fiancé, the door unlocked with a small click. Jack emerged with several bags of groceries in hand. Bitty assumed position with his fists on his hips, but this time around, it was not nearly as tempting.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann.”

“Bits! Uh, hey.”

Bitty tapped a foot on the floor.

“Euh, I didn’t know that post would go viral. I tried to soften the blow by bringing home everything you’d need to stress bake.”

Bitty came forward, taking the bags from Jack and going to the kitchen.

“Crisse,” Jack muttered before following Bitty.

“Bittle? I’m really sorry.”

“I know,” Bitty replied, his tone light. “I’m not mad, Jack. I only wish you’d told me you were going to post that where my mother could see it.”

Jack made a groan of displeasure as he approached Bitty from behind. Firm, warm hands pressed themselves into Bitty’s hips.

“Sorry, Bits.”

“Stop apologizing, honey! I’m just gonna have to field a call from my mama. I don’t think this’ll be worse than the cup, but I guarantee my family will chirp her for the rest of time.”

Jack buried his nose in the crook between Bitty’s neck and shoulder.

“George said the PR was good. We didn’t really need any more positive additions, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Well I certainly hope not,” Bitty said with a scoff. “You didn’t post a picture of me nearly naked on the Internet for nothing!”

Jack laughed, and Bitty followed not long after. Together the couple baked breakfast pastries and Bitty got his own revenge.

Jack’s picture was also shirtless, but he was wearing his sweatpants reserved for lounging at home. His arms and stomach were so much more than Bitty’s. He had a workout routine to keep up with.

Once again, the Internet broke because of Eric Richard Bittle.

#omgcp #zimbits #check please #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #lardo duan #shitty knight #adam holster birkholtz #justin ransom oluransi #omgcheckplease #eric richard bittle #jack laurent zimmermann #omgcp fanfic #omgcp fanfiction #check please!#my fic

213 notes · View notes

kinglazrus · 4 years

Text

What You’ve Become

Phic phight 2020

Submitted by @kiinotasha: Jazz and Danny swap ages, she is the younger sibling he is the older one. All the other kids have their ages changed accordingly. (Those in Danny’s year would still be in his year)

Summary: Two years after the first ghost appears in Amity Park, Jazz Fenton sees a face she never thought she'd see again.

Word count: 12726

Jazz keeps her head down as she checks out her book. She usually avoid the public library if she can, but there are only so many psychology papers you can read online before you hit a paywall. All the good ones are locked tight on websites made for scholars, not high schoolers. The one downside of devouring ever psych text she can get her hands on for two years running is that, at a certain point, she has to leave the house to do it.

When she started at Casper High just a few months ago, she went to their library. It offered her privacy from all the prying eyes and hushed whispers, since most students didn't like spending time under the librarian's eagle eyes. But the school's selection was rather... lacking, which forced Jazz to seek out other avenues. Namely, the public library. Which shouldn't be so daunting, because she loves books and this building used to be her home away from home.

But that was two years ago. Now, when she goes to the library, it's no longer a safe haven. Now, when she walks through its doors, people see her and stare. That's the problem with Amity Park. It isn't a small town, but it's not a big city either. Everyone knows someone who knows someone else who knows you.

Which means everyone knows poor Jasmine, the last Fenton in Amity Park.

As she passes her library card over to the clerk, she catches their grim, pitying smile and quickly looks away. She fixes her gaze on the counter for the rest of the transaction. The second it's over, she takes her library card and the textbook and flees. She can feel the librarian's stare burning into her back as she leaves the building. It's hard to ignore. Marching across the parking lot, she heads for an old green Volvo, yanking open the passenger door when she reaches it. She throws herself into the seat and slams the door shut.

"Didn't have the book you wanted?" her best friend, Spike, asks from the back of the car. He doesn't look at her, instead focusing on the soles of his platform boots, picking mud out of the grooves.

Jazz slams the book down on the console.

Spike's gaze jumps up at the noise. "Oh," he says, eyes falling on the book. His expression, a default disaffected scowl, doesn't change, but he starts toying with his eyebrow ring, spinning it around. It's a subtle Jazz has become well accustomed to over the past two years.

"Fuck 'em," Spike says. He slouches forward, dropping his hand into his lap, and raises his middle finger in the library's direction.

"That would be an unsanitary and highly inappropriate response," Tucker quips from the driver's seat, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

Jazz wrinkles her nose. "Please never say anything like that again."

"No promises." He cackles at Jazz's expression. When he looks over his shoulder to start backing out, he catches Spike's deepening scowl, and grins even wider. "Sorry, kid, I got a goth best friend, too. That kind of look doesn't work on me."

"I told you to stop calling me that," Spike says.

Tucker hums, pretending to think deeply, and bares his teeth in a teasing smile. "Nah."

"You know, he had a goth phase," Jazz whispers.

"We don't talk about that!"

Jazz keeps talking about it. She eagerly regales Spike with the time she walked into the bathroom and found Danny painstakingly doing Tucker's eyeliner. She's halfway through Tucker's first disastrous attempt at wearing platform boots when a droning alarm goes off, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Turning away from the back seat, she leans her head against her window and tips her head back, peering up at a white and black siren hanging off a streetlight.

"Aw, man." Tucker sighs and turns his blinker on, pulling over to the side of the road. The car in front of them does the same, along with a truck passing on the other side of the road. None of them can pull all the way over, because of the vehicles parked parallel up and down the street, but there's a sizeable gap right down the middle of the road.

"Think we'll see some action?" Spike asks.

"I bet it's just that box dude or something," Tucker says as he rolls down his window.

Jazz slaps her hands over her ears as the siren gets louder and elbows Tucker's shoulder. "Close the window!" she shouts.

He doesn't have to. A second later, the siren cuts out. All three passengers strain their ears, listening for any sounds of fighting. It's completely silent.

"False alarm?" Jazz suggests.

"The Guys in White don't do false alarms. Could be the box guy," Tucker says. He hoists himself halfway out the window, slapping his arm down on top of the car to keep himself balanced, and waves at the truck across from them.

The driver rolls down the window.

"Hey! My radio's busted, is there any broadcast going out right now?" Tucker calls.

The driver looks down, fiddling with something, then looks back up and shakes his head.

"Thanks!"

"See? False alarm," Jazz says. "Get back in the car."

"Jazz, you are way too young to be sounding like my mother," Tucker says, ignoring her request. He looks up and down the street, head swiveling as he scans the skies. Completely empty. "Okay, maybe you're right."

No sooner have the words left his mouth than a green blur goes shooting past, flying so fast the car rocks. Tucker yelps, losing his grip on the car, and would have toppled out the window if Jazz and Spike hadn't lunged forward to catch him. Tucker chokes as Jazz grabs the back of his shirt, his collar cutting against his windpipe. Spike snags Tucker's belt. Together, they haul the older boy back into the car.

"Okay!" Tucker says, rubbing his throat and coughing a few times. "Not the box dude!"

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he glares out his window to the truck across from them. "'No broadcast' my ass."

"You should just get the Ghost Watch app," Jazz says, already pulling out her phone. She flicks through the apps until she finds one whose icon features a ghost holding binoculars.

"Like hell I'm gonna do that. The government can already spy on my through my phone, I'm gonna make it worse by downloading one of their apps," Tucker sneers.

"If they're already watching, then why does it matter?" Spike asks.

Tucker takes a breath, then pauses. "Huh," he says.

While he struggles to come up with an answer, Jazz opens the Ghost Watch app. Sure enough, as soon as it loads, she's met with a red exclamation point. Tapping the icon, she turns her volume up and holds her phone out.

"–class four entity. Agents have been dispatched to take care of the threat. Phantom protocol is in place. Please remain in your homes or vehicles or you will face criminal charges for interfering with a G.I.W. Operation. Thank you. Attention Amity Park. We are under threat by a class four entity. Agents have been dispatched–"

Jazz mutes the broadcast and raises and eyebrow in Tucker's direction.

"Shut up," he says. "You're the one who thought it was a false alarm."

