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#It's literally in my bio that I will not be rubbing elbows with people who think that the q slur isn't a slur

sonicunleash · 5 months

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hey. barely gentle reminder to mutuals that tagging slurs in posts is important, and that people who do not want to see those slurs are not going to be using content filtering to filter those slurs, because all that does is make the content filtering jump them with "The post contains filtered content: [UNCENSORED SLUR YOU WANT TO AVOID]". Tagging stuff with "[letter] slur" is the easiest thing in the world, and what most people who are triggered by said slurs are ACTUALLY going to be filtering. It's 5 letters. 5 letters and not even a second of your time and YES THIS INCLUDES THE Q SLUR THIS IS FOR ALL SLURS. PLEASE?

#I WILL break mutuals for people who dont do this.#It's literally in my bio that I will not be rubbing elbows with people who think that the q slur isn't a slur #And in general if you want to be sharing spaces with different marginalized communities you should be putting in the #(FUCKING MINISCULE EFFORT) of at least tagging slurs that members can be triggered and hurt by. or your solidarity is not even PAPER thin

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erigold13261 · 1 year

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Dream last night. Talks of religious figures (like a priest, not religious people with names), infection, and parasites.

Dream last night, was technically this morning, was pretty quick but interesting. It was a world that had very little humans. Mostly it was mutants, demons, angels, and robots/cyborgs, though most of them were humanoid or looked human and had a less human form to transform into. The world was kinda like an apocalyptic steampunk world or something, where stuff ran but there wasn’t really a government. At least the area I was hanging out in.

Anyway, I was at a rest stop/gas station area with my 3 friends. I think one of them could transform into animals like Beast Boy, one was a cyborg (both boys, cyborg guy was our leader and he was more like a bio-cyborg with living robotics that could barely be seen), then there was me and a girl. I don’t know either of our powers but I think the other girl was some kinda half human with skills in weaponry or like a bond with her weapons. I think I was a standard demon that could enrage and turn my arms/body parts into weapons with shadow matter.

So what happened, was we were at this rest stop and chatting with other people who were turning in their quests they had just like my crew was. We were trying to trade and to help people unload stuff. Well this priest was at the stop, he was fully human, and preaching to us about how awful we were in the world but in a charismatic way. I was getting annoyed with him, mainly because he was using non-human labor to help with quests and unloading cases of glass bottles with a brown liquid in them.

My leader told me to not start shit but me and the other girl went over and talked to him. Don’t remember what it was about, but either one of his workers or he somehow ended up splashing me with the liquid in the bottles. Either that or I think a fight broke out and the priest wasn’t even looking at me and a bottle got broken and splashed on me (on my inner right elbow).

Well I had the brilliant idea to immediately wash it off because it stung at first, which I did in a dirty ass puddle because paying for the washroom at the rest stop would be expensive. I was fine with this until it started really burning and little bumps started forming on the spot the liquid splashed (At some point the other girl I was with drank some of the liquid. I think it happened before I got splashed though, because she was the one to help me. We thought since I was a demon it was affecting me and not her, so at first she wasn’t worried).

I forced my way into the rest stop and tried to clean away any of the liquid only to find the bumps had broken open and these little blue worms with either white or pink tips were coming out of my skin. I tried rubbing them off or pulling them out but pretty sure they were staying in there, or like only one came out.

Once I saw what happened to me, I ran out of the rest stop, encased my arm in shadows and was about to punch the priest when my leader stopped me. He had no idea what was happening and did not want to start shit with the human population, especially not the ones with religious affiliations. It almost turned into a fight with the people the Priest hired having to protect him as they moved more of his liquids while the priest preached to me as I was being held back and threatened (my girl friend was also being held back from attacking as she saw what was in my arm, and possibly now in her).

I don’t know how it happened, but the priest got out of there alive. I’m pretty sure I even showed the people around me what that liquid did to me and the priest didn’t deny it at all. I now was infected with these worms that hurt me, along with my friend also being infected. The guy who could change into animals tried changing his digestive system to animals that ate insects and tried to eat one of the worms from my arm that he plucked out. Technically not a smart move because he could have also been infected but he literally could not even swallow the worms at all. They could not go down his throat.

At this point I went to my aunt’s house (like my dream brought me to my IRL autn’s house who lives in the middle of a three story apartment house in a city. My cousins and their SOs live in the top and my uncle lives in the bottom, but for my dream my uncle was not here. Pretty sure he didn’t exist, which is fine by me because he’s an ass). I go there to take a shower, but get caught up in finding a nice looking outfit because for some reason I now need to get ready for my brother’s graduation (which is happening IRL later today which is why I think my mind is combining it with my dreams).

My house keeps changing from my childhood home when looking for clothes to my aunt’s house when looking for a shower. My crew were outside waiting for me to finish and it was taking so long since half the showers weren't working and the house was doubled and one half was mirrored for some reason. I ended up chatting with my family and asking about the worms but none of them knew anything and were dealing with their own problems as the house was tilting.

I didn’t stay long to help with the house as I went back to my crew and we left. I think a small time skip happened as we traveled because next thing I knew was we were either working for a small organization or knew of a small organization that was trying to find the priest and arrest him for spreading these liquid that contained parasites that attack non-humans.

The priest was trying to get into a convention (like a comic or anime convention, but I think it was for something else, don’t know what), and since my crew and I didn’t have passes we couldn’t get in. The priest was being held above the entrance on the roof being questioned. The guys of my group climbed up there and the robot questioning the priest (looked like one of the standard HFR robots) turned around and was about to attack us thinking we were with the priest. Only for my friends to lie and say they wanted an autograph from the robot, which immediately disarmed him long enough for me and the girl to get to the roof, run past him, and get to the priest.

Unfortunately this is when I woke up because of my alarm, but I think we either killed the priest or hurt him real bad looking for an antidote. I don’t think he gave it to us at all and a lot of non-humans had been infected with these worms since I initially got them (not to mention all the infections he caused before I got them as well).

I never got to know what these worms did, I do know they sometimes made it hurt to use my powers. But they never grew to a new spot externally, or caused any real issues to me throughout my dream. They probably needed more time to get their work done that my dream wasn’t able to show me because I woke up.

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sevlgi · 3 years

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how it feels

requested: no

group: stray kids

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst

contents: high school!au but there’s not much school involved, best friend!hyunjin, mutual pining, hyunjin’s a hopeless romantic

warnings: none

synopsis: comforting your best friend after a breakup usually doesn’t involve making him fall in love with you, but both of you just want to know what it feels like.

a/n: yes hello please enjoy this fic that i’m randomly dropping in the middle of my hiatus 🙃 i’ll hopefully be able to write a gg fic of some kind for y’all soon! the ending of this is so fucking lazy, sorry

word count: 5.3k

“Why, Y/N? Can’t she just tell me why?”

“I know,” you comfort, rubbing your best friend’s back as he sniffles with his knees up to his chest. It’s hard to see him in the darkness that’s brought by the blanket resting over the both of you like a tent, but in the glow of Hyunjin’s phone, you can see the tear tracks on his face. “I’m sorry, Jinnie.”

He pouts and scrubs yet another tear off his cheek, lamenting, “Why can’t I never fall in love with someone who loves me back? We’re only in high school, it shouldn’t be this complicated.”

Dabbing at his face with a tissue, you sigh, “I guess you have bad luck. Or bad judgement, could be both. There are plenty of people who are dying to love and appreciate you, you know, you’re the one who never spares them a glance.”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “No, those people only think I’m the long-haired guy from the dance team. They would treat me the same,” he frowns tearily. “I just want someone who likes me first.”

It always goes this way for him, you know-- you’ve seen it too many times, the stages of your best friend falling in love with someone who leads him on, enjoys his company for a while before dumping him and his expectations in the dirt. Maybe it’s the undeniable pressure to be the perfect partner that Hyunjin wants more than anything, or maybe he just always ends up liking assholes. But either way, it’s carnage for Hyunjin’s heart, and he never gets used to it no matter how many times it happens.

He’s too sensitive and warm-hearted for his own good, so all he can do after the latest breakup is cry into his favorite pillow on a Tuesday night. If you weren’t so willing to immediately come to comfort him, Hyunjin would’ve been doing it alone, too, and he would’ve cried for far longer than he has.

“Who do I go to prom with now?” he questions sadly, breaking you from your recollections about the many times you’ve done this before.

Unfortunately, all his question does is make you laugh. “It’s a serious question!” Hyunjin protests, scowling at you.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” you say, still chuckling. “I mean, would it be so bad to go to prom with a friend? I’m sure Yeji- wait never mind, not Yeji… I’m sure someone would go with you for appearances’s sake. Or if you don’t mind, just ask Lix, he’s too nice to say no even if he wanted.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” he says, flopping back onto his bed. The clock by his bedside reads 2:33 am, and you can already feel your physics final cursing you. “I want to go with someone I feel something for, you know? It’s our prom, Y/N, I want to feel the prom-ness of promposals and picking out outfits and all that with someone I love.”

You shake your head and push his knee lightly. “Unfortunately, most people our age haven’t even been in love yet, so I doubt many people can help you feel it. But you know what I’m feeling right now?”

“Please don’t say pancakes,” Hyunjin groans, “I’m not waking my parents up to teach us how to use the stove again.”

Throwing a pillow at him, you roll your eyes, “I feel tired, dumbass. And we have finals tomorrow, so how about we invite our friends out to get boba afterwards so we can find you a prom date? You can complain all you like about how the three weeks before prom happens are too short to fall in love, yadda yadda.”

“Fine. But don’t mock me, my many feelings are perfectly valid,” your best friend warns you, and rolls over to turn the light off.

Seungmin frowns when Hyunjin finally shows up at the entrance of the school’s closest boba shop, looking slightly disheveled from dance practice. “Finally. You’re annoying, and late.”

“Jeongin’s later,” Hyunjin objects, plopping down in the spot next to you and accepting the drink you hold out to him. The amount of mango yogurt with boba he drinks is definitely unhealthy (and expensive), but he’ll only groan more about his breakup if you didn’t get it for him. “Why do you literally never complain about him?”

“Jeongin’s cute, and you aren’t.”

The long-haired boy scoffs and sips at his drink sulkily as Felix returns with his own order. “Oh, hey, Hyunjin. I didn’t see you arrive,” Felix smiles sunnily. “Jisung’s not coming today, by the way. Something about having to stay for detention.”

You raise your eyebrows at that new piece of information. “Really? For what?”

“Playing a song entitled ‘Fuck You Bitch’ in Bio, I believe.”

Seungmin snorts in laughter, sighing fondly, “Sounds like him. Anyway, I heard we’re here to solve the problem of Hwang Hyunjin’s prom date. Or… lack thereof?”

“You’re so mean,” your best friend groans.

Ignoring him, you clasp your hands on the table and lean in conspiratorially. “I doubt any of you haven’t heard at this point, but he got dumped, for lack of a better word, and now, like the rest of us, Hyunjin has no prom date. But unlike us, he actually still wants one.”

“I’ll go with you,” Felix offers, still chewing on the straw in his mouth.

You elbow Hyunjin, who pushes you back before responding. “Thank you, Lixie, but like I explained to Y/N, I want to go with someone I’m in love with. I want to know how it feels, you know?”

“I don’t know,” Seungmin deadpans. At Hyunjin’s crestfallen expression, though, he says, “I mean, we can definitely try, but I feel like the rest of the people left in this school are either too young or not your type. And is 3 weeks really enough for you to be ‘in love again’?”

“Knowing me, maybe…? But I think I’d need to know the person already,” your best friend pouts.

Jeongin arrives then, conveniently missing most of the conversation before he squishes in on the end of the booth. “Well, you better not try to fall in love with me,” the youngest grins.

“I’d never pick you,” Hyunjin jabs back. “But out of the people I do know…”

“I volunteer,” you joke.

Your friends snicker, thankfully, but the boy sitting right next to you turns with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Actually…”

“I don’t like that expression,” Jeongin narrows his eyes.

“I think I could fall in love with Y/N in 3 weeks,” Hyunjin says nonchalantly, as if it’s nothing. He completely ignores all the shocked expressions around him.

In truth, as easy as Hyunjin falls in love, he’s also incredibly easy to fall for. You’d never admit it to him, but you have loved him before, with the kind of burning passion that he somehow has with every one of his relationships.

You’re over it, and you have been for a long time, but him saying that maybe he could love you so very easily makes it all come back up to the surface. “For real?” Felix questions.

“I mean, I don’t like you yet--” your heart falls (stupidly)-- “but I think I could.”

“So… what do you want me to do?” you ask.

Hyunjin smiles, so pure and beautiful that you wonder how his girlfriend just left him, and says, “I want you to help me figure out how it feels to really be in love.” He scrambles to interrupt Seungmin, whose mouth is opening. “It’s just three weeks before prom. We’ll just feel happy together, none of the other shit--”

“You are so cheesy,” Jeongin interjects. “And I think you’ve watched too many dramas. Did you pause to think how Y/N feels about your plan?”

You appreciate your younger friend’s considerateness, but the guilty expression on Hyunjin’s face prompts you to say, “I mean, I don’t think I could like you like that, so… sure. I’ll help you.”

“Really?” All three of your friends ask as they turn to you.

“Yeah,” you shrug. “What, you fall in love with me in three weeks for prom, I don’t reciprocate, but we move on as friends? I think it’ll be fine.”

“It never works like that though,” Seungmin doubts. He isn’t as cynical as he seems, but in the presence of overly-optimistic Felix and Hyunjin, he and Jeongin always end up as the voice of reason. Usually, you’re with them, but this time, you’re the one enabling the idiocy of the new plan.

Hyunjin grins, “Then we’ll make it work like that.”

With the amount of time that passes before Hyunjin mentions his plot again, you almost forget about it. The first week is normal in a way that makes you nervous-- you hang out like normal, doing homework in the library with your friends as Minho harrasses Chan, eating lunch wherever you can find a spot. There isn’t really time to be alone, just the two of you, and you aren’t sure how Hyunjin is supposed to ‘fall in love’ with you if it’s just normal.

Of course, it doesn’t last long.

It takes a while for it to set in that when Hyunjin asks you to go watch a drive-through movie with him, it isn’t just so he can show off his brand-new car. It’s a date, and it’s stated painfully clearly in his text from the night before.

However, you don’t realize it until you’re literally getting into his car in front of your house.

“Wait. This is a date, isn’t it?”

Hyunjin chuckles nervously, looking over at you in the passenger seat, and you notice for the first time that he’s put on a bit of makeup, and his car doesn’t smell like Jisung’s hot cheetos for once. “I mean, yeah. I meant it when I said I wanted you to help, and I thought you did too? It doesn’t have to be one if you’re backing out, though, it’s totally fine.”

“I’m not backing out,” you shake your head. You really aren’t-- so far, nothing has happened that would make you want to back out yet, and no freshman-year feelings for your best friend have resurfaced just yet. “I just forgot. You know me.”

“Yeah, I know your goldfish brain,” Hyunjin teases, setting the car in motion. There’s lo-fi playing, and he’s a good driver, so you relax. “You forget everything.”

“I do not! You’re the one who has to be reminded of everyone’s birthday but mine,” you protest. If he wasn’t driving, you would shove him, and you remind him of that, to his dismay.

Hyunjin hums as soon as the two of you fall into comfortable silence, your foot tapping lightly to the music, and with the sun setting on the distant horizon, it’s so familiar. You try to interrupt the peace anyway. “So, what movie are we seeing?”

“10 Reasons I Hate You,” he answers. “It’s a classic, and you haven’t seen it.”

“And you love romcoms,” you finish.

He doesn’t protest, only sending you a small smile. You’re pulling into the theater already anyway, in one of the better rows to watch the movie as Hyunjin turns his radio on and starts fiddling with it. “There’s snacks in the backseat,” he offers, to no surprise.

They’re some of your favorites, though there are also the chips that he can’t live without. There’s a blanket, which drapes awkwardly over the cupholder between the two of you, and a bottle of juice that you place in his lap immediately. “You like watermelon juice more than I do.”

“Thanks,” he says quietly, almost surprised.

You scowl and poke him, allowed to now that you’re safely parked and waiting for the movie to begin. “Don’t act all shocked, we’ve been friends since orientation and I’ve spent more than half my paychecks getting this damn juice for you.”

“Mean,” Hyunjin protests, but he hands you your favorite soda from under his seat anyway. “And shut up, it’s starting.”

He seems to know the intro to the movie, smiling when the first line of dialogue sounds, all crackly over the shitty radio, and you eventually stop staring at him to watch the movie instead. Of course, you can’t keep yourself from asking, “Why do you like romcoms so much, anyway? You’ve never explained to me, for all the ones I’ve watched with you.”

“I like happy endings, I think,” the long-haired boy responds after a short pause to think. “Not to be dramatic, but I haven’t had one yet, so maybe watching other people being happy makes me happier too.”

You nod, taking it as a perfectly acceptable answer. Knowing how sentimental your best friend is, it’s nowhere near a stretch, either, being something that just fits with his personality.

He talks occasionally to tell you a little tidbit that he knows: by the end, you’ve learned about how it’s a modern adaptation of a rather misogynistic Shakespeare play, how the entire movie was shot without sets, and how the scene of Kat reading the poem was the first take. It’s interesting, of course, but you’re more captured by the way Hyunjin’s smile glints in the weak light filtered through the car windows.

The sky is dark when the credits roll and Hyunjin reaches for the steering wheel, almost too dark for you to see anything outside when you’re driving back to your house.

“So? How was it?”

“How was what?” you ask, moving your hands around vaguely. “The snacks? The movie? The date?”

“All of the above?” Hyunjin says hesitantly.

You answer immediately, “It was perfect. You knew that, though.”

“I didn’t really. I mean, I’ve never taken you on a date,” he muses. “And plenty of the people I’ve dated before weren’t even willing to watch a rom-com with me.”

“Then that’s their problem,” you say. “Anyone who isn’t willing to watch a rom-com with you is just an asshole, and I stand by that.”

Hyunjin smiles sweetly. You’re parked by the curb in front of your house at this point, so it’s slightly more easy to see the silhouette of your friend’s face. “That’s nice of you. I dunno though, I wouldn’t want to label everyone who doesn’t like romcoms as an asshole.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You shift a little bit to face him, pausing before you explain, “I think that if someone is so unwilling to try something that means so much to the person they like, then they don’t really like them.”

“I guess. You know, there’s another reason why I like romcoms so much.”

You don’t speak, waiting for Hyunjin to explain. And he does. “I think romcoms give me hope,” he nods. “Like… they make me think that anything’s possible, not just happy endings. Maybe the person who I don’t even have a chance with secretly likes me back, you know?”

“I can’t really imagine someone who wouldn’t like you if you liked them, but I think I get it,” you smile.

“At least you try. See you at school next week?”

“Come on, we both know that Binnie’s dragging all of us out to beat Chan’s ass at bowling,” you sigh, taking it as a sign to open your car door.

Before you make it completely outside, though, Hyunjin’s hand rests on your wrist. “Y/N, thanks for tonight.”

“Anytime,” you respond breathlessly, closing the door a little louder than you probably should.

You do mean it.

“Remind me again why we have to go prom outfit shopping together?”

Hyunjin pouts, peering in the window of yet another shop. His arm rests gently on your shoulder despite the way you jokingly pushed it off at the beginning of the day, but you really don’t mind. “Isn’t it cute to have matching prom outfits? We should be color-coordinated in some way.”

“I mean, sure… but isn’t online shopping just easier?” you ask, raising your eyebrow. “It’s the 21st century, Jin.”

“You’re so unromantic,” he groans, and finally pushes the door open to a thrift store to lead you inside.

You wrinkle your nose at the heavy smell of perfume that hits you as soon as you step inside. “And you watch too many movies. You’ve known me for almost four years, you aren’t going to have some magical moment where you realize you like me just because I put on a sparkly outfit of some kind.”

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll suddenly think that you love me when you see me in a tux,” Hyunjin grins.

You don’t respond to that, and he doesn’t push it, taking it as just another joke of his. Of course he doesn’t know about freshman year, and he definitely doesn’t know about how you still aren’t sure if that crush ever subsided. He shouldn’t know.

He’s too picky to pick something at the first store, you know, so you just follow him around as he flicks through things that are either too fitted or too loose, too patterned or too plain.

It takes three stores for him to finally something that he likes, and he appears from the dressing room with a gorgeous grin on his face. “What do you think?”

“It’s… good. I mean, you look good,” you clarify. Of course Hyunjin looks perfect in anything, but the dark navy jacket over the patterned button-down he was already wearing just seem like they were a combo meant for him.

He isn’t satisfied with your response, towering over you as you slump lower in the chair. “Just good?”

“Hot. Stunning, beautiful, sexy-- is that what you want to hear?” you respond sarcastically.

“That’s exactly it!”

Rolling your eyes, you pick up your things from the chair and say, “Then we’re done? Are you picking this one?”

“Yeah, but what about you?” Hyunjin asks. “Do you already have something, or are we going to get something? I’m still waiting for my kdrama moment, you know.”

You definitely don’t have something at home, but you don’t think you could bear being on the receiving end of the drama moment that your best friend so desperately wants. Something about having him suggest something for you to wear, reacting as dramatically as you know he will, just won’t allow your old feelings for him to sit still.

“I’m good. Let’s check out, and get some ice cream?” you offer to placate him.

Hyunjin grins and offers his arm to you again, practically skipping to the checkout. “Sounds perfect to me.”

“Y/N, what the hell do I wear on a date?”

“How should I know?” You sound listless, flicking through one of the mangas that one of Changbin’s friends left as his house.

“You literally went on a date with your freshman year crush last week and then picked a prom outfit with him,” your friend scowls, tossing a shirt at your face. It’s clean, thankfully, but you still chuck it back at him.

“In my defense, I forgot that it was a date,” you respond, “and shut up about the ‘freshman year crush’ thing. I never would’ve told you if I knew you would use it against me like this.”

Changbin throws yet another piece of clothing in your direction, narrowly missing your face, and you raise a pillow to threaten him with. “You got me into this mess with Felix in the first place, so I think it’s even.”

“It’s not a mess if it’s what you asked me to do,” you complain, “and besides, you wouldn’t stop talking about this date for the past week despite it literally just being something we do together all the time.”

“I like Felix, I don’t like you.”

“Then I’m leaving you to agonize over your collection of colorful track pants on your own,” you warn, and he subsequently shuts up. “There we go. Don’t wear one of those, by the way, even though Felix wouldn’t say a single thing about it.”

“How was the date, by the way? And the three-year-old feelings?” Changbin asks as he continues to dig in his closet.

You hesitate. “It was… nice? Hyunjin knows way too much about Julia Stiles, but he was super enthusiastic and the movie was pretty good. He got the good snacks, too.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he sighs.

“Then what did you mean, Mr. ‘I Love Lee Felix With My Whole Tiny Brain’?” you challenge.

Changbin doesn’t take the bait, unfortunately. “Jeongin told me about the whole plot you and Hyunjin have going on. Are you really dumb enough to think that you can get him to love you without falling for him again, and then leave him after it?”

There’s no way to respond to his question without making a complete fool out of yourself, and so, you simply don’t. Apparently in one of his more coherent moods, Changbin continues on, “I’d say that you watched too many movies, but I’ve seen you avoid Hyunjin’s movie nights. What the hell is going on with you?”

“I mean, have you seen the way he looks when he wants something?” you answer unintentionally. “Obviously you weren’t with us at the at the boba shop, but I’m serious. I couldn’t say no to him, especially when he’s heartbroken.”

“What does he look like?” Changbin asks.

You sigh, “He… his eyes get kind of shiny, almost like he’se about to cry but not really like that. And I don’t really know, he just looks like he’d be sad if you said no but wouldn’t talk about it, and that’s the part that makes you want to say ‘yes’.”

“It sounds to me like your three-year-long crush is still here, then,” your friend replies. “Because I have never felt that way about Hyunjin before, but I know what expression you’re talking about.”

Staring at him like he’s grown two heads, you realize that he’s wearing a jean jacket that shouldn’t have taken so much time to pick out. “That’s a stupid conclusion.”

Changbin shrugs and picks his phone up on his way out. “You can think about it as stupid if you want, but I’m usually not wrong about this. I’m going now, do you want a ride or something? You can stay here as long as you want, though.”

“I’ll walk home, it’s still noon,” you answer. You need to think, anyway.

He walks to the kitchen for a drink of water, he claims, but he picks up his phone on the way there, presumably to talk to Felix like the lovey-dovey fool he is. You wrinkle your noise and wander in the hallway, fully intending to bully Changbin about his crush as long as possible.

But his low voice, echoing from the kitchen, definitely doesn’t sound like flirting. When Changbin strides out, on a mission, it’s obvious that something is wrong. “We have to go,” he says. “Jeongin and Hyunjin got in an accident.”

Fear bubbles in your throat, and you yank the front door open harder than you could’ve thought possible. “What? How? When? Is it just the two of them? Are they okay?”

“Minho says that he doesn’t know yet, he’s driving there too. They aren’t calling the police, they’re apparently fine enough to get us,” Changbin says as he backs out of the driveway. “But we better get there as soon as we can.”

“Then drive,” you exhale sharply, slamming your seatbelt on as if it’ll stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

You leap out of the passenger’s side before the car even stops moving, finding Minho and Chan’s cars both parked at the side of the road behind the silver one that you remember to be Jeongin’s parents’. There’s a huddle of people there, Seungmin and Jisung parting so that you can make your way to the center.

To your relief, both your friends are okay; Hyunjin’s sitting on the trunk of the car, massaging his legs, and Jeongin’s definitely wincing a bit too much when he moves his neck. The car is dented, but not to the point of no repair.

Still, anger clouds your vision.

“What the hell’s wrong with the both of you?” you almost shout. “And what the fuck happened?”

Hyunjin starts, “Y/N, calm down. I was trying to teach Jeongin to drive, and we went a little off course--”

“Teaching him to drive, on the damn highway?” you question furiously. “You barely got your license three months ago, I get that you’re a good driver, but you aren’t a good enough driver for this! Whose idea was this?”

Jeongin timidly raises a hand, but Felix stops you from saying anything more. “Let’s all calm down, okay? Y/N, our friends are fine,” he says, low voice barely audible over the wind whipping around. “Everyone’s alive, which is the most important part here, and we can fix the car, which isn’t all that important. Let’s just focus on getting someone here to help, okay?”

“I’ve called my uncle to come and tow the car, we’re just going to get Hyunjin and Jeongin to the hospital, okay?” Seungmin reassures you. “Changbin’s car is too small, and you’re the better driver, so you and Hyunjin take it. Jeongin will come in Minho’s car with me, and we’ll meet you there.”

You nod stiffly and get into the driver’s seat first, pretending like you don’t notice how Chan pulls Hyunjin back to talk with him.

You shouldn’t have gotten angry; it doesn’t make sense to be angry at all. You should’ve been scared, worried, anything but angry, and so, you can only try to calm your breathing by the time Hyunjin sits next to you and Chan’s car sets off.

“Why are you so mad?” he asks quietly.

It’s the wrong thing to say; you turn your head to him, incredulous. “Why am I mad? You could have died, both of you could have died!”

“And? How many things have we all done together that could’ve ended with us in a ditch?” Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “Hell, you were the one who decided that it would be fun to jump from the roof into Seungmin’s pool last summer, what’s changed? I get it, it was stupid, but you’ve never been so mad about something like this before.”

You exhale, tapping your fingers on Changbin’s steering wheel as you follow your friends’ cars. “To be honest, I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

It’s completely silent after that, at least until you reach the emergency room.

Jeongin and Hyunjin are fine, thankfully; the youngest has twisted a muscle in his neck, but it’s nothing that can’t heal on its own, and Hyunjin’s knees are merely bruised. Jisung’s the one who tells you, the older two of your friend group apparently dealing with the parents of the injured.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” he asks, patting your arm. “You reacted a little… adversely earlier. Did you and Hyunjin have a fight?”

“Why is it always about me and Hyunjin?” you ask with narrowed eyes. “Can’t I be mad because they almost got themselves killed?”

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “You never get mad when we almost get ourselves killed, that’s Chan’s job. And you were basically yelling straight at Hyunjin, I’ve never seen the guy so scared.”

You exhale and sit back in the creaky hospital chair. You wish you could tell Jisung if there was something wrong, but you honestly don’t know what it is. “I don’t know. Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“You tell me, dude,” Jisung chuckles. “I think you should think about it. I mean, there’s barely two weeks until prom now, you barely have time to back out anymore.”

“Why would I back out?” you stare at him.

He pushes you to stand, and only says, “Think about it yourself. Okay?”

You don’t tap out, but only because you don’t get Hyunjin alone enough to do so.

After your little yelling fest at him, he obviously doesn’t want to just talk to you, despite how you publicly apologize to both him and Jeongin. You don’t sit together during movie night, you sit at opposite corners of your study table in the library.

Until Felix’s parents invite all of you over to take prom pictures, all you get is a stilted silence.

“You look nice,” he mumbles when the two of you get ushered together in a pair. Except for Felix and Changbin, all the others are by themselves, and you wonder why Hyunjin was so hellbent to get himself a prom date when almost everyone else didn’t bother.

He himself looks absolutely perfect, his hair styled to perfection and a slight pink glittering on his lips. The suit that you picked out together is paired with a patterned shirt that you’ve never seen before, and it perfectly matches your own hastily-purchased outfit. Hyunjin offers a flower to you, color-coordinated, and you hold it in one hand with the other on his arm. “Thanks. You too.”

“Okay, smile, everyone!” Felix’s mom grins behind the camera. “Couples, stand closer together a little bit!”

With a (rather convenient) nudge from Minho, Hyunjin’s hand slips onto your waist, and heat rises to the tops of your ears. Felix’s mother is pleased, though, and the photos carry on with the occasional hoots of laughter when Jisung smacks a kiss onto Seungmin’s cheek and gets clocked as a result.

Conversation is never stilted when you’re with your friends, so despite the silence between Hyunjin and you, there’s no awkwardness during the ride there. Silence only falls when it’s just the two of you standing together in the corner of the venue, all the others off to dance or raid the buffet table.

You decide to speak first. “Are you pissed at me for yelling at you? Because I said I was sorry, and I am.”

“I’m not pissed at you,” Hyunjin shakes his head.

“Well, you’re sure acting like it,” you snap. With a sigh, you end up apologizing again, “Sorry. I just… I know that the plot was mostly a joke, just to take your mind off of the heartbreak and stuff. I kind of messed it up.”

“You messed it up?” He stares at you.

“Well, yeah… I yelled at you, didn’t I?”

Hyunjin sighs, almost like he expected a different answer. “No, that didn’t mess anything up. I mean, I got what I wanted, anyway.”

“And what was that?”

“I fell in love with you.”

It’s your turn to watch him, completely shellshocked. The sparkling, multicolored lights of the venue bounce off him like an otherworldly glow, and his eyes sparkle even though he’s avoiding your gaze. Maybe all the people falling at his feet, you included, are onto something. “I mean, it’s not exactly what I wanted,” he blabbers. “I wanted to be in love without it hurting, and obviously that failed, but… I should’ve known that it wouldn’t even take three weeks for me to love you.”

