#but ugh the thought of not having to thread the needle anymore and not putting the bobbin in in the front and fixing all the problems that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lobster-tales · 3 years

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Pining - Azutara

Day 3 of Winter ATLA Femslash Week 2021. This work is also available here on AO3.

Prompt: Braids/Hair Braiding or Pining

Katara arrives home after another late night of tracking down an assassin. To her surprise, the assassin tracked her down instead. Basically a Killing Eve AU. Blood CW.

Thud! “Fuck.” Katara glared down at the dropped grocery bag. She continued to fumble with her set of keys, feeling the jagged edges with her fingers in the darkness. After two failed attempts at finding the right fit for the door, she finally felt one of the keys slip inside the lock. Katara adjusted the two other grocery bags in her arms, freeing her other hand to pull the knob towards her. The door, along with the rest of the building, was ancient, and after years of settling, the wood remained stubbornly out of place.

The lock clicked. She twisted the knob and shoved her weight against the door, but was met with resistance. Katara grunted as she pushed again, keys jingling with each effort.

A light flickered on above her. Katara winced and turned around. An older woman stood outside one of the other apartment doors, arms crossed. She wore a fierce expression, pink slippers, and a robe that would have been too short on a person of average height.

“Sorry, Auntie,” Katara whispered. They weren’t related by blood, but the landlady had never introduced herself as anything else.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Auntie hissed.

“I know, I promise I’ll be more quiet next-”

“If you’re going to be out late, the least you can do is bring home a man!”

“I wasn’t ‘out’,” Katara said defensively. “I was working.”

“Again!” She shook her finger at Katara. “You can’t keep this up forever, you know! You only think you can because you’re young!”

“I know, Auntie.”

“You tell that boss of yours that you need a break! You tell him or I will!”

Katara smiled to herself, picturing her tiny landlady just as she was, robed, slippered, and wagging her finger at the head of the Secret Intelligence Service. “Okay, Auntie.” She pressed against the door again, and this time it chose to relinquish easily. “Goodnight.”

The woman grumbled a goodbye as Katara entered her apartment, dragging in the bag she had dropped earlier.

Katara sighed, letting the wear of the day slide off her shoulders along with her oversized coat. She abandoned two of the grocery bags at the door, too exhausted to bother with the non-perishable items. Katara carried the third paper bag, now soggy with cold, through the darkness, aiming for the kitchen. Her fingers danced on the wall until she found the switch.

Light flooded the tiny area. The short, cluttered counter had three bar stools behind it. Sitting upright in the center one, hands folded neatly, was Azula.

“Oh shit!” Thud. Katara ignored the fallen bag this time, her attention narrowed on the other woman.

Azula’s long black hair was pulled into an unusually messy top knot, a bruise swelling above her smeared eyeliner. She smiled easily at Katara, flinching as the movement stretched the bloody cut on her lip. “You redecorated.”

“What the fuck are you doing? Just sitting alone in the dark?”

“I wanted to scare you,” Azula said. “I thought it’d be funny. And it was.”

Katara gawked, her expression turning to one of concern. “Are you hurt?”

“A little. I tried to clean up before you got here, but I couldn’t figure out how to work your shower.” Disdain entered her voice as she said, “It seems that the knob was replaced by a wrench.”

“Yeah…” Katara struggled to regain her composure. “Yeah, the uh… maintenance guy is out on vacation.” Her eyes landed on Azula’s left arm, where a strip of yellow cloth had been tied and dyed red. “Oh my god, are you bleeding?”

Azula rolled her eyes. “It’s just a scratch. Turns out some children hate when you try to off their father.” Her features darkened. “Even if he was a complete asshole.” Her mood lightened again, as quickly as it had dimmed. “Either way, I was in the area, and I figured someone as maternal as you could stitch me up.”

“What? I’m not maternal!”

“So you can’t give me stitches?”

“Of course I can!” Katara finally resumed control of herself. She knelt and picked up the grocery bag, reaching for the spilled contents. “Hold on, let me um… put everything away first.”

“Take your time; I’m in no rush.”

Katara opened the fridge. “They’re not after you?”

“I never leave a trail.” Azula smirked. “This may surprise you, but I’m actually good at my job.”

“Hmph. I’m not,” Katara said. “If I was, I’d be calling my boss right now. I’m supposed to be tracking you down, you know.”

“Aw, all this fuss over me.” Azula propped her elbows on the counter, making a bridge with her interlaced fingers. “I’m touched.”