"You're the one who can't afford to fix his radio," Spike points out.

"Well, maybe, I should start charging you since I'm apparently turning into your chauffeur. I'm sure your moms would be so happy to know your abusing my kind heart."

"Sounds fake."

"Boys, stop it," Jazz snaps. "Let's just wait for this to be over so we can go home, okay?"

Spike and Tucker share a look and nod in unison.

With an annoyed huff, Jazz pulls her new textbook into her lap and cracks it open. She might as well read to pass time, there's no telling how long this will take. Sometimes the G.I.W. have the situation under control in minutes, other times the city's on lockdown for hours. Hopefully, with the Phantom protocol in effect, it'll be a short wait.

Jazz closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Don't think about it, she tells herself. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

"Jazz, if this is about–"

"Let me stop you right there, Tucker," Jazz says. She stares resolutely down at her book, refusing to lift her gaze. "It's not about anything. I just want to go home, okay?"

"Okay," Tucker says. She can tell he doesn't believe her. That's fine, as long as he lets it drop.

—

Danny was dead. Or he was dying. Jazz didn't know which and she didn't know how to help. She was frozen at the bottom of the stairs, every inch of her trembling, too shocked—too scared—to do anything.

Her big brother was slumped in his best friend's arms, skin blistered and bleeding. His right hand was smoking, the sleeve of his jumpsuit burnt away. A strange green substance oozed out of him, staining Tucker's sweater. He was dead. He had to be dead.

"Danny! Danny!" Tucker shouted desperately, slowly lowering Danny to the floor. He leaned over Danny's prone form, hands hovering just above his blistered body. "Shit, shit, Danny, no. Sam, what do we do?"

Jazz's gaze jumped from her brother—her burnt, broken, probably dead brother—to Sam. She had collapsed on her knees a few feet away, pressing a hand to her mouth, eyes wide and horrified. She looked like she was about to throw up, or pass out, or both.

"I–I–" Sam stuttered. It was all she managed before she turned to the side and retched all over the lab floor.

Jazz finally regained control of her limbs then. Seeing Tucker and Sam, who were older and supposed to be smarter, lost and panicking spurred her to move. She rushed across the lab, her socks slipping on the smooth tiles, and almost slid right into Sam.

"Sam, Sam, where's your phone?" Jazz asked. She couldn't believe how steady her voice sounded. Inside, she panicked. Inside, she screamed that her brother was dead, and she was scared, and why weren't their parents home, why was the portal that wasn't supposed to work suddenly on, glowing so brightly it hurt her eyes? Why, why, why?

"Sam!" Jazz shrieked when the older girl didn't respond.

Sam flinched, spitting on the floor and wiping her mouth on her arm, and turned to Jazz. "Jazz," she said. Her dark eyes flickered over to Danny, then back at Jazz, and a fresh wave of horror filled them. "Go upstairs. You should go upstairs."

"Your phone!" Jazz pleaded. She didn't have the patience to wait, instead reaching into Sam's pocket herself and snatching her phone. Jazz backed away and dialled.

"911, what's your emergency?" a smooth voice answered.

"My brother was in an accident. He's hurt, really badly, and I– I don't know if he's breathing," Jazz said.

At her words, Tucker lowered his head to Danny's chest. Everyone held still, afraid to move or even breathe. Jazz could hear the operator saying something, but his words fell on deaf ears as she waited, anxious, for Tucker to say something.

"Fuck," Tucker said. He shot upright, hands hovering over Danny's chest, then pulled back. "Sam! I don't know CPR, do you know CPR?"

Sam scrambled toward Danny, her knees slipping in his blood—why was there so much blood? She shoved Tucker aside and straddled Danny's waist, kneeling over him, and started chest compressions.

Tears welled in Jazz's eyes. She sobbed and turned away.

"Are you alright? Please answer me. I need your location to send an ambulance."

"He, he's not breathing, and his, his heart's not beating," Jazz said. She hiccupped and squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn't help. She could still hear Sam panting heavily as she tried to keep Danny's heart beating. "His friend is doing CPR."

"Okay, that's good. What's your name? How old are you?"

"I'm Jazz Fenton, I'm twelve years old. My brother is Danny, he's sixteen. We're at Fenton Works at the corner of Cordia and Lennex," Jazz recited. It was oddly calming. Nothing more than simple rote memory, but it helped. It would help Danny.

"Fentons."

"Yes?"

The line was silent. Jazz bit her lip, wondering if the operator hung up, which would be incredibly unprofessional and also probably send her into a panic. She was certain the only reason she hadn't fallen to her knees in tears right then was that, as long as she was on the phone, she was helping. She had something to do. She was making sure Danny would be okay because he was going to be okay, he had to be.

A quiet huff caught Jazz's attention. She clung to the phone with both hands, pressing it against her ears, and barely heard the operator mutter, "Of course," on the other side of the line.

Jazz didn't want to be on the phone anymore.

"An ambulance is on the way," the operator said, louder. "Stay calm until then. Is there anyone else home with you? Your parents?"

"No. Thank you, goodbye."

—

"Please stay calm and remain in your vehicle. The threat will be dealt with shortly. Please stay calm and remain in your vehicle. The threat will be dealt with shortly. Please stay calm and–"

"I hate that voice. So. Much," Spike says, glaring at the siren.

Jazz can't blame him. The siren started spewing the city-wide warning almost five minutes ago and hasn't stopped since. There hasn't been another sign of the ghost, or any G.I.W. for that matter. It doesn't exactly mean much, because they could be anywhere in the city, but it makes the so-called safety protocols seem highly unnecessary. Besides, wouldn't they be safer in a building rather than as sitting ducks in the middle of the road?

The guy in the truck must have thought so, because he ditched his vehicle almost a full minute ago and disappeared inside a bar up the street. Jazz thinks he had the right idea, minus the bar part. It's always better to be somewhere you're comfortable during an emergency, even if it only provides slight relief.

"We could just, you know, drive home," Spike suggests.

"Great idea, until we get caught in the middle of a ghost fight," Tucker says. "Then your moms would kill me."

"No. The ghosts would kill you."

"Delightful."

"My moms would obliterate your ghost."

Tucker groans in distress, but Jazz can tell he's seriously considering Spike's suggestion. He keeps lifting his hand off his leg, toward the keys, before letting it fall back to his knee. "Who thought having a ghost infested city would be so damn boring?" he asks.

"You mean you don't enjoy sharing this plane of existence with pale shades of people long dead, forced to stay on this Earth by their own anguish and tumultuous emotions?" Spike asks.

"No. No, I don't."

"I do."

"Of course, you would."

Jazz ignores the boys, flipping to the next page in her textbook. It's a fairly new branch of psychology, focused on ghosts and their mental processes. Its surprisingly thorough. A stamp on the first page marks it as a G.I.W. endorsed text. It makes her wonder how many of the ghosts they catch become study subjects. With how comprehensive the textbook is, they must have been observing ghosts for a long time.

Unbidden thoughts of the Phantom leap to the front of Jazz's mind. Her grip on the textbook tightens, nails digging into the cover.

"Okay, I'm getting out," Spike says, breaking Jazz out of her thoughts.

"No, you aren't," Tucker says.

"Yeah, I am." Spike pulls on his door handle and starts pushing the door open.

"Your arrest record," Tucker says, rolling his eyes. Halfway through the motion, he freezes. "Actually, no, get back in the car."

"Asking nicely won't make me."

"Spike! Get back in the damn car!" Tucker shouts. The alarm in his voice makes Jazz look up from her book. The next second, the street beside them explodes in a shower of concrete.

"Shit!" Spike ducks, narrowly missing being brained by a fist-sized rock. In his panic, he dives to the side rather than back inside the car.

"Seriously!" Tucker shouts. He throws his door open and leaps out, Jazz following suit on her side of the car. She squints, covering her mouth with her arm, trying to keep the dust out. As Tucker goes for Spike, Jazz watches the middle of the road. She sees something moving in the cloud of dust.