“Hyunjin.”

Your best friend still doesn’t look up, so you just ask softly, “Why does it hurt?”

“You don’t like me back, of course it hurts,” Hyunjin frowns.

“Who said I didn’t like you back?”

He’s quiet, eyes flicking up to you like he thinks it’s Jisung pranking him or something. “Do you mean it?”

“We’re stupid, Hyunjin,” you laugh. “We’re so, so stupid. I had a crush on you since we met, for two whole-ass years.”

“Well, I liked you for almost four, so I think I beat you there,” he says. But there’s a relieved smile on his face, his eyes curving prettily as he reaches for your hand. “Then… do you want to dance?”

“No romcom shenanigans,” you warn, but you allow yourself to be tugged out to the dance floor next to your friends with a smile.

Hyunjin’s grin as you twirl him around under the burning neon lights suddenly makes it seem like everything will just... magically be okay. If you had just been a little more courageous (or a little less stupid), maybe you could’ve seen it earlier.

But good things come with time and patience. And with all the patience you’ve had, waiting for this to happen, the way you finally feel with him makes it all worth it.

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k-llama-llama · 3 years

Text

All Too Much

SuperM/WayV AU: 8th member (YinYin)

Before SuperM promotions begin, YinYin deals with her stress.

Word Count: 1100

A/N: Thank you all for your lovely messages as I’ve taken this month off. I’m still not committing to a regular schedule, but I’ll be active again! (Patreon will be back to normal in February)

Requests are Open…and your feedback is still super important to me.

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

YinYin ripped the page out of her notebook and crumpled it up, throwing it against the wall. She’d been trying to write her journal page to submit to her Korean tutor for two hours, but she wasn’t having any luck. She just knew that every single draft she’d done was riddled with mistakes, and no amount of consulting her workbooks or googling was helping her.

She was weeks away from her first Korean promotions for SuperM and she couldn’t even write a full paragraph in Korean without messing it up.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t speak Korean, she could hold a conversation with any of the boys without any trouble. The issue was, when she was with WayV or NCT they were almost all coming from the same boat, where they had to juggle different languages depending on who they were talking to. If she forgot a word, she could switch and someone would fill in the blanks.

But she couldn’t do that with SuperM, and she definitely couldn’t do that in interviews.

It didn’t matter how good she was at dancing or singing if she couldn’t even form a coherent sentence when it counted.

She threw her pen against the door, growling in frustration. She collapsed back on her bed, staring at the bunk above her. She’d affixed a pronunciation guide for the lyrics to one of their songs there, hoping that she would learn it in her sleep.

She groaned. It was literally impossible to escape her failure.

“You done?”

YinYin turned her head, watching as Lucas leaned his head over the side of the bunk bed and peered down at her. “What do you mean?”

“You’re throwing your failures all over our room.” He gestured to the growing piles of crumpled paper littering their floor. “So are you done?”

“Am I giving up, do you mean?” YinYin sighed. “Because the answer is yes. I’m a failure.”

“What exactly are you failing at?” His head disappeared, and she heard noises as he scrambled to climb down the bed.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” In an attempt to distract herself, she pulled one leg up to her head, stretching it out.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Lucas was standing next to her bed.

“Stop being a human pretzel and move over.” He shoved her, and she rolled closer to the wall to make room for him.

He flopped down beside her, staring up at the notes taped to the top of her bed. “You never stop, do you?”

“Nope.” She frowned. “We start filming for promotions in nine days and I’m nowhere near good enough.”

“At what? I thought you said you had all of the choreography down.”

“Of course I do.” She glared at him. “I mean Korean. And English, too.” She pointed at a sheet of English vocab words with her toe.

“You’re stressing about Korean?” He looked confused. “Why?”

“Because we have interviews to do, dumbass. And I can barely speak the language.”

“That’s not true. You’re good at Korean.”

“I’m good at Korean the way a tourist is good at Korean.” She sighed. “I can’t order food without planning out what I’m going to say.”

“So? Neither can I.” Lucas laughed. “No one cares, YinYin.”

“Sure, you don’t care. Your Korean and English is a lot better than mine. Besides you’re…urgh, nevermind.”

“I’m what?” He elbowed her.

“Nothing.”

“No, now you have to tell me.” He poked her side. “I’m what?”

YinYin rolled her eyes. “Not sure if you’re aware, but people treat tall, funny, handsome men a lot different than they treat tiny, awkward Chinese girls who are only good at bending.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

“I’m just conveying popular opinion, you’re not my style.”

“Still, you said I was handsome.” He smirked. “And seriously, Yin, I don’t think you need to worry about it. Any place where you get confused or stressed Ten or I can cover for you. Or Taeyong and Mark, they’ve both worked with you before too.”

“But what about the others.” She insisted. “I can’t expect them to be worrying about whether I can understand stuff.”

“They’re in your group now, of course it’s their job to worry about you.” Lucas argued. “And besides, I really don’t think it’s going to be that big of a problem.”

“You don’t get it.” She covered her eyes with her arm, trying to block out the stress.

“And I’m not going to get it unless you tell me.” He nudged her again. “Come on, best friend, spill.”

“Just…” She searched for the right words. “Thinking about getting on stage in front of all those people and not…not being able to speak and them all staring…it’s just…”

“Hey, hey.” Lucas pulled her arm away from her face. “Stop freaking out.”

“Thanks, Lucas, that’s a huge help. Why didn’t I think of that before?” She glared at him, fully aware that her eyes were welling up with tears.

“Yin, it’s not worth your stress.” He promised, rubbing her shoulder.

“I’m going to embarrass the whole group.” She said quietly.

“No, you’re not.” Lucas sighed, before pulling her into a hug. She pressed her face into his shoulder, trying to hide the fact that she was obviously close to crying. “If everyone is staring, it’s going to be because they can’t believe you’re out-dancing Taemin.”

“I can’t outdance Taemin.” She said quietly.

“You can outdance anyone.” He promised, patting her hair. “And I promise that no one is going to stare or laugh or care if you mispronounce something. You speak more languages than anyone in the audience anyways.”

YinYin let out a shuddering breath, and didn’t say anything.

Lucas just squeezed her a bit tighter. “You’re really stressed, aren’t you?”

“I feel like crying.” She said, answering his question.

“Go ahead. I won’t tell anyone.”

“You won’t?”

“Of course not.” She could practically feel him smile as he considered his next words. “I mean…I’ll make fun of you for the rest of our lives, but it’ll be our little secret.”

YinYin let out a little laugh. “You’re the worst.”

“But you love me.” He grinned as she pulled her face away from his shoulder to look up at him. “Better?”

“Slightly.” She leaned into his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He looked up at her study notes again. “So this is actually depressing. Do you want to go get ice cream or something?”

She gave him a knowing look.

“Fine.” He relented. “We can get frozen yogurt.”

YinYin smiled. “If I can’t speak Korean, at least I’ll have nice abs.”

“But will you ever truly be happy without eating ice cream?

#superm #nct #nct imagines #wayv #wayv imagines #superm imagines #nct au #wayv au #superm au #requests open #au #kpop #imagines #imagine #kpop au #kpop imagines #female kpop #female!kpop

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

On the run

Authors note - this is a series of closly related one shots hence tagged as soft!reader. This is for Ambers challenge! Hope you like it! This is like there was only one room instead of there was only one bed.

Please do not steal or repost my works on any other site. Reblogs are welcome.

Run through - You have to go on the run with your husband and share a room with Bucky.

Warnings - smut, daddy kink, voyeurism (fucking right next to Bucky lol), cockwarming, angst

Pairing - Steve Rogers x soft!reader

Word count - 3.3k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You paced back and forth in your living room. It wasn’t exactly yours but it had been your home for the past four years. Your floor to ceiling windows gave you an extensive and broad view of new York City. You were on the highest floor of the tower, it made the huge city seem so city. Usually the lights soothed you whenever you were anxious. But you weren’t sure if you had ever been so scared. Scared for your husbands life, scared for your future.

Steve had broke the law. Your Steve, the Captain America. It was so ironic. He was declared a terrorist and a wanted man. You felt as if this was a fever dream. Never in a million years did you think something like this would happen.

From what you knew Steve refused to sign the accords. Which you understood, he had his reasons and they were completely valid. You hoped the team would work it out amongst themselves and come to a compromise somehow. But from the looks of it, that will never happen. No one really asked for your opinion. Even if you were like family to them, at the end of the day you were a simple accountant turned stay at home wife. A job you had to give up to be with your Steve. When it got too dangerous for you to go out in the world. You hoped maybe just maybe, Steve would do the same for you. He talked of retiring, becoming a high school professor or working on his art. And like an idiot you let yourself indulge in that fantasy and got sweeped away.

Your life wasn’t bad by any means, in fact it was too perfect. Your friends were often envious of your perfect marriage and your dutiful husband. But you wanted more for Steve. You wanted him to slow down a bit, enjoy life, to not wake up screaming in the middle of the night in a pool of his own sweat and tears. You loved all of him, but you loved him the most when he was happy. Being an Avenger took a huge toll on him. You just wanted him to be happy.

You were being ‘escorted’ to the interrogation room. You had only been there once, to see Steve. You never thought you would be the one being interrogated.

You couldn’t help but feel resentful. You were in this grey room, under the harsh fluorescent lights, being asked all sort of intrusive questions as if you were a criminal, because of him. You gave up everything for him. You completely gave yourself to him. You didn’t have much left.

“Are you sure?” The man in the black suit asked again.

“Yes I’m sure! I think I would remember if my husband contacted me” you snapped.

“Alright. Please calm down ma'am” He said and you rolled your eyes at his patronising tone “You can leave for now but you’re not allowed to leave the premises. Let us know as soon as Rogers contacts you. If you don’t you will be an accomplice to his crimes”

His words echoed in your head on the way to ‘your' apartment. You sat back on your couch ready to drown your worries and your sorrows in some wine. The portrait Steve painted of you in a short white sundress, playing with some birds like a Disney Princess, hung on your wall almost taunting you. It was all superficial wasn’t it?

All the gifts he gave you, all the sketches he made of you. Every time he held the door open for you or tenderly made love to you, looking into your eyes and staring deep into your soul. Did all of that really matter? If he didn’t consider you or your relationship while doing something as brash as – you didn’t even know what he did. His duty won over his love for you. It always would.

You should’ve known. Your mother warned you. Told you you’re not the kind of person that would be fine with being the second or even fifth priority. Too possessive, too loving. People like you only ever get their hearts broken.

What did the future hold for you? You knew Steve, or at least you thought you did. You knew he wouldn’t help a war criminal. A terrorist. Sure said terrorist was Steve’s friend, but Steve was the kind of person that held others accountable. But at the end of the day Steve was just a human and a softie. You could see him being so loyal and going till the end of the line for his buddy.

You hummed as you felt a hand caressing your cheek. The feeling of his calloused fingers felt so familiar. It was a nice dream, an escape from this dystopian reality. You’d like to live in it forever but then your eyes snapped open as you heard him call out your name.

You sat up quickly sat up straight “Steve” you blurted out as you looked at your husband. In a dark blue, red, and white which was dirty enough to be black, suit. His short blond hair a bit frizzy, his left cheek blue and purple, unlike the neat and tidy look he usually sports. You looked into his eyes, which looked so tired and exhausted.

“We have to get out of here right now” He said gravely. But then his face softened. “It’s not safe here for you doll. I can’t leave you here, where I won’t be able to protect you” he said cupping your face with his hands.

You should have asked him a million questions. If what they were saying was true. Did he really help a terrorist? Attack his friends, whom you considered your family. But you didn’t. You simply crashed your lips upon his, taking his breathe away. It was soft, sweet but needy. Just like most of your reunion kisses. “I’ll follow you anywhere Steve” You said pulling away and looking into his sky blue eyes.

He gave your forehead a soft kiss before pulling you up. Telling you to collect your things as quickly as you can. You changed into a pair of jeans and sweatshirt, packing a few more t-shirts and pants.

“Hurry up doll we don’t have long” he urged you.

You made your way out of the apartment. You were walking to the elevator thinking you would be going down on it. “No, y/n we have to take the stairs. Come on” he took your hand.

He lead you to the emergency exit, one you didn’t even know existed. He was always good at reading and remembering maps. You smiled thinking of the time he easily got you both out of a very complicated Halloween maze.

“Steve why are we going upstairs?” You asked panting and trying your best to keep up with his face. You weren’t blessed with the super serum, you weren’t a huge fan of working out either.

“We have to take the jet and leave the country” He said rubbing your back. After a few seconds he hauled you over his shoulder “Hold on” He said sprinting up the stairs.

“Wouldn’t they notice us leaving in a literal quinjet?” You asked “What happens if you get caught Steve? What will they do to you?”

“Don’t worry about that right now” You wanted to laugh. Not worry? You were literally fleeing the country. How could you not worry.

You finally made it to the terrace, shivering in Steves hold against the chilly air Steve set you down in the jet. Before working on the kinks to get it started.

Surprisingly you made it out without anyone following you but you held your breathe. Not letting your guard down until you knew you were completely safe. As soon as you were in the air Steve put the jet on stealth mode. Finally letting his back rest against his chair and letting out a deep sigh.

“Steve” you couldn’t help the quiver in your voice trying your best to hold in your tears. “what is going on? Is it true? What they were saying?”

“What were they saying?” he said quirking a brow at you.

“That you helped a terrorist and you’re like a... war criminal now” you struggled to get the words out. Uncomfortable to even think such a thing could happen.

“You really think I could do something like that” He rested his elbows on the arms of his seat staring you down.

“I don’t. That’s why I’m here. But I have a right to know what happened”

His brows remained furrowed, as if he didn’t believe you. You had no idea how he managed to turn the whole conversation around and put you on the spot. “It’s Bucky” He said, his hard face softening.

Bucky, his best friend. Steve had carried the guilt of his death on his shoulders for years. Which only got worse when he found out that Bucky was indeed alive, being used as a weapon by hydra. “They tried to frame him. He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s been suffering for years”

You briskly got up from your seat as you saw the tears escape his eyes. You were selfish. Only caring about how this whole ordeal was affecting you. You couldn’t even imagine what Steve must have gone through. You sat on his lap, hugging him close to you as he held onto you so tightly, as if you would disappear if he didn’t. “Promise me you’ll never leave me” he choked out against the crook of your neck.

You ran your fingers through his hair lightly scratching his head with your nails, in the way you knew he liked. “I would never leave you Steve. I promise”

Over five hours later you made it to Moldova. A small country in eastern Europe. Steve hid the jet, saying he would need it later, since he had to come up with a plan to rescue your friends. Which would be much harder than rescuing you, they were in a maximum security prison, in the middle of a freaking ocean.

You tried your best to not think about that when you were on your way to a motel. You were nervous to meet Bucky, who Steve said would be there with you. You had never met any of Steve’s family. Since well they were dead. Back when you started dating he wasn’t really friends with his coworkers, so you never really received ‘the shovel talk' from them.

This was nerve wracking. What if he thought you weren’t worthy of Steve? Bucky was the only link to Steve’s past, his oldest friend, surely his opinion would mean the world to Steve.

“Hey it’ll be okay” Steve said squeezing your thigh from the drivers seat, something he liked to do whenever you both drove together. “I would never let anything happen to you. You know that right?” He looked at you before looking back at the icy roads.

“It’s not that. I know you’ll keep me safe Stevie. If nothing else I believe in that” You said as he gave you a small smile “this is all just overwhelming you know? I mean would we ever get to go back?” You asked although you knew neither of you knew the answer. “and then there’s Bucky”

“What about Bucky?” he asked.

“What if... he doesn’t like me? I know it’s silly!” You whined before he could make a snarky comment “We have other things to worry about and whatever but I want to make a good impression. Is there something I should remember not to do? Or to do?” You scrunched your nose at your strange question and this stranger reality. Where you get to meet your husbands best friend at the worst timing.

“Uh...” He contemplated your words for a minute “Well don’t hug him. I know you like to do that” he let out a laugh at just how sweet and likeable you are and how Bucky would love you the second he lays his eyes on you “Don’t worry sweetheart. Bucky’s the last thing you have to worry about. You wouldn’t have to even try to get him to like you”

You finally parked at the motel. Ever the gentleman, Steve held the door open for you holding your hand as you made your way up the shaky stairs. Steve knocked three times on the door before the tall brunette whom you recognised as Bucky from all his old pictures opened the door. He let you both in. You took off your coat the room wasn’t as warm as you’d like but it was definitely better than the harsh cold outside.

You watched as Steve embraced Bucky in a hug asking him how he was doing. You tried not to let your gaze linger too long on him, but you couldn’t help but admire him. He was a few inches shorter than Steve, but he had the same alert soldiery stance as Steve and the similar Brooklyn accent. Not to mention he was one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. He definitely looked more aged and somehow different than in the photos.

Steve introduced you “This is my wife” He said and Bucky gave you a small smile.

“This punk couldn’t stop talking about you” He said grabbing Steve by the back of his neck.

You were happy to see that even if they both had changed over time, their friendship and bond remained the same. “Good things I hope” You playfully squint your eyes at Steve.

“I’d never say anything bad about you doll” He walked towards you kissing your forehead and putting the backpack you packed on the bed. “You must be tired, you wanna go to bed?” He sat down on the bed cracking his neck, the stress of the last few days getting to him.

You finally had a chance to look around the room. It was what you’d expect from a shady motel. White floors which were now almost yellow, torn wallpaper and an old television. But then you looked at the twin beds. Looks like you’ll have to share one with Steve. You hoped he would be able to get proper sleep, with how tired he looked he really needed it. “I’m tired?” you teased him.

After freshening up and changing into your night clothes, you settled on the bed, sighing in relief as your sore back touched the hard mattress. Out of the corner of your eye you caught a glimpse of Bucky settling in on his bed beside you and his metal hand peeking out of his long sleeved shirt. You wondered what it looked it, did it hurt him? How was he able to move it so naturally as if it’s a part of his body? You really had to bite your tongue to not let your curiosity get the best of you.

“This will have to do for tonight sweetheart” Steve said spooning you from behind and pulling you into him. You sighed out as you felt his bare and warm chest through your tank top. You wouldn’t have to worry about being chilly. Bucky turned to lay on his side away from the both of you.

You hummed as Steve snaked a hand past your tank top and resting it on your soft tummy. Drawing small random patterns on it. Bucky turned off the lights, it wasn’t completely dark, there was plenty of moonlight coming through the window. You insisted on helping Steve out of his steath suit, so you could check in on his wounds and treat them, it was a post mission ritual for you both. But Steve refused to let you in as he changed in the bathroom alone. You feared that his wounds were worse than he was letting on.

“I missed you princess” he whispered in your hair, snapping out of your thoughts. “did you miss me?”

Bucky was snoring and seemed to be in a deep slumber but just to be safe you kept your voice low “I did” You said wiggling your ass against his crotch. You weren’t surprised to find his pretty hard erection there.

“Yeah?” He smirked ghosting his fingers at the elastic of your shorts “how much” before he could dip his fingers your hands stopped him

“Not now” you whispered harshly “Bucky is sleeping right there” you scolded. How he could even think about sex right now you had no idea. You would be mortified if you Bucky woke up to find you both in the middle of it.

“We’ll just be quiet” He said slipping his fingers past your shorts and panties and between your thighs. You wanted to stop him. You really did. But you realised just how much you missed him when he brushed his fingers against your warm folds.

“I can’t be quiet! You know that” You whined as he dipped his finger in your heat. You had no idea what had gotten into him. He loved making you moan, scream and cry. Did he want Bucky to hear you both make love? Steve was more perverted than he let on but this was something even you didn’t know.

“You will try for me won’t you?” He rolled your clit between his fingers and kissed your temple to sooth your thrashing “don’t you wanna be a good girl for me? Hm?” he asked driving three of his fingers inside of you to warm you up.

You should be embarrassed at the sinful noises that your cunt was making, you could hear them clearly since you had to be quiet. But you weren’t. In the moment you just needed to cum. “I wanna cum daddy please” Your voice muffled against the pillow you had pushed your face into to drown out your moans.

“Then cum doll” he said thrusting his fingers into you with purpose.

“I wanna cum on your cock daddy” He groaned at that.

Pulling his fingers out of you. He pulled your panties and your shorts down, bringing the blankets up to your neck “You comfy princess?” You nodded. He pulled his cock out of his sweats nudging it between your buttcheeks. He pulled your bare leg placing it over his hip and holding it there as he slowly pushed into you. He pushed his other hand under you to hold onto and fondle your breasts.

In any other situation this position would be uncomfortable but right now you felt as warm and safe to be surrounded by him. You didn’t feel the need to cum anymore, content with the warmth and the weight of his cock inside you. His steady breathing and heart beat lulling you to sleep.

He didn’t like that. He snapped his hips and pushed his cock deeper inside you. “Don’t fall asleep on me now princess” He warned as he slowly fucked into you.

You dug your nails into his hand which was squeezing your breast as you tried your best to contain your moans. You let out a mewl as Steve stroked your clit while making slow love to you. You were tipped over the edge, cuming hard around his cock and on his fingers.

“Shit” He said as the pace of his thrusts increased “you’re so tight doll. So snug” He bit your ear to keep from groaning out loud. He was about to pull out of you, to clean you up with a washcloth. He wouldn’t trust the towels the hotels provided but he did see you pack a couple, he could use those.

But you tightened the grip of your leg on his hip, forcing him to stay in place. You looked over your shoulder and he could barely make out your pout in the dim light “Stay inside please. Keep me warm” You requested. He had never been good at saying no to you.

So he pecked your lips and chose to forget about the myriad of problems facing him and all of you. At least for now.

Tags will be in the reblogs! If you want to join my taglist click the link in the bio or leave me an ask!

I am sorry about the shitton of nicknames. I just like sweet nicknames ok🥺🥺

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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

Text

[ traffic jams ]

pairing: suna rintarou x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k words

contains: ‘timestamps’ in a way, some shenanigans to pass the time, slightly awkward!suna, a bit too many ratatouille references, friendship with mutual crushing

a/n: i lowkey miss the traffic jams going home and one thing that struck me when reading suna’s bio on the wiki was that he doesn’t actually live near inarizaki so i thought it would be cute to have like a suna x reader commute fic

>> 5:45 pm:

you sigh for what was probably the fifth time that hour as you stare at the road map on your phone. the highway you were currently on was marked with red, indicating a traffic jam that stretched for kilometers. ‘estimated travel time: 4 hours’ the top of your phone screen read.

‘great, and it’s a friday night on top of that.’ you rub the side of your temple and stare out the window of the bus. you already knew what going to inarizaki, a high school all the way out in hyogo, while you were currently living in tokyo meant when it came to travel time. you often had to wake up early and get home late with the long travel time to school and back. most days, it was manageable and a one hour commute meant a good day. however, there were days when a storm was raging outside, delaying the train and bus schedules, and road accidents that led to the kind of situation you were currently in.

after leaving at five pm, you spent the past hour doing some homework in the bus and now you were fresh out of things to do. you’re also avoiding using your phone too much and draining your battery. right before you’re about to put on your earphones, your bus seatmate stirs awake.

aside from you, there is one other student who also commutes all the way to school from aichi, the prefecture where you live: suna rintarou. you know him as one of the regulars in the volleyball team and that he’s in the same year as you. neither of you ever really interacted much but took the same bus to and from school. sometimes you’d greet each other good morning and recently had this silent agreement to sit next to each other.

you watch as suna blinks sleepily before glancing out the window beside you. “where are we?” he mumbles.

“still in hyogo. it’s been an hour,” you answer.

“damn, really?” suna groans when he realizes just how terrible the traffic is outside. “and it’s a friday too.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle mirthlessly. “also, estimated travel time is four hours so there go my exciting friday plans,” you add sarcastically.

“sorry you have to spend them with me,” suna smirks at you. your stomach flutters and you smile nervously. despite not knowing him too well, you couldn’t help but find him quite attractive. in fact, the reason why you got up early in the morning and tried to leave school at the same time as him was because you enjoyed your daily commutes with suna so much. even more so when you two started sitting next to each other.

“well, i don’t think that would be too bad,” you clear your throat. “we could play ‘i spy’ for four more hours.”

“or,” suna grins, leaning down and opening his backpack before pulling out his laptop. you chuckle and pull out your earphones. “we could watch ratatouille.”

“of all the things to pirate. you really chose ratatouille?”

“fuck disney, am i right?” suna smirks.

“fuck disney.”

>> 7:46 pm

“good on you for making sure that your laptop was fully charged before leaving school,” you say, stretching your arms a bit as soon as the credits roll.

“hmm, yeah,” suna sighs and leans his head back. “though, i think i made the wrong decision.”

“how come?”

suna crosses his arms over his stomach and squeezes his eyes shut. “because we watched ratatouille, i’m hungry now.”

“oh...” you nod your head, just as you feel a rumble in your stomach. “oh,” you repeat.

“yeah,” suna groans. “do you have any food on you?”

“i have...” you rustled through your backpack before procuring “a bag of peanuts.”

“hmm, that’ll have to do,” suna said, plucking the packet out of your hand. “say, one nut each per two minutes? just to ration it out?”

you sigh. “it’s going to be a long night.”

>> 8:10 pm

“there it is, the last two nuts,” suna says gazing at the two peanuts in the palm of his hand before offering one of them to you.

“i really, really thought they would last longer,” you sigh.

“they would have if you kept them for yourself,” suna raises his eyebrows.

“i’m too nice for that,” you giggle. “besides, i’d feel too guilty seeing you all hungry.”

“and i might guilt-trip you just a little bit,” suna says. “like, toss you mournful looks and everything.”

“no! not the mournful looks,” you cry and the two of you burst out laughing. you lift your peanut towards him. “toast?”

“toast,” suna snickers. you toast your peanuts before popping them into your mouth. you’re both still far from home.

>> 8:30 pm

“i spy with my little eye... something red and blinking.”

“oh my god, it’s another car taillight isn’t it?”

“... it is,” suna admits, blinking lazily out the window. “i mean, it’s all taillights out there. anyway, your turn.” he nudges your arm with his elbow.

“i spy with my little eye... “ you blink and yawn. “some really tired passengers.”

“i’m looking at one right now,” suna snickers at you.

you two share a glance before simultaneously sighing.

“i want to be home,” you say. you don’t even have to look at suna to know he’s nodding in agreement.

>> 9:00 pm

“chicken nuggets.”

“suna, please stop,” you groan.

“it’s all i can think of,” suna shakes his head. the two of you are staring up at the ceiling of bus, trying and failing to forget your hunger. “when we get out of here, i’m going to the first fast-food restaurant i see and ordering chicken nuggets. also ice cream from the convenience store. you know, the soft-serve one in the cone.”

“yeah, you only mentioned that five times for the past hour,” you roll your eyes.

“how bout you? what’s the first thing you’re getting when we finally get to the stop?” suna nudges your ribs. you close your eyes, knowing that nothing good will come out of talking about food. but then again, not thinking about it wasn’t going to make you any less hungrier either.

“strawberry yogurt drink,” you answer. “i want that strawberry yogurt drink that they always have in convenience stores?”

“oh that one,” suna hums. “you’re literally the only person i know who likes that.”

“which is great because the vending machines never run out of them,” you add. “you what else i want?” you ask after a beat of silence.

“what?”

“that mushroom remy cooked in the beginning of the movie,” you giggle. suna shakes his head as a smile blooms on his face. now that you think about it, you’ve never really seen that kind of goofy smile on him before.

>> 9:30 pm

suna wakes up for the second time during that bus ride after a short nap. it doesn’t surprise at all that he’s still in the bus. what does, though, is seeing you fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. you must have accidentally leaned on him while you two drifted off to sleep but suna was far from annoyed.

he was never really one to approach random people to strike up a conversation, but he always enjoyed seeing you, wearing the same uniform as him, waiting at the same bus stop he took every morning. unlike suna, you were way more productive during your daily commutes by doing your homework in the bus. once or twice, he’d glance at your pretty handwriting or pick up your pencil after you accidentally dropped it.

suna noticed that sometimes, you’d pack cereal in ziploc bags to eat for breakfast. that it would take you less than five minutes to fall asleep in the bus when there are exams. that you rotated between the same five hairclips throughout the week.

the sound of the bus engine coming to a stop and passengers abruptly standing up brings suna out of his thoughts. with a start, he realizes that you’re both finally at the bus stop in your hometown.

“y/n. wake up,” suna nudges you softly. he only gets to appreciate your sleepy face for a few seconds before breaking the good news. “we’re home.”

“we are?” you wake up instantly at that and look out the window. “oh my god, we are!” you squeal. suna grins as the two of you quickly pick up your bags and leave the bus.

“okay so the nearest fast-food place is the one a few blocks away from here,” suna says as the two of you leave the bus. god, he’s starving. he can already taste the chicken nuggets.

“eat a whole bunch of them for me,” you laugh. suna stops and looks at you.

“i...” suna realizes with a hint of embarrassment that he was under the assumption you two would be going together. “if... if you’re hungry too you can come, if you want.”

“oh.” there’s genuine surprise in your voice and suna feels a bit of relief. “i... i thought.”

“of course you don’t have to if you really need to head home.”

“it’s not that i just, rarely ever get invited to things,” you chuckle and hook your thumbs into the straps of your backpack. “so... shall we go?”

suna feels the corner of his lip turn up in a smile. “chicken nuggets are on me.”

>> monday, 6:00 am:

you sprint to the bus stop as fast as your legs could carry you. rarely were you ever late for your bus, especially with how quickly you went through your morning routine. but this time, your sibling hogged the bathroom for five minutes too long, thus leading you to your current predicament.

the bus is thankfully still there when you reach the stop and you don’t hesitate before flinging yourself inside, only to be greeted with the seats full of passengers. ‘damn,’ you mentally curse. the next bus doesn’t arrive until twenty minutes later and you were surely going to come in to class late and--

“y/n.”

you hear suna’s voice call out to your right. he lifts his bacpack off the seat beside him and gestures for you to sit.

he had saved a seat for you.

“thank you so much,” you smile gratefully and slide into the seat while catching your breath.

“sure thing, busmate,” suna smirks at you. “i, ah, also got you this.” he reaches into his backpack before handing you something. it’s a carton of your favorite strawberry-yogurt drink.

you have to press your lips together to keep the giddy smile off your face as you accept it from suna. “thanks... busmate.”

“so,” suna clears his throat. “i was thinking of what movies to pirate next in the event of another friday traffic jam. you got any ideas?”

“hmm, let me think...”

maybe traffic jams weren’t going to be so bad after all.

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kinglazrus · 3 years

Text

Until Death Do We Part

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

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

(links to ffn and ao3 on my bio)

Warnings: gore and blood, panic attacks, murder

Word count: 24011

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because Danny Phantom killed Valerie Gray.

—

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

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

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

Danny stares at the offering blankly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're the Fenton boy, right?"