The sound of a roaring engine draws Jazz's attention to the corner of the block, just in time to see a bulky armoured truck rip around the corner. On top of the cab, a row of bright green lights flash as the truck tears down the street. It comes to a stop fifty metres from the crater. The cab doors are thrown open by two bald men in white suits. They jump out onto the road, raising sleek white and blue guns that look out of place outside a sci-fi filmset.

One of them, the taller of the two, sees Jazz and calls down the road, "Return to your vehicle or face the charges."

"But my friend!" Jazz calls back. She looks to where Spike had fallen and finds the road empty. Panic shoots through her, until she hears someone clearing their throat and drops her gaze to the sidewalk.

Tucker and Spike are huddled behind the next car down, out of sight of the G.I.W.

"Return to your vehicle, now!" the agent demands again.

Jazz obeys. As soon as she's inside with the door shut, she climbs over the console into the front seat. The cloud of dust in the middle of the street is almost gone now, the silhouette of whoever—or whatever—is inside more defined.

It looks like a regular person, but with sharper angles. A sharp chin, broad shoulders, wide chest. Before the dust can settle complete, the ghost shoots forward, too fast to see, and slams into the G.I.W. truck, the front of cab crumpling in It goes skidding across the road, tires squealing, leaving thick black lines in their wake.

It's still sliding when the ghost zooms back and slams into it again, this time from the side. The sidewall caves and the truck tips onto its side.

"Damn it, the asset!" the shorter agent shouts.

Both men open fire, but every shot misses, the ghost flying too fast for them to catch. The shorter agent curses again and grabs something from inside their suit, tossing it on the ground. The object, a small cube, hits the ground and an antenna pops out of the top. A ping, not unlike a sonar pulse, songs from the cube and a wave of blue energy cascades outwards.

When it hits the ghost's blurred form, the ghost goes flying. Jazz shouts in surprise and ducks as it soars toward her. There's a loud crash, but Tucker's car does little more than shake. Lifting her head, she sees the ghost has hit the car behind her. Her heart leaps into her throat as she searches for Tucker and Spike amongst the wreckage.

It takes her a few seconds to fine them, but they're safe and sounded, hiding in the shadows of a convenience store doorway. The sign on the door says closed, and it must be locked, so they can't slip inside out of danger, but they're hidden at least.

The crumpled car creaks. Jazz's gaze jumps back to it and she gets her first good look at the ghost. It doesn't look like any of the ghost's she's ever glimpsed. Rather than an animalistic, amorphous form, it looks like a large mechanical man. With green fire for a mullet and goatee, apparently.

"Surrender, ghost!" the taller agent yells.

"Release him!" the ghost demands in a deep, layered voice.

The G.I.W. share a look.

"Agent O," the short one says. "Release the asset."

The mechanical ghost grins. But, judging by Agent O's grim but eager expression, the ghost isn't going to like what happens. Agent O holds their wrist out and presses a button on their watch. A heavy clunk reaches Jazz's ears. Everyone's focus snaps to the overturned truck as the back door slides open. A thin blue shield wavers over the open door before snapping away.

Jazz peers into the shadows of the covered truck bed. Slowly, a figure emerges. They float through the open door, body twisting to they don't brush the sides of the van, and hovers in the air.

It's the first time Jazz has ever seen the G.I.W. secret weapon, and the key component of the Phantom protocol: Phantom themselves. They wear a baggy white jumpsuit, the G.I.W. logo emblazoned across their chest in a slightly darker off-white. Not an inch of skin is visible, a mask clamped tightly over their lower face, round goggles covering their eyes, and a loose hood pulled over their head. They hold themselves awkwardly, arms raised in front of their chest, fingers curling toward their face. Thick cuffs bind their forearms together, forcing this strange pose upon them. Similar cuffs bind their ankles.

Their head turns slowly as they scan the street, the lenses of their goggles flaring. One is blue, the other green. They stop when they face Tucker's car.

Jazz's breath hitches. She presses one against the window, her other falling to the door handle. The ghost mimics her, spreading their fingers, although their palms are turned the wrong way.

She's never seen Phantom before. She's never seen their face. But she knows exactly what she would find under that mask. She pops the door open, lowering one foot to the pavement, ignoring the danger of the ghost to her left.

"Phantom!" Agent O snaps. He presses another button his watch. The cuffs on Phantom's legs fall to the found with a thud, cracking the pavement when they hit it. His arms stay bound. Another press, another button, and a collar around Phantom's neck, hidden by their pose, sparks dangerously.

Agent O points to the mechanical ghost. "Go hunt!"

—

Jazz waited out in the hallway, where her parents told her to be. She sat on a hard, plastic chair, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. It must have been freshly buffed, because when she leaned forward, she could see her reflection on the gleaming ceramic. The tiles were marbled white and pink, the colours blending together in milky swirls, and when she stared right at it, it looked like her face was covered in scars.

She lifted a hand and touched her cheek, almost expecting to feel puckered, raised skin where the marbled pink cuts across her pale face. She wondered if Danny would have scars.

"Jazzypants?"

Her head snapped up and she was surprised to see Jack, her father, standing before her. A burly man who took up nearly half the hallway, he didn't exactly have the lightest steps, but she didn't even notice him arrive. He crouched so they were eye to eye, hunching his shoulders to take up as little space as possible, and touched her hand.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Jazz glanced to the side, toward the closed double doors with the words "STAFF ONLY" plastered across them in big, bold letters. "I'm fine. Is Danny okay?" she asked.

"He's okay," Jack said. He smiled and squeezed her hand. "The doctors are still working on him, but they said he's gonna be fine."

Jazz didn't match Jack's smile. She tried, but it felt weak and flimsy, and she let it fall away. "Okay," she said quietly.

Jack's smile tightened. "Listen, there's someone here who wants to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Because of what happened. Danny's gonna be okay, but he got really hurt, and that made some people worry. So, they want to talk to you, so they know they don't have to worry."

Jazz frowned. "You don't have to talk like that. I'm not eight. Who are they?"

Jack laughed, but it was soft and humorless. "Right, you've always been so grown up. Are you okay to talk to them?"

"Yeah." Jazz nodded and pushed off her chair, standing up. She barely reached Jack's elbow.

With his hand on her back, Jack guided her out of the waiting room. They turned down a quiet hallway, farther from the hospital's entrance, and headed toward a bench set into an. It was small and private. A woman in a blazer and slacks waited there, sitting with her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap.

The woman's hair was tied back in a ponytail, smooth against her head, but cascading into a waterfall of dark curls at the nape of her neck. Jazz touched her own hair, red and pin straight. She always wanted curly hair like that, especially after seeing pictures of her mother in college.

Jack cleared his throat as they approached. The woman looked up. She smiled warmly at Jazz, scooting down the bench as if to make room, even though it was a fairly large bench and there was lots of space. Jazz sat down on the very end, as far from the woman as she could get.

"Thank you, Mr. Fenton. I know you may want to stay, but this needs to be a private conversation, so I know you aren't influencing anything she says," the woman said.

"Right," Jack said. He gave Jazz one last pat, then turned and lumbered down the hallway.

"Hello, Jasmine," the woman said, drawing Jazz's attention back. "I'm Jamila Faizan. You can call my Jamila. I'm a social worker. Do you know what that is?"

Jazz nodded, eyeing the woman warily. She had nothing against social workers, but she heard people threaten her parents with them before. It made her uncomfortable.

"I just want to ask you a few questions about what life is like at home, okay?" Jamila asked.

"It's fine."

Jamila smiled. "Of course. It might seem that way, but your brother got really hurt in your parent's lab, and I need to make sure something like that doesn’t happen again. I just want to make sure you're safe at home."

Jazz bit her lip. She knew her home life wasn't exactly normal. How many twelve-year-olds had a lab in their basement? But they had good parents, and this was the first time anything like this had ever happened.

"How often do you go into your parents' lab?" Jamila asked.

"Not a lot. I don't like it down there that much, it's really cold."

"Do you parents ever bring you down there?"

"Sometimes, if they want to show us something interesting."

"Okay. Are you allowed down there any time?"

Jazz shifted in her seat, tucking her hands between her knees to keep from fidgeting. "Mom or dad has to be with us if we go down there," she said. She quickly added, "But I don't want to go down there, anyway, unless they want to show us something. So it's okay."

Jamila hummed. "How are you at school?"

"Good. I get all A's," Jazz said, a little thrown by the topic change.

"And your brother?"

"He doesn't really like school. I don't think it's a good learning environment for him, so he doesn't really get good grades."

"And you're happy?"

"Yes." Jazz narrowed her eyes at Jamila. "Are you trying to take us away?"

"I'm only trying to make sure you're safe, healthy, and happy," Jamila said.

"I will be once I know my brother's okay."

"I've been told he's going to pull through just fine," Jamila said, giving Jazz a placating smile.

"Then, then I don't see what the problem is. He's okay, I'm okay. It was just an accident. So, I'm going back to my parents, where I will be safe, healthy, and happy, okay? Okay." Jazz got up and walked away before Jamila could say anything else. It wasn't like the social worker could stop her.

—

The asphalt beneath Phantom cracks as they shoot through the air toward the ghost.

"Phantom, wait!" the ghost protests, holding up his hands. He jumps into the air, arcing over Phantom. A gun pops out of his shoulder and fires a green net. The net snaps out, heading right for Phantom.

Jazz doesn't even know how to begin describing what Phantom's body does to dodge the net. Only their arms and head stay solid, the rest of their body twisting, and morphing, and stretching so the next passes harmlessly through them. Their torso and legs snap back into existence as if they hadn't just melted into an amorphous cloud and Phantom continues unhindered. They slam into the mechanical ghost, wrapping one leg around the ghost's arm, the other around their neck.

Electricity crackles up Phantom's spine and shocks the ghost, making the whole suit go slack. Phantom drives the ghost into the ground, crouching over him. A low moan builds in their throat.

Jazz automatically covers her ears. She may have never seen Phantom in action before, but she's definitely heard their signature attack. And had to deal with the damage it leaves behind.

Just before the wail reaches its glass-shattering, tree-tearing, foundation-shaking crescendo, the mechanical ghost shouts, "Sorry!" and launches a mini-rocket out of his arm. It hits Phantom and explodes, blasting them straight across the street.

Jazz winces when they collide with the sidewalk, a sharp crack echoing down the street.

"Stop fighting!" The mechanical ghost holds up their hands as Phantom peels themselves off the crumbled sidewalk. "It's me, Skulker!"

Phantom answers by smacking something on the side of their mask. Green fumes start pouring out the front. Reaching up, their fingers curl around their collar, yanking it down as far as it'll go, and they thrust their head forward. Ectoplasm spews from the mast. It roars outward, a mesmerizing mix of gas and flames that seeps into the air.

As Phantom leaps forward, the ectoplasm pours over a nearby mailbox. The ectoplasm turns liquid the second it touches the mailbox, coating it in a thick slime, melting through the metal. Watching the metal bubble and ooze, Jazz swallows nervously.

She's reminded quite suddenly that Phantom is a tool for the G.I.W. The supreme weapon. The thing they throw at every passing threat. Thinking back to her textbook, she wonders how much of that information was garnered from Phantom. They would certainly make an impressive specimen, not that Jazz wants to think of them like that. But it's undeniable.

The way they move is otherworldly.

Every time Skulker dodges, Phantom's head snaps toward him, lightning fast, as ectoplasm spits from their mask. They mutate their body into grotesque shapes at a moment's notice, deforming and contorting as needed. It's hard to watch them. Not just because of the brutal display, with Skulker's protests falling on deaf ears, but because their body can't seem to settle. It's constantly moving, blurring, flickering. The only time they look completely solid is when their whole body crackles and electricity arcs off them.

Phantom's ectoplasm spews over Skulker's arm. Skulker yelps, forced to flee, and tries to shake off both the acidic sludge and his feral tail.

And Phantom really is feral. They follow, relentless, remorseless, moving like a wild animal prowling after its prey. Every attack is a pounce, a noxious cloud of ectoplasm following their every move. It's both mesmerizing and horrifying. The only word Jazz can use to properly describe them is monster.

—

Two hours after speaking with Jamila, Danny was out of surgery. Jazz was on her own when a nurse came over to deliver the news. Her parents were off with the social worker, had been for some time. The nurse was hesitant to give Jazz the news on her own, but she bullied the man with tear-filled eyes until he caved in.

Danny's surgery was a success. They fixed the rupture in his hear, stopped the bleeding, and now he was sleeping. He would be for a while because his body needed to heal, but once he woke up, he would be good as new.

The nurse waited with Jazz for her parents to return. When they came walking down the hallway, accompanied by Jamila, Jazz hopped out of her seat and ran forward to give them the good news. She faltered when she saw her parents' expressions.

Her mother's eyes were red from crying. Seeing that unsettled Jazz. She had never seen her mother cry before, and even if she didn't actually witness it now, knowing it happened threw her off balance. She knew parents cried too. They were regular people with all kinds of emotions; but, still, they weren't supposed to cry.

Jazz stopped at arm's length, watching them warily.

"Oh, sweetie." Maddie reached down and hugged Jazz.

"Mom, what's going on?"

"You're going to be staying with someone else for a little bit," she said.

Jazz pulled away. "Mom?"

"I'm sorry," Jamila interrupted, placing a hand on Jazz's shoulder. Jazz wanted to throw it off. "Maddie," Jamila continued.

"Please, call me Dr. Fenton," Jazz's mother said, a bitter smile cutting across her face.

"Dr. Fenton," Jamila amended coolly. "May I?"

Jazz felt helpless as Maddie stepped away, instantly missing her comforting presence. Jamila took her place, crouching down to Jazz's level.

"I really am sorry, but I can't let you return to Fenton Works until I know you'll really be safe there. I want you to go home with your parents, I really do, but I want to keep you out of danger more."

"I'm not in danger," Jazz insisted.

"Tonight's events prove otherwise. I was contacted by both the hospital and the dispatch operator you spoke to. It's only temporary. Until I'm sure your parents can take proper care of you. I've made arrangements with a foster home for now."

"Do you really have to do this?" Maddie asked.

"Mom," Jazz said. She reached out, searching for Maddie's hand, squeezing it until Maddie looked at her. "I'll be okay. It's just for now, right? You guys can set everything straight and then we can all go home together with Danny

"Oh, sweetie." Maddie pulled Jazz into another firm hug. "It's not right."

"But it's okay, isn't it? Ms. Faizan can do her work, and she'll see that, and everything will be fine by the time Danny wakes up." Jazz motioned for her father, who quickly joined the hug. It was tight, and warm, and Jazz never wanted to let go, but she had to after a few seconds.

Danny always went on and on about how grown up Jazz was, how she acted so much like an adult even though she was four years younger than him. If she was as mature as Danny always said, then she could do this. She could be grown up right now and be okay with all of this.

She could go with Jamila now, and later, she could go home with Danny.

—

The fight is taking too long. Despite dealing with ghosts for two years now, Jazz has never seen a real fight. If it's someone minor, a single agent is all it takes to swoop in and clean things up before anything bad happens. Mildly destructive ghosts require a few agents, who sometimes block off whole sections of the city, pushing citizens back until the problem is dealt with. Usually, this takes no more than half an hour, although the aftermath of the fight affects the city for days.

But when they send in Phantom, the fight ends before it really begins. Swift, effective, and destructive. Bringing in Phantom means bringing in the big guns.

But they're not so swift today. The minutes drag on, the ghosts caught in a stalemate. It takes Jazz far too long to notice the problem: Phantom is distracted. They keep pulling back at the last moment, holding off from delivering the finishing blow. She doesn't think it's to spare the ghost they're fighting. It's the result, but it's not the reason. Each attack aims to kill, up until the moment it doesn't.

Because Phantom's head keeps swivelling. Toward her. As soon as Jazz realizes this, she scrambles out of the car, ignoring the agents shouting at her to get back inside, and runs over to Tucker and Spike.