"One and only, last I checked."

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

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

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

"I didn't find her."

Vaughan raises an eyebrow. "But dispatch said–"

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

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

"Yeah," he says.

"Was that your jacket on her?"

Danny nods.

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

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

Vaughan nudges Danny. "Marty incoming."

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

"Daniel Fenton?" Marty asks.

"No."

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

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

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

"Have some compassion you heathen."

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

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

Marty taps his foot impatiently, staring down at Danny.

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

—

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

"Name?" Marty asks.

"Daniel James Fenton." Danny answers.

"How did you find the deceased?"

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

"Can you describe what happened to me?"

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

"Are you confirming the deceased's identity?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny nods.

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

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

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

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

"A high school senior? Damn."

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

"Where's our son?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Valerie's dead," Danny says.

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

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

"There was a ghost–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not everyone is cut out to be the hero.

Turns out, Spectra was right all along.

—

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jealous?" a voice whispers in his ear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

All the while, the voice taunts him.

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

"I'm not weak!"

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

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

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

"Pathetic."

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

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

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

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

—

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

It was just a dream.

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

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

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

"Hey, Sam," he says.

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

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

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

"Oh."

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

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

"Okay, it's on speaker."

"Hey, Danny," Tucker says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They don't. A light knock comes.

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

He doesn't answer.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

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

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

They could have stopped it.

They could have stopped him.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The shadow quivers.

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

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

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

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

The shadow drifts closer.

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

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

"Jazz!" he shouts quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you ghost sense go off?"

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

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

"Danny, you're distraught."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Danny!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grimaces. "Do we?"

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

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

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

Danny's eyes narrow. "Unhealthy?"

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

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

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

"It hasn't even been two days!"

Jazz flinches away from his shout.

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

"Danny, don't be like this."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tucker!" Sam slaps his hands down.

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head, perhaps a little too aggressively.

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

"Fuck what Jazz says."

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

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

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

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

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

An hour was very generous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you hear–"

"–found her–"

"Totally gutted."

"–the Red Huntress all along."

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

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

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

"You're here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I–I'm, I'm not okay," Danny says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Danny glares at him.

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

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

"Yeah?" Tucker smiles.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's being serious, Danny realizes.

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

"Farewell, weirdo!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you even hear what I said?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want to go home," he says.

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

"It'll get better," Jack says.

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

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

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

Eyes downcast, Danny shrugs.

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

"And until then?" Danny presses.

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

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

—

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

—

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

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

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

"How do you know?"

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

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

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

"I did."

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

Danny squeezes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was in bed," he says.

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

"It's still clean."

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

"Then don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You can't be serious!"

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

| You I can talk now. I'm omw

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who?"

"Never mind."

"You were there for her."

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

"Thank you."

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

"I'm sorry?"

"You shouldn't thank me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Gray?" Danny asks.

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

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

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

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

"She hated you, too."

Danny nods.

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

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

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

—

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

"Hello, Danny."

"What would you do?"

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

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

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

"Okay. I'm sorry, happy?"

"No."

"Why not? I apologized."

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

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

"Valerie is haunting me," Danny says.

"What?"

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

"Weird how?"

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

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

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

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

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

"So you're not denying it?"

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"Are you going to apologize?"

Danny doesn't answer.

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

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

"I shouldn't have called."

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

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

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

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

"You should."

"It's fine."

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

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

"Danny, I'm sorry. Please don't–"

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

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

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

The room grows colder.

—

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

"I know," she says.

"Were you listening?"

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

"And?"

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

"Danny?"

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

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

"Tucker called me a couple of minutes ago."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This is clean. Relatively."

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not much better."

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

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

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

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

Hugging himself, he readies for the long march down the steps to the front of the room, the only place with ample seating far from anyone else. He gives the back rows one last, hopeful glance. Nearly everyone is settled, friends hunched together, trading whispers or staring at their phones, although one figure off to the left is standing. And waving their arms.

"Danny!"

And calling his name?

The dim lighting makes it hard to see, forcing Danny to squint and shuffle closer, until he finally recognizes Sam. Tucker sits to her left, a single space between them, and their backpacks occupy the seats on either side of them, creating a thin barrier between them and the next students.

Tension bleeds out of Danny's shoulders. Without a second thought, he squeezes his way down the row, using his intangibility more than once to slip through long legs and jutting knees. A few people grumble their annoyance, but otherwise, no one calls him on it.

"Jazz texted and said you were coming," Sam says when Danny's close enough.

"I didn't want to miss it." Danny slips by Sam, claiming the middle seat. "Tucker?"

Tucker only spares him a glance before looking forward again.

"Thanks for letting me know. And... sorry. About yesterday."

For one stubborn moment, Tucker says nothing, and Danny thinks it's too late, he ruined their friendship. But then Tucker beams and grabs Danny, yanking him close.

"Dude, I'm so sorry. I was a dick, too. I'm glad you came."

Danny returns the hug, wrapping his arms around Tucker's shoulders and squeezing tight. It feels good, warm. Even if it doesn't erase anything from the past few days, it's still nice to hug his best friend.

"Oh, what the hell," Sam says. She flops onto Danny's back, draping her arms around him and Tucker. "Thanks for not shutting us out, Danny."

Just like that, the good feeling vanishes. The way Sam talks, it sounds like she thinks he's going to talk now, about everything. Everyone says he should, but after his parents, he's not so sure it will go well.

"Uh, yeah. Glad to be back," Danny says. It's only a partial lie.

They separate soon enough, settling into their seats just in time for Principal Ishiyama to walk on stage. As Ishiyama approaches the podium, the auditorium falls silent. Not that there had been much noise in the first place. A few muttering voices. Whispers here and there. It seems the whole school agrees now isn't a time for idle chatter.

"Students." Ishiyama's voice echoes from the speakers. "As I'm sure you know, we've experienced a great tragedy this last week. Valerie Gray, one of your classmates, maybe even your friend, died in a ghost attack. Despite dealing with ghosts for years, we've never lost someone to them before, and her passing came as a great shock.

"None of us knew, but Ms. Gray was a hero. Only now, after her death, have we learned about how much she did for us. She put her life on the line every day to keep the city safe, fighting valiantly for us. Today, we would like to honour that with a moment of silence, and a few words from her friends."

Ishiyama bows her head, signalling the start of the silence. Around the room, a decent number of students follow her lead, but even more sink down into their seats, as if they're settling in for a nap. Danny's glare hardens when he sees this, thinking of the freshmen from before. How many people in this room actually knew Valerie? How many are mourning the Red Huntress rather than the girl behind the helmet?

He thought coming to the memorial might make him feel, well, not better, but less bad. A little closer to okay. Instead, looking out over the gathered students, his stomach twists. This is a free pass out of class for most of them. They don't care, don't know, and they don't want to. Danny seethes, grinding his teeth as hot anger builds inside him.

Ishiyama breaks the silence before he can boil over. "Thank you. Before the first student comes up here, I'd like to remind everyone that a grief counsellor will be on the premises during school hours for the next week. If you need someone to talk to, he will be here. Your teachers will be here. Valerie was a bright girl and a friend to us all. Her death is a tragedy, and it has affected many of you in different ways. Don't be afraid to seek help when you need it."

Sam nudges Danny at Ishiyama's last word, shooting him a small smile. He can't return it.

Below, Star makes her way on stage, replacing Ishiyama at the podium. Danny immediately tunes her out when she starts speaking. The longer he's here, the more he realizes this is a waste of time and he shouldn't have come at all. He grips his armrests, squeezing the hard plastic as a distraction. It doesn't help as well as he hoped. He takes to scanning the room, dragging his gaze up and down the aisles, catching every sign of disrespect. A kid on his phone. Friends with their heads pressed together, talking softly. A dark silhouette standing halfway up the stairs.

The armrests crack in Danny's grip.

"Whoa, Danny. Are you okay?" Sam asks.

Danny barely hears her, all his attention on the ghost. Valerie's ghost. It looks more like a shadow than ever, with well-defined edges a strong, humanoid figure. He can almost see Valerie in it. But it still doesn't set off his ghost sense, not properly. A pinprick of cold pierces the heat in his chest, spreading quickly. Goosebumps raise along his arms and his breath carries the faintest trace of fog.

"Hey, uh, Danny? Can you maybe stop making it cold?" Sam whispers.

"It's not me," he says.

"Dude, I don't see anyone else with ice powers here," Tucker says.

Danny risks looking away, shooting Tucker an incredulous look, and points toward the aisle. "You don't see it?"

Tucker leans forward, following Danny's finger. "No, man. See what?"

Danny looks back and nearly jumps out of the seat. She's closer, further up the staircase, standing at the end of their aisle. The numbing cold has spread through his entire body by now. He can barely feel his fingers. His teeth chatter.

The shadow leaps forward.

Danny shoots to his feet, crying out in surprise. Heads whip toward him, but he barely registers them. The shadow leaps again. Danny bolts. He books it down the row, kicking a few knees, nearly tripping several times. Indignant shouts and raised voices follow him as he bursts out of the auditorium. He doesn't check over his shoulder, just keeps running. The cold seeps through his bones, sinks into his core. He feels himself sinking deeper and deeper into an icy abyss.

Moving on instinct, he dashes through the halls until he reaches the locker room. He dives into a shower stall, nearly ripping the tap out of the wall as he turns the water on to the hottest setting. It spews from the showerhead piping-hot, turning his skin red the moment it hits. It burns but the cold still won't go away. Danny tips his head up, opens his mouth, and swallows the water. It scalds his tongue and throat, burning all the way down, but the cold overwhelms it much too quickly.

He doesn't want to step out, not when the water hasn't done its job yet, but his skin is bright red and tender, minutes away from blistering. He forces himself out of the shower without turning it off, stumbling through the door and practically throwing himself against the nearest sink. Hunched over the basin, he swallows down the bile rising in his throat. Somehow, he manages not to throw up, a small victory for a hellish day. Once he's sure he won't be puking any time soon, even though his stomach still feels queasy, he splashes water against his face and looks up.

Blue lips. Pale skin. Face bloody and full of despair. In the mirror, Valerie looms over his shoulder.

Danny whips around, shoes slipping on the wet tiles as he tries to back away. The edge of the sink digs into his back. There's nowhere for him to go, Valerie's pale shade looming inches from him. An arm, or a trail of black mist that resembles one, reaches out toward him. It touches his chest.

Nothing happens.

"You're not whole yet," Danny realizes. It's only been five days since Valerie died.

The shadow ripples. Twisted tendrils burst forth, shooting toward him. They strike his chest and disappear in puffs of smoke, able to touch him but too weak to hurt him. Valerie shrieks. Her voice scrapes against Danny's ears, filling his head and bouncing around his brain, but it doesn't hurt. The lights flicker. The mirrors shatter. The tiles under their feet crack and still, Danny remains untouched. His disappointment overwhelms his relief, crashing through him in waves.

He pushes off the sink and reaches out, stopping inches away from her. "You can't touch me. Yet."

Valerie ripples again. Her form flickers, then she's gone.

Danny runs all the way home.

—

The ice is already broken by the time Danny's dream starts. He called them nightmares at first, but now, they're more like warnings. Promises, even.

Valerie crawls closer. Danny is not afraid.

"Danny," she says, her voice soft and calm, carrying no echoes of pain. She stops in front of him and lifts a cold finger to his chin, pushing his head up.

"Yes?" Danny matches her tone, just as soft, just as smooth. He can't help it. Something about the way she looks at him, the way she speaks. It makes him think everything will be okay.

"I know why I stayed." There's no trace of forgiveness in her gaze, but for some reason, he finds it more comforting than unsettling. As if she understands what he's thinking. She's the only one who knows what he deserves.

"Why?" Danny asks, but he already knows the answer.

"Wait for me," she says.

"I will," he answers.

—

Danny does not go back to school. He locks himself in his room, turns off his phone, and refuses to let anyone in. He made a promise and he's going to keep it. It's the one thing he can do for Valerie, after all. Give her what she wants.

One sleepless night later, on the seventh day after Valerie dies, her ghost manifests in Danny's room.

—

Danny swallows a cry of pain as Bertrand smacks him into the pavement. His great bear claws leave deep gouges across Danny's chest, the wounds leaking ectoplasm. He grits his teeth but doesn't worry. With his abilities, they will be healed by the end of the fight. Which he hopes comes soon. He's missing fourth period with Lancer right now, which isn't a big deal, but he has a math test next class, and he cannot afford another zero.

"Having a little trouble, ghost boy?"

A relieved grin stretches across Danny's face at the sight of Valerie flying overhead. "I don't know, I think I've got it handled." Planting his hands on asphalt, he flips himself up and out of the way of Bertrand's next swipe.

"Doesn't look like that from up here," Valerie says.

"Well, you could always come down and help me then. Prove how much stronger you are." Danny wastes a moment to wink and nearly gets taken out for it. Bertrand roars and pounces toward him. Danny barely leaps out of the way in time.

"Geez, I know you're unbearable, but this is ridiculous."

"Not quite." Spectra's melodic voice easily carries down the street. "I think pathetic is more accurate for your display, Phantom."

Danny scowls. "Shut up, I don't care what you think!"

Valerie swoops down while Spectra's distracted, her blaster spitting bullets faster than Danny can think. Spectra's eyes widen and she drops through the pavement, intangible, to avoid the fire. Danny doesn't have time to watch for her return, trusting Valerie to keep an eye out while he tackles Bertrand again.

The stuffy butler has shifted from a bear into a snake. Venom drips from his fangs and sizzles on the pavement.

"That's not fair," Danny whines.

"Ssssso what?" Bertrand hisses. He coils then jumps.

"Whoa!" Danny grabs his head and yanks it out of Bertrand's path, his neck turning to pale vapour.

"Phantom!" Valerie shouts. "Get your head back on and fight seriously!"

"You don't think I look good like this?" Danny pouts, tossing his head from one hand to the other. Everything blurs and he stumbles. "Okay, wow. Don't do that again." He shoves his head back on, struggling to steady himself as the street spins around him.

"Phantom!" Valerie shrieks in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah!" Danny twists away from Bertrand's sneak attack, grabbing the ghost’s fang as he shoots by. Yanking hard, Danny swings Bertrand around and slams his head into the ground. "Good snake, nice snake!"

Bertrand writhes, bucking wildly under Danny's grip. He struggles to keep a firm holds on him, but then Bertrand opens his mouth wide and snaps down. Yelping, Danny lurches away, yanking his hand back just in time. He flies up to Valerie and takes to scanning the street with her.

"No sign of Spectra?"

"I can take care of her myself," Valerie snaps.

"Sure, but a little help never hurt, right?"

Through her visor, Valerie's eyes narrowed. "Fine."

"Oh, now this is interesting."

Both ghost hunters stiffen. Danny turns, pressing his back against Valerie's, and searches for Spectra. He can't see her. Neither can Valerie, judging by the soft curses under her breath.

"You don't care what I think, but you care what she thinks, don't you?" Spectra asks.

Danny bristles. "So what?"

"Does she think you're strong? Or weak? Do you want to protect her?"

"I don't need anyone to protect me!" Valerie shouts. Under her breath, she says to Danny, "We can't stay together. We won't find her this way, and we still have her crony. You take the ground, I'll take the sky."

"Shouldn't the ghost take the sky?" Danny whispers back.

"Just do it!"

He rolls his eyes, but complies anyway, dropping back to the street.

"Back for more ssso sssoon?" Bertrand asks.

"I didn't get enough of your pretty face the first time," Danny says. "Those fangs are a real good look on you."

"Ssstop ssstalling."

"Stop being so ugly."

"Real original."

"Bertrand!" Spectra snaps. She sounds closer now, too close for Danny's liking. "Get the girl. I'll deal with our little meal."

"Um, ew?"

A bright green disk flies at Danny out of nowhere. He barely sees it before it hits, exploding against his chest and blasting him back. Danny groans when he hits the ground, carefully patting his chest for injuries. The gouges from Bertrand were nearly healed, but now they're seeping ectoplasm once again.

Above him, Bertrand has changed into a giant wasp. He zips about Valerie, trying to catch her with his stinger. She's too fast for him, but, likewise, he's too fast for her. None of their hits are landing, and they're playing an endless game of chase.

Spectra rises from the ground beside him, her hands glowing. "You might want to focus on me."

Danny scrambles back, disks of ectoplasm exploding behind him. Ectoplasm lights his fists, and he swings, aiming for Spectra's face. She ducks away cackling.

"Do you ever give up?" he shouts.

"Why would I when you make it so easy?" Spectra laughs behind her hand. "I can only think of a few things worse than an abomination like yourself."

Danny falters. Don't let her get to you, he tells himself. "Oh yeah, like what?"

"The only thing worse than an abomination is a weak one. And that's what she thinks you are, weak."

"That's a lie!"

"Really? Then why did she send you down here to take care of my little assistant, while she kept watch above, searching for me?"

Danny can't help it. He slips, falls for it, lets the ectoplasm coating his hands fizzle out as he glances up at Valerie. She's still caught in her game of cat and mouse with Bertrand, but in the midst of her fight, she keeps glancing down, at Danny and Spectra. Watching out for him? Or watching to see if he can do it? If he needs help?

"N-no, you're lying." He knows Spectra lies. She never tells the truth, always twists other people's words and actions for her own gain, but...

"Look at you!" Spectra's not even poised to fight now, standing completely relaxed with a hand on her hip. "Pathetic! You couldn't take us on your own. She had to come help you, and you still can't beat me."

"Liar!" Danny whips and ectoblast at her. It shoots through the air, a blazing green star. Spectra's quick to counter, breaking his attack with a blast of her own. They explode when they meet, a cascade of light and ectoplasm.

"See? Weak. You can't do anything with powers like this?"

"Then what about this?" Danny thrusts his arm out. Ice races across the ground, encasing Spectra's feet. It creeps up her legs until nearly her entire body is coated in it, but all she does is laugh and clap.

"Oh, that's a fun trick. But it doesn't do much, does it?" A swipe of her hand and the ice melts and cracks. She shoots into the air, her aura glowing brighter as she gathers her power. "You're only proving me right, dear. You should just give up."

"Shut up." The temperature around Danny plummets, frost creeping across the pavement. His breath fogs the air.

Spectra goes on. "You can't expect to protect anyone like this. A freak, a loser, and a joke of a hero! You've hit all three!"

Behind Spectra, far above their heads, Bertrand splits into a swarm of wasps and rushes Valerie. He knocks her off her board, and she plummets with a scream.

Danny sees. He sees but he doesn't think. Spectra's taunting words pound in his ears, fill up his head, shove all other thoughts aside and blind him.

"I said. Shut! Up!" He bellows and stomps his feet. A wave of power bursts off him, razor-sharp icicles spewing from the ground, taller than Danny. Spectra easily dodges, flying up out of harm's way as she cackles with glee.

Too late, Danny realizes his mistake.

"Valerie!" he screams, echoing her cry, as he lunges toward her, but it's too late.

An icicle rips through her with a sickening squelch. Her blood sprays across Danny's face, seeping into his eyes and mouth. It's all he can see and taste. Her body hits the ground with a thud, nearly torn in two. Her heart beats against the open air. One of her lungs lays on the ground beside her, shredded to pieces.

Danny drops to his knees. He can't breathe. He can't think. Valerie, Valerie, VALERIE! A scream of agony tears from his throat as his world shatters around him.

—

Valerie doesn't look all that different in death. She wears her Huntress suit, although ferns of frost curl along her abdomen, spewing from a gape black void in her side. Pale blue overtakes the red. Her hair glows orange. Not bad, as far as ghost forms go.

"I always knew you were bad." Her voice carries an echo that swells and fills the room. "I knew you were evil. All ghosts are. And you made me one of them. Danny," Valerie's stoic expression splinters, "how could you?"

"I'm sorry," Danny says, because there's nothing else he can say, nothing that will make up for this. He reaches out to her, but she recoils, lips curling in disgust.

"I never wanted to turn into this. It hurts." Her voice breaks. A wet sob chokes her words. Like she's still drowning in her own blood, forever.

"I know. God, I know. It never stops. It's like your broken inside." Danny grabs his hair and tugs. "There's a void and nothing ever fills it. I didn't mean it, Valerie, I didn't! But I killed you, and I– I'm sorry! If I could take it back, if I could trade places with you, I would. You know I would."

"I know."

"If I could do anything to make better..." Danny lowers his head, shame and regret pressing him down.

Valerie reaches for him. Just like in his dream, she grabs his chin and slowly lifts his head, forcing him to look at her. "Danny."

He knows. He knows. He knows what she's going to say, what she's going to do. He's known all along, since that first nightmare. Maybe he's been ignoring it, or hoping for it. Either way, he won't stop her. He deserves it.

She lays her other hand on his chest, ice gathering in her palm. "Die for me."

—

When Mr. Gray finishes crying, he wipes his eyes and slumps into his chair. "So." The words cracks as it comes out. He pauses to swallow a few times, shuddering visibly. "So. That's how it happened."

Danny keeps his eyes downcast. He knows what's coming next. The screaming, the yelling, the accusations. He will take all of it, already agrees with Mr. Gray even though the man hasn't said a word. It's just a matter of seconds, now.

"You–" MR. Gray starts.

Say it. Say I killed her. Call me a murderer.

"It wasn't your fault."

Danny nearly chokes on his surprise. "What?"

"It was. An accident. You were manipulated, tricked. It wasn't your fault, Danny. I don't want you to think it was."

Danny's mind reels. This can't be happening. Surely, he's hearing Mr. Gray wrong, making up a fantasy in his head, but no. Valerie's father doesn't hate him. The one person who has any right to, other than Valerie. And he... forgives Danny.

"And if I know my daughter, she wouldn't blame you either."

As Danny gets up to leave, only one thought runs through his head. Then you didn't know her very well.

—

It doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would. The impact feels like a punch, a burst of searing pain, then he's gone.

And then he's not. He's in his room, floating on one side of his bed. Valerie stands across from them. Between him, his body sits, held upright by the spear of ice jutting through his chest. Valerie apparently had some shred of mercy left in her. The spear went right through Danny's heart.

The wound is still fresh, still bleeding, dripping down his body's chest. Seconds or days to manifest, Danny's mom said. Isn't he a lucky one?

Valerie eyes him over his dead body, and he follows her stare. In the middle of his chest, swirling frost creeps out of a black void. They match. How poetic.

"You're not gone," Danny says, lifting his gaze back to Valerie.

"No. And you stayed."

"Yeah."

She doesn't move away, and neither does he. They can't, not without the other following. They have haunted each other for so long, Danny stalking her in life, Valerie hunting him in death. Now, it seems, they're stuck together at a stalemate, neither one willing to move first. They're dead now, though, so that doesn't matter. They have all the time in the world.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #phanfi #phicc #tumblroneshots #valerie gray #tw gore #tw blood #tw panick attacks #tw murder #angst #tragedy #there is no comfort here #you've been warned #christmas truce #christmas truce 2020

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harryskalechips · 4 years

Text

Joy

A/N here’s a fluffy and angsty piece I wrote from a request! It’s a bit long but I hope you enjoy 🥺❤️

Request:

https://harryskalechips.tumblr.com/post/620429539601956864/hi-i-was-that-anaon-that-asked-if-you-understand

Claire has had the biggest crush on Harry Styles since eighth grade, now he notices her but it’s for the wrong reason.

Word count 10.1k

“Fuck baby!” Harry pants as he catches Claire running towards him. She was coming from the bleachers, holding onto the big sign with his name on it.

“Congratulations!” She smiles as her arms wrap around his neck. He lifts her up and spins her in a circle. His sweat sticking onto her skin as he took an inhale of her sweet perfume. “You played so great tonight!”

“I was so stressed I thought we were going to lose the game but I glanced at you in the bleachers.” Harry smiles as he sets her down. “You’re so fucking cute, you know that right?” He takes her chin in his hand so he can lean forward to kiss her.

“I’m your number 1 fan.” She bites her lip as she smiles. “And you know...you looked really good.” Her cheeks flush as she compliments him. She’s been in love with him since 8th grade! How did she get so lucky to be his girlfriend? To be standing in the bleachers cheering him on as she wore his sweater?

---

“Hello?” The familiar voice whispers. “Earth to Claire?” Claire blinks her eyes as she falls out of her daydream.

It’s high school and just like every cliché movie, Claire had a major crush on one of the most popular guys in her grade. Harry Styles. The boy sat next to her in AP Bio and although he barely spoke to her, her heart somehow always fluttered when she would get a whiff of his cologne or when she would make eye contact with him on the field. Funny thing is Harry was on the football team with her brother, Tom. So when she would stay after school for her ride home, she couldn’t help but focus a bit more on the cute boy.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asks as she takes a spoonful of her fried rice. “I was literally mentioning how we should come back tonight and watch the senior boys’ football game-” She chewed on her food a bit more as she notices her best friend staring at the table behind them. Following Claire’s gaze, it was the group of boys from their grade. Since lunches were split between grades and Claire and Hannah always chose to sit near the middle, they always had a clear view of the athletic boys who were having their meals at the circle in front of the big windows.

Harry was sitting on the table with his elbows on his thighs as he laughed at Niall Horan’s joke. The rest of the boys were Jack Norton, Samuel Donevy, Mark Randers, and Kai Dowery. Not all of them were on the senior football team but they played other sports and probably had the highest record of dating the girls at their school… except for Harry. He was quiet and he never showed any interest in a girl. Maybe he’s gay? Claire thinks from time to time.

I mean she’s been observing him since 8th grade. She would look at what snacks he would eat during break time, what sweater he would wear for the week. For God’s sake! Claire started eating oranges while walking back and forth in front of him. She was hoping he would ask for a slice. She thought she looked cute as she peeled her orange walking back and forth. From the corner of her eye, she noticed him staring at her. Maybe, he wondered what she was thinking? Or maybe, he thought her red oversized flannel looked cute on her? … Wrong!

Harry watched her during his break time while he ate the small cookies from the bag in his hands. What the fuck is Claire doing? Can she stop? Holy shit, I would aim perfectly if I hit her in the head with my shoe! Can she choke now, please?

I guess that’s how it’s always been since Claire met Harry. When he first transferred to her school, she fell in love with him but Harry paid no mind to her. Instead, she was just some random girl who he’s known for three years.

“You’re staring again.” Hannah throws a pea at Claire. In retaliation, Claire throws it back as it lands near her elbow.

“They’re just in my line of sight.” She scoffs as she takes a sip of her water. “And yes, we can go watch them tonight but we can’t head to the after-party. I need to study for my chem test tomorrow.”

“What? Claire, how else are we going to have fun? I told Brooke, we were going.” Claire wasn’t just friends with Hannah. They had a bigger friend group of 5 but she and Hannah were obviously the closest. The other girls were at their club meetings.

“Go with Brooke then? I’ll just uber home.” Claire packs up her container. She stands up to throw their garbage in the trash bin before coming back. “You know, I don’t want to let you down like this.”

“Sis, you would only stay home tonight if it wasn’t Harry Styles on the football team.” Hannah teases as they get ready to leave. “At least you’re coming to the game.”

“Tom!” Claire runs to her older brother. Hannah and Brook were already sitting in the bleachers as the game was starting in 30 minutes.

“What?” He snaps back. He was sitting on the bench, taking a sip of his water watching the other boys warm up.

“I’m just letting you know, I’m going to uber home tonight. I’m not going to the after-party.” She had to tell her brother where she was going after the game. Ever since their mom and dad divorced, Tom was in charge of his little sister. He had to drive her to places and make sure he knew where she was. It’s been their routine. Hannah would drive from home and to the party. He would meet her at the party so they can drive home together but it seemed like tonight was not the case.

“You don’t need to.” He takes his sister’s sweater and rubs his sweat on it.

“Tom!” She calls out his name in disgust.

“The party is at our house tonight.”

“What about Ben’s?”

“Renovation.”

“But what about mo-”

“She’s working the night shift in the ER today.” He stands up and takes his foot to his back to stretch. “Now, go. Make sure you order 6 boxes of pizza after the game. The guys and I will bring the beer.”

“What’s wrong?” Brooke questions as she watches Claire climb the stairs to their seats. It was starting to crowd, so she had to yell a bit louder.

“The party is at our house tonight?” Claire replies with a confused face. “Tom is so stupid! How could he plan this without telling me?”

“Claire, you know what that means right?” Hannah shakes her head as she takes a sip of her soda. “Harry Styles is going to be at your house tonight! Perfect timing to seduce him!” She wiggles her brows. Claire cringed. Seduce him? That’s exactly what she didn’t want to do. She can already picture him pushing her off.

“No, thanks.” She pouts. If only she didn’t have a test tomorrow, she could be downstairs ogling Harry across the room. Instead, she’ll be ogling a stupid video with the catchy crash course intro. “You guys have fun but you better tell me if some girl starts talking to him.” Brook laughs as she checks her phone.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s going to be standing in the corner drinking a cup while watching other people get pissed drunk.”

The Falcons won. In other words, Harry’s football team won. It ended with Claire coming out of Hannah’s car with a bunch of people waiting for her to open the door. Now, she sat at her desk rubbing her temples in frustration. She could hear people laughing as the music beat vibrated against her floor, making the glass of water on her desk shake in the corner of her eye. I’m about to-

“Sorry, I thought this was the washroom.” She turns around to see Harry standing in her doorway. He had his baseball cap on backwards. He was wearing a band tee she couldn’t recognize.

“Oh, i-tt’s the next door on your left.” Claire stutters as she stands up immediately. “Hi.” Harry gives her a strange look before looking around her room.

“Hi.” He pauses before talking again. “Nice room.” He was about to go but Claire needed to speak up. This was the only time she had his attention.

“Did you study for the chemistry test tomorrow?” Oh my fucking god… You’re so dumb Claire.

“I don’t have chemistry.” He raises his eyebrow at her before holding onto her doorknob. “Sorry to bother.” And with that, he closed her door shut leaving her dumbfounded. Claire stood there as her heart kept beating fast. That had to be the third time Harry spoke to her.

The first time was in freshman year when he asked her for an eraser during math class. The second time was in Biology class three months ago, when he told her to shut up after she kept asking Mr. Lisak questions about the nucleotides in genes. She hated herself, she really did.

After a while, Claire came to a realization that she couldn’t study tonight so she stood up once again to head downstairs to see what fun she was missing.

“Hannah!” Claire pushed herself through the crowd to greet her and Brooke. They were sitting in a circle with some other kids from their grade. Brooke moved over so Claire can sit with them.

“I thought you were studying?” she whispered to her friend as she took a sip of her mixed drink.

“I couldn’t concentrate.” Claire bit her lip. She was watching the board game in front of them but as she looked up, she noticed her brother laughing with his friends. What stood out to her was that Harry was with them. “I have to go.” Y/N stands up as she watches her brother call her over.

“Where are you going?” Hannah asks as she leans into Gabby.

“My brother needs me.” She sits up carefully as she continues to walk towards Tom. “What do you need?”

“What are you doing down here? I thought you were studying?” He asks as he crosses his arms. His friends were laughing to themselves as they watched the siblings talked. “What are you guys laughing about?” He eyes them. Carlos shakes his head as he looks at me.

“Isn’t Claire in eleventh grade? So, is Styles-”

“Shut up.” My brother interrupts him. “Don’t drink too much, you have to help me clean.” he talks to Claire again.

“What? I wasn’t the one who initiated this whole thing!”

“Yeah, well you came downstairs so you’re automatically co-hosting with me.”

“Reports on last night’s cleanup?” Sandra asks Claire as they walk to Bio. Sandra and Kaitlyn were the other two girls in their friend group but they both hated going to parties so instead, they chose to have movie nights when the other girls were out.

“It was horrible.” Claire rolls her eyes as they enter the classroom. Other students were getting settled in as well. Claire didn’t need to admit it. Today was an absolute shit day. First off, her chemistry test was a total fail. Her mom seemed to be too suspicious about last night’s events, and now, Mr. Lisak was assigning their bio assignments.

“Glad to know I won’t ever have to deal with that.” Sandra brushes her hair away from her face. “You don’t even like parties, I can’t believe you still go.”She sets her textbook on the table. “I know it’s because your boyfriend Ha-”

“Shut up. Don’t say his name!” Claire pulls Sandra’s hair softly. Harry was just so happening walking behind them to his seat.

“Claire.” He calls her out. Harry was calling her.

“Yeah.”

“I need to talk to you after class.” He doesn’t look at her as he unloads his backpack.

Harry and Claire walked alongside each other as they exited the school’s building. She had to text Hannah to find a group of friends to sit with since she didn’t know how long this conversation would take. Harry stopped them in front of a tree near the football field. What did he need to tell her?

“Your brother thinks you have a crush on me.” He keeps a straight face as he looks at her. Claire chokes on her breath. She takes a step back and looks at the field.

“Whaaaat? I do not!” She scoffs back with a particular tone. She never told Tom, how would he know!

“So, you don’t like me?”

“No, of course, I do! You’re such a nice guy- and you play really well on-” She rambles on as she watches Harry just look at her.

“It’s a yes or no question.” He shakes his head.

By the time, Claire got her thoughts together, she notices him already walking away from her, she had to yell. “No! I don’t like you!” He pauses in his tracks and turns around.

“Okay good because I need a favour.” Claire widens her eyes. Harry Styles after three years of having the fattest crush on him, he’s happy to know she doesn’t like him? She lied!

“What do you need?”

“I need you to go on a date with Finn Hartley.” Harry walks back towards her as he holds onto the straps of his backpack.

“Finn Hartley? You don’t even talk to him!”

“How would you know?” Harry questions her making her mouth run dry. She’s been obsessed with you, that’s why.

“I just- I don’t think you hang around him that much.”

“Well, I do. I need you to go on one date with him.”

“Why?”

“He likes you.” Claire widens her eyes once again. How did Finn like her? She’s always been busy with her attention on Harry. She didn’t know a boy liked her.

“How long has he liked me?” She mumbles as her cheeks begin to flush.

“Since the beginning of the year. I lost a bet with him so I had to set him on a date with you.”

“What was the bet on?” She bites her lip. Claire didn’t even realize she was standing so close to him. He still smelled the same. She was wondering if he was warm enough to hug her. Maybe, if she kissed him now, all these feelings would go away.

“Some stupid shit.”

“Why does my brother think I like you?”

“Stop asking questions, Jameson.” He calls her out by her last name.

“Just one date?” She pushed back, ignoring his last statement. Harry just sighs and turns her around before pushing her to walk back towards the school building. She couldn’t help but notice how his hands were still on her shoulders as they continued to walk.

“Yes, one date. If you don’t like him, that’s okay. I don’t care.”

Claire sat in the bleachers by herself as she took a book from her bag. She was staying after school today since Tom had another practice. She couldn’t help but notice Harry doing push-ups with some other boys.

It’s a bit weird how easily Harry’s presence can bring her joy. Despite him not noticing her, just seeing him already made her day.

He was already sweating due to the sunlight that was directly pointing in their direction. He stood up walking to the bench to take off his shirt but for some reason, this was his first time noticing her. I mean, he knew that Claire Jameson sat in the bleachers every time they had practice but this was the first time that he caught himself looking at her.

She sat quietly in the bleachers as she read her book. She seemed to have been smiling from something she was reading but little did he know, it was because she was watching him.

“Did you tell Harry I like him?” Claire sits in the passenger seat next to her brother. He put his shades on and started the car. Claire was watching Harry get into his own car across the parking lot.

“Styles? You like Styles?” Tom laughs as he rubs his itchy nose.

“So, you didn’t tell him?”

“Claire, I’m not going to lie I think you’re kind of out of his league.”

“Really?” She blushed. Her brother thought she deserved better? But Harry was her first love!

“No, you ugly sack of potatoes.” He turns out of the lot as he blasts the music. “I’m so going to tell mom you have a crush!”

“Tom!” ~ Bz. Bzz.

Claire drops her pen and leans over to grab her phone on the bed. It was from Harry.

Harry: I’m coming over tonight. H.

Claire blinks repeatedly as she stares at the message. Luckily, she already updated her friends about Harry but this was just out of nowhere!

Claire: Why?

Harry: I need to give you some tips on how to make Finn have the best date H.

Claire: Shouldn’t he be working hard on how to make me have the best date.

Harry: I’m just coming over to give you some tips on what to talk about. H.

Claire couldn’t help but let her cheeks turn red. She never knew he texted with his initial at the end.

Claire: okay.

“Hey.”, Claire smiled as she opened the door for Harry. It was around 7 PM and he seemed to have change into a red flannel and black jeans.

“Hey.” He glances at her and walks in.

“Sweetie, I see your friend is here.” Claire’s mom steps into the foyer. “I’m Morgan. It’s nice to meet you…”

“Harry.”

“Styles?” Tom comes downstairs with a bag of chips in his hand. He then looks at his sister and laughs. “Holy shit, you actually could go-” Claire throws her slipper at him.

“Mom, we’ll be in my room.”

“Oooooo.” Her brother teases as she pushes him out of the way. She grabs Harry’s wrist so she can take him upstairs.

She slams the door close as Harry sits on her bed. What is she doing? Why is he here? Why did she lie about not liking him? Now, she has to go on a date with his friend, when she’s been wanting to go on one with him!

“Are you okay?” He licks his lips and leans back on her bed. His legs were wide open as he watched her and she had to look away before she invites herself in between them.

“I’m fine.” She glances at his face then looks away. She sits at her desk and looks at him. “I haven’t been on a date before.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“How would you know that?” Claire was a bit offended. He knew she’s never been on a date. That no guy has ever been interested in her… no wonder he paid no attention towards her.

“I don’t know.” He looks at her ceiling. She still had those glow in the dark stars.

“Before we talk about my date though, you need to come clean.” She mumbles as she plays with the tiny cracks on her phone. She pushed it away after feeling some glass on her skin.

“About what?” He sniffles and sits up a bit more. He couldn’t stop himself from picking up a frame of her. It was her sixth birthday, and she was blowing her cake with her dad and brother beside her.

“Tom doesn’t think I like you.”

“Oh.” He puts the picture down and shakes his head before looking at her. He leans his chin on his hands before kissing his teeth and replying. “Yeah, It was me. Thought you liked me?” Claire’s heart stopped beating. Was it obvious? How she would always ramble when she would see him? How she watched him on the field and in the cafeteria. Holy shit, how she would eat things based on what he would eat?

“Well, I-”

“Yeah, I know you don’t Claire. I realized you’re just a weirdo.” Claire crinkles her face.

“Thanks.”

“No, but for real, I had to make sure you didn’t like me or anything. That’s fucked up if I tried to set you up with Finn.” Well, you’re in for a surprise.

“Really fucked up.” She laughs at herself.

“Okay, let’s get started.” He yawns a bit. “I told Finn that I got your input about going on a date with him and he’s happy about it-” Harry continues on but for some reason, Claire found herself just looking at him. How he would rub his chin and use his hands to explain things. “Claire. Claire!”

“Yeah!” She falls out of her trance. Trying to pull it off smoothly, she spins her chair around and looks at him. “I’ve been listening!”

“No, you haven’t.”

“Yes, I have!”

“What did I just say?” He smirks at her, leaving Claire to smack her forehead on the desk. “Hey, stop you’re going to get a bruise. Why are you hitting yourself so hard?”

“I’m stupid!”

“Or more like falling asleep.” He pulls her off the chair to join him on the bed. “Y’know if you don’t want tips. It’s fine, I was thinking about talking you through it but I should just leave.”

“No, don’t!” Claire urgently replies back. God, does she sound desperate or what? Seduce him! Hannah’s voice enters her mind. She possibly can’t. Should she?

Claire decides to give a go. Maybe, if he rejects her, this is how she’ll find out if he’s gay or not. She lets her hair down before biting her lip. She leans a bit back on one of her elbows as she reaches over for her remote to turn on the TV. Specifically, Netflix.

“What the fuck are you doing Claire.” Harry sits next to her with his eyebrows furrowed. He pushes her arm, making her completely fall onto the bed. He leans over to take the tv remote but just as he was hovering over her, the door busted open.

“Claire, what did I say. No closed doors when boys- Oh My God!” Morgan yells as she looks at Harry partly hovering over her daughter as the screen of movies and tv shows are on display.

“Mom!”

Harry quickly pulls away and stands up before clearing his throat. Claire sits up as well, tying her hair back up.

“I’m leaving. No closed doors!” Morgan quickly walks away. Harry turns around to look at her before throwing himself back on the bed.

“Are you okay?” He rubs his eyes and looks at her. He honestly thinks this girl is weird. How does Finn like her?

Hm, how should Claire respond to that? I’m fine. I was just trying to seduce you that’s all.

“Yeah, my ponytail was giving me a headache and I was wondering if we should watch a movie while you explain the stuff.” Harry didn’t reply when she was done speaking. Instead, he reached over to pull her hair tie off her, softly as possible.

“There.” He throws it back at her before taking the remote. “Wanna watch a random episode of friends?”

“Um, sure.” She takes the hair tie back as she sits a safe distance away from him so they can watch the show.

Throughout the episode, Harry ended up sitting against the wall with Claire as he spoke about what to expect from Finn or more importantly from a first date. This time she listened well and tried not to focus too much on him. Of course, it still made her heart beat fast when he would laugh at her stupid questions but if Harry thought she was a weirdo… then a weirdo she is.

Click. Claire hears as she opens her eyes. It was Tom holding his phone as he took a picture of her and Harry. Claire wanted to yell at him so badly but she was kind of happy he took the pic. Plus as she turned a bit, she noticed she was laying on Harry’s shoulder. God, how did they end up this way? Last she knew, She was closing her eyes subtly as he continued to explain what was a good conversation starter. Did he think she was a loser? That she can’t even impress his friend? Well, not too wrong, she can barely handle a conversation with him.

Tom laughs as he walks forward to tug on Harry’s ankle. “Yo Styles, wake up.” Claire immediately pulls away as she stretches her arms.

“Fuck did I fall asleep? Sorry, Claire.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you like my sister or not?” Tom glances at his sister before looking at Harry.

“What? No dude.” Harry gets off the bed as he rubs his eyes. “I fell asleep by accident.” He looks at Claire as he rubs his chin.

“Mom is asking if you want some dinner before you leave.”

“Oh no, It’s fine I got to head home anyway.” Harry glances at the clock. It was about 9 PM. He never stayed this late at a girl’s house before. Quite frankly, he never really went to their house, they came to his.

As Harry was driving home, he couldn’t help but sniff his flannel a lot, especially on his left side where Claire was sleeping. As he parked his car and came inside, he noticed how lonely it felt. How the picture of his dad sat on the fireplace. He missed him.

“You fell asleep on Harry?” Kaitlyn clarifies as the five of them sat on the field. Their Classes were about to start in 15 minutes and this was usually the time when all of them could hang out.

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, when did Harry start noticing you?” Hannah laughs as she plucks some grass and into her fingers.

“I don’t know… ever since my brother hosted the party at our place?”

“It had to be before. Finn likes you! When did that bet take place anyway?” Brooke questions as she lays her head on Sandra’s lap.

“That’s true, you should ask.” Sandra braids Brooke’s hair as she listens to the conversation.

“I barely ever spoke to Finn in my life.” Claire leans up to look at the sky. “Now, Harry only notices me because of him.”

“That’s cute. Imagine if Harry ends up liking you or you end up having a crush on Finn.”

“I don’t know. I’d pick Harry over anyone.”

“Ooooo.” Kaitlyn teases as she playfully pushes Claire into Hannah’s side.

“Jameson!” The girls look up to see Harry a bit further from them. He stood in a black T-shirt and his signature skinny black jeans.

“I got to go. Duty calls.”

“Yeah, your boyfriend is calling.” Brooke burst out in laughter as Claire pulls some grass herself before dropping it in Brooke’s face.

“Yeah.” She catches up to him as they begin to walk inside the building.

“He’s asking you out today during lunch. Where do you eat?”

“In the cafeteria…” Claire pouts a bit as she looks at Harry. He really never did notice her. She sat in front of him every day and he had no idea!

“Oh okay. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What? I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Cut the crap, Claire. I don’t know what’s your problem today but that’s all I needed to tell you.” And with that, Harry walks away, leaving her pretty sad.

She didn’t feel right. How obsessed she’s been about him, only to have him talk to her a couple of times due to a lost bet. It sucked.

Last night before they fell asleep, they were talking about the what-ifs on her first date. She remembered him smiling and laughing at her awkwardness. Now, it seemed like he wanted nothing to do with her.

Hannah sat in front of Claire in their usual seats. She was drinking some chocolate milk while doing her homework. Claire seemed to barely touch her food. “Are you okay? What did Harry tell you?” Hannah couldn’t help but asks. She noticed how her best friend barely looked at the table behind them ever since lunch started.

As Hannah brought the topic up, Claire couldn’t help but look at the table, only to catch Harry already looking at her. Well, hi to you too. “I’m fine. It’s just- Harry was kind of mean today. I thought after getting to know him, he would be a bit nicer.”

“But do you really know anything about him?”

“I know…” Claire seemed to be lost on this one and it upset her more. She claims to be in love with him but she doesn’t even know what he likes? What his favourite colour is? “I know he has a sister named Gemma. She’s in University.”

“How do you only know that?”

“He said it in 8th grade, during a presentation.” Claire shakes her head and looks down. She is so pathetic.

“Hey Claire,” She looks up again to see Finn Hartley standing at their table. “Hey, Hannah.”

“Hi.” Claire forces a smile at him as she feels Harry’s eyes on her.

“I was wondering if I could get your number and take you out on a date?” Finn smiles at her as she glances at Harry once more. He seemed to be far more interested in Natalie and her friends who sat at their table a couple of minutes ago.

“Here you go. I can’t wait where we’re going to go.” Claire genuinely replies as she fills in his phone.

“Thanks.” Finn smiles as he puts his phone in his pocket. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You better come over and help me prepare for this date.” Claire lets out a sigh as she begins to eat.

“Wait so, he’s taking you out to Mcdonalds?” Hannah asks confusedly as she sits on Claire’s bed. “For a guy who seems to like you, his date location choice seems pretty… uh”

“I know right?” Claire pauses as she tries on a new shirt. “ I don’t know it’s fine. It’s my first date though. I’m really excited.”

“I’m really happy for you, babe. After Harry stopped talking to you, I can only imagine how open-minded you are to this.”

“Thanks for coming, it means a lot.”

“Anything for you.”

“So, what would you like to order?” The girl asks the pair as they look at the menu and at her.

“I’ll have combo 1 please,” Finn states as he looks at Claire.

“I’ll have combo three, the chicken nuggets.” She smiles. The night was a bit awkward, she expected Finn to talk a bit more. That’s what Harry told her. Instead, he was quiet as a mouse, barely acknowledging her.

As they took their seats in the booth, Claire couldn’t help but take a french fry in her mouth. She was quiet too and Finn was just trying to eat his burger.

“Are we okay?” Claire couldn’t help but asks. Harry told her that Finn was excited about tonight but instead, he was acting as if he hated being here. The boy looks up and nods his head.

“Yeah, I ‘m fine. Just a bit shy.”

“It’s okay. Me too. It’s kind of my first date.”

“Really? This is probably my third but I don’t go out much.” Claire dips her nugget in her sauce as she laughs a bit.

“Same. Let’s get to know each other.” She takes a bit of the meat in her hands. “ How did you and Harry become friends?” She wasn’t going to lie. Finn was cute but she didn’t know much about him.

“Oh, Haz and I? We’re next-door neighbours. I knew him since he moved in.”

“Why haven’t I seen you during middle school then?”

“Homeschooled.” Finn laughs as he takes a sip of his soda. “You’re probably wondering what our bet was. I would have asked you on a date without his help but I was really nervous.” Claire smiled at him and shakes her head.

“It doesn’t bother me at all. I’m glad I’m here tonight.” Was that a lie? She wasn’t mad to be here but she did wish she was with Harry instead.

“Harry and I were playing soccer in my backyard. I ended up getting more shots than him. I mean, the guy is better in American football than his English soccer, isn’t that crazy?”

“I’m sure he was a bit rusty.” She laughs about their bet. “What was his reward if he won?”

“Nothing actually. Sometimes, I think he purposely lost so I could finally go out with you.”

“That’s nice of him,” Claire admitted. So, she didn’t know much about Harry but that little story from Finn made her think the world of Harry. She wished that he still talked to her.

You guessed it. Claire was stuck on the bleachers again waiting for her brother. Tomorrow, they had a home game so tonight’s practice was a bit more longer. She played with her hair as she watched the boys run from one side of the cone to another. She was trying her best to not look at the curly-headed boy.

After her great date with Finn, she came to the conclusion that maybe it was time to get over Harry Styles.

After all, he really made sure to let her know he doesn’t like her.

Once practice was over, she noticed Tom talking to his friends before climbing the bleachers to meet up with his sister. “Claire, tonight we have a change of plans.”

“What?” She whined. It was already 5 PM and all she wanted to do was head home and sleep.

“Jeffrey and the others are heading to the diner for some food, you can either come or you can walk home.” Claire put her backpack on as she stood in front of him.

“I’ll uber home.” She really didn’t want to walk for 30 minutes if she was being honest.

“I’ll drive her,” A voice speaks out. Tom and Claire look at the bottom to see Harry holding onto his sweat bag. Tom smirked at his sister before walking down again. Claire followed along without another word.

“No funny business Styles, you drop my sister home and then you leave.” Usually, Tom wouldn’t let a guy from his team talk to his sister but weirdly enough, he let Harry drive his sister home. After all, she had a big crush on him. Tom walked away leaving Harry and Claire on the field while the other boys were in the change room. She glanced at Harry to see him rubbing the back of his neck before nodding his head to the exit.

“Let’s go.”

Step by step, Claire followed him to his car. It was a regular black sleek Sedan. She sat in the passenger seat while she watched Harry throw his bag in the trunk before sitting down in front of the wheel.

She sat awkwardly in the seat as Harry just observed her. “What?” She mumbles as she stared straight ahead of her. Harry just laughs at her as he shakes his head. After a couple of seconds, the boy leans over to grab the seat belt on her side. He clicks it on and puts his on too. “You could have just told me.” She bites her lip as she adjusts the strap on her chest.

“Yeah but for some reason Jameson, you act like you have no brain cells when you’re around me.”

“No, I don’t.” She protested as Harry smirks at her. He starts the car and begins to drive. “Thanks for the ride though. It’s nice of you.”

“I wanted to hear about your date last night.” He glanced at her. She’s pretty. Holy shit, stop that Harry.

“Of course you do.” She rolls her eyes as she takes an inhale. His car smelled exactly like him. “It went great though. In the beginning, it was a bit rough but after a while, it was really fun.”

“That’s good to hear.” He didn’t know why he asked her. After their date, Finn knocked on his door, telling him everything about it. It made him a bit… upset. The only question in Harry’s mind was why? Why did it bother him? He barely spoke to this girl since a couple weeks ago and for some damn reason, he’s been thinking about her since.

He remembered how talkative she was during Bio class. She was way too interested in genes than anybody else in the room. How she bit her pencil when she couldn’t understand the topic. He already knew she was going to raise her hand up by the way she kept glancing at her notes and then at the slides.

How she was reading something while she sat in the bleachers or on some nights, she would just watch them train…. He was suddenly getting a bunch of thoughts of her thrown into his head.

“Harry?” She pokes his arm as he stares at his wheel. They finally arrived at her place after not really talking during the drive home. Now, she needed the boy to unlock the door. He shakes his head and looks at her house. Harry shrugs his shoulders, waiting for her to get out but the only problem was she didn’t know what button unlocked her door. “Can you unlock the door?” He presses the button on his side before looking at her. “Thanks… would you like to come in?” Claire screamed in her head. Why would she ask him that!”

“Your brother said no funny business. I’m scared you might try and seduce me again.”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Claire lies as she grabs her backpack and steps out. “Okay, fine go home. I was going to make you dinner!” Harry smiles at her. He was only teasing her but to see her so flustered made him a bit happier.

“I’m coming.” He pulls his keys out and unbuckles his belt.

They sat together in Claire’s kitchen, eating some pasta. Tom wasn’t home yet nor was her mom so they had the house to themselves. Harry already had two bowls why Claire just ate slowly while watching him eat.

“You know, we never really talked and we’ve known each other since eighth grade,” She speaks out as she pours him a glass of orange juice. She sat in her hoodie and her tights after they came home.

“I don’t talk to a lot of people, especially girls.” He mumbled thanks after, she put the juice box down.

“That’s not true. I saw you talking to Natalie and her friends!” He raises his brow at her and takes another forkful of the pasta in his bowl.

“Do you stalk me, Jameson?” “No.” She widens her eyes and pours more juice in his glass. It was still full… “I don’t know anything about you.”

“I have a sister named Gemma.”

“I know.” He drops his utensil in his bowl. He slowly drags the cup towards him since he didn’t want to spill the juice. The girl beside him filled it to the brim.

“Drink it.” He looks at her then his glass of juice.

“I already have a cup. No thanks.”

“Drink it.” He smirks and pushes it towards her. She filled it to the top so she has to fix it.

Claire leans forward as she takes small sips from his glass. She couldn’t help but think of how lips touched it before hers. After she finished it halfway through, she pulled away and wiped her mouth. She was about to look at Harry for his reaction but instead, he pulls her closer to kiss her. He kissed her!

His hand was on her arm as he pulled her towards him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him but instead, she stayed frozen. His lips were so soft just like she imagined. He couldn’t help but suck on her top lip as it tasted like orange juice.

He pulls away as he looks at her and bites his lip. “I have to go.” He sits up immediately and gets ready to leave her house. Claire chases after him and just as he was about to walk through the open door, she couldn’t help but call him out.

“Are you gay!?” She watches him with tears in her eyes. He regretted kissing her. A boy like him didn’t like her. The boy she was in love with wanted nothing to do with her.

“What? No!” He replies with a particular tone in his voice. He was obviously offended. “Bye Jameson, thanks for the food.” he mumbles.

Claire closes the door and locks it before walking to her staircase and sitting down. Her sleeves were her only substitute as tissues while she continued to cry. Harry Styles was her first kiss and he walked away from her right after.

Let’s go Falcons! Let’s go!

The cheerleaders chanted in the corner of the field as the boys continued to vs the Panthers. Claire was sitting in the bleachers as usual with Brooke and Hannah. She tried not to come tonight but the moment, Hannah showed up at her house, she couldn’t say no. Now, they sat together cheering on their school. From the corner of her eye, she could see Finn sitting with his friends. They were known for running the robotics club, which was really cool.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Claire announced as she stood up from her friends. Their school was winning by 92-77. She was barely watching the game anyways. After last night, she’s been avoiding her brother. She didn’t want Tom to know about Harry and their kiss.

“Hey.” Finn elbows her and smiles. They stood at the front of their vending machine with some other guests standing behind them.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry for not calling you back after that date.” Maybe, he wasn’t interested in her too. “I just- my mom is sick and she went back to the hospital.”

“I’m sorry to hear about that. It’s fine Finn.” She couldn’t help but hug him. She hated it when she heard stories about her friends’ parents. When something bad happened to them, she couldn’t help but feel as if they’re her parents too, especially since her dad left them.

“Styles!” Norton yells at him as he misses the ball. The coach calls time, making their team head back to the benches.

“What were you looking at!?” Tom snaps at him as they huddle up. Harry shakes his head as he takes his helmet off.

“Sorry, I don’t know.” But he did know. He was looking at Jack running with the ball but his eyes caught Claire and Finn hugging near the vending machines. He obviously had no idea why it made him lose focus.

“Get back on the field and if you get your head out of the game one more time, you’re out!” Coach Turner smacks his board on the pole. The other team was finally catching up.

“What took you so long?” Brooke questions as Claire sits beside her again. Hannah was taking selfies with their poster.

“Saw Finn.” She replies back as she smiled at the boy who looked at her one more time before talking to his friends.

“You missed Harry getting yelled at by your brother. I think Coach Turner did too.”

“Why did he get yelled at?” Her brows furrowed as she caught eyes with Harry. He was about to snap the football behind to her brother. It was crazy how they could still see each other even though she was on the bleachers. She wasn’t far though only 6 rows up.

“He missed a play.”

“Party tonight at Ben’s!” Hannah cheers as she leans on Claire’s shoulder but for some reason, Claire couldn’t stop thinking of Harry.

“Another win for the boys!!! HUH HUH!!” Norton yells as the boys enter Ben’s house. Harry followed behind them with a smile on his face as he took a beer from a random guy who offered it to him. After the game, Jack and Tom seemed cool with him again. After all, he scored two touchdowns after his mistake. Now, tonight was their celebratory party… like always.

“You played really well, Harry.” Natalie walks to him as he stands at the table where the snacks were laid out.

“Thanks, Nat.” He purses his lips as he looks at the variety of chips in front of him. He was having a hard choice between them.

“I was wondering if you wanted to I don’t know… Go somewhere a bit quieter?” Harry pretended to act clueless but he knew exactly what she was talking about. He never really liked a girl but he did play around with Natalie from time to time. He just hated the way she talked. Harry was about to say yes until he saw Claire across the room, dancing by herself… surrounded by other people who seemed to ignore her. Where were her friends? Did she know that she can’t dance?

“No thanks.” He walks away to grab Claire from the crowd. He brought her outside on the patio where most people were just chilling. Where was Tom?

“Claire.” He tries to stabilize her as she holds onto his shoulders. “Why are you drunk?” If anything, Harry knew Claire wasn’t the type to lose her self control at parties. He noticed she was just as sober as he was… at least most of the time.

“Why di coach Turnerrr yell at you?” She pouts and leans into him.

“I made a mistake.” His hands placed themselves on her waist. He could feel her skin through the thin cropped cardigan and skinny jeans she was wearing.

“You know! I like Finn.” Harry couldn’t help but look down at their shoes.

“You do?”

“Yeah! Especially when he told me how youuu lost the gamee so he can go on a date with me!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.” He lies as he takes a whiff of her sweet perfume. She smelled like lavender.

“You’re British! How could you not be good at soccer?” She looks at him as she slurs. She takes her pointer finger and taps his nose.

“True.”

“You know who I like more than Finn though?” “Who?”

“You! I’ve liked you since eighth grade!”

“What?” His eyes widened. Harry stared at her eyes to see if she was lying but instead, she smiled sweetly as her cheeks were pink as the colour of her room.

“Mhm. Been in love with you since! I always tried to get your attention but you never noticed me!”

“Claire.” He looks at her. He doesn’t know how he feels about the new fact He doesn’t even know what to say. Yeah, he’s always wanted a girlfriend but he never really found a girl for him… well except now. Harry was liking the idea of Claire being his girlfriend. He thought that she liked him but after the first time, she said no, he got his answer and he never thought about it again.

“Holy shit Claire!” Brooke comes out of the house to see them too. She was wondering where her friend was. “Hi, Harry.” Harry took his hands off of her immediately as he pushed the girl into her friend’s arms.

“Hey. I brought her out here, it was pretty hot inside and she’s pretty drunk.” Brooke trusted him as she took Claire. She knew he wasn’t trying to take advantage of her. Truthfully, she heard their whole conversation and the moment she saw Harry’s reaction to Clarie’s confession, she had to come in.

“Thanks.” Harry just nods before walking back inside.

“I knew what I said. Stop bringing it up.” Claire groans as she and her friends sat on the football field just like usual. It was now a Monday and ever since Friday night’s party, her anxiety has been killing her.

“You know, you can always pretend you don’t remember.”

“What?” She takes a sip from her thermos as she listens to Kaitlyn’s suggestion.

“That’s true. You were drunk! Just pretend you don’t remember.” Sandra agrees with her.

“You should. Remember how he just left after kissing you.” Brooke joins into the conversation.

“Tom should never hear about that.” Claire rubs her eyes.

“He won’t as long as you never tell him.” Hannah shakes her head and laughs. “He probably yelled at your ass when you guys were driving home.”

“I still hate how he drinks then drives.” Brooke pouts as she bites her lip. She may have a crush on Claire’s brother.

“He barely drinks though but yeah, I definitely got yelled at.”

“Shit was that the bell?” Sandra sits up and helps the other girls stand up too. “We gotta go. I’ll see you in Bio Claire.”

“Pssst, Psssst Claire!” Harry whispers at her as people enter their classroom.

“What?” She looks at him and takes her pencil case.

“Meet me at the tree during lunch.” Claire wanted to say no. That Hannah needed a buddy to sit with but it was Monday and the other girls had no meetings today so they were going to be a full table anyway.

“What? No.” That was the first time she said no.

“Yes, you will.”

“Class, Let’s get started.”

Harry leaned against the tree as he watched the girl in the dress walk towards him. The sun was shining on her as she carefully walked on the field trying not to get mud on her white sneakers.

“What do you need, Harry? Does Finn want to go on another date?” Claire arrives as she holds onto the straps of her backpack. She was cute, really really cute. Harry had to shake out of his thoughts as he spoke to her.

“You know, you were drunk on Friday.” “I know. I got yelled at by Tom.” She picks up a stick and peels its skin. Harry takes the thing in her hands and throws it away. “Hey!”

“Do you like me?” He cuts her off as he steps closer to her. “You better not lie this time or so help me God, Claire.”

“I told you I don’t.” “Who do you like then?” Harry tested her.

“Finn.” She replies confidently as he clenches his fist.

“That’s not what you said last Friday.”

“I didn’t say anything last Friday! Especially, not to you!” She lied. She knew Harry didn’t like her. She needed to save herself the embarrassment.

“You told me you-”

“I don’t even know anything about you! You barely let me in!”

“Why do you care so much about knowing me!” He yells back at her. She turns around as she feels tears in her eyes. “Are you fucking crying?” She turns around again and sighs.