"What are you doing?" Tucker asks. His head jerks up and down as he looks between Jazz and the G.I.W. agents. He waves his arms emphatically at the short agent. "He's coming this way now!"

"I don't care. Tucker!" Jazz grabs Tucker by the front of his shirt and pulls him down. She shoves his head forward and points at Phantom. "Do you see it?"

Tucker's face twists in confusion, wrinkling his nose and furrowing his brow. "They're... looking at us.

"Yeah."

Phantom snarls, finally managing to get a hold on Skulker, and rips his arm out of the socket, tearing into the limb like a rabid animal. There's only wires inside, thank god.

Tucker pales. "I don't know about you, but... I don't think I want its attention."

"Tucker! He's not an it!" Jazz protests.

"Phantom is a ghost, Jazz. I'm sorry, I don't get what you're trying to say here," Tucker says.

"Don't you remember what I told you? What happened after you left?"

Tucker stares at her. A few seconds later, realization dawns on his face. "Yeah. Yeah! I do! Do you think–"

"Yeah."

"Shit."

"I know. "

"Jazz, if it is, I don't think..." Tucker trails off. He gives Jazz a pointed look as Phantom screeches and dissolves into a black cloud, reforming behind Skulker. They swing their arms down on Skulker's head, smashing him into the ground.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Spike asks. "All I see is a pissed off government goon heading our way."

"Phantom," Tucker and Jazz chorus. Jazz adds, "They keep looking over here."

She can't help the hope that swells in her chest. Two years. Two whole years since the ghosts came, since the G.I.W. took over, since it happened. Two years of stares and whispers behind her back.

Look at that girl, isn't it a shame what happened?

I heard they tried to shoot her too.

I bet he ran away because he couldn't stand to see her.

"So?"

"The hospital," Jazz stresses.

"Oh. Oh!" Spike glances at Jazz from the corner of his eye. "That's good, right? It means they're, you know?"

"He... if they are... if it is." Jazz fumbles over her words, but Tucker seems to understand. He gives her shoulder a reassuring pat.

He didn't run away, Jazz thinks. He didn't mean to leave her. She leans into Tucker, torn between crying out of grief or relief.

Spike taps Jazz's other shoulder. "Hey, this is super gross and touching and all, but we're fucked," he said with a jerk of his chin, motioning to the approaching agent.

—

The Miller family was nice enough. Max and Hannah treated her well. They had fostered their son, Spike, before adopting him when he was six. Jazz only saw him once her first day in the apartment, and he immediately reminded her of Sam, with his black clothes and dark makeup, but a little more punk thanks to his mohawk.

He left Jazz alone for the most part, which she was more thankful for than anything.

Max and Hannah told Jazz they would do their best for her, and that they hoped Danny would be okay, and they would give her whatever she needed to make it through this tough time. The way they talked annoyed Jazz a little. They weren't patronizing, but they acted like they knew exactly what she needed when they didn’t.

They thought she needed a soft bed, a good meal, and a comforting smile, but she really just needed her brother.

The first day at the Millers, Jazz occupied herself with her memoirs. She had been working on them the day of the accident, until the power cut out and Danny's scream filled the house, so loud it made her ears ache. She put in her headphones to drown out the residual scream in her head and got down to work.

Before... it happened, she had been writing down her significant childhood memories. The earliest ones weren't full memories, more like snatches of moments. Danny's soft hand in hers. A small hand rubbing her back after a nightmare. The glow of her star nightlight, which originally belonged to Danny, but he passed it on to her when he learned it made her sleep through the night better. She only learned this fact a few months ago, but it warmed her heart nonetheless.

The memories got stronger after that. Her first time seeing Santa, she was four, Danny was eight, and he took her across town on his own to the mall. Danny teaching her to ride a bike, because their parents were too busy in the lab. Danny making cupcakes for her birthday, because their parents were away at a convention. Danny helping her with her homework, even though he wasn't very good at it, but he still tried his best.

Jazz's pen paused. All her best memories had Danny in them. It wasn't that she had no good memories with her parents, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized they weren't really there as much as they thought they were.

"It's fine," she told herself. She pressed her pen into the page, intending to keep writing, but she couldn't stop thinking.

How many kids learned to cook at eight years old because their parents sometimes forgot to feed them? How many kids were more of a parent to their little sister than their actual parents? How many kids lived above a lab full of dangerous chemicals and volatile weaponry, and were told to clean said lab as part of their chores?

Jazz could think of at least one: Danny. Would things be the other way if she were older? Would she take Danny out on Christmas day so they didn't have to hear their parents fighting about a fat man in a red suit? Would she have been forced to grow up too fast?

She didn't want Danny to be her dad. She wanted her father to be her dad.

"Jazz?"

She jumped, hand shooting across the page, pen ripping the paper in half, tearing through her carefully penned memories and the photocopied photograph taped in the corner.

"Oh, shit, sorry. Was that important?" Spike asked. He held one of the house phones, pressing against his chest.

"Language," Jazz said softly, staring forlornly at the ruined page. The pages beneath were ruined, too, a heavy black line cutting across the first few.

"Weirdo," Spike said. "Anyway, Mom—that's Hannah—wanted me to tell you that social worker is coming on Friday so you can visit your brother."

Muffled noise comes from the phone, and Spike raises to his ear. He listened a moment, nodded, then lowered it again. "And she's sorry they can't take you sooner, but they work during visitor hours, and they don't want you walking through the city on your own," he recited.

"Why not?" Jazz asked.

Spike looked at her funny, cocking his head. "Because it isn't safe."

"Oh." Jazz would be perfectly fine with going on her own. She needed to see Danny with her own eyes, to make sure he was okay. The nurse said he was, but she had to see it for herself. She had to be certain.

Her second day with the Millers, she couldn't bring herself to work on her memoirs again, so she occupied herself with the collection of books in their office. A lot of it was literature, some classic, some poetry, some plays. Jazz gravitated toward the single shelf of textbooks, particularly the psychology. She didn't know much about the field, but something about understanding brains and how they worked fascinated her.

She stayed holed up in the office all day.

Her third day with the Millers was Friday. She waited for Jamila to pick her up and take her to the hospital. Jamila never showed up.

Her fourth day, she learned about the monster that attacked the mall, sending everyone into a panic. It glowed and couldn't be hurt by anything anyone threw at them, until Maddie and Jack showed up with the volatile weapons they made Danny clean and put the monster—ghost—down. All Jazz cared about was why no one was with Danny in case he woke up.

Her fifth day, Jazz thought, and thought, and didn't stop thinking until she couldn't stop thinking about why her parents didn't seem to care as much as they were supposed to.

On the sixth day, Jamila said she could finally see Danny tomorrow. For the first time in a week, it felt like everything would be alright.

—

Spike panics. Jazz knows he panics because he grabs her wrist and makes a break for it before the agent even reaches them.

"Spike!" Jazz stumbles, almost tripping, and tries to resist. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees the agent giving chase. Until Tucker surges after him and tackles his legs. They both go down.

Spike yanks on her arm, forcing Jazz to run faster, and drags her around the corner of the block.

"What was that?" Jazz asks. She grabs her hair. "Tucker's going to get arrested!"

"So were we! You heard what the emergency broadcast said. You know how many laws we're breaking being 'out of our vehicle?'" Spike shouts back. "All of them!"

"They aren't real laws!" And they aren't. They're a guideline of what to do in ghostly emergencies, and the G.I.W. treat every ghost like an emergency. Although, considering the destruction they had just run from, this was a real emergency.

"Funny, doesn't stop them from arresting people!"

Jazz rips her hand out of Spike's grip. "I can't leave them behind!"

Spike stops and turns. His scowl is softer, and he bites his lip, looking at Jazz with worry.

She glares back at him, refusing to move. "I can't."

"This isn't about Tucker, is it?" he asks. He doesn't need Jazz to answer. She doesn't need to give him one. He sighs, pressing a hand to his cheek, one finger spinning his eyebrow ring. After a long moment, he says, "Fine."

Jazz feels a wave of relief that has her grinning.