“I tell you anything you want to know about me but the moment I ask you something, you cut everything short!” “No one cares about me-”

“I do, Harry! I care about you!” She rubs her face and hugs herself. Why did she have to care so much about this boy?

“If you think this is some romantic movie...” He looks at the field then back at her. “That I’m going to comfort you and tell you shit about myself than you’re wrong Claire.” He takes his backpack and leaves her there, by the tree.

“You okay?” Tom unlocks the front door and lets his sister inside the house first. “If you’re still mad about me yelling at you on Friday, you deserve it. You know you need to be careful during these parties.” “I get it, Tom.” Claire walks straight upstairs and shuts her bedroom door.

The pillows surrounding her head comforted her as she continued to cry. It’s pretty sad how she thought he was different. She always admired him from afar but now that she knows him she wants nothing to do with him. She was surprised when her brother opened the door.

“Tom,-” He ignores her and shuts the door. He stands away from her as he watches her cry.

“Did I make you cry or did somebody else?”

“Do you miss dad?” Claire ignores his question and sits up.

“No, I hate him.” He throws the tissue box on the vanity towards her.

“I miss him.” She glances at the picture from her birthday as she wipes her tears with the tissues. “Some times I wonder why I like Harry so much.”

“What did he do? Is he the one who’s making you cry.” Claire shakes her head not to disagree with him but to point the conversation somewhere else.

“Maybe ever since Dad left, I needed to find another person to help me cope with the divorce. Maybe, that’s why I always thought of him.” “I don’t know Claire.” Tom itches his head as he watches his sister. “You do know I’m here for you right. Even when I move off to college, I’m still here.”

“I wonder how I’m going to get home now.” “Learn how to drive you dumbass.” Claire sticks her middle finger at him as she opens her arms.

“Now, come hug me.”

Finn sighs as he kicks the soccer ball past the soccer net. Harry and he were hanging out by the soccer field near their houses. “Fuck man, I don’t know what to say.” He looks back at the curly-headed boy sitting on the grass. “You’re saying if I didn’t win the bet, you wouldn’t have realized you like her? Claire?”

“I’m sorry. I just felt like I needed to tell you about this. You can be mad at me. I just- I don’t know.” Harry rests his face in his hands. Finn sits down in front of him and pushes his arms.

“You sure you like Claire Jameson?” He raises his brows at him. “I thought you said she was stupid and weird.”

“She is Finn! That’s the problem!” Harry falls on the grass as he looks at the sky. “She’s not even stupid. She’s actually really smart. She’s just awkward and clumsy - and she’s so fucking cute like that I don’t-”

“Okay, I get it you like the girl.” Finn laughs sadly as he looks at his friend. “You know, I really think she’s a nice girl but when we were on our date, she couldn’t help but talk about you a lot. She kept trying to ask me questions about you.” “I don’t even know if she likes me. She said she did. I asked her today and then she said no! Girls are crazy man!” “I know but in fairness, this is the first girl you spoke about to me.”

“She drives me crazy.”

“Can you imagine how crazy you’ve been driving her since eighth grade then?” Finn laughs as he stands up again. “Come on, let’s play one more round together and make a bet.”

~ “Hey.” Finn catches up to Claire as they walk in the hallways together. Lunch had just started and she needed to meet Hannah at their table.

“Hey Finn, how are you? How’s your mom?”

“We’re good Claire, thanks for asking.” He holds onto his binder a bit tighter. “I was wondering if I can take you out on a date again?”

“Oh okay.” Claire looks at him. “When?”

“Tonight?”

“Um, on a school night?” “Yeah. I know it’s just my only free day.”

“Okay. Are you going to pick me up?” “Yeah, wear something nice alright?” Claire raises her eyebrows in surprise. Wow, his standards obviously upgraded.

“He’s taking you out again?” Hannah rolls her eyes as she eats her burger. “To Mcdonalds?”

“No. Somewhere nicer.” Claire glances up to see Harry already looking at her. Niall seemed to be talking to him but his attention was somewhere else, or someone else.

“Stop looking at him!” Hannah throws a piece of her sliced cabbage at Claire.”Chant with me. We don’t like Harry Styles, we don’t like-”

“I have to go.” Claire stands up and throws her lunch out. “Go to Sam’s table.” She walks out of the cafeteria. She needed to clear her mind before class and Harry in her peripheral vision wasn’t helping anybody.

She needed to scream at him. She needed to scream at herself. She needed an outlet. By the time she knew it, she was back at the tree from yesterday. As she sat down, she couldn’t help but pout. She’s frustrated, really really frustrated.

“Where we going?” Claire asks Finn as he drives out of her neighbourhood.

“Harbour.” He smiles at her.

“I love the harbour!” She couldn’t help but feel the excitement as she sat in her seat.

By the time, they were there, Finn helped her out of her seat before going back to his. “Finn, Where are you going?” Claire asked in panic as he started his car again. She really tried for this date. She was wearing a bit more makeup than usual and she was even wearing a dress.

“Look behind you.”Finn smiles sadly then drives away. Claire turns around to see Harry in a suit, holding a rose.

“Harry…” She walks towards him. He gives her the pink rose before holding onto her hand and directing them to the restaurant in the front. “Wait, what about Finn?” Harry rolls his eyes as he pulls a seat out for her.

“Is it not obvious that I’m your date tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me love, or I might get that boy to come back here and continue this date for me.” Her cheeks flushed red as she looks at him.

“Why couldn’t you ask me out on a date?”

“I won another bet Finn and I made so, he had to set us up.” Harry licks his lips and smirks. “You better finish everything on your plate sweetheart, I’ve been saving up my money since 5th grade for a date with a girl.”

It was around 6:30 PM as they walked alongside each other in front of the water. Harry couldn’t help but give his jacket to Claire since it was quite cold tonight. “You wanted to know more about me huh?” “Yeah.” Claire rolls her eyes at Harry’s statement. “Just forget about it-”

“My father passed away 5 years ago and we couldn’t pay for our house, so we moved to a smaller one. It’s where I live now. I have a stepfather so he’s been helping my mom now.” He glances at her and squeezes her cheek. “Don’t cry, Claire. I know it’s sad but that’s what life is.” Claire stops walking. For the first time in three years, she’s able to look him in the eyes without feeling nervous.

“I’m here for you.”

“I know.” He takes her hand and nods his head to the right to gesture they should walk again. “You know what’s funny? I ‘ve always known about you. I just never really spoke to you.”

“I know!” Claire laughs as she plays with the rose, bumping it on her face. “I used to watch you all the time and observe what stuff you wore and what you like to eat.” They stop walking in front of the boats.

“So, you were a stalker?” Harry laughs as her cheeks turn red. “Oh, stop acting shy. I like you too.”

“I never said I liked you!” Claire begins to walk again but Harry grabs onto her wrist to pull back.

“Well, I’m telling you… I like you, Claire Jameson.”

“I like you more, Harry Styles.” Harry’s eyes crinkle as he hears her response. He rubs her hair at the top of her head, before kissing her forehead.

“Alright, I won’t fight with you on that.

~ Five months later

“Hey, baby,” Harry smirks as he catches Claire into his arms. Football practice had just finished and Hary couldn’t wait to take his girlfriend home, especially with the heart eyes she’s been giving him since the whole thing started.

“Hi!” She hides her face in his T-shirt as she wears his hoodie.

“Gross!” A voice teases them, “ Styles you better have my sister home by 10.” Tom walks with their other teammates out of the change room. Harry just nods as he takes his girl’s hand.

They walked together towards the tree at the end of the field. The sun was setting as mixtures of purple and pink covered the sky. Claire sat down as Harry laid his head on her lap.

“I have a question.” She asks her boyfriend as she plays with his soft brown curls.

“Mhm.” He closes his eyes and rubs his face on her stomach.

“Would you rather date me or the most beautiful girl in the world?” Harry just rolls his eyes and sits up.

“The most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Harr, that was supposed to be a trick question.” Harry leans in to leave kisses all over her face.

“You are. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.” He kisses her and smiles, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harrystyles oneshots #one direction #one direction one shots #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #frat boy!harry #highschool! au #harrystylesfluff

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mysterioh · 4 years

Text

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 13

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

A/N: This one’s for the girls who feel underappreciated. Love you all! 💗

W/C: ~5k (kinda long this time)

Masterlist

Insert Very Cute Very Soft Title

“He’s so fluffy!” you fawned, squatting down to the dog's level, hands pressed against your cheeks as you looked at the fluffy cotton ball in complete awe.

Lucky sat on his bottom, smiling and panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, unaware of the effect he was having on you. He sat relaxed but ready to pounce on Steve if he let him. You squealed, shaking your head back and forth, and the mob men find it amusing.

"Don’t be rude Lucky, shake hands," Steve chuckled behind you.

“Hello, Lucky,” you placed your hand in front of him and he placed his paw on top. “So cute!” you screamed in awe. Steve pays close attention to the way your fingers sift through his luscious white fur. "Oh my god, you’re so soft!"

“She really likes Lucky," Bucky chuckled.

“I never knew she could be that nice," Steve shakes his head. His confusion and shock slowly morph into envy by the way you're playing with Lucky. "I can’t believe I’m jealous of a dog.”

“Hey, at least you know she isn’t a gold digger," Sam said. You're too busy with the dog that you don't pay them any mind. "She completely ignored this giant mansion filled with priceless treasures."

"Would you shut up?" Steve asked annoyed. "She's literally right there."

"She's gone, bro," Bucky crossed his arms. "She's not coming back anytime soon."

"You guys are finally here," Nat said, strutting towards them from the hallway. "I was wondering where you were."

You stand up as the redhead walks towards you. "And you brought a friend," she smirks at Steve. He looks away with an irritated blush creeping on his cheeks.

"Hi, I think we met at the restaurant," you extended your hand for a shake. "My name is–"

"Y/N," Nat shakes your hand. "I know. Stevie's told me a lot about you."

Your face flushed warm and you turned towards him with a wicked grin.

"Is that true, Stevie?"

Steve gulps when you tease him, it's like a sweet blaze burning through his veins. Steve's lips form into a pout before clicking his tongue.

"Alright, it ain't that funny," he said pointedly at the three snickering mischievously. "Sam, Bucky, Nat, in my office now," he ordered firmly, but it didn't phase them. "Peter stay here with Y/N."

"Aye, aye, Captain." He saluted.

He walks up to you and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "I gotta have a quick meeting. If that's okay with you?"

"No problem with me," you shake your head.

Steve smiles brightly. "Thanks, it won't be too long. Make yourself at home," he turned on his heel. "If you need anything just ask Peter."

You chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be fine, Stevie," you teased.

Steve shakes his head with a blush staining his cheeks. "Stop," he said in an attempt to sound serious but trails off into a flustered chuckle.

You turn to look at Peter. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugs, “how about we sneak around and do something illegal?”

“In the kingpin’s house?” you smirked. “I love that idea.”

“Great,” he beams, “Let’s—” Peter’s ringtone goes off and digs his hand into his pocket for his phone. He pulls it out and sighs. “It’s my girlfriend.”

“Why must your girlfriend so conveniently call when we are on the brink of a major discovery?”

“I don’t know,” Peter chuckled, “I shall answer and find out,” he takes a skip towards the living room for some privacy, leaving you alone with Lucky.

You crouch down to his level. “Well, Lucky, I suppose our mystery gang is down to two,” you said, cupping his cheeks. “What do we do now? Got any embarrassing pictures of your old man we can go through?”

Lucky barks and rushes off somewhere. He returns not a minute later with a ball in his mouth. He places the ball on the floor in front of you and pants heavily.

“Ball?” you asked, “Are you even allowed to play ball in the house?” You shrugged, taking the ball into your hand. “Well, Steve did say to make ourselves at home. So that means— catch !”

Lucky scrambles after the ball, slipping along the shiny marble floor of the foyer and into the hallway. You wait patiently for him to return, observing the interior of the mansion’s foyer. The house was styled in an old French Country Style with worn and ornamental wooden furnishings and soft tones of warm colors. In the middle of the foyer was the staircase lined with shining mahogany banisters that narrow at the top and grow wide downwards. The walls are decorated with various paintings. All matching perfectly with the decor.

You snorted while placing your hands on your hips. Of course, he’d have paintings in his house. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it.

You realize that a couple of minutes have passed and Lucky still hadn’t returned with the ball. You walk down the hallway calling Lucky’s name quietly. The low tone of conversation comes from one of the rooms and you tiptoed towards the door, cracked open just enough for a beam of light to peer through.

Crouching against the wall, you crane your neck towards the door to listen to the conversation inside. You were never one to eavesdrop but you had a lot of questions about Steve. A lot of questions he probably wouldn't want to answer.

You squeak at the feel of something soft brush against your leg and turn to find Lucky sitting next to you, ball in mouth. He drops the ball drenched in his slobber into your hand. Slightly disgusted you smiled at him. “Where have you been?” you whispered before turning back inside.

"Those men were either Rumlow or Chicago, we're not exactly sure."

"We'll find out."

"Chill out, Stevie, the girl's fine."

"It's not something to chill out about, Bucky," Steve countered, "She could've gotten hurt."

There's a genuine sound of worry and care in his words and even without taking a peek inside, you imagine what he looks like. Eyebrows knitted loosely in frustration, lips curved downward slightly in anger, jaw ticking, muscles bulging underneath white sleeves pushed up past his elbows, and hands placed flat on his desk as he's hunched over with the most despicable expression on his face. And it's all because of you. For you. You didn't know if it was right or wrong.

Bucky snorted along to the creaking of the chair he was sitting on being balanced on its hind legs. "Not when her prince in shining armor's there to save h–ow! Okay! I'm sorry!" He hollered.

"This isn't a time for jokes, Buck," Nat stated, seriously.

"The clown can't help himself," Sam snickered.

"Screw you, Wilson," Bucky jabbed. Sam was ready to retort but Nat interjected.

"What if it's neither?" Nat proposed. "What if they're all working together?"

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, clueless. Nat sighed.

"Think about it. The Gambinos work with Lucchese. They're pals. Rumlow’s working with Lucchese and he shows up with this proposition right after Steve decided to nuke the Gambino brothers."

_Wait, nuke who? Nuke as in bomb? He's killing people? _

_All of a sudden, Quentin's highly irritating, fatherly voice twinkles in the back of your head. _

"You mean they're all in this together?" Sam questioned.

"What else am I trying to say?" Nat snapped.

"Woah Sis, better check that attitude," Bucky replied.

"You wanna say that again, Buckethead?" She asked, dangerously low.

Bucky gulps while shaking his head.

"Thought so."

"If they're all working together, who's the head?" Sam said, rubbing his hand across his chin.

"It could be a compromise?" Nat stated. "Working together to take over?"

"No, they ain't that buddy-buddy," Steve counters with a grumble. "There's gotta be one at the top that brought them together."

The room goes silent for a few minutes and you can hear your heartbeat bouncing back and forth between your chest and the wall. Lucky opens his mouth to bark and you quickly cover it with your hands.

"Sshh," you whispered with a finger in front of your lips.

"Hydra," Steve stated and your attention returns to inside.

"What?" Bucky asked incredulously, "there's no way."

"No wait a second," Sam stopped him. "The Gambinos were working with Hydra behind our back. Who's to say Lucchese isn't?"

"Sam's got a point," Nat agreed. "Hydra could be the head. They're covering themselves up with the big guys and those dumbasses are falling for it."

Bucky nodded. "Makes sense. The underdog's taking a chance to make it to the top."

"Well they're messing with the wrong mob," Sam snarled. "We'll show 'em just what we're made of."

"But, we can't afford a war," Bucky reminded, "Not when elections are coming up."

War? What does he mean by that? Does he mean like a GANG WAR? OH GOD, WHAT AM I DOING HERE?

"Bucky's right,” Steve agrees.

"For once," Nat quickly replied, earning a grumble from Bucky.

"Here's what we do," Steve started. You notice just how different he sounds. Stately and somewhat dictating, very serious with speckles of something dark. Something that makes shivers crawl down your spine. He doesn't sound like the Steve you knew.

“We wade this out," he continues, “Let it pass until the elections are over and then we hit ‘em."

"You think T'challa's gonna like that?" Nat asked.

"He will if he wants to keep his ass on that chair," Sam retorts.

"We don't make any moves until the elections pass and he wins," Steve re-stated. "Tell everyone working under you to lay low. No fights. No bullshit," he ordered. "We make 'em feel like it was nothing. Ya hear?"

"Got it," Bucky nodded.

You hear them shuffling inside, chairs being pushed, and steps coming towards the door and take it as your cue to disappear. Quickly picking up Lucky, who's heavier than he looks, you quietly run down the hall just as Bucky opens the door.

"And the girl?" Nat asked while Sam helped her put her coat on.

"What about her?" Steve asked, clearing the papers from his desk.

"If you're gonna keep her around, which you probably are, you have to tell her what she's getting into."

Steve sighs and drops his papers back onto the desk.

"Nat's right, buddy, she needs to know before it gets worse," Bucky agreed.

"I'll talk to her," Steve responded.

"Tonight?" Nat asked her tone stating that he better say yes.

"Tonight."

A haze of smoke dances underneath dim lights, above and around the round table of Sir Alexander's notorious mobsters.

The thick smell of alcohol and cigars mingled with the aroma of day-old pizza inside of Gino's Pizzeria. A few sat around the table playing cards, laughing raucously at another lewd joke. Others lined the bar with the wall illuminated by speckled bar lights shining through bottles of different hues.

It was always a den of debauchery, alcoholism, and the great unwashed of the town. No one came there with anything wholesome in mind.

Strucker walks past the men, each of them giving their stalwart a greeting nod or word, and into the back. He opens the door, gaining the attention of the men sitting around the table. They look at him with questioning eyes and he gulps silently. His eyes meet the cold ones of the man at the head of the table, sending a shiver down the grown man's spine. Alexander Pierce, the leader of Hydra.

"He got away," Strucker informed.

"How'd you let that happen?" Pierce asked, tapping his finger against the wooden table.

"It was dark," he said blankly.

"Are you fucking serious?" Rumlow asked incredulously. "He's not serious is he?" He points at Strucker while looking at Zemo.

Zemo sighed, slightly irritated by Rumlow. He's been all night. "With all due respect sir, I told you it would've been a bad move to do this," Zemo told Pierce. "But it's not like anyone listens to me around here," he looks straight at Rumlow.

"What the hell are you looking at me for?" He pointed at himself with both his hands. "I had an idea and you all liked it. How is this solely my fault?"

"Everything you ever come up with goes to shit," Zemo stated flatly. "Now the kingpin knows we're sneaking around."

"They don't know it's us," Rumlow retorted.

"But they know it's someone and most likely you," Zemo said pointedly.

"The boss gave me the okay," Rumlow replied. Zemo always had a way of getting under his skin. "So your opinion doesn't matter."

"After begging like a dog for it," Zemo bites.

Rumlow quickly stands, shaking the table along with him. "You wanna say that again?" He threatens with a grisly voice.

"Rumlow, sit down," Pierce stated calmly, unphased by his outrage, but slightly irritated by the three of them. "Zemo, shut up."

The two follow their stalwart's orders giving each other death stares making the older man sighed deeply like a tired mother.

"The Brooklyn Mob is the biggest force in the city. They've got the biggest territory. The best guys. And all the politicians that can do something," Zemo lists. "They got the mayor. Half the police force on their payroll. The best damn lawyer in the city."

"Nick Fury's getting old. He can't do that forever," Strucker said, lighting a cigarette.

"For old Rogers? I highly doubt it." Rumlow guffaws. "You know how much he gets paid for keeping his ass outta jail?"

"But there's always a weak spot," Pierce pointed out, cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "No great empire lasts forever. They all have a weakness.” he sits back in his chair, hooking his leg over the other. “All we need to do is find one.”

“How are you going to do that?” Rumlow asked, completely confused. “No Brooklyn mobster is dumb enough to go against the kingpin, not like they want to anyway. They’re the cockiest little shits I’ve ever met.”

Zemo shakes his head. “You’re thinking too outwardly, Rumlow. We need someone on the inside, someone close to ol’ Rogers.”

“You mean like Barnes or Wilson?” Rumlow questioned, incredulously. “Good luck with that Harvard man.” Zemo huffs through his nose with a grimace.

"We need something. Something good,” Pierce told them. “Something that'll make the kingpin fall so far that he'll never get back up."

“I think I have something,” Strucker raises his hand.

“Strucker, be quiet, you don’t even have a brain,” Rumlow shuts him down.

“Honestly listen to me,” he persisted. “There’s some talk going on around the city.”

“Well, are you gonna tell us?” Pierce questioned harshly.

“Apparently, Rogers’ got a girl.”

Rumlow scoffed. “That’s news? Who cares about some chick he’s fucking?”

“No, no this may be something,” Pierce counters and Strucker smiles small. “Rogers is a gentleman. He’s sweet around the ladies.”

“Well, whoop de doo his momma taught him some manners before kicking the bucket. So what?”

“Whoever this girl is,” Strucker started. “She’s important to him. Maybe even more than his damn mob. I mean everyone knows the kingpin doesn’t back out of a fight, but this time he did and wanna know why? Because she was there with him.”

“Who is this girl?” Zemo asked him.

“I don’t know. No one knows,” he shrugs, “Probably a civilian.”

“So what do we do?” Rumlow asks the others. “Go after the girl? Bribe him into it?”

Pierce shakes his head with a frown. “No, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he stood up, looking at his three best. “Rumlow, you’re gonna stay low.” he pointed at him then at Strucker.

“Strucker, you’re gonna find this girl, get every piece of information you can on her. Every damn thing you hear me?” Strucker nods in haphazard. “But don’t make a move. Not until I say so. This girl may just be what we need,” Pierce smiles devilishly and laughs haughtily.

“And what about me?” Zemo asked with furrowed brows.

“Pack your bags, kid, you’re going on a trip,” he patted him on the shoulder as he walked by.

“What?” he questioned Pierce as he walked away. “Where?”

Pierce stops at the door and turns back with a wicked glint in his eye and the gears in his aged brain concocting a toxic plan.

“Jolly old England!”

“So you live in this huge place all alone?” you asked, sitting on a stool by the kitchen island with Lucky resting on the floor next to you.

The kitchen alone was bigger than your entire apartment complete with granite-topped counters, sparkling clean kitchen items, and that never-ending fridge Bucky was talking about.

"Not really," Steve said, making some coffee. "I've got a penthouse. Smaller. Closer to work. I usually stay there."

"But you're still all alone.”

Steve stops for a second to ruminate on your words. True, he was alone. He didn’t have any family left, except for Lucky. He always tried not to think about it by keeping himself busy, but loneliness had a way of sneaking up on him. He shrugged, pulling out two mugs from the cabinet above him.

"I don't know being alone isn't so bad,” he replied, placing the cups down. “It gives you time to think. About yourself. About what you want in life and what you don't,” You listened while watching him pour some coffee into a mug. “You can use that time to find out something you never knew about yourself."

“I guess,” you replied sheepishly.

He turns with a smile telling you not to feel bad. He places a mug in front of you. "Besides I'm not always alone. I've got my friends."

"Oh yeah,” you chuckled. “How could I ever forget them? They're kinda hard to miss."

Steve laughs, returning to the counter to get his cup. "Sorry if they're annoying."

"No, they're not annoying,” you shake your head, cupping the mug with both of your hands. "I like them. They seem like a lot of fun."

He snorts. "They can be when they want to."

You take a sip of the hot liquid. A sweet wave of French Vanilla bombards your tastebuds. You notice a yellow sketchbook, sticking out from underneath some junk mail. Without thinking, you pull the book out.

"You draw?"

He turns to see you with his book in your hand. He smiles sheepishly. Why did I leave that there!? "A little,” he replied, turning back to work on his coffee.

"Seems to be more than a little,” you chuckled. "Can I?"

"Hmm, oh yeah sure go ahead,” he said, adding some creamer to his mug. He stops midway when he realizes what book was in your hand. The yellow one. The one no one was supposed to see. Especially the girl who’s picture he drew horribly in it.

He almost drops the creamer as he quickly lunges over the granite top as you turned the page. "W-wait! Not—not that one!" he shouted, as you turned the page to reveal a picture of you. It’s a simple headshot going down to just above your chest.

Steve’s face goes red as half off him lays on top of the table, watching the way you’re looking at the picture he drew. Your eyes move from place to place, taking in every part he drew with attention to detail. Every stroke twisted into a lacy network of pencil lead. The painstaking task of shading to represent the contrast between light and dark. It’s fragile, natural, beautiful in its own way.

It makes you think. How long did he take to make this? How many hours did he erase to get it all right? Every line has been made with care, every stroke with you in mind.

Brushing your fingers along the picture you gasp in awe. "This is me."

"It is," he murmurs. You turn quiet and look at the sketch in wonder. Steve takes your silence as you being weirded out and begins to ramble an excuse.

"I'm really sorry. I just...I don't know what happened to me and I drew this cause I was thinking about you and I know it's really creepy—."

"I like it," you interrupted.

"What?"

"I said I like it. I love it actually," you looked up at him, beaming. "I've never had my portrait done before."

He stands straight and scratches the back of his head still embarrassed. "I'm- um- glad you like it."

"You've really outdone yourself with this. I don't even look this pretty," you remarked.

Steve was taken aback at first then shakes his head with a sad smile.

"I don't–I don't think that at all. I'm still lacking so much. I still can't get that pretty smile of yours right or that sparkle in your eye," lifting up your head, your eyes meet his vibrant, honest ones. "I'll never be able to recreate the things that make you so beautiful.”

Beautiful .

That's something you've never really felt before. Something no one's ever really said before. It's always been the opposite. There are a million flaws you could pick out right there and then, but you take his words as truth.

There's a dry ache in your throat as tears start to bubble at the corners of your eyes. You sniffle as teardrops fall onto the paper.

"What's wrong?" Steve came towards you in a hurry.

You shake your head, wiping away the tears "It's just," you sniffled, rubbing your eye. "No one's ever really said that to me before," you look up with a smile and red eyes. "Sorry, I'm getting your book all wet," you chuckled, avoiding his eyes.

His heart aches at your words, his fingers itching to wrap around you in an embrace. He wants you to feel loved . Feel wanted. He wanted you to know just how beautiful you really were. He wanted you to see yourself the way he saw you.

"That's fine. I don't care," he whispered, gently weaving his hands in yours. "Y/N."

You look up at him and he's left breathless again. To him, you’ve always been an understated beauty. Simple and sweet. Confident and strong. Perhaps that was the reason why your skin glowed. It was your inner beauty that lit your eyes and softened your features.

When you smiled and laughed he couldn’t help but follow along. To be in your company made him feel like he was more than just a mob boss. That he too deserved to be warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

"You're very beautiful," he repeated and it feels more special the second time.

You chuckle while shaking your head, your hands still in his.

"If you're tryna get in my pants, kingpin, it’s not gonna work," you jabbed playfully.

He rolled his eyes, his lips curling in a playfully peeved grin.

"Can't I say something just for the sake of saying it?"

You smiled sheepishly, slipping off the stool and standing. "I guess you can."

Before he could even say another word, you pull him down to you and kiss him straight on the lips. Not on the cheek. But on the lips and it catches him completely off guard.

It's quick and chaste but it's something Steve's been dreaming of for a long time. Those pretty plump lips against his felt softer than heaven, sweeter than honey. When you part just a split second later, he feels lonely but content with the promise of another meeting.

You giggle sweetly, your breath mingling with his, tickling – teasing his lips to come closer for more.

"I should really get to bed," you said, standing a bit back. "I've got an early class."

"Yeah, of course," he nodded with a beaming smile. "Let me show you to your room."

Pulling you by the hand, he leads you out of the kitchen and towards the staircase. Everything seems so perfect at that moment. The dim light of a chandelier twinkling above, your hand perfectly intertwined in his, and his deep, soothing voice rambling that sounded more like the hazy tune of a sweet melody.

Never in your dreams did you think you'd get to share a moment like this let alone with a man like him. Dangerous for sure, but sweet and humble, generous and caring. All the good things about him seemed to outmatch the one bad thing. So what if he had a bit of notoriety? The world wasn't perfect and neither were you.

Sometimes you find the things you want most in life in the most unexpected of places. You found yours in him. Though small at the moment it could blossom into something more. And for that "what if" you were more than willing to stay.

“I think Lucky wants to sleep with you tonight," Steve chuckles as the puppy pushes his way through the door and your legs.

"I don't mind," you smiled at him making his way to the bed.

You reached on your tiptoes and gave Steve a kiss on the cheek. “Good night.”

Steve smiles sweetly not really wanting to leave. He plants a kiss on your intertwined hand, igniting a blazing fire across the skin of your arm. “Good night," he wishes.

Quentin stood by the science building on campus as he did every day, waiting for you to drag yourself to school like you did every day, but this time he finds something he didn’t expect. His jaw drops at the sight of you driving up in the passenger seat of a sparkling silver Corvette. It’s only until the car stops by him on the side of the curb does he really believe that it’s you.

"Y/N! What are you doing with him?!” he shouted with an accusatory point.

“Oh, hey Quentin," you got out of the convertible not really paying attention to him. You turn towards Steve. "Thanks for the ride, Steve and for letting me stay.”

“You spent the night with him?!” he hollered, waving his arms around.

“No problem, sweetheart," Steve chuckled sweetly.

“Don’t call her that!” Quentin shouted, standing next to you.

Your eyes are completely fixated on Steve and don't notice Quentin glaring at you. “See ya around sometime?”

“Yeah, I’d love to," the blonde agreed with a smile.

“Stop ignoring me!” Quentin huffed putting his hands on his hips.

“Do you hear that annoying sound or is it just me?” Steve asked, teasingly, earning a giggle in return.

“Y/N, what the hell were you doing with this criminal for an entire night?”

“It’s a long story Quentin I’ll tell you later,” you waved him off.

“I demand to know right now!”

You rolled your eyes with a huff. “I’ll tell you after class," you stated with emphasis.

“Hey,” Steve calls you back. “If anything happens, you call me right away. You hear me?”

“You have his number?” Quentin asked through gritted teeth. He just couldn’t process how you went from hating him two days ago to sleeping over his house.

You smiled with a nod. “Yeah, I’ll tell you don’t worry.” Steve takes your hand and kisses it.

“I’ll see you later then?” he asked again, running his thumb across the ridges of your knuckles and you wanted to melt right there.

“Call me when you’re free,” you told him with a sudden urge to kiss him again. But not right now, Quentin would raise hell if he saw that. As if he wasn’t already.

“What the fuck is happening here?” Quentin questioned. “You stay away from her,” he pointed at the blonde. Steve gave him a snarky smile that said: I do what I want twink ass bitch and it only pisses him off more. “And you stop looking at him like he’s your fucking Romeo.”

“I mean if the job’s open?” Steve shrugged, his Prada sunglasses hanging low on his nose and looking over at you. You chuckled as Quentin pulls you along by the hand.

“It’s not.” he bit back. “So leave before I call the cops.”

You bite your lip, highly tempted to skip class, jump back into his convertible, and have him take you wherever he wants to. Along lone country roads, feeling the wind twirl through your hair as he holds your hand in his, kissing it from time to time as he drives into a tangy orange sunset. You’ll take it one step further, pressing a kiss onto his cheek and along his jaw until you reach those pretty lips.

God, what was happening to you?

"What are you staring at?” Quentin hissed, bringing you back to your senses. He points upward toward the building. “Get your butt up those stairs right now!"

You follow your dad friend up the stairs as he goes off about how out of line you are. You turn around as he pulls you behind him. Your eyes meet Steve’s baby blues, twinkling under the sunlight. You chuckle at him as he waves goodbye.

You press your hands against your lips and send a kiss towards him flamboyantly. He clutches his chest and falls back onto his seat dramatically leaving you a giggly mess. It's a pity that you had to leave so soon.

You shoot one last smile his way before going inside and it's like Cupid's arrow shot him right through the heart.

TAGLIST (OPEN): @ashwarren32 @chuckennuggets1213 @scuzmunkie @siriusement @rootcrop @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @boxofteenageideas @great-goddess-of-sin @calwitch @achishisha @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @littlebees-things @voltage-my2dlove @rinkashirikitateku @booktease21 @harleyscheekheart @emptyporsche @imsonick

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #mob!steve #mob!steve rogers x reader #mobster steve rogers x reader #mobster au #mob!steve rogers x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff

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1heartsickfics · 4 years

Text

Hoodie Strings

Inspired by a post from @roundmuse “good shit: when someone is totally stuffed and tries to hide their round belly under a hoodie. theyre so bloated and trying to rub it through the pocket but they're not as subtle as they think they are”

I was going to write it for Nathan cause he’s my fave but I’ve tortured him a lot lately so I’m gonna go with Zayn.

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“Zayn, come here!” Andrew called over his shoulder, motioning for him to join him and his friends. He gave Andrew a forced smile before forcing himself to stand up straight from where he’d been leaning against the wall and walk over. As soon as Andrew turned his back on him he stuffed both hands in the pocket of his hoodie and sulked over, head down.

“Zayn, these are my friends Hazel and Tayden. Tayden is chem premed and Hazel is bio, but we have a lot of classes together,” Andrew explained, “And this is my fiancee, Zayn,” he beamed. He never got over the word ‘fiancee’.

Zayn smiled as best as he could and reached out to shake their hands, keeping his other hand tucked in the pocket of his sweatshirt, “Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Andy said that you proposed on a ferris wheel?” Hazel asked.

“Yeah I did, I was so scared I was gonna drop it,” Zayn forced a laugh, remembering how much his hands had been shaking.

“That’s literally so cute oh my god,” Hazel laughed with him.

“I was very impressed,” Andrew said, nudging Zayn fondly with his shoulder. Zayn gave him a smile, then looked away, trying to focus on anything but the way his stomach felt. He tuned out the conversation, breathing slowly to ease the queasy feeling rising in his belly. He’d really overdone it.

“Hey,” Andrew said, reaching over and tugging on Zayn’s hoodie string to get his attention. He quickly snapped out of it, blinking hard and looking over at Andrew.

“Hmm?” he asked, swallowing hard.

“You alright? You kinda zoned out there,” Andrew looked at him worriedly.

“Yeah, fine. Just not a fan of crowds and people I don’t know,” Zayn shrugged. This much was true. He’d had multiple reasons for hiding in the corner. He wasn’t really a fan of the party crowd, even if the so called “party crowd” was just a group of university science majors having their end of the year banquet.

Andrew’s face softened, “I know, I’m sorry. It means a lot to me that you agreed to come though.”

“Yeah course, I’ll be okay,” he shrugged.

“I just wanted to show off my hot, older, fiancee,” Andrew joked, grinning as he elbowed Zayn teasingly in the ribs.

Zayn forced a laugh but brought a hand up to his mouth to cover up the belch that slipped out. Thankfully it was quiet enough, stirred up by the elbow to his stomach.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We can go if you want,” Andrew said, that worried look scrunching up his face again.

“I’m alright. We can stay as long as you want,” Zayn shook his head, sliding both hands back into the pocket of his sweatshirt to cup his belly. God he felt huge. It was a good thing this hoodie was a little oversized or he’d probably look like he was pregnant or something.

“Okay, come on I want to go talk to Dr. Graber,” Andrew grabbed his arm and pulled him through the crowd. Zayn resisted the urge to drop his head down onto Andrew’s shoulder. He felt disgusting. Zayn should’ve known better than to get seconds on bread AND cake. His stomach was too sensitive for such a heavy meal, especially with desert after.

“Hey Dr. Graber! Um, this is my fiancee Zayn. Z, this is my organic chem professor, the one who tells the jokes,” Andrew smiled.

“Nice to meet you sir,” Zayn shook his hand, “I’ve heard quite a bit, you’re one of his favorites.”

Andrew looked a little surprised by his friendliness towards the professor. He knew how much Zayn hated stuff like this. Zayn refrained from rolling his eyes at the look Andrew gave him. Just cause his stomach hurt didn’t mean he couldn’t play nice and be friendly or sociable. He knew how to handle himself well enough.

As Andrew and Dr. Graber talked about something he’d been working on in the lab, Zayn let himself zone out again. His stomach was really starting to hurt. He was so full it felt like it was getting kind of hard to breathe, and standing up was just making it weigh even more heavily. There were gas bubbles churning around in his belly too, making him have to fight down burps every once in a while, which hurt even more. Not to mention that he could feel his jeans digging into his lower tummy painfully. He stuck both hands in his pocket, rubbing slow circles over his lower tummy and belly button, concealed by the fabric.

“Alright, I think we’re going to head out, I’ve got a lab report to finish tonight,” Andrew said, bringing Zayn back to reality again.

“That’s probably a good idea,” the professor laughed. “It was good to meet you,” he added, looking at Zayn.

“You too sir,” Zayn forced out, swallowing hard as a belch threatened to make its way up his throat.

“Come on Z, I’m ready to go,” Andrew said, tugging on his hoodies string again.

“Alright,” Zayn tried to sound nonchalant, but in reality he was practically in tears of relief.

Andrew said goodbye to a few people on their way out, but mostly led them towards the doors. He kept Zayn behind him, holding on to his arm. No other introductions occurred thank god. Zayn wasn’t sure he could talk much more.

Zayn sighed when they got outside. In the quiet, cool air, he felt a little better. Although his tummy was still far too full and achy. He rubbed it in the pocket again, letting his eyes flutter shut for a moment. Or at least he though it was just a moment.

“Z,” Andrew said softly. Zayn opened his eyes and realized they were standing next to Zayn’s truck already. “Keys?” he asked.

“What?” Zayn asked, suddenly feeling exhausted. He cupped the underside of his belly, wishing he could unbutton his pants. It was hard to focus.

“Oh sweetie come here,” Andrew sighed, pulling Zayn into his arms. Normally Zayn would protest to such coddling in public, especially the pet name. But he let himself melt into his fiancees arms, leaning heavily against him.

“My tummy hurts,” Zayn admitted quietly.

“I know,” Andrew said, rubbing his arms up and down Zayn’s back.

“You do?” Zayn asked.

“You’re not as subtle as you think you are babe. Now come on, give me the keys so we can get you home,” Andrew said. Zayn handed over the keys as Andrew opened his door for him.

“I’m an idiot,” Zayn sighed miserably, slumping against the car door after getting in. He’d decided to forgo the seatbelt, figuring it might make him puke to have any pressure on his bloated stomach.

“Ssh, it’s alright, happens to everyone,” Andrew waved him off, starting the car and heading for home. “Once we’re back you can get those jeans off and get in bed so I can rub your tummy, you’ll feel a lot better then,” he continued.

Zayn practically whimpered in anticipation. He couldn’t think of anything that sounded more wonderful.

#sick zayn #no emeto #caretaker andrew #hoodies #tummy rubs #bloated #bloated belly #burps #stomach ache #upset stomach #illness #sickfic #oc story #tummy ache #zayn and andrew

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softboywriting · 5 years

Text

At First Sight | Part Three | Werewolf AU | Shawn Mendes

Summary: Things begin to unfold in the community that make you realize that even though life is better at Lunacasa, it’s not perfect. [fluff] [mates] [werewolf au] [half-blood au] [talk of loss of a parent]

Word Count: 3.8k

|Masterlist In Bio|

"Shawn!"

You open your eyes, looking around the bedroom for the source of the yelling. Your body still hurts but not as bad as it had in the middle of the night. Shawn is sprawled out beside you, arm over your waist.

"Shawn! We have a problem!" There is pounding on the door following the yelling. It sounds like Fiona.

Shawn stirs, eyes blinking open and he pushes up off the bed with an annoyed growl. "What?!" He snaps, running a hand over his hair and glaring at the bedroom door. You stare at his bare back that leads right down the curve of his ass as he sits on the edge of the bed across from you. Good gods he's absolutely breathtaking, how did you manage to land a mate so strong?

Silence answers him from the door and you can see him tense.

"Fiona I swear to every god there is that I will skin you alive." He pushes off the bed, wrapping the top sheet off of it around his lower half as he heads to the door. He pulls it open and Fiona is standing there with a piece of metal in her hand.

"We have a problem." She holds up what looks like a black metal bar from the fence surrounding the community. "I found this while running this morning."

You sit up and try to get a better look but Shawn has stepped over and is blocking most of the doorway.

"Where?" Shawn takes the object from Fiona. "Was there more?"

"It was out by the far end of the community where Nancy lives. A whole section was missing. Looks like it was cut out somehow."

Shawn hands back the object and runs his hand through his hair, tugging at the curls in the back. "Go tell Nancy and Tom to meet me in the conference room, and get someone out there to repair or replace that fence." Shawn closes the door and turns to you.

"What's going on? What was that thing?"

"It was a piece of the metal fence that surrounds the community." He goes to his dresser and starts getting dressed. "Most likely someone has broken in. It's not the first time unfortunately. We'll find them or what they stole soon enough."

"Why would someone want to break in? We're wolves. Who wants to mess with wolves?"

Shawn sits down beside you and takes your hand in his. "Lunacasa is a really nice community. Right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, it's not usually humans who break in here. See, not all packs and communities have this sort of set up and it's really hard to get permission to have a place like this. My dad fought hard for permits to build this community and we're as big as we're legally allowed to be. There are a lot of wolves who want to live here and a lot of them who resent us for living in such a protected area."

"Oh, I didn't know it was so different. I figured these places were everywhere, but I guess it makes sense if that's why people want in."

Shawn nods. "Yeah. You went to public school in the city right?"

"Mmhmm."

"You weren't treated the best because you looked different?" You nod. "Your werewolf peers weren't treated the best either I guarantee. Unfortunately our kind experiences a lot of oppression in the human run world and places like Lunacasa are a dream for a lot of wolves and a nightmare for humans who don't understand us."

"Humans don't like werewolves? But we look just like them. We're just shapeshifters, I don't understand. What's so bad about us?"

Shawn smiles sadly, rubbing his thumb over your hand in his. "Oh darling. You really have no idea."

"About what?"

"A lot of humans think we're bloodthirsty killers. They think we're born violent, that we're just animals at the end of the day. You're lucky to not have known how people think of us." He cups your face and kisses you sweetly. "I need to go and meet with Nancy and Tom now."

"But..."

"Yes?"

"Am I safe?"

"Yes." Shawn kisses your head. "You're going to be just fine. We'll sort out the broken fence and find out what's going on. It's probably some wolves who applied to live here that we had to turn away. Don't worry about it."

"Okay." You rub your eyes. "I'm going to go back to sleep then."

"Alright. I'll see you in a bit, love." He leans down and kisses you one last time before leaving and you flop back to try and get some more sleep.

______________________

Shawn is in the conference room with Nancy, Fiona and a guy you can only assume is the one named Tom that Shawn mentioned earlier. You peek in the cracked open doors to see what is going on, you're curious, the meeting is taking a long while. Fiona looks over toward you, most likely noticing your presence and you back away from the door.

"Hey."

You jump and turn around to see a guy standing across from you. He's got sandy blonde hair and he looks like he's about eighteen. "Hello?"

"You're Shawn's mate right?"

"Sort of?"

The guy smiles and shakes his head. "It's okay, I know you two are together." He lifts a camera off his chest and taps the top of it. "I took photos at the party last night. You guys were always together."

"O-oh. Yeah. I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Oh! Shit, sorry." He steps forward and holds out his hand. "I'm Connor. You know my mom, Nancy."

You smile and let out a sigh of relief. "You're Koda's brother."

"Yeah." He rolls his eyes. "Koda is my baby brother. He loves to follow me around and bug me all the time. We're fourteen years apart, so we don't have a lot in common, obviously."

"He looks up to you. He thinks you're cool because you have really good hearing?"

Connor laughs and runs his hand over his hair. "He told you that? He's such a dork. I just have normal wolf hearing, he's just weird."

"He's cute. He said he wishes he had ears like mine, and honestly it might be the best compliment I've ever received."

Connor raises his eyebrows. "He's not wrong, they are cool. Actually, when I was going through my photos from the party I couldn't help but notice them."

"Oh. They're that noticeable?"

"No! No no no, not like that. I mean, they're unique and I just noticed them because they aren't like anything I've ever seen before." Connor runs his hand over his hair and tugs. "Fuck, that doesn't sound much better either. I swear I'm not trying to insult you."

"It okay," you laugh, putting your hand out to stop his rambling. "It's seriously okay, I understand what you mean. You took pictures of me and Shawn?"

"A few yeah, and some of the other couples and just general party stuff as well. Do you want to see them?"

"Yeah, that'd be awesome."

Connor grins big. "Okay, I just have to go get my laptop and I'll be back. Are you going to be here? Or should I meet you somewhere?"

"I'll just hang out here?"

"I'll be right back."

Fiona walks out of the conference room a few minutes later while you wait for Connor. She pauses when she sees you sitting on the floor by the doors to the garden. "Are you waiting for Shawn?"

"No. I'm just waiting for someone to show me something."

"Oh. Who?"

"Connor." You look out the window and see him walking down the garden path with a backpack on. "He's gonna show me some pictures of the party last night."

Fiona looks out and turns around quickly. "That's neat, I'm gonna go see how the fence is coming along." She walks away quickly, head down and you raise your eyebrows. That was weird.

Connor pushes open the door and slips in before sitting down next to you. "Okay I got-" he looks around as if he's heard something.

"You okay?"

"Yeah I...was Fiona here?"

"Yeah? She just left to go check on the broken fence."

Connor shakes his head and opens up his laptop. "Oh, okay." He plugs in a flash drive and brings up a folder to show you the pictures. "Alright, they're unedited so bare with me but they're still pretty good shots."

You scoot closer so you're pressed against his side while he shows you photo after photo. He gets to a few of you and Shawn dancing. Particularly there is one with your head rested on his chest, his arms around your lower back and it makes your heart ache. The tenderness, the love that emanates from it is so real, so raw. The next one is a second later and Shawn's kissing the top of your head.

"This one's my favorite." Connor says, pointing at the screen. "I'm going to make it so you're the only two in focus."

"Can I have a copy of it?"

"Like printed?"

"Yeah." You smile softly. "I want to hang it in my room."

"I can do that." Connor grins and starts editing the photo, adjusting the lighting and stuff.

"Thanks."

"No problem," he glances over at you. "You guys are literally the dream."

"I dunno about that."

"You definitely are. I hope to find someone to love like this one day."

"You will." You elbow him gently. "I bet they're closer than you think." Connor smiles at you and shakes his head with a chuckle, focusing on his editing. You lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes while you wait for Shawn to come out of the conference room.

_____________________

"It's probably that mutt's fault."

You look over at the group of people standing by the front doors of store you're standing in. It's a general store that has all sorts of daily essentials. You are looking for a picture frame for the photo from Connor, hoping you won't have to drive into the city to get one.

"I mean, why would anyone break into Lunacasa?"

"Isn't it shady that she shows up and suddenly the alpha is all over her? Now there's been a break in? I think she came from some other pack and she's trying to bring them in."

You step out of the shop and stand beside the group of three women. They look like they're in their late thirties and you're honestly not surprised to hear them talking shit about you. It was only a matter of time before someone did. In a community this large you know that not everyone is going to like you, even if a majority does.

"You think I have something to do with the break in?" You ask sweetly, smiling at each and everyone one of them. You want to remember their faces, you want to know who they are in case they walk away.

"Who are you?" A tall blonde woman asks nastily.

You take your headband off and reveal your ears. "The mutt."

The three women look shaken up. They have clearly been caught, and by the person who they were talking about no less. The worst part about it is that they don't even recognize your face. They're standing in public ridiculing a stranger based on the knowledge that you're a half blood and nothing more. Disgusting.

"Cat got your tongue?" You ask, raising your phone up and pretending to snap a picture of the three of them, while actually turning on your video to record the conversation.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Taking your picture." You slide your phone back into the pocket or your jacket. "I'm sure the alpha will want to talk to you after I tell him what I overheard."

"You can't prove anything." A brunette with dark tanned skin says, rolling her eyes. "It's your word against ours. You better watch your back little girl."

You cross your arms and shrug. "It may be my word against yours, but who do you think he's going to believe? His mate or some run down soccer moms?"

"Ah! You little-"

"Darling?" Shawn's voice floats out of the shop and you look in through the open door. He walks toward you, paper bag in hand. "Ladies."

"You came out just in time." You smile smugly at the women as Shawn wraps his arm around your shoulders. "These ladies had some theories about the break in they'd like to share with you."

Shawn raises his eyebrows. "You do?"

"N-no?" The brunette says softly, looking to the other women pleadingly for back up.

"Oh no, please tell them how you think it's my fault. How I, the mutt, is breaking fences to let people in."

Shawn's face falls and he looks pissed. "Excuse me?"

"We never-" "That's not what we said!"

You fish your phone out of your pocket and stop the recording. You press play to play it back for Shawn, starting right before you're told to watch your back.

"You're threatening my mate?" Shawn asks darkly, eyes boring holes through each of them. "I suggest you ladies start looking for a new community."

The tall blonde scoffs and flips her hair. "You're serious? Are you a child? Shawn, not everyone is going to love your mate."

"This is not about you loving her or not, it's about you calling her a mutt, blaming her for a security breach and then threatening her if she says anything about what you said." He growls, holding you close. "Your mindset is not welcome in our community. I'll see that Nancy begins your exile paperwork as soon as possible."

"I- you can't!"

"I can, and I just did. Maybe you should think twice about how your words effect people." Shawn turns you with him and starts walking away from the women. You press your face into his shoulder and he kisses your temple. "I'm proud of you."

"Me?"

"Yes." He kisses your head again. "You didn't just let those women walk all over you."

"I-I guess I felt like I could say something because I knew you would be there. I felt confident with you around."

"I'm glad." Shawn passes you the bag and you open it to reveal two picture frames and a couple of candy bars. "I want a copy of that picture too."

"Yeah? It's nice isn't it?"

"It's beautiful. Nancy showed it to me on her phone. And you know I absolutely loved that dress on you."

"Mmhmm, I remember."

Shawn kisses your cheek and then over your ear. "Not as much as I liked taking it off though."

"Shawn!" You flush, smacking his chest gently and he just cackles, pulling you into a hug and spinning you around. He is such a little shit, but so, so sweet.

_____________________

"Did you hear about the fence being broken?"

You look up at your mom across the dining table. It's been almost a week since the break in, or as Shawn calls it, a security breach. You're surprised she's just now asking you about it.

"Uh, yeah. They got the fence fixed and everything."

"I heard it could be another pack trying to overthrow Lunacasa." She moves her salad around in her bowl and sighs sadly. "I thought things would be different here."

"Mom, things are different. Shawn said this has happened before. It's no big deal, no one got hurt."

Your mom looks up and raises her eyebrows. "You're not worried?"

"No. I trust Shawn. He says it's fine."

"Alright. How's things been?"

"Good." You smile as you take your last bite of chicken. "We're going out tonight."

"Oh yeah? Out of the community or?"

"Mmhmm."

Your mom chuckles. "Is it a surprise?"

"Kind of. I know we're not going into the city, so I'm not sure where else we would go but yeah." You glance at your phone on the table beside you and it's lit up with a message from Shawn. "He's on his way."

"Well, be safe. I hope you have fun." Your mom takes your empty salad bowl and her own to the kitchen. "Take your phone please, and wear a jacket."

"I know, Mom." You stand and go to kiss her cheek where she's rinsing the dishes at the sink. "I'll be with Shawn, of course I'll be safe."

"It's a full moon." She gives you a stern look. "You know that means a lot of wolves will be shifting. I'm serious, you be safe out there."

"I promise I will be."

_____________________

"Are you excited?" Shawn asks, lifting your hand up and kissing your knuckles as he turns his Jeep down a dirt road.

"Yes."

"Not scared?"

"No, never." You look out the window as the dense fir trees zip by in the orange glow of the setting sun. "What's it like?"

"Being a wolf?"

"Yeah." You look over and Shawn glances at you with his eyebrows raised. "What does it feel like?"

He turns right at a fork in the road and you have to hold onto the handle over the door for support as he navigates the Jeep over a very bumpy part of the road. "Well, it's itchy." He chuckles. "But once you get past that, it's a really good feeling, like being completely free."

"I'm not sure I can relate."

"Have you ever dreamed of flying?"

"Yeah?"

"Its like that." Shawn slows the Jeep to a stop in front of a small cabin and kills the engine. "Only you don't fly, you run and run and feel like there's nothing else in the world but you and the trees."

"Wow. That sounds really nice."

He leans over and grabs his bag from the back seat. "Have you ever tried shifting?"

"No? I'm a half blood."

"That doesn't mean you can't shift."

You let out a little half laugh. He must be joking. "Shawn, I can't shift."

"Well, I think you might be able to." He opens his door and comes around to open yours. You unbuckle your seatbelt and he helps you out of the Jeep. "Welcome to the cabin."

"It's beautiful." You walk forward and take in the small but well built log cabin. There are rocking chairs on the porch, a big chest for logs, flowers growing all around the lower half of the front porch. You can't wait to see the inside.

Shawn puts his hand on your lower back, walking beside you up the steps to the front door. "You're sure you're not scared?"

"I'm sure." You laugh as he opens the door for you. "I may not have ever seen a wolf before, but it's you. I'm not afraid of you."

The cabin is beautiful, absolutely breathtaking. It's completely renovated, very modern while maintaining the rustic outdoors feel. It's super cozy, soft blankets and warm tones throughout. It's like one of those cabins you see on a TV show or in a home and garden magazine.

"This cannot be real." You just stare in awe. There is a set of stairs that goes to an open loft overhead where you assume the beds must be. "I'm just...I don't have words."

Shawn drops the bags onto a couch, grinning at you lovingly. "It's pretty cool huh?"

"Cool is an understatement."

"My mom designed it."

You're snapped out of your wonderment at the mention of his mom. He's never talked about her, never even mentioned her before. You sort of assumed she was out of the picture entirely. "Your mom?"

"Mmmhmm." He walks toward the small kitchen under the loft. "She designed places like this, created the whole layout of Lunacasa's community building."

"Oh wow, that's incredible. She must be very talented."

Shawn hums. "She was, that's what dad said anyway."

"You didn't know your mom?"

"N-no." He stops wandering around and leans against the stairs. "She...uh," he clears his throat "she passed away when I was born."

"I'm so sorry." You walk up to him and lay your hand on his arm. "I-I didn't know. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"No, no it's okay. You didn't bring it up, I just started talking." He smiles sadly. "But, yeah, she passed away right after giving birth to me. I was barely breathing when I was born, they couldn't figure out what was wrong. Then my mom held me, crying because she thought I wouldn't make it, and the next thing they knew she was dying."

"What do you mean? Was she bleeding too much or something?"

Shawn wipes his face and you realize he's crying. "No, Dad said they have no idea what happened. He thinks she sacrificed herself for me somehow. He always said I was just like her, that he could see her in me, like her spirit lives on in me."

You wrap your arms around him and he gathers you into a tight hug, hand in your hair. He breathes heavily, still crying as he holds you close. "It's okay Shawn, let it out."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be getting so emotional. We're supposed to be having a good time."

"It's alright." You rub his back slowly. "Earlier when you said you think I might be able to shift, why is that?"

Shawn pulls back and wipes his face with the collar of his flannel shirt. "Well you've got wolf ears. So you must have shifted in the womb? That's what the doctors suspect right?"

"Ah, yeah. But I can't shift now?"

"Have you tried?"

"No. I wouldn't even know how."

He takes your hands and leads you over to the couch. "I can teach you, but if you don't want to learn I won't push it."

"I think I'm okay. Maybe the next full moon we can try. I just want to see you."

Shawn pulls you down onto his lap and he holds your sides. "I'm warning you now, I'm a very large wolf."

"Okay. You're a very large human too."

"No, I'm bigger as a wolf. I just don't want to scare you."

"You won't." You cup his face. "I promise I can handle seeing a big wolf when I know it's you."

"If you do get scared I'll shift back."

"I won't."

"Okay, okay." He smiles as you kiss him quickly. "Let's get unpacked so when the moon is up I'm ready to shift. I don't want to have to worry about anything while we're out in the woods."

"Alright." You move to crawl off his lap but he just wraps his arms around you. "What? You wanted to unpack?"

"Maybe just another minute." He presses his face into your shoulder and you play with his hair. This is your favorite way to kill time with him, if he wanted to wait a few minutes to cuddle then you aren't going to stop him.

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

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hollyhomburg · 5 years

Text

Call Me Yours Pt.3

(Ot7 x Reader) (Hybrid Au!) (Blind! Reader)

Summary: You never would have imagined that more love was hidden right next door, just over your garden fence.

Pairings: (Human! Hoseok) x (Human! Reader) x (Wolf hybrid! Namjoon) x (Dog hybrid! Seokjin) x (Cat hybrid! Yoongi) x (Tiger hybrid! Taehyung) x (Bunny hybrid! Jungkook) x (Cat hybrid! Jimin)

Tags: Established relationship, Mentions of Hospitals, Indications of hybrid Mistreatment, Panic Attacks, hurt/comfort

W/c: 4.5K

A/n: I Had to split this chapter because it started to get way too long! a few reminders- This is a Sequel! All Parts are under my master list as Part of the “Dance To This” universe. ALSO- I do not separate my tag list from fic to fic. there is only one tag list, so if you want to be tagged- go to the link in my bio and like that post.

- In the next few days after the first impromptu afternoon meeting and the following weeks, the 4 of you become extremely accustomed to the company of Hoseok and his hybrids.

- Not that you have much of a choice when Hoseok’s three hybrids eventually get bored after they wake up with Hoseok, kiss him goodbye before he goes to work, eat breakfast, play video games, and come over to your house to bother Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi.

- Luckily this is usually some time after you sequester yourself on the second floor. Usually, you’re Determined to get some work done even if the promise of cuddles and seeing the 6 of them interact is more than a small distraction. The few times you don’t manage to make it up before 11 you end up with a lap full of a very cuddly Taehyung or Jimin for half the day.

- But, you and Hoseok do need to work, regardless of what you often find each other texting in the morning- though you’re fonder of voice messages.

- It’s usually a welcomed mid-morning reprieve after the giddiness of 2 cups of coffee has worn off. Which feels ridiculous, because you’d only just seen him last night- it wasn’t like you’d spend any time apart and yet, and yet you’re stopping everything to pick up your phone when it dings. The drone of his office the clicking of pens and shuffling of papers behind him as he breathes into the mic, his voice low enough and quiet enough that it’s husky “I should warn you,”

- “I think Jungkook is going to surprise Yoongi with a water gun today- he shot Jimin with it yesterday and he jumped like 5 feet in the air- and Taehyung and Jungkook spent like 40 minutes laughing at him. Just a polite heads up that Yoongi might be traumatized.”

- You replay the message at least a half a dozen times before you respond. Happy to hear his voice in your office and imagine for a second, that you worked in the same place. As foolish as it seems. Seokjin tells you that you’ve been watching too many office themed dramas.

- You giggle at Hoseok’s message- taking a short break to send him a voice note back. “I will do no such thing, but I will have Seokjin video record it for you, and start planning Jungkook’s funeral, did you want lilies or roses?” you text Seokjin.

- Sure enough, A few hours later. You hear a shriek of Yoongi and a shrill yowls of “you brats!” through your open window as the three younger hybrids (Jimin included because there was no way he wasn’t going to take the opportunity to tease the elder cat hybrid) dash to find a hiding place with Yoongi on the hunt. Taehyung hiding behind Namjoon and Jungkook unceremoniously jumping the fence.

- Seokjin sends the video to you, and you send it to Hoseok, and he sends you back another message, just him laughing before he rapidly sends another “fuck- I’m so glad that I went to the bathroom before opening it- Jesus Christ my stomach hurts, Yoongi looked about ready to- fuck” he wheezes. And you send back a stream giggles. And Hoseok definitely doesn’t replay the message half a dozen times and wish he could take off early from work just to hear it in person.

- Definitely doesn’t think of doing that- because like, that would be something someone who like- had a crush would do- and Hoseok definitely can’t have a crush on his cute neighbor. Who also may or may not have hybrids that may or may not also have crushes on Hoseok’s hybrids, because that would be ridiculously complicated for a bunch of 20 somethings to handle.

- Hoseok was just beginning to get the hang of loving 3 people instead of just Jungkook. And loving 4 others would be dizzying, and why the fuck is he thinking about love when it’s obviously just a crush.

- Especially When Hoseok can definitely definitely not have a crush on his incredibly cute neighbor. So he goes back to work, and concentrate on the stocks and bonds and projected growth estimations over the next quarter. And absolutely does not have the growing pink heart emoji next to his neighbor’s name in his phone (you know- this one 💗 because it’s Hoseok’s favorite emoji, and is also- kind of apt for the situation)

- Back in Namjoons garden, exactly 43 minutes away from Hoseok’s office if you speed on the highway, The three of them end up in a pile on the grass by the end of the day, all vendettas involving water guns forgotten.

- Taehyung licking against Yoongi’s hair and grooming him. Jungkook cuddled up with Jimin half in his lap and half in Yoongi’s. They quickly pull Namjoon and Seokjin into the pile, exchanging purr (and chirping crunches in Jungkook’s case) in exchange for a plate of healthy snacks from Seokjin. (Those boys eat way too many bags of chips and chocolate in his opinion). Seokjin falls asleep to the gentle hum of conversation- somehow sleepy despite the fact that it’s barely the afternoon.

- Seokjin wakes up with his back against that grass, his head moved onto a more bony thigh than Taehyung. A small hand carding through his hair, fingers tracing feather light across his lips, his cheekbones, the arch of his eyebrow. And the sound of muted conversation notable absent. Seokjin cracks his eyes and looks up at Jimin. From this angle, he looks pouty and soft with his tangled hair, and the light hanging all hazy through the trellises, the white shirt he’s wearing so baggy the sleeves almost go to his elbows.