"Don't expect me to tackle a government agent for you, though. That's all Foley."

They turn back around, sprinting down the street. Overhead, Phantom and Skulker are still battling it out. Skulker's lagging, the plating of his suit warped and melted. The missing arm definitely doesn't help. But Phantom's not looking so good either. A few lucky shots from Skulker's plethora of hidden guns had left them burnt and bleeding.

Can it really be called bleeding? Ectoplasm, rather than blood, seeps out of Phantom's wounds, indistinguishable from the substance dripping from his mask. A wound on their torso slows them down the most, a large scorch mark stretching from the bottom of their ribcage, across their stomach, to their hip on the other side of their body.

Every time it looks like they're about to slow down, the collar on their neck sparks. Phantom hisses in pain each time and dives back into the hunt with renewed vigour.

Jazz forces herself to look away when Spike grabs her shoulder and pushes her behind the same crumpled car Skulker destroyed earlier. Pressing a finger to his lips, he motions her forward, and together they peer around the bumper and look down the street.

The agent has Tucker pinned on a nearby car. Straining her ears, Jazz can just barely hear what he's saying over the grunts and snarls of the fighting ghosts. "You're under arrest for assaulting a G.I.W. agent and interfering with a government operation."

"Come on, Mr. K, that's not cool," Tucker says.

"Agent K. And neither was assaulting me. G.I.W. operations are a matter of national security."

"It's a green blob in a metal suit, fucking chill!"

Agent K pulls out a pair of cuffs and slaps them on Tucker's wrists, keeping him pinned with a hand on his back. Agent K's focus drifts up toward the fight and scowls. Seeing his hesitance, Jazz realizes Agent K isn't going to move Tucker until the fight is done. Too much debris is flying everywhere and it's safer behind the cars than anywhere else. Agent O seems to have found cover, too, behind the overturned truck. He stands there with his gun lowered, hand poised over his watch.

Jazz looks back to Tucker. Neither he nor Agent K has noticed her and Spike yet. "Okay," she says. "I know what to do."

"No," Spike says.

"I haven't said anything yet."

"No. We're not tackling a G.I.W. agent."

Jazz gives him a pleading look, with wide eyes and a small pout.

"No, we're not tackling him!"

Jazz doesn't give him much of a choice. She charges, dashing out from behind the car.

"Son of a biiitch!" Spike shouts, sprinting past her. Agent K hears Spike and turns to face him, but none of his government training could prepare him for the pure shock value of a sickly looking punk goth kid charging at him at full speed. Spike barrels into the agent's chest, throwing him off Tucker and down to the sidewalk.

Jazz is about to throw herself on top of the pile when a loud crash and a panicked cry stops her.

"No, Phantom, no! It's me! Remember? Stop!"

She jerks back at the sound of Skulker's steadily rising voice and peeks over the car Tucker had been pinned against. Skulker lies on the ground in the middle of the road, Phantom hovering far above him. But something's off. Specifically, Skulker's head. It lies a foot away from his body, the eyes dull and expression completely blank.

"Please!"

Jazz's gaze snaps up to Phantom. In his hands, he holds something small and green, and Tucker's words come floating back to her: a blob in a metal suit. Phantom holds Skulker's real form inches from their face, clutched tightly in their hands.

"No!" Jazz cries, jumping out into the street. Everyone freezes, their heads swivelling toward her, and she falters.

"Jazz, what are you doing?" Tucker hisses.

She doesn't know. Phantom is a dangerous, powerful ghost. There's nothing she can actually do to make him stop. There's no real reason she should even try to stop him. In Amity Park, ghosts are like rabid wild animals. They come in, destroy stuff, and then they get put down. Jazz has never met someone who felt sorry for the ghosts.

But she had also never really met a ghost before. And she had never heard one scream and beg for its life as it tries to help the very thing that is going to kill it. She can't watch that. She can't just stand here and witness Phantom squeezing the life—the afterlife—out of this little ghost that says he wants to help.

Whoever this Skulker is, she can't let that happen.

Whoever Jazz suspects Phantom might be, she can't let them do it.

She can't tell if Phantom is looking at her, but she thinks they are. Even as Skulker wriggles and squirms, popping out of their grip, Phantom stays focused on her. A small smile touches Jazz's lips. In the corner of her eye, Skulker flies down to his suit, free to escape.

Jazz takes a step forward. A burly arm loops around her waist and hoists her off her feet, dragging her back.

"Hey! Stop!" Jazz squirms, feet kicking in the air, and throws her head back. She hits Agent K's chin, but he doesn't falter.

"Hey, calm down! It's not safe out here!" Agent K says, his arm tightening around her midsection.

Jazz gasps. "Let me go! You're hurting me!"

Agent K's hold immediately loosens. "Sorry. But what's with you kids, tackling people trying to help you?"

"Wait, what?" Jazz asks, confused.

Suddenly, white fills her vision. Jazz feels a burning, crackling heat, then she's falling, and Agent K her screams. She rolls on the ground, pushing herself up on her hands and knees, and looks over her shoulder.

Phantom has Agent K pinned against a convenience store window, arms pressed against his throat. Their body blurs as they move, leaning in closer. The glass cracks. With a great heave, the window shatters. Phantom sends Agent K flying through the store, flipping over rows of shelves. He crashes into a row of coolers at the back and falls to the floor.

Phantom spins around and faces Jazz. Up close, they look even more feral, ectoplasm dripping like saliva through a series of jagged slots in their mask. The lenses of their goggles are cracked, but the eyes behind them glow so brightly it hurts to look right at them.

Phantom's collar sizzles and they cry out as the shock courses through them. Turning away from Jazz, they lock onto Agent O and howls. Jazz blinks and Phantom is all the way cross the street, roaring in Agent O's face, immersing him in a haze of ectoplasm.

Agent O drops to the ground, clutching their throat.

"No," Jazz whispers, horrified.

Phantom turns back to her. They stumble forward. Jazz takes a step back. As if that's some signal, Phantom lunges toward her. Jazz screams and drops to the ground, crawling toward the sidewalk.

"Phantom, stand down!" Agent K shouts as he clambers out of the broken shop window His demand is met with a roar of ectoplasm that soars right over Jazz. She screams again, folding her arms over her head, but can't do anything against the blistering heat.

Jazz crawls faster, scrambling to her feet as soon as she's able. She heads for Tucker and Spike, both of them wearing cuffs now, but Phantom cuts in front of her. Backpedalling fast, her arms flail as she pivots and runs the other way.

A hazy mist surrounds Jazz and she shudders, a tingling chill passing through her. Phantom reforms in front of her, too close for her for her to stop in time. A green blast soaring over her shoulder saves her. It bursts against Phantom's chest and throws them back.

"Run!" Agent K shouts, training his gun oh Phantom.

Jazz doesn't question she order. She doesn't wait for Phantom to get back. She already knows they will. No matter what Agent K does, Phantom will come after her. She's their prey now.

—

Everything was not alright.

Monday night, Spike once again passed along the message that Jazz would be seeing her brother the next day, a full week after she'd seen him last. This time, Jamila actually showed up, apologizing for Wednesday, citing the chaos at the mall and the havoc it wreaked throughout the city in general. She brought with her the good news that Danny was awake, had been since Friday.

"I'm sorry no one informed you sooner. There were some complications at the hospital," Jamila had said.

Those foreboding words quelled Jazz's excitement but couldn't snuff it out completely. She would finally get to see for herself that Danny was fine. But when she got to the hospital, the nurse said she wasn't allowed to see him.

"Why not?" she asked.

"He's in for tests right now," the nurse said. She turned to Jamila and continued, as if Jazz wasn't there. "We contacted an expert. Apparently, this is something the government's dealt with before. I don't really understand it, but his parents will be seeing him soon, and Jasmine can see him after that."

That was how Jazz ended up in the waiting room, on her own, again. Jamila had gone off to find her parents and speak to them about Danny's situation, whatever that was. Everyone was treating her like she didn't need to know anything, but she was twelve! She was mature, and smart, and she could handle whatever they were keeping from her.