- Jimin catches Seokjin’s sleepy staring, brushing his bangs back from his forehead. “How are you so pretty Jin hyung?” Jimin murmurs, something heavy and almost half sad in his when he looked down at Seokjin. Jin smiles, and teases, “a little jealous Jiminie?” Seokjin lets the promise of a question hang in the air- what’s wrong, open up to me, tell me why you look so sad.

- Seokjin has never ever seen Jimin like this- or ever seen him be anything other than sultry confident, or bratty happy. Jimin sucks in his lower lip. Letting his hands do most of the talking against Seokjin’s scalp, his beautifully pointed years, the perfect silky hair. “No, I’m not it’s just-“

- “Jimin I was just teasing.” Seokjin says, nudging his head into Jimin’s hands. the request just as much about comforting Jimin as it is for Seokjin. letting others care for him has always been that way, and screw it, Seokjin loves head rubs. “I know.” Jimin seems like he wants to ask something, looking away from Seokjin “Would you mind if sometimes I-“

- Jungkook and Taehyung choose that moment to pounce jumping and picking them up (how the fuck that bunny was strong enough to lift Seokjin- he’d never know) and move them into a sunny spot as Yoongi fluffs out a heavy knit blanket and Namjoon comes out with a box of ice pops.

- Jimin’s words die alongside Seokjin’s screeching protests at being picked up. To which Jungkook only grins at and proceeds to hold Seokjin more firmly. Leaving the elder to wonder exactly what Jimin had wanted to ask about.

- In the past few weeks, there is no one that has been a more constant in your house than Jungkook, who will come over to help Namjoon with the garden nearly every day, and will text Namjoon things like Sorry hyung, say hi to the carrots for me, Hobi-Hyung took us all for hair cuts today T_T, but I’m thinking about keeping it long what do you think? if he doesn’t come over before 12.

- In the mornings Jungkook waits until he hears the slide of your porch door (Nothing could get past those large brown ears) before he bounds over to the fence in excitement, literally hopping and lifting his body over the side instead of going around the corner.

- “Yah Jungkook you’re going to land on one of the beds!” Namjoon will chide, hair still ruffly from sleep, and Jungkook will happily beam, “I’m a good jumper hyung! I won’t hurt the squash!”

- In the coming months- Namjoon will also go over to Hoseok’s side of the fence and - only with Hoseok’s explicit permission, because Namjoon is nothing if not respectful of the yard that is not his own- erect 4 raised garden beds with the help of Jungkook and Yoongi- who has a new found talent for making things.

- Jungkook loves gardening so much, and spending time with Namjoon just as much, he bugs Hoseok for gardening gear and it’s almost a shock when he comes over one day, with matching green gardening gloves, a canvas apron, and a matching set of green trowels and a straw hat with two holes pierced in the top for his ears (which Hoseok had cut very very carefully).

- Namjoon can barely look at the bunny; he’s blushing too hard. Last week Seokjin found Namjoon scenting the younger, His lap full of a very happy bunny munching on some of the fresh radishes that Namjoon harvested that morning.

- Which makes Seokjin coo and squish the Youngers cheeks with how cute he looks. And take about half a dozen pictures of him and Namjoon working in the garden because – wow, just wow, how is Jeon Jungkook so cute with his curly brown hair hanging in his eyes as he diligently weeds the window boxes.

- Seokjin comes up to your office to tell you such, rolling around a little bit where you’re stretched out on the floor with your computer in front of you (a change of pace to keep you on task) groaning, “ughh he’s just so cute? How do you handle having a crush when you can’t do something about it? Jesus, I thought I was done with this with Yoongi.” (said hybrid has currently disappeared with Jimin and Taehyung somewhere on Hoseok’s side of the fence and it’s a guess as to what they’re doing or where they are)

- You snort, Seokjin’s thigh pins into some of your papers as he rolls from his back onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. “That’s easy you just do something about it instead of coming to your girlfriend and gushing about the cute bunny next door.”

- Your phone dings next to you, another voice message from Hoseok. Seokjin clicks it open and listens to it.

- “Yah you need to stop feeding them so much! I swear they can just get food from my house! They’re gonna eat you out of house and home! I promise the next chance I get I’m going to go to the store and replace all of the food they’ve probably eaten.”

- A laugh ends the message, and before you can stop yourself you’re smiling way too hard. You can tell Seokjin’s smirking before you say it. “Ugh- his laugh is so cute!” Seokjin replays it so you can listen to it again.

- “So gushing about the bunny is apparently less bad than gushing about the cute boy next door?” he teases, you shove his thigh away playfully in reply before he pulls you down, on top of the papers and all.

- Let’s just say work ends a very different way then you intended. With a shower in the upstairs bathroom after Seokjin explains that they’ll definitely be able to smell him on you if you go downstairs like that. Clothes all skewed and hair all ruffled, a small amount of rug burn in some unfortunate places that Yoongi 100% teases you both about later. Office sex has its downsides.

- You few stolen moments in the middle of the day, rubbing conditioner out of his hair as he tells you about Jimin and the curious question he’d never finished the day before. “I think Hobi mentioned something about Jimin drawing a lot the other day, that could be it?”

- Seokjin returns the favor of the conditioner, sliding your hair through his fingers appreciating how long it’s grown. Something primal in him both loving taking care of you, providing like this, and also hating that he has to wash his sent off of you. But it’s not polite to smell like sex around hybrids that aren’t your own.

- Taehyung will come over to help Namjoon in the garden too- sometimes; Namjoon can sense him watching through the crack in the fence, if he’s feeling bold he’ll peer around the gate by the side. Jungkook does a good job of dragging him over to your side and not leaving him alone. It’s a bit funny to see the massive bunny wrangle the whining tiger. The hybrid is still noticeably shy and quiet to an extreme around them.

- Especially the first time he tries to go beg pets from you during a workday, with you on an important call upstairs only to be stopped by Seokjin in the kitchen. “You can’t bother her when she’s working Taehyung” he chastises, the tiger’s shoulders dropping terribly low as he makes to leave, assuming that no one wants him here. Really he should just go back home and not be in the way- even if he like- really really wants pets right now, the touch starved ness reaching a fevers pitch inside of him.

- Seokjin is quick to stop him, hand sliding down to the nape of his neck and making Taehyung shiver. “but I am baking some pies today if you want to help.” The tiger’s ears perk up almost instantly. And though Taehyung might be the messiest cook that Seokjin has ever seen, spilling flower on the floor and getting preserve on his cheeks, it is really nice to have someone to nudge shoulders within the kitchen and show how to knead dough out to the right thickness. Even if Tae barely speaks except to ask careful questions.

- Hoseok and you have been dancing around each other over the last two months. Seokjin invites him and the hybrid trio over for dinner often enough to try and foster the affection that he can see in both of you. If Hoseok didn’t like you Seokjin would be incredibly surprised.

- Why else would Hoseok bring you sweet-smelling flowers and little things, stopping by after work with the pastries that Seokjin just happened to mention where your favorite the last time he was over.

- Why else would he lean in close and blush when you hang out on the back porch, greeting you with a hug instead of a hello. Not that you mind at all- Hoseok had practically grown up with Jungkook, so affection is more usual to him than the absence of it.

- The first time he hugs you is just after Jimin and Taehyung’s monthly check-up. Taehyung has to get a few shots- he’d missed out on so many of them when he was a hybrid working in the circus industry that the doctors were trying to play catch-up. Hoseok is used to the tantrum that he and Jimin go through every time that the 6th of the month rolls around. and hopes that they’ve forgotten about it.

- Hoseok had reminded Jungkook about it. In the kitchen the night before when Jimin and Taehyung were upstairs. Taehyung had unfortunately overheard from the hallway.

- Hoseok has so much trouble just getting him out the door to go to the doctor’s office. (he’d been planning on saying that they were going to the park and then pulling a fast one on them to get them into the car- but Hoseok knows that Taehyung must have found out or something)

- Jimin locked himself in the bathroom earlier but Jungkook’s managed to extricate him before Hoseok has had a chance to placate the frightened Taehyung and now Jimin stands next to Jungkook, holding his hand, More subdued and more still then he ever is, His tail wrapped around his pant leg for some form of comfort while Hoseok tries to convince Taehyung to let go of the beam in the kitchen.

- Taehyung has literally wrapped himself around it, “I’m not letting go until you call the doctors and cancel” and maybe Hoseok would be angrier if it weren’t for the fact that Taehyung is trembling- Jimin is too, neither of them wants to go. But they have to, and it breaks Hoseok’s heart to make them go. He reminds himself that he has too- he to not take them is to be like their other owners.

- So he picks up the phone and calls you. You are such a comfort to Taehyung that he thinks it will be good for him, that you might be able to convince Taehyung to let go of the beam. Of course, Seokjin comes too, walks into Hoseok’s kitchen to Taehyung shaking his head every time Jungkook tries to pull him off. Hoseok honey voice trying to bribe him with a trip to the amusement park (not that Taehyung really knows what that is).

- All Seokjin has to say is, “Tae, come on.” His voice nothing but a pure command for Tae. All the hybrids to straighten up, Tae has his head down, ears pinned to his hair and his hands sliding off the coulomb to hang by his side. “Yes alpha” he murmurs, suddenly contrite. Much to the wide-eyed surprised of everyone in the room- especially Hoseok.

- “Okay that’s new” Hoseok mentions, only to receive a well-placed elbow from Seokjin, “shut up” he hisses, the blush turning his cheeks bright bright red. Seokjin is definitely not used to being called alpha. No one- not Namjoon or Yoongi has ever referred to Seokjin as such.

- Hybrid dynamics aren’t all that new to you- but to Hoseok, who had only ever dealt with one other hybrid until recently, it takes some explaining for him to understand the connotation of alpha.

- (You end up explaining Later though on the phone. Hoseok ends up falling asleep on the other end, tired from the excitement of the day, it’s not the last time he calls, however.

- You make a habit of it, always after dinner, Hoseok will call you on your house phone and you’ll sit on your bed chatting with him for an hour or two, sometimes he’ll be doing the dishes in the background and sometimes Jimin will steal the phone to gossip about whatever cute thing Yoongi or Namjoon did that day, endlessly telling you about Seokjin and how the way to a hybrid’s heart is through their ears but also stomach.)

- Jungkook decides to stay home as there simply isn’t room in Hoseok’s car for all of them to go to the doctor’s office and you seem to have more of a positive effect than Jungkook does. He’d been looking forward to some music Yoongi wanted to show him anyway. The ride in the back of Hoseok’s car to the doctor’s office is long and bumpy. You sit in the middle back seat so that both of Hoseok’s hybrids can line themselves along your sides.

- Taehyung folded over your lap and Jimin’s head hidden in your neck.You run your fingers through Tae’s hair and hold onto Jimin’s hand. Murmuring comforting words to both of them the whole way.

- Even Jimin has lost his sunny disposition by the time you pull into the medical center, folding himself between Hoseok and you, looking small and scared eyes vacant in the wake of so much panic. Murmuring, “Hate this place” every time they pass a doctor and hiding under Hoseok’s shoulder. It doesn’t take much to wonder what happened to them.

- (Hoseok will tell you later on the phone, that after the circus Taehyung had to get some serious surgery on his knees, while Jimin had been so sick from neglect that he needed to be in inpatient care and a few rounds of antibiotics to get rid of some serious pneumonia before he could be transferred to the adoption center.

- You could imagine how traumatic that could be, could imagine that whatever doctor’s had treated them, they probably hadn’t bothered to explain to them why they were doing what they were doing- and left them in the dark about what was happening with their own bodies.)

- You’re steely and stalwart, holding Taehyung’s hand just as strongly as he’s holding yours, whispering reassurances every few feet. Taehyung’s knees knock the entire time.

- Through the entire check-up, Taehyung shakes and whimpers, golden eyes wide and terrified of absolutely everyone that approaches him. The only reason why he doesn’t push the doctor away (he’d done that last time and actually climbed on top of the counter) is because both you and Hoseok hold onto both of his hands through it.

- Seokjin is babbling in the corner, holding Jimin’s hand while he waits for his turn looking like he’s about to head to the gallows rather than the doctors wax paper covered table. Seokjin talks to them about the new videos he’s making for his YouTube channel to distract them. Telling them he’d love it if Taehyung and Jimin guest starred and decorated cookies with him one day. It isn’t a lie- but you can hear the distress In Seokjin’s words, how much he’s trying to comfort the two hybrids.

- It’s not surprising that Taehyung starts to cry when they give him the first shot, the big fat tears soaking the shoulder of your shirt even has you hum and scratch at his scalp. Jimin too when he gets his a few minutes later- you can tell he tries to hold back the tears before sniffling. Seokjin almost growls, narrowly avoids letting out the noise strangled in his throat.

- It’s nothing that ice cream can’t fix, though they both hold their arms stiffly and seem a little quieter on the way back. The adrenaline jump and then the come down make them both sleepy but twitchy. Hoseok takes a moment to text Jungkook when he’s a stop to pick up half a dozen ice cream cartons from the store.

- It takes a few hours and no small amount of cuddling That night on the stoop of Hoseok’s house, 4 of the hybrids piled on Hoseok’s dark blue hammock, the others fallen off on the grass giggling and happy as Jungkook uses his body weight to make it sway this way and that and Jimin cries, “you’re gonna break it!” Yoongi and Seokjin laughing from the grass, ducking to avoid the swinging feet. Already fallen off but punch drunk from a little bit of sangria that Seokjin had supplied and too much rocky road.

- Hoseok hugs you, startling you a little, but not unwelcome, his whole body lined up against yours, lithe and a little broader than you’d expected but firm and steady under your hands. His hand cupping the back of your head. he speaks through the thickness in his voice, and though you knew hoseok hadn’t been happy to do what he’d done today, you hadn’t realized he was close to tears. “Thank you- I don’t know what I would have done without you today, y/n I-”

- “Hobi” the nickname slips out without you realizing it, “it’s okay- I- I love them too much to let them be so scared on their own like that.” You can almost taste the smile on Hoseok’s mouth when he says that he likes it when you call him that. You pull away but stay a little closer than usual, and maybe it’s Hoseok’s imagination but you look like you’re trying not to show how happy you are.

- “This is starting to feel a lot like family isn’t It.” he says, you nod agreeing even as Jimin shrieks and falls off the hammock, much much happier than he’d been 5 hours ago. “Yeah,” you say, soft and heavy. And Hoseok can tell that you don’t mind one bit. “Yeah, it does.”

- Your new closeness isn’t missed by any of your hybrids and even when you go back to your own houses (albeit reluctantly) Jungkook and Jimin smirk at Hoseok, but don’t say anything.

- For the next few days, every time he thinks about it he groans and slaps his hands over his own flaming cheeks, Jungkook poking at them. Jimin’s sing-song voice teasing of, “Hoseok and Y/n sittin’ in a tree” Jungkook and Taehyung joining in for the k-i-s-s-i-n-g part. They must have heard it at the park the other day because he has absolutely no idea where they would have learned it.

- Hoseok starts to realize, every single time he gets a notification on his phone from you, your name popping up on his home screen, his heart beats quick and heavy. it Dosesn’t matter if it’s Another voice message or a text or a picture that one of them has taken, he can’t help but start smiling.

- One night after you send voice messages back and forth, you end yours with “sorry I’m being dragged away by Yoongi to cuddle, goodnight Bobi! I’ll see you tomorrow” and even after Hoseok sends back a “goodnight! sleep tight! don’t let the bed bugs bite” he still finds himself lying in his bed legs hanging off the side, Jungkook and Taehyung giggling from the bathroom, while Hoseok lies in bed and replays the message again and again just to hear “goodnight Hobi! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

- You know how little kids get? when they get so excited about going to some amusement park or zoo that they can’t fall asleep the night before. So excited for tomorrow to come that today somehow drags. That is exactly how Hoseok feels. Jimin sidles up to the side of his bed, listening to the message twice,

- “You’re crushed like a grape” Jimin nudging Hoseok’s thigh with his foot when the message ends. “You are so so fucked” he laughs, Hoseok whines. He replays the message and Jimin smiles, Pressing a kiss to Hoseok’s forehead before he goes to join Taehyung and Jungkook in the bathroom. Whatever they’re doing it required not one but 2 types of bubble bath and dish soap and would probably inevitably damage Hoseok’s floor.

- “I feel objectified when you compare me to fruit” Hoseok complains, but Jimin just winks at him from the door, licking his plush lips and eyeing the little bit of skin at Hoseok’s waist where his shirt has pulled up- where Hoseok knows there are still hickeys, barely faded, from a few nights prior. “at least you’re yummy?” he says, before he’s pulled into the room by Jungkook and leaves Hoseok to wallow. “Woh! how did you get the bubbles that big?”

- And when Hoseok takes stalk of his emotions, feels his crush on you multiply, he realizes that he is absolute- irrevocable- pass the point of no return-

- Jimin is right, Hoseok is royally fucked.

(Please comment and reblog! Likes are nice, but they do little to support content creators!)

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xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years

Text

Peter Parker and Bruce Banner’s Guide on How To Make Iron Man Sleep

For @sallyidss. Happy Birthday, Sally! This is about 1% hurt and 99% comfort, or in other words, pure fluff and chicken soup. I hope you enjoy it and I hope you have a wonderful day!

Thanks to @whumphoarder for beta reading and to @maikkuax for the video game reference.

____________________

Peter wakes up to a dazzling amount of texts on Saturday morning.

One is from Tony, sent at 3am, telling him that Bruce is sick and might not be able to help Peter with his biology project today as they had planned, but he is still welcome to drop by the tower.

Then there’s another one from Tony three hours later asking him whether he could pick up some soup while on the way; one from Bruce at 8am, telling him that Tony is sick too, but ‘he won’t admit it so just try to somehow get him to rest once you come over’; and then one more from Tony telling him to ignore whatever Bruce just told him.

Peter grins to himself while reading the texts - he can almost hear his favourite superhero couple bantering and fussing over each other. Then he gets up for breakfast with May and a shower before heading down to the corner grocery store. He gets soup (chicken for Tony and vegetable for Bruce), as well as some of the Fairtrade chocolate bars that Bruce buys for ideological reasons and Tony eats en masse because he’s got a secret sweet tooth. Peter stuffs the groceries into his school bag along with his laptop and makes his way to the tower.

Tony definitely looks under the weather when he opens the door; pale and with a very clown-like red nose that is dripping constantly.

“Hey kid, thanks for the delivery,” he jokes with a raspy voice. He takes the bag and mimics shutting the door in Peter’s face before smirking and opening it fully to let his unamused mentee in.

“Very funny, Mr. Stark.” Peter removes his shoes and jacket and then stops, frowning. Through the hallway, he can see that the bed in the master bedroom has been demolished into what looks like a heap of firewood. “Uhm, what happened to your bed?”

“Well…” Tony interrupts himself to cough harshly into his elbow. “So, uh, we had a bit of an exciting night. Not in the fun way, unfortunately…” he trails off. “Anyway, Bruce went back to sleep after breakfast, but I thought we could head to the lab and start working on the chameleon fabric you suggested for your suit.”

Peter is sure that working in the lab is the opposite of what Tony should be doing just now - his mentor looks even more tired than usual and the slightly glassy quality to his eyes suggests that he is running a fever - but Peter also knows that saying this out loud will only be counterproductive.

“What if we watch a movie instead?” he suggests.

“I’m not watching a movie at eleven in the morning,” Tony protests. “We have the whole day in front of us - time to build, invent, change the world..." He flaps his hand. "All that jazz."

“Okay, okay…” Peter thinks for a second before an idea hits him. “But before we start with the suit, I do need your help with something else.”

“Now what?”

“So, Ned and I have this gaming commentary channel on YouTube where we livestream playing “The Witcher 3”? And it’s going pretty well, but Ned says he needs help developing his stage persona, you know, talking in a way that is interesting and keeps your audience engaged? So, he thought that you might give us some advice because you’ve got a ton of experience with speaking in public and all that?”

(It’s not entirely a lie - Ned and Peter have joked about getting Tony involved in order to increase their viewership, but he is pretty sure that Ned would be mortified upon hearing that Peter actually suggested it to the billionaire.)

“Wait, you and Ned are making videos of you killing virtual trolls while talking about it? And people actually watch that?”

“That’s...another way of putting it.”

“Sounds like a gigantic waste of time.” Tony scrunches up his nose. “Either I play the game myself, or I spend my downtime watching something interesting.”

“Hey! Our last one has more than 3000 hits!” Peter defends.

“People have too much free time. Including you.” Tony points his finger at Peter before quickly covering his mouth to contain a sneeze. “But I suppose I can take a look if you really want me to…”

Peter grins. Stage one: complete.

They settle on the couch in the living room. Tony can’t suppress a small sigh when he leans against the cushions. He massages the bridge of his nose in a way that makes it clear to Peter he must be nursing a headache.

“Hit me, kid,” he orders.

“Okay, but before we start, you need to know a few things...” Peter launches into a long-winded explanation of the game’s storyline with more than a few unnecessary details of the characters’ backgrounds. He pretends to concentrate on the screen where he walks Tony through different tutorials, but out of the corner of his eye he sees his mentor slowly sinking deeper and deeper into couch.

“...and then they bring Uma to the witcher school of Kaer Morhen,” Peter goes on as Tony tiredly attempts to follow along, his blinks growing longer and longer each time, “where Yennefer removes his curse and transforms him into Avallac'h...”

When Peter can’t think of anything else to babble about, he starts playing their most recent video. Tony sits up a little straighter and rubs a hand over his face to concentrate. But at about the two minute mark, he stops the screen with a wave of his hand.

“So, not to be rude, but that was kind of painful, Tony declares. “You guys literally started with a 45 second explanation of why you prefer the old controller design to the new one. No wonder you’re putting people to sleep.”

Peter frowns a bit. “I mean, we weren’t that bad…” he defends. “And the new ones do kind of suck.”

“Sure, kid,” Tony huffs. He shifts position on the sofa with a sigh. “Alright, listen. It’s obvious that you two are knowledgeable about this game, but if you want to engage your audience, you’ve gotta try to establish your credentials in a way that’s still interesting and relatable. For instance, I once started a TED Talk by describing how I hacked NASA during an MIT frat party so that I could send a rocket to draw a dick over San Francisco. ”

Peter snorts at that admission.

“See? Exactly,” Tony points out. “That’s the kind of reaction you want your audience to have - that’s called a hook, kid.”

The longer they watch, the more Tony seems to be melting into the couch. His comments become less and less frequent, and at some point he leans his head back against the pillow, barely looking at the screen anymore. By the third video, Peter can see his mentor’s eyelids fluttering shut.

He waits for a few minutes and then pauses the screen, just to see Tony’s eyes fly open again. “I’m listening!” he assures.

“Yeah, I know.” Peter hides a smirk. “Just, uhm, relax a bit.”

“I see what you’re trying to do here, kid. I’m not stupid,” Tony protests nasally, stifling another sneeze, but he doesn’t make any move to get up from the couch.

Peter starts the video again, knowing that the battle has been won. Five minutes later, Tony is asleep.

Peter watches a few more videos on his own (now that he pays attention, he realises that most of Tony’s suggestions, despite being sarcastic, are actually in line with what the popular streamers do) before FRIDAY informs him that Bruce has woken up.

He finds the scientist in the kitchen, making tea.

“Hey Dr. Banner,” Peter greets. “How are you?”

“Hey Peter.” Bruce gives him a warm and slightly sleepy smile. His voice is a bit hoarse. “I’m fine. Is Tony asleep?”

“Yep,” Peter declares proudly. “Used my hypnotically soothing voice. And obscure video game lore."

Bruce heaves out a sigh. “Finally, thank god. I had, uhm… kind of an incident last night and I don’t think he slept at all after that.”

Peter thinks back to the broken bed frame and chooses not to comment.

“Do you want some tea?” Bruce asks.

“No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Bruce takes out a box of cookies instead and hands a few to Peter. “So, what was this thing you wanted me to look at with you?”

“Oh, it’s just a bio project,” Peter says with a shrug. “But we can do it some other time, when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m okay...” Peter gives him a suspicious look and Bruce’s smile deepens. “No need for that - I’m not Tony, I would tell you if I wasn’t up for it. But I am actually feeling much better after sleeping and I wouldn’t mind some distraction.”

“Okay, well then...”

Peter likes Bruce a lot. It took him a while to get close to him because Bruce is not a person who easily lets people in, but now whenever Peter visits the tower, he looks forward to seeing the scientist almost as much as he does to seeing Tony.

Tony is brilliant, energetic, and funny, and he constantly encourages Peter to think deeper, work harder, do better - to improve himself. Which is a fun challenge, but it can also be quite exhausting at times. Working with Bruce is the exact opposite. He makes Peter feel calm, slows him down when he overthinks, and makes it clear that mistakes are something that happen to everyone and nothing Peter should be too concerned about. While spending time with Tony is the equivalent of a rollercoaster ride, being with Bruce feels more like a calm day at the beach, and Peter has realised that he needs both from time to time.

They move to Bruce’s study (since Bruce doesn’t allow food in his lab and they don’t actually need to do any experiments for Peter’s project) with Peter’s laptop, biscuits, and several bars of Fairtrade chocolate.

Tony wakes up with the blurry images of a nightmare still on the rims of his consciousness. He feels cold, achy, and slightly out of breath. It takes him a few disoriented moments to realise that his face is mostly buried into a couch pillow, blocking his mouth and nose. He frees himself and sits up stiffly, wiping at his slightly damp cheeks. His nose is dripping annoyingly and he isn’t sure whether that’s only because of the cold.

“FRIDAY?” he prompts nasally.

“It is 1:17pm on Saturday afternoon. Dr. Banner and Mr. Parker are working in the study room. Everyone is safe and well, boss.”

“Okay. Thanks, FRI.” Tony takes another few moments to ground himself before getting up from the sofa, rather unsteadily. His body seems to have tripled in weight and his head feels like an overfilled balloon that’s ready to burst. He kind of wants to fall back onto the couch and go to sleep again, but at the same time he definitely doesn’t want to revisit the dreams he just had.

Instead, he ventures into the study where he finds his partner, who is sporting an adorable bedhead, together with his mentee enthusiastically modelling a DNA strand on a laptop screen.

“Coffee?” Tony asks hoarsely.

“Good afternoon to you too, Tony,” Bruce smirks and nods towards a pot sitting on the table. Tony pours himself a mug and downs it in one go, marvelling at how much better it makes his throat feel immediately.

Feeling slightly more human and ready to deal with the actual world, he leans over Bruce’s shoulder and nuzzles his head against his partner’s ear. “How you feeling, green bean?”

“I’m much better. Sleeping helped a lot, actually.” Tony gives him a critical once-over and seems to accept that. “Peter is doing an impressive job with his project, by the way,” Bruce adds.

Peter blushes at the compliment. “It’s not me - Dr. Banner is helping me a lot!”

“I’m really just sitting here and watching you work,” Bruce dismisses before addressing Tony again. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m”—Tony’s voice breaks in the middle of the sentence and he has to clear his throat before continuing—“I’m good.”

“Mm-hmm.” Bruce raises an eyebrow. “FRIDAY, what’s his temperature at?”

“100.2 degrees, Dr. Banner.”

“Thanks.” He turns to Tony, who is coughing again. There seems to be a brick stuck inside his chest and it feels like he can’t take a full breath at all. Bruce gives him a concerned look. “This sounds painful.”

“‘S okay,” Tony dismisses.

“Maybe you should try using the inhaler -”

“Stop mother-henning, Bruce,” he grumbles with a glance at Peter, who is very clearly trying to act as if he isn’t listening to every word, but the pain in Tony’s chest is suddenly replaced by a surge of warmth upon realising Bruce’s worry about him. The scientist seems to understand and just squeezes Tony’s hand before turning back to the screen.

Tony pours himself another cup of coffee and grabs a slice of toast as well as two of the chocolate bars before settling into the chair across from the two of them, munching away and watching them work. Seeing them together leaves him with an annoyingly sappy feeling. Bruce, usually rather shy, is much more self-confident around the kid and visibly happy about Peter’s genuine interest in everything scientific. He is also a much more patient teacher than Tony ever manages to be, which seems to be putting Peter at ease.

After finishing his food, Tony debates moving to his own lab to get some actual work done, but he is so, so tired, and everything kind of hurts. Standing up seems like a lot of effort. So instead, he crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on top of them, closing his eyes for just a moment.

He listens to Peter and Bruce when their conversation shifts from Peter’s project, to May’s new vegan disaster recipe, to the idea of using Peter’s webs in order to create a hammock that can hold the Hulk. Tony smiles into his sleeves, imagining Hulk chilling at the beach between two palm trees, swinging to and fro, to and fro, to and...

“Hey.” Bruce rests his palms lightly on Tony’s shoulder.

He jerks upright. “Wasn’t asleep.”

“What, I would never think that,” Bruce says with a smirk.

Tony rubs his tired eyes and then his aching forehead. “Where’s Peter?”

“He went to heat up the soup for all of us.”

“Hmm.” Tony grabs Bruce’s hands and presses them against his overly warm cheeks, enjoying the cooling feeling they provide.

“Did you have a nightmare earlier?” Bruce asks, his hand now moving up to cup Tony’s forehead. “You seemed kind of out of it.”

“Yeah,” Tony admits, leaning into the touch. “I don’t remember what it was about, though.”

Bruce hums and presses a light kiss to the top of Tony’s head. “Fever dreams are awful. But at least you didn’t break any furniture upon waking up.”

Tony, sensing the guilt below the light tone, only huffs. “I’d been wanting to get a new bed anyway for a while now. Did you know there are self-making ones now? And levitating mattresses? Or we could go for one of those free-swinging beds, to match Hulk’s upcoming hammock.”

Bruce smiles and shakes his head. “A normal one would do, Tony. Or we could try something different. Did you know that sleeping on the ground is actually quite good for your back?”

Tony snorts. “Yeah, no. I’m a billionaire, Brucie, we’re not sleeping on the ground because our bed is broken. Levitating one it is.”

Peter comes back with the steaming soup, which does wonders for Tony’s raw throat. At Bruce’s advice, he takes some Advil that muffles his headache a little and remembers the times a few years ago when he would be sick with only JARVIS as his company, feeling a little chilled and very lucky.

In the end, Tony does agree to watching TV, but mostly because Bruce admits to still not feeling up for anything more demanding (which Peter suspects is not entirely true, but he definitely won’t call him out). They let Peter pick, who of course goes for the newest Orville episode, and settle on the huge living room couch with a steaming mug of tea (Bruce), a packet of chocolate (Tony) and another helping of soup (Peter).

Peter notices after a while that Bruce is gently massaging Tony’s head, playing with his hair. Tony seems to be sort of melting into the touch, his head leaning against Bruce’s shoulder, eyes almost closed. He looks old, but not frighteningly so - more in a serene way that makes Peter want to capture the moment on film.

In the years he’s known him, Peter has rarely seen Tony anything but buzzing with energy, jumping to and fro between ideas and lab tables. The only person who is able to slow him down and occasionally get him to take a break without having to outright trick him into it seems to be Bruce. And as sorry as Peter is to see both of them sick, it’s also heartwarming to observe how they are taking care of each other.

Peter knows that most people his age find the idea of spending a lazy movie Saturday with their family kind of boring, but something in him loves the idea of settling down like this. Maybe it’s the fact that it reminds him of how it used to be with Ben and May, or that the time he spends as Spider-Man is already adventurous enough, or the sheer thrill of seeing Iron Man and the Hulk’s alter ego in their pyjamas on the couch, nuzzled up against each other.

But whatever it is, there’s nowhere else Peter would rather be.

____________________

If you liked this, make sure to check out @twentyghosts‘ beautiful fic Cold, Comfort with a similar setting that inspired me to write this one.

All my fics

Taglist: @toomuchtoread33 @yepokokfine

@badthingshappenbingo This is my fill for the ‘Common Cold’ square.

#sick tony stark #science bros #science boyfriends #irondad #sickfic #tony stark #bruce banner #peter parker #chocolate #common cold #fanfic #it was so hard to find a title for this

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k-llama-llama · 5 years

Text

A Lift

TXT AU: 6th member

Sara x TXT

Sara receives some help in an uncomfortable situation (ft. the reveal of Sara’s love interest)

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

Requests are closed, but your feedback is still greatly appreciated!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“Stop pulling on it.” Soobin hissed, swatting Sara’s hand away from her skirt. “You’re making it look weirder.”

“They made it look weird when they put me in this stupid skirt.” She complained, keeping the smile painted on her face as they smiled at the crowd. “How does anyone feel comfortable in this?”

“Beats me.” He shrugged. “We’ll make sure you never have to wear a skirt again, but please act normal.”

Sara switched to twisting her hair between her fingers. They were waiting for the music show to be over, and it felt like it was taking forever. In order to get a photo, they were all standing in front of the stage, on the ground, directly in front of the fans. Sara had given a few high fives, but she was so preoccupied with keeping her skirt down that she wasn’t really engaging.

“How did you dance in it?” Kai asked her. “You can barely walk in it.”

“I tried to forget about it.” She told him. “But now it’s all I can think about.”

“Well...” He studied her for a second. “Nevermind.”

“What do you mean?” She moved out of the way so the MCs could make their way to the centre. “Nevermind what?”

“I was going to say you looked nice. But you just look uncomfortable.”

She glared at him, but turned her attention back to the camera as they all posed for a picture. They were standing behind Stray Kids, because all of TXT were taller, except for Sara of course. She scooted forward to stand next to Tori and smiled for the picture.

“Loving the outfit, I assume?” Tori asked playfully.

“Shut up.” Sara glared at her. “You actually look good in skirts.”

“You look good too, you just don’t look comfortable.” Tori answered, linking arms with Sara for the next picture. “But you have great legs.”

Sara looked down and pouted.

“Everyone back on stage for the final broadcast please!” Some staff member shouted.

Sara waved goodbye to some fans as people started hopping back on stage. When she turned back around, all of her boys were on stage, at the very back, as far from her as possible.

Sara put her hands on the stage to hoist herself up, and then realized with a start that she had no way to do it without all of the fans being able to see up her skirt.

“Boys!” She hissed, trying to look casual. “Jun!”

“Up we go!” She looked next to her as Tori was hauled onto the stage by Chan and I.N. Tori spun and adjusted her own skirt before standing, looking down at the stranded girl.

“Stuck?”

“Yes.” Sara said desperately. “Could you just get one of my boys, or-”

“Oppa!” Tori waved someone over. “He’s got you.”

“Who’s got me? What-”

“Do you need help up?” A voice asked politely from behind her.

Sara spun, looking up into the eyes of Hyunjin. She’d remembered his name right away, because he was tall, but also because she’d actually been surprised by how handsome he was when they first met.

“Ah, yeah.” She tugged at her skirt. “But you could just get TXT. You don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind.” He smiled. “We help Tori all of the time. Just spin around.”

Sara turned, placing her hands on the stage. She felt Hyunjin settle his hands on her waist, and she got ready to push up.

“One, two three!” He lifted, making it seem to easy, and placed her easy on the stage in a sitting position. She turned quickly and without comment, making sure her skirt was adjusted.

A hand stretched out in front of her. Hyunjin had already hopped up on stage, and she nervously grabbed his hand and let him pull her to her feet.

“Thanks.” She bit her lip, smoothing her skirt out. “I would’ve been stuck down there for a while.”

“No problem.” He grinned as they started to walk towards their groups. “It’s Sara, right?”

“Yeah. Um...Soo-ji, I guess. Literally only Kai and Tori call me Sara because they like the English more.”

“Oh, yeah.” He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like the English.”

“Me neither.” Sara smiled and laughed.

“Well,” Hyunjin rubbed the back of his neck. “I should go join my group... and your’s is looking a little lost without you.”

Sara looked where he was pointing, seeing that Soobin seemed to be struggling to organize the four others into an orderly formation for a picture.

She sighed. “Yeah, I should handle that. Thanks again for the help.”

“Anytime.” He smiled. ��Let me know if you ever need another lift.”

“Another lift?”

“Ah...that sounded stupid.” Sara wasn’t sure, but she thought he might be blushing. And, for some reason, that made her stomach feel queasy. “I’m not the best with talking to girls.”

“Girls?” She blinked.

“Yeah. You. You’re a girl.” He gave an awkward laugh. “Well, I should go. See you around.”

He couldn’t possible have turned away faster.

Sara sighed as he rushed back to Stray Kids, and walked dejectedly over to her boys. She wasn’t sure why she felt slighted, but something about how fast he’d hurried away stung.

“New boyfriend, Soo?” Yeonjun asked, straightening his tie.

“Hardly.” Sara forced a laugh. “Tori made him help me up on the stage since you guys all abandoned me.”

“Your fault for wearing a skirt.” Beomgyu teased.

“Yah.” She poked his ribs. “Leave me alone and listen to Soobin. He looks like he’s going to have a stroke.”

Across the stage, Felix elbowed Hyunjin with a questioning look. Hyunjin shook his head and ignored his group member, but his gaze kept drifting back across the stage.

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ellewritesathing · 5 years

Text

So Close - S.S. IX

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Prologue - S2E1 Part 1 - S2E2 + S2E3 Part 2 - S2E4 + S2E5 + S2E6 Part 3 - S2E7 +S2E8 Part 4 - S2E9 + S2E10 Part 5 - S2E11 + S2E12 Part 6 Part 7 - S3AE1 Part 8 - S3AE2 + S3AE3 Part 9 - S3AE4

Word-count: 3.4k+

With everything that was going on, the last thing you felt like doing was going to cross country practice, but if you were going to be on the team then you couldn't miss the training. Plus, you figured that since all your friends were on the team that it would be the closest to normal you’d get this school year.

You were standing with Isaac, rambling on about your bio class while he tied his shoelaces. He started tensing up somewhere between extra credit and the report due in a few weeks, and you nudged him gently with your foot. “Isaac? Are you even listening, bud?”

He didn’t even look at you as he answered - rather vaguely - “They’re here.”

“Who’s here?” you asked gently, bending down to touch his back gently. He still wasn’t snapping out of it.

“It’s them.” He nodded in the direction of the twins and stood up. “The alphas.”

You were still trying to figure out what he was on about when he took off after them. Scott ran past you and you mumbled some choice words under your breath before following them. They were long gone in just a few minutes. You gave up chasing them and made your way back to the group.

By the time you found everyone, they were standing around some tree in a clearing. You looked for Stiles and wandered over to him, but you stopped just short of him when you saw the dead body they were surrounding. “Oh, god.”

“Y/N?” Stiles turned to look at you, seemingly surprised to find you. “Oh, jeez, you’re still not good with dead bodies, huh?” You shook your head and he put his hands on your shoulders. “Okay, look at me. I’m going to take you to sit down, alright?”

You shook your head and took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay. I just … do we know who it is? The- the guy that Scott said was missing? Kyle?”

“I don’t know. Scott was the one that saw him that night.” Stiles sighed and looked over your shoulder. “Scott’s heading back this way with a very pissed looking Isaac. Just hang in a few more minutes, okay? Then I’ll get you out of here.”

You nodded and shifted once they made their way over. You leaned into Stiles as he caught Scott and Isaac up, and Scott confirmed that the dead body was Kyle. When Noah and the rest of the cops came, Stiles let go of you to go talk to his dad and you held onto Scott. “So what happened back there?” You asked quietly.

“The twins are part of the alpha pack.” He kept his voice low so no one else heard. “They were gonna hurt Isaac.”

“Yeah, or worse.” You looked over at Isaac and he seemed okay, but you could tell he was still jittery. You snapped out of your daze when you heard Coach’s booming voice.

“You heard the man: Nothing to see here!” Coach yelled when asked to help clear the area. “Probably just some homeless kid.”

“Coach,” Scott said. “He was a senior.”

Regret immediately flooded Coach’s face and you actually felt kind of bad for him. “Oh … Well, he wasn’t on the team, was he?”

Your sympathy dried up and you were going to snap at him when a blonde girl came running up to the tree, screaming Kyle’s name. One of the deputies had to restrain her. You looked away and Scott tugged on your sleeve to get your attention. The four of you were heading back to the school.

“Did you see the way the twins looked at him?” Isaac asked, still glaring over his shoulder at them.

“Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?” Stiles asked.

“No, no. They knew.” You bumped Isaac’s arm lightly to bring his attention forward again.

“The kid was strangled with a garrote, okay? Am I the only one recognizing the lack of werewolfitude in these murders?” Stiles asked, motioning with his hands to make his point.

“No, but you’re the only one recognizing it so loudly,” you mumbled.

“So you guys think it’s a coincidence they turn up-” Isaac looked back again “- and then people start dying?”

“No, but I still don’t think it’s them.”

“Scott,” you interrupted their argument. “What do you think?”

The four of you came to stop and both Isaac and Stiles were waiting for him to take their side. The conflict made you a little uncomfortable but you ignored it.

“I don’t know yet,” Scott said eventually, not doing much to dissipate the tension.

“You don’t know yet?” Stiles echoed, arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, Isaac’s got a point,” Scott started, and upon seeing Stiles’ betrayed reaction he continued, “Seriously, dude, human sacrifices?”

“Scott, your eyes turn into yellow glow sticks, okay? Hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were to stab you right now, it would just magically heal,” Stiles said. “But you’re telling me that you’re having trouble grasping human sacrifices?”

Scott sighed and turned to Isaac. “That’s a good point, too.”

“I don’t care,” Isaac said. “They killed that kid. They killed the girl that saved me. And I’m gonna kill them too.”

You shared a look with Stiles before Isaac started walking away, and with a huff you followed after him. “Jesus, Isaac. A few months with the Hales and suddenly you’ve got a flair for the dramatics?”

---

“So what do you think of all this?” you asked Stiles. You were leaning on one of the lockers while he scoured Kyle’s for clues. “Come on, you really think I don't see those gears turning in there?”

Stiles laughed under his breath and looked at you. “I don’t know. I spoke to his girlfriend and he's not a virgin like the others. He's still one of them, though. One of the sacrifices.”

“Well, it’s the threefold death, right? What if this is a new set of three?”

“Yeah, but what’s the set? High school seniors? Guys who wear leather jackets?” He was going to keep going - no doubt with something more inappropriate - but he stopped when he saw Boyd coming up to put something on Kyle’s locker.

“Boyd, you’re back!” You pulled him into a hug. “Isaac didn’t mention you were starting school again.”

“Yeah, I would’ve told you but, uh…” Boyd looked behind you and to Stiles, not finishing his sentence. He looked like he was going to say something but then thought better of it. “Anyway, I’ll see you around.”

“Hey, wait, so did you, uh- did you know Kyle?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, we were in Junior ROTC together,” Boyd answered.

“So you were friends?” you asked with a small smile. Losing Erica was hard enough, but losing another friend within the span of two months sounded awful.

“I only had one friend.” Boyd looked down to where your hand was on his arm. “She’s dead, too.” You let your hand fall away then watched him leave.

Turning back to Stiles, you sucked in a breath. “That was …”

“Intense.”

“And not very informative.” You ran a hand through your hair and bumped Stiles’ arm with your elbow, giving him a smile. “I’ve got to go check on Isaac. He’s got detention with Allison and someone needs to make sure they don't kill each other.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Stiles laughed. “I need to talk to Lydia anyway … We still on for free period later?”

“Since you so rudely stole my lunch period to snoop, I think it’s only fair you take me out for something to eat.” You gave him another smile before turning to find wherever they holed up Isaac.

You saw Scott running to one of the supply closets and followed after him. He dragged a vending machine out of the way, pulled open the door, and the next thing you saw Isaac had been thrown into the wall opposite the closet. He was turning.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you whispered, pulling him closer. “Calm down. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You rubbed his arms gently to get him to calm down, and you could see that he was trying desperately to change back. Scott yelled his name to try and force him to change, but all it really did was annoy you. When you looked up to snap at him, you saw that Allison had been cut.

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” Allison insisted. Scott was holding her arm, and though the cuts didn’t look that deep, you knew they hurt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to do that,” Isaac stammered. You were still holding him close and could feel his heart beating about a mile a minute in his chest.

“I’m okay,” Allison promised.

“I’m so sorry.” Isaac was cycling through stages of guilt and trying to push you away but also hold you closer at the same time. It was definitely a little weird but he used to do something similar when he was younger.

“It’s not his fault,” Allsion said when Scott didn’t look like he was calming down.

“I know,” he said. “I guess now we know they want to do more than get you angry. They want to get someone hurt.”

“So are we going to do something?” Isaac asked. His heart rate had come down and he stopped pushing you away.

“Yeah.” Scott nodded. “We’re gonna get them angry. Really angry.”

You and Isaac got up, huddling closer to Scott and Allison. While they came up with a plan, you cleaned up Allison’s wound with the first aid kit you had in your bag.

“Well, uh, as much as I’d like to be a part of this,” you said, waving your finger between the four of you, “I’ve got geometry in like five minutes and I really don’t need any more disciplinary hearings on my record.”

Allison smiled at you. “Don’t worry about it, trouble maker. We can handle it from here.”

---

“You’re out of school early,” Deaton said when you and Stiles entered the animal clinic. You weren’t sure when lunch had turned into a side-quest, but you went along with it anyway.

“We’ve got a free period,” you smiled.

“Yeah, we were, uh, gonna grab lunch and go see my dad,” Stiles said. “He’s uh- you know, I guess you probably heard people are getting kind of murdered again. It’s his job to figure it out.”

“I gathered as much from the sheriff title.”

“Yeah, but, uh, Stiles has been kind of worried about him lately. He got fired for a little bit not too long ago because it’s, uh- it’s kind of hard for him to figure stuff out when he doesn’t know everything,” you said, brushing some hair behind your ear.

“So I started thinking, and I remembered someone who does have a lot of information,” Stiles continued. “Someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here. You.”

Deaton nodded like he was expecting this to happen at some point. He motioned for you guys to follow him to the back. Stiles kept talking as you did.

“All these symbols and things - the triskeles, the bank logo, the mountain ash - all of it is from the Celtic druids,” he went on. “And anyone who’s ever looked up human sacrifices before knows that the druids had a pretty big hard-on when it came to giving one up to the gods.” You stopped in front of the examination table. “You ever hear of the Lindow Man?” He described how the body was found with the threefold death injuries, and you placed a hand gently on his shoulders.

“Stiles, uh, maybe we should let Deaton talk for a bit,” you suggested.

“They also found grains of pollen in his stomach,” Deaton said to Stiles. “Grains of mistletoe.”

“So I’m just telling you stuff you already know?” Stiles asked and Deaton nodded. “Then why aren’t you telling us?”

“Maybe because when you’ve spent every moment of the last ten years trying to push something away.” Deaton looked like he was choosing his words very carefully before saying them. “Denying it. Lying about it. It becomes a pretty powerful habit.”

The three of you were quiet for a minute, and you were watching Stiles bite back any insults or sarcastic comments. You stepped in before he had the chance to find his favorite. “So the person doing this, they’re a druid, right?”

“No,” Deaton said, much to your confusion. “It’s someone copying a centuries-old practice of a people who should have known better. Do you know what the word ‘druid’ means in gaelic?”

“No,” Stiles said.

“In proto-celtic, it roughly translates to ‘tree-knower,’” you said. “I’ve, uh, been doing some reading since this all started.”

Deaton nodded. “Very good, but a direct translation is ‘wise oak.’ The celtic druids were close to nature. They believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers and scholars, but they weren’t serial killers.”

“Yeah, well, this one is,” Stiles said. His phone started ringing and he sighed. The caller ID told you it was Lydia and you told him to get it. You walked over to Deaton’s side of the table in the meantime to talk to him some more, but neither of you got the chance because when Stiles said the word ‘missing’ both of you turned to look at him.

After a little convincing, you got Deaton to come back to school with you and you met Lydia in the music room. She still looked pretty freaked out about it, but she showed you the recording she’d found anyway.

“Can we get a copy of this?” Deaton asked when the recording finished playing. Lydia nodded and sent it to him.

“Hey, Doc, any help would be, you know, helpful,” Stiles said while he rummaged through the teacher’s desk drawers. You rolled your eyes.

“Each grouping of three would have its own purpose, its own type of power. Virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors-”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait.” Stiles stood up to look at him. “Warrior, could that also be like a soldier?” He looked over at you.

“Kyle was in Junior ROTC,” you explained and Stiles showed everyone a photo of the teacher on his wedding day in his uniform.

“That’s got to be it. That’s the pattern.” Deaton looked at the photograph. “Where’s Boyd?”

“He’s probably home by now but I’m gonna try and get him on the phone.” Stiles rushed out and you looked over at Lydia.

“Lyd, you okay? You’ve been awfully quiet,” you said gently.

“Yeah, it was- I mean … I just thought of someone else with a military connection,” she told you. Deaton asked who she thought of. “Harris.”

The four of you shared anxious looks before deciding to rush over to Harris’ classroom. No one was there. You couldn’t tell if that made you feel relieved or not.

“Maybe he just went home for the day,” you said, but even you could tell that your words were hollow.

“Yeah, well…” Stiles went over to the desk and pulled out his briefcase. You’d never seen Harris without it. “Not without this.” You watched him open the case and remove its content. You leaned over the desk to see what he was frowning at.

“What?” Deaton asked.

“This test is graded ‘R,’” you told him.

“This one’s an ‘H.’” Lydia held up another test.

You and Stiles started splaying out all the tests to look for grades that didn’t make sense, but Deaton came over and rearranged the order.

“Do you remember I told you ‘druid’ was the Gaelic word for ‘wise oak?’” he asked. You and Stiles nodded. “If a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a dark oak. There’s a Gaelic word for that as well: Darach.”

---

Stiles ended up taking you home after ransacking Harris’ classroom. He stopped at a fast food place on the way because your stomach was making the loudest noises in the car. The two of you were quiet as you poked at your food and watched Stiles dunk a fry into his milkshake.

“You’re quiet,” he said between chews.

“I just can’t believe he’s dead. I mean, I didn’t like Harris. And I barely knew him but it still … still hurts. Still feels like I lost something.” You took a sip of your drink.

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s also because Erica’s gone now. All this death is just-”

“Smothering.” He looked at you with this shocked expression on his face so you gave him a small smile. “I’ll get through it, but I- we shouldn’t have to, Stiles.” You didn’t realize your hand was reaching across the table until it met Stiles’ half way. “We’re just kids.”

“If we don’t, who will? You think Peter gives half a rat’s ass about anyone who isn’t him?” he asked. You knew he meant it to be encouraging but it just stung.

“I don’t know,” you said eventually.

The restaurant was quiet - just after the lunch rush had died down - and for a moment it felt like it was only you and Stiles in the whole building, holding hands and grieving.

“I can still hear her, you know?” Your voice was barely even a whisper. “People laughing in the hallways, when my feet hit the pavement as I run, when Isaac says something dumb I can practically feel her reaching over and slapping the back of his head.” Your voice cracked. “And every time I see Boyd it just-”

“It reminds you of her,” Stiles finished for you. “And it hurts like a bitch. I wanna tell you that it’s gonna go away, but it doesn’t. It gets less but it- it’s still there. It’s a reminder that you’re alive. And you’re here. And I’m here too. And Erica … she’d want you to be happy.”

You honestly didn’t know how to respond, so all you did was nod.

You watched Stiles sink back into his seat, taking his hand with him. “You wanna take these to go and get out of here? This booth is kind of depressing now.”

---

You and Melissa were cuddled up together on the couch. It had been a long day for both of you. She was playing absent-mindedly with your hair when you heard Scott’s voice, and then you both twisted around to get a better look at him. “Hey, Mom?” Isaac was with him. “Is it okay if Isaac stays with us for a little while?”

“What happened?” You and Melissa asked at the same time. You got up to get closer to them. You knew Isaac was physically fine - superhuman healing and all that - but you still felt yourself checking him like when you were younger.

Isaac caught your hands when they started drifting down his arms and stopped you. “Derek kicked me out.”

“He did what?” Melissa asked at the same time that you threatened Derek with bodily arm.

Isaac smiled gently at you and looked back at your mom. “It’s just a little crowded now that Cora’s there.”

“Right.” Melissa took a breath, thinking it over, and then smiled at you. “Get him settled while I talk to Scott?”

You nodded and took Isaac to the kitchen. You made some tea while Isaac started opening up about what happened. You guys had a routine for this by now.

“He threw a glass at you?” You pushed the mug into his hand. He focused on the drink instead of looking at you.

“I wasn’t listening to him. I- I was arguing with him.”

“Isaac, you know that’s not a reason for someone to throw a glass at you.” You tried your best to be gentle but your blood was boiling. You couldn’t do anything about his dad but you were perfectly willing to beat up Derek if you could.

“Y/N, it’s not that simple. He-”

“You guys look cozy,” Melissa said with a smile as she came into the kitchen with Scott. “So, Scott told me what happened and it’s perfectly okay if you wanna stay here.” Isaac started thanking her but she kept going. “We don’t have a spare room so you’d have to stay with Scott but other than that … it's okay with me.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Thank you, Mrs. McCall.”

“Melissa, please. Mrs. McCall was … well, my mother-in-law. And I don’t wanna be my mother-in-law.” You laughed and Melissa shook her head. “So, did you guys make some for all of us?”

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles slow burn #stiles stilinksi imagine #so close #mccall!reader #teen wolf #teen wolf au #teen wolf rewrite

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sweetcatmintea · 4 years

Text

So I’m a Vampire now...

Hello hello! It’s flash fiction Friday again! (Hurray!) Guess who still hasn’t learnt to stick to a word limit: This creature! (I’m so sorry <u<;;;;) Anyways, this kinda snuck up on me and I couldn’t think of anything better than this little vampire drabble. I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is appreciated ^u^

FFF is hosted by @flashfictionfridayofficial

Prompt: Deep End Words: 1665

----

“And we’ll have fun fun fun unt- Michael, put the rock down.” I hoped my voice conveyed how done I was with his reaction. Michael stood, back to the old jeep his mum let him borrow when he mowed the lawn, arm raised, poised to bash my head in with a sizable chunk of concrete. Vanessa wondered back to him from the direction of the mostly closed shops, an eyebrow quirked above her glasses.

“I swear to god, put the rock down. I’m not here to gogurt you.” Why do I have to be friends with an idiot?

He held firmer to his makeshift weapon. “Prove it. I can see the blood lust in your eyes.”

I pressed a palm into my forehead. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. “Yeah, my eyes dilated. Y’know, that thing that happens when you are happy to see your friends. Go repeat bio. If I was gonna slurp your guts, I wouldn’t be singing the beach boys and waltzing up to you like a door knocker asking for money. Especially not after I asked you for a lift.”

Michael narrowed his eyes at me. “Unless that’s what you want us to think. I know you Jessie. You’re sneaky.”

“Oh my god, why are you so dumb? Vanessa, can you PLEase talk some sense into him.”

Vanessa knocked the rock out of his hand, pitching it across the desolate car park before he could react. She should go into a ball sport. I don’t know, baseball or something. It clattered somewhere in the distance.

“Michael, stop being weird. We both know Jessie could have pinned you before they got turned. Your noodle arms can barely open a particularly sturdy container. You’re just making them feel unwelcomed. And being a trashy friend.”

“All true.” I nodded. “Plus, it’s not like I chose to get turned. If that loser Josh hadn’t done me dirty last week, I’d be at home feeding my Tamagotchi. Has he even reported me missing yet?”

Michael mumbled a sheepish apology. “Sorry, I was just worried you’d gone off the deep end all blood lusty or something…”

I waved it off. I wasn’t really angry. It’s not like we’d exactly been in this situation before.

Vanessa shook her head, giving me a one-armed greeting hug which I, of course, returned. “He hasn’t mentioned it. I mean, you have been reported missing. That was a whole thing that happened with your parents and then us pretending like you weren’t texting us because how do you tell someone their kid is off getting the lowdown on being undead, but yeah, not reported by Josh.”

“What a soggy zit. I swear, when I get my hands on him.”

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Michael and Vanessa shared a worried look.

“What? No. Of course not! That’s disgusting. You think I’m gonna put my face hole anywhere near that slimy weasel and voluntarily drink two thirds of his blood?? Do you know how long that would even take?”

Michael rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “Well, I kinda thought you’d y’know, snap his neck or something now you have super strength…”

“Who’s gone off the deep end now?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m not some killing machine. I’ll just dob him in and let him flounder some explanation for how he shoved me at the burglar while we were closing up shop and ran away. He’s lucky it was a vampire and not some lunatic or I’d really be dead.”

Vanessa plopped down on a concrete chock block, sipping her bubble tea and settling in for a long conversation. It was wild, I could hear the jelly in the cup squishing together. Michael sat to her side, patting the ground to invite me to complete the triangle. I obliged.

Vanessa started us off. “So what’s it like? Being all vampirey now?”

“Well, I’ve got cool powers now. Not the powers of being cool, I already had that.”

It was Michael’s turn to roll his eyes at me. I elbowed him in the ribs. Gently. Breaking bones had become a real danger. He snorted a laugh, almost shooting red bull up his nose.

“I got these neato glow in the dark eyes. Don’t know if you can turn that off. They do the cat slit thing though which is interesting. I can see So much more at night. But I think I need reading glasses now? Can’t make out squat near my face in the day.”

Shuffling around in the pockets of my oversized 90s jacket, I retrieved a packet of dried wasabi peas and munched away as I talked.

“I’m like, crazy strong. No kidding, I accidentally ripped my favourite jeans on the second day of being a vampire. Just tugged them a liiiittle too hard and bam, ruined pants.”

“Have you got fangs?” Vanessa peered closer at my mouth. It would have been better to ask that before I started eating.

“Fangs for the memories, even if they weren’t so- nah, I’m just kidding. I got them.” I bared my teeth at them, poking the lengthened canines with an index finger. “They’re sharp as anything. I’ve drunk more of my own blood than anyone else’s ‘cause I keep biting my freaking tongue. Reminds me of being little and sucking a candy cane into a shank. I’m surprised none of us got an impromptu festive tongue piercing off those things.”

“Speaking of blood… Do you need to drink it now?” They both leaned forward, anxious for my answer.

“Oi, quit it with the looks. I’m not going to freaking bite you. I’m not some mindless animal, I’m just me. Just Jessie.”

“Is there a difference there?” Michael’s ribbing was, for once, welcome.

“Hardy har. Yes, I mean, technically, I have to consume blood. But, like, the pamphlet seems to say that it’s basically a supplement more than anything so I’ve just gotta eat normal stuff and chuck back a shot or two after.”

“Okay, two things. First, human blood?”

“Again. Eww. Do you have any idea how many diseases are in human blood? There’s a reason we haven’t literally eaten the rich yet. To be fair, I’m somewhat immortal now so I won’t get sick physically, but emotionally? Imagine the toll.”

“So how do you..?”

“You know you can just go to the butchers and buy blood right? It’s like an actual cooking ingredient. It comes in blocks. It tastes like satan’s toe jam but you just gotta chuck it back real quick. Or, I’m getting a fondness for black pudding. It too tastes like feet but isn’t as bad.”

Vanessa took a thoughtful sip of her drink. “Okay. Second thing. Pamphlet?”

“Oh yeah, this thing.” I fished it out of my other pocket, passing it to them. The vampire pr committee went to great lengths to make it cute with little cartoon vampires giving advice on this time of change, talking about how your body is changing and the strange things you may feel.

“Aww that’s super cute.” Vanessa pointed to a little vampire on the cover, handing it to Michael when she was finished skimming.

“I know right. Apparently they got tired of the old program where you get bitten and have to have an awkward talk with the weirdo who kinda killed you.”

Michael handed the pamphlet back. “Speaking of, what was it like living with a vampire for a week?”

I groaned. “Oh my god, he was insufferable. At first it was like ‘I vill show you ze vorld, shining shimmering splendour va ha ha’ which was neat but then it got all ‘I’ve turned you into a monster! You will suffer for eternity! Woe is ze life of an immortal. I am so sorry va ha ha’. Which I’m like, yeah you could have at least asked my name first or waited for my hair to grow out a little instead of sticking me with this too short for the long style, too long for the short style do I’ve gotta rock for the rest of time, but all in all, it’s not the worst that could happen so chill a little maybe?”

“Aw, poor guy. He doesn’t sound that bad.” Vanessa was much less, judgey, than me. I kinda felt bad for ripping on the man.

“Okay, he’s not terrible, but the lamenting. God, the lamenting. ‘Woe is me, I have seen so many seasons I can not even remember my age.’ Why don’t you just get a calculator and subtract this year from your birth year? Then you can know that bit. ‘Oh, but ze isolation! My human friends are long dead and buried!’ That’s super sucky bro. Why don’t you make some new friends and ask if they want to be turned? Or like, go on immortalsingles.com and get a butt touch buddy? With the internet age, it’s a lot easier to connect. ‘oh but who could love a monster like me? I haven’t even seen my face in five hundred years va ha ha.’ There is a Whole genre of people online (and in line) for that. And just, update your mirrors. Get a cheap one and it won’t have silver in it and you can see your face again. I kinda think he just enjoys lamenting. If he’d get with the times, things wouldn’t be half as unpleasant for him.”

“You’re not a very empathetic listener, are you.” That’s a lot coming from the guy who was going to stone me fifteen minutes ago.

“Hey! I hooked him up to the internet and gave him my number. I didn’t just leave him.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. Whatever you say Jessie.” Michael got up, brushing his jeans off and stretching. Vanessa and I followed suit. One thing remained on my mind. Something I needed to prepare myself for.

“Okay, before we head home, I have one last, very important question.”

They looked at me quizzically.

“Has anyone been looking after my Tamagotchi?”

-----

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@snobbysnekboi, @inkovert, @kainablue, @i-rove-rock-n-roll, and @goblin-writer

#Flash Fiction Friday #fff31 #writing #writblr #vampires #story #short story #original story #literature #More at my deviantArt SweetCatMint

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