"It's not fair," she muttered.

"Damn right. Although I have no idea what you're actually talking about."

Jazz looked up and saw Tucker claiming the chair next to her. There was no blood on him, and for one wild moment, Jazz realized she expected to see some. It was the first time she'd seen him since the accident, and for some reason, she pictured him frozen in that moment back at the lab, clothes stained red and green.

"Uh, you good?" Tucker asked.

Jazz stared a moment longer, taking in his pale face. "Are you?"

"Ha, you caught me. I don't really like hospitals," Tucker said. He glanced around the room warily and slumped in his chair. "But I heard they were letting you see him today, so I thought. I don't know. Maybe I could sneak in."

"Who told you?"

"Spike."

Jazz blinked in surprise.

"His moms used to babysit me, and my mom watched Spike to return the favour sometimes. When I heard you were with the Millers, I kind of asked him to keep an eye on you for me," Tucker said, smiling sheepishly. "Got to make sure you're alright for Danny."

"Thanks, I guess," Jazz said. She peered closer at Tucker. More than pale, he looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping, and it made her wonder. "What... what happened? In the lab."

Tucker shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. "It doesn't really matter."

"I think it does."

"What difference will it make?"

"Because then I'll know."

"That won't—"

"Tucker, please." Jazz wasn't mad. She didn't cry. She didn't beg. She just looked at Tucker, feeling helpless and lost.

"Sam thought it'd be cool to go inside," Tucker muttered.

"Oh." Danny would do anything Sam asked, whether she meant him to or not. Everyone knew it.

"Yeah," Tucker said.

"She hasn't come to see him, has she?"

"She feels guilty."

Jazz didn't know how to respond to that. A small part of her was mad at Sam, but at the same time Jazz knew it wasn't completely her fault.

Silence fell between her and Tucker as she sank into her thoughts. Jazz didn't know how it was with other siblings, but Danny's best friend had always been such a staple in her life that she didn't mind being alone with him. He was almost like a second big brother, although Danny would be the undisputed best.

Tucker stayed with her until Jamila returned. She wore a wary smile and gave Tucker a questioning glance.

"I'm Danny's friend," Tucker said, answering her unasked question.

"I see. I'm sorry, but I've been told only family can see him at this time. His should be seeing him now," Jamila said.

"You're not family."

"Due to the nature of the situation, I am his medical proxy."

It was amazing how Jamila could sum everything up without actually explaining anything useful. Jazz wanted to snap at her, but she held back. After all the thinking she had done about her parents, she was no longer certain how she felt about Jamila. Maybe the woman really did want to help.

"It's fine, Tucker. You can just get Spike to tell you all about my visit," Jazz said.

"Oh, that's cold," Tucker said. He pushed himself up and stretched his arms above his head, then let them flop back down at his sides. "I guess I can leave Danny in your capable hands. Give him hell for scaring us like that."

"That's the plan."

Jazz waited until Tucker was gone before turning to Jamila and motioning for her to lead the way. Soon, all her fretting would be over. She could confirm with her own eyes that Danny wasn't still bleeding out on the floor, and maybe even get one of his comforting smiles. Maybe he would even come with her to stay at the Millers until everything got sorted out with their parents. If it got sorted out.

Before they rounded the corner into Danny's hallway, Jamila took Jazz aside and spoke to her softly.

"Something happened on Friday that the doctors can't really explain," she started. "Your brother appears healthy, but he's... different. And I just want to prepare you for that."

Determined, Jazz nodded.

Jamila looked relieved, her wide brown eyes softening, and she smiled. "Okay. Let's go see your brother."

They turned the corner. Nothing happened. Which made sense, because it was just a hallway, and the door to Danny's room was further down. But Jazz was so tense that the brightly lit hospital hallway felt out of place. A long, foreboding corridor would have been more appropriate.

Hospital staff bustled about. A couple patients were stretching their legs. Some visitors had claimed benches that were interspersed along the hall, none of them too interesting. A woman in a pretty blue dress, a man in a white suit, two teenagers with watery eyes and red noses. Jazz wondered who they were all here for.

They were halfway down the hall when a door burst open and a nurse stuck his head out.

"Security!" he shouted.

"That's not my son!"

Jamila's arm curled around Jazz's shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. The way Jamila's hold on her tightened when a security guard went rushing by told her exactly who's room that was. Her fears were confirmed when Maddie and Jack backed out of the open door, herded toward the security guard by the nurse. Danny's door closed behind them.

Jazz twisted, breaking free of Jamila's grip, and ran toward her parents.

"Mom, what's going on? What's wrong?" she asked.

Maddie turned to Jazz and her face fell, tears welling in her eyes. She was barely holding it together "Oh, honey. Danny's... Danny's gone, sweetie."

"No." That wasn't right. Jamila just said Danny was fine. What could have happened in that short time? She refused to believe it.

"No!" she repeated, louder.

Maddie reached out to her. Jazz ducked under her arm, skipping out of reach. She glanced at Jamila, the nurse, the guard, checking to see if any of them would stop her. None of them moved.

"Stop, Jazz!" Jack shouted, taking a step forward.

The security guard stopped him, getting in Jack's way and holding out his arms. "Sir, I will remove you form the building," the guard said.

"Jasmine, do not go in there," Maddie said in a scolding, motherly tone

Jazz went in. She whipped the door open, spinning around and slamming it shut. There was no lock. A quick peek through the window confirmed the guard was still holding her parents back. Satisfied they weren’t going to barge in and drag her out of there, Jazz turned.

She froze. The person sitting on the bed had a familiar head of messy hair, but it faded to white half-way through. His eyes swirled blue and green, the colours constantly shifting, pushing against each other, battling for dominance. When he raised his hand and waved, his arm blurred, trailed by an afterimage.

Bandages crawl up his right arm, wrapping stiffly around his fingers, and winding all the way up to his shoulder, stopping just before the sleeve of his blue gown. She's only seen it once, but Jazz knows there's a gauze patch on his shoulder under that sleeve. A matching patch is plastered against his neck. Thin, spidery blisters creep along his jaw, but don't go much further than that.

His face is sallow, cheeks sunken, eyes looking bruised. The blood is gone. The green goo is gone.

"Jazz!" There was a slight echo to his voice. He beamed. "About time you got here. I was starting to think you didn't care."

There was no mistaking that smile or that teasing voice. Jazz ran forward and threw her arms around his waist, burying her head against his chest.

"Danny!" Jazz cried out, already tearing up. Because it was Danny. He looked different, and he felt different—cold—but it was him.

"You are not gonna believe what's on the other side of that portal, took a lot of work to get back here–"

"Get back?"

"–but here I am!" Danny threw up his arms, grinning even wider.

Jazz noticed his teeth looked a little sharper. "What happened?" she asked.

"Oh, man, you're not gonna believe it. So, the portal turns on, right? And then everything just goes all." Danny waved his hands around. "Hold on, wait, I had it before. Everything just goes all," he snapped his fingers and electricity crackled down his arm, "like that!"

Jazz jumped away from him, staring at his arm as the electricity fizzled out.

Danny's smile slipped. "Oh. You're scared too, aren't you? Mom and Dad... they didn't take it well either."

Jazz opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the door banged open. Startled, she whipped around and backed up until her hip bumped the side of Danny's bed. Maddie stood in the doorway, holding a silver and green gun. An ectogun, Jazz recalled. Her parents made them to fight ghosts, if they ever saw one.

"Jazz, get away from it!" Maddie said. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots.

"Mom," Jazz said.

"That's not Danny!"

"That's kind of rude," Danny muttered.

"Mom, what are you doing!" Jazz slid in front of Danny, holding out her arms the same way the security guard had.

The barrel of Maddie's gun dipped as she watched Jazz, disbelief written across her face. It looked like she was going to stop. To Jazz, it looked like Maddie was about to reconsider. Until Jazz felt Danny's hand on her shoulder. Maddie's disbelief was drowned out by a furious snarl fueled by grief and rage.

Everything happened so fast.

Danny shoved Jazz out of the way just before the bang. She tripped into a chair by his bed, smacking her head on the armrest. The world went fuzzy for a moment. There wa a shout, and a thump, and her mother started wearing. A stampede of feet come running.

When Jazz's vision cleared, she saw Maddie on the ground, pinned by the same security guard from before, reaching for her gun. No less than three new guards had Jack pinned out in the hallway. The nurse was speaking frantically into a phone. The man in the white suit tapped the nurse's shoulder, holding out his hand for the phone, jerking his chin toward the room. The nurse relinquished the phone without protest.

Jazz crawled backward, away from the chaos, and almost fell when her hand slipped on something warm and wet. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Danny on the floor, bleeding.

—

Jazz has been afraid many times in her life. When she was little, walking through the house in the dark. When she sat in the backseat of the RV while her father had the wheel. When she sat in the hospital, alone waiting to hear if Danny was alive or dead. When she realized he was gone from her life forever.

None of that compares to how she feels now. Her heart beats against her ribs, moments from bursting out of her chest. Her lungs burn and her throat feels tight and she struggles to breathe. Her senses narrow until all she can see is what's in front of her, all she can hear is Phantom inches behind her, all she can feel is the icy heat they give off, so cold it burns.

Jazz makes the mistake of looking back to check how close Phantom is. Practically nose to nose, the green and blue lenses of his goggles are all she sees. She shrieks and stumbles. Phantom reaches out to catch her, latching on to her hair, yanking her head back. She cries out again, tears springing to her eyes.

Phantom jerks away from her, releasing her hair, and raises their hands to their face. They start moaning. Jazz takes off, the ominous wail building behind her. Clapping her hands over her ears, she tries to shut it out. The distraught cry grows louder and louder until the ground shakes, and windows rattle, and a wave of green energy blasts Jazz off her feet.

She soars through the air, screaming, arms wrapping around her head. She hits the ground hard and curls into a ball. Phantoms wail tears into her, a painfully familiar cry of pain amplified a hundred times over, fueled by the power of ectoplasm.

Her ears ring long after it ends, so loud that she doesn’t even realize Phantom's stopped until she notices the ground isn't shaking anymore. She rolls onto her back and lifts her head. Phantom stumbles toward her, clutching their still-bleeding wounds. Gas pours from their mask, ectoplasm erupting from the slits every time they breathe.

Fear keeps her pinned. The only thing Jazz can do is weep, her heart slowly cracking as Phantom edges closer, vicious and unrelenting, not a single shred of humanity with them.

"Please stop!" Jazz wails. "This isn't you! Just stop. See me! Stop being so stupid!"

Phantom's breath rattles as they loom over her.

Jazz screams, "Danny!"

—

Jazz waited until two a.m. before slipping out of her hospital room. A nurse had given her slippers before final rounds, so she wasn't walking barefoot, but they made a loud slapping noise if she didn't walk carefully enough. She stuck close to the wall, one hand on the plastic rail that stretched down the length of the hallway.

Danny was only one room over, but it would only take a second for a nurse to walk around the corner, see Jazz up and about, and usher her back into her room. She slipped through Danny's door, quiet as possible, and tiptoed over to his bed. There was a new swathe of bandages on his left forearm, to go with his growling collection.

Maddie had missed hitting anything vital, but whatever was in her gun sent Danny into a seizure. The police came and took Jack and Maddie away after that, and Danny's doctor admitted Jazz with a concussion. She was only meant to be there one night, and she didn't want to spend it alone.

Grabbing one of the chairs, she dragged it toward Danny's bed, one inch at a time. It made a high-pitched squeak every time she pulled it forward. Nobody came barging in, despite the loud noise, and soon enough she had the fhair right where she wanted it.

She was about to sit down when Danny opened his eyes.

"You could have just picked it up," he said.

"You were awake! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because it was funny."

Jazz crossed her arms and turned her back to him.

"Aw, come on, I'm sorry. Turn around."

She did, albeit reluctantly, and found Danny had kicked the covers off and shuffled over to the edge of the bed.

"Come on," he said.

"I'm not eight."

"Congratulations. Come on."

Jazz rolled her eyes and climbed in. Using Danny's arm as a pillow, she settled next to him, just like when they were little and she used to come to him after having a bad dream. They would stare up at the stars on his ceiling while he pointed out constellations to her.

There were no stars to point out now but sitting next to him still brought comfort. Danny was all she ever had, and he was all she would ever need.

"Are we gonna be okay?" she asked.

"Totally." Jazz could hear Danny's smile in his weird, new, echoing voice. "I talked to Jamila earlier. She told me about the Millers."

"Are you coming there too?"

"Yeah. Jamila's already made the arrangements. You and me? We're gonna be okay as long as we're together." Danny wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You should head back to your room before someone finds you missing. I'll be right here if you need me."

Jazz nodded, sliding out of the bed. Danny gives her one last smile before she left. On the way back to her room, she paused. The hallway wasn't empty anymore. Someone stood at the very end of it, watching her. It was the man in the white suit.

Jazz waited to see if he would do something. He only stared. Breaking their little stand-off first, she lowered her head and slipped through her door, rushing over to her bed. Pulling the covers up over her head, she curled on her side. It didn't take her long to relax, though, Danny's last comforting words echoing in her head. She drifted off with a smile on her face, thinking of how much better things would be from here on out.

When Jazz woke up in the morning, Danny was gone.

—

Phantom's stopped.

Afraid to move, Jazz holds herself perfectly still for a few long seconds, but no attack comes. She opens her eyes and looks up.

Phantom looms over her, seething. Ectoplasm drips from their mask like toxic drool. Their breathing is ragged, shoulders rising and falling with each pant. They don't even have the strength to holds his arms up so the cuffs don't strain his elbows. Their whole body shakes.

A glob ectoplasm drops to the ground by Jazz's foot, a few specks splashing against her ankle. It burns. She flinches, scrambling back, but Phantom doesn't move. Warily, she pushes herself up onto her knees. When Phantom doesn't react, she gets on her feet, slowly rising out of a crouch. Phantom just stands there.

She should be running. She should take advantage of this reprieve and whatever caused it and get the hell out of there. Over Phantom's shoulder, she spies Spike, Tucker, and Agent K running down the street. They're waving their arms and yelling, probably telling her to get away while she can.

She moves closer to Phantom. Reaching out, she grabs their hood and pulls it down. Their hair is mostly white, but at the roots, there's the thinnest line of black. Now that she's close, she sees how the mask digs into his cheeks and goes for that next. It probably hurts.

It takes her a moment to find the locking mechanism. It rests at the nape of their neck, a simple latch without a key. Cruelly simplistic. She has to get in close to reach up and around their head, and Phantom flinches when her arms circle them.

She freezes, expecting them to attack, or leap away, but they don't. She flicks the latch. The mask doesn't fall away as she though it would, but it's looser now. Carefully, she pries the mask open and pulls it off. It resists, for a moment, so stuck to Phantom's face, but eventually gives. She tosses it away as soon as it's off and can barely hold in her gasp.

A deep imprint cuts across Phantom's cheeks and nose. Ectoplasm smears the lower half of Phantom's face, blisters surrounding their lips. She didn't think a ghost's own ectoplasm could hurt them but looking at how thin the slots in the mask are, it probably takes a lot of pressure to push it all out.

Jazz touches Phantom's cheek, her thumb tracing their jaw, wiping away some of the ectoplasm to reveal a series of thin red lines branching across their skin.

Phantom's shaking has stopped, but Jazz's hands tremble as she reaches for their goggles. She pushes them up to their forehead. The eyes that stare back at her are wild, pupils stretched wide. They look right through her, uncomprehending, but she recognizes them instantly. One has a little more green, the other more blue, but both colours swirl in each iris.

Jazz squeezes her eyes shut. She can't hold back her tears any longer, pressing her head against Phantom's shoulder. She wraps her arms around her brother's neck and sobs.

#phic phight #phic phight 2020 #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #phanfic #jazz fenton #ageswap au #tumblroneshots

485 notes · View notes