“At the very least, I should drop you off at the hospital.”

“Ugh, you know how I feel about hospitals.”

Katara gazed at her intently. “And you know how I feel about assassins.”

“Hmm. I actually don’t, but let me guess.” Azula’s golden eyes flickered, like a cat playing with it’s meal. “You feel… ‘Scared’? No, that’s not it. How about ‘intrigued’? Wait, I’ve got it.” She licked her lips, smearing blood with her tongue. “‘Aroused.’”

Blood rushed to Katara’s face. She turned away, changing the subject quickly. “Can I get you anything? Some tea? Vodka?”

Azula leaned back, satisfied with her reaction. “Do you have any cabernet sauvignon?”

“Well for wine, I’ve got…” Katara dragged a large box out of the fridge and dropped it unceremoniously on the counter. “Red.”

***

“Ah!” Azula hissed in pain.

Katara grinned, pulling the curved needle away from the open wound. “Oh, don’t be a baby.”

“Then stop hacking me to pieces, you maniac.” Azula used her free hand to grab her wine, drinking from a faded London Zoo mug.

“What did they get you with, anyway?”

“Bullet.” She sighed. “It was my fault, I didn’t move quick enough. Getting sloppy in my old age.”

“We’re only 25, Azula.”

“Yes, and that much closer to death.”

Katara shook her head affectionately. “I guess assassins don’t have long life spans.”

“The good ones do.”

“And you’re one of the good ones?”

Azula’s expression changed. “I was.”

Katara punctured her skin once more with the needle, causing Azula to wince. “You said yourself that you’re good at your job.”

“Yes, usually I finish my assignments flawlessly. But this time…” She looked away. “I… I was clumsy. I made too many mistakes. The son caught me mid-kill. I should have had plenty of time before he arrived, but… I hesitated.”

Katara paused, frowning at her. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Azula said quietly, almost whispering. Katara had never seen her like this: yielding, vulnerable. The sight put her on edge. Any moment, Azula would bounce back, laugh at her for falling for the act. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he was a deplorable person. Politician, pushed through policies that left millions of people suffering, not to mention the 4 sexual assault accusations.”

“Oof,” Katara said, pulling on the thread.

“But… I don’t know,” Azula repeated. “I started by beating him bloody. He liked trophy hunting, so I used the blunt side of some elephant tusks. I’ve done this enough times that I knew the begging would come next. They always beg, offer me money, power. But he just looked me in the eye. Like he was at peace with it, with the consequences of everything he’d done.

“I’d just caught him fresh out of the bath, so he was still wearing his robe. And he asked me to wait before I killed him. He crawled to his desk, and grabbed something small off the surface. And he put it on his left hand.” She closed her eyes, solemn. “He wanted to die wearing his wedding ring. That asshole, that monster, wanted to die… loved. And he did.”

Katara searched her face, fighting the urge to take Azula’s hand. Even if this was an act, it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that Azula, the assassin she’d spent a year tracking down, fighting with, dreaming about… was crying.

“After it was done,” Azula said, treating her tears like an inconvenience. “His son came in, caught me with an upper right before he got his hands on one of the shotguns. I was almost out the window when he fired.” She lifted her chin, staring up at the ceiling. The callous bathroom light hit her features, and Katara wondered how someone so clouded by sin could look so holy. “When I fell into the bushes, felt the sting on my arm, I realized I could have been a few inches too far to the left. Or he could have aimed better.” She stiffened her lower lip. “I don’t mind death. It’s always been part of the job, a potential side effect. But if I died, even the most painless, agreeable way...” Azula looked down at her naked left hand, flexing her fingers. “I’d still have it worse than he did.”

They sat in stillness for a moment. In a last ditch attempt, Katara waited for a punchline. A jump scare. Anything. But she was only met with silence.

Though Azula had stopped crying, Katara was still stricken. During the briefings at MI6, Azula was always described as a psychopath. No feeling, no remorse. After encountering her in real life, Katara had come to the same conclusion. But now…

Katara grazed the top of Azula’s hand with her fingers. They both stared at the action, slowly moving their hands until their palms were pressed together, fingers intertwined. “You won’t die unloved, Azula,” Katara murmured.

Azula scoffed, a harsh sound after the quiet. “Don’t say that. I could have a heart attack in the next ten minutes, or you could have poisoned the wine.” She flashed a glare at the mug. “Considering the taste, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Smiling, Katara shook her head. “Even if you died right now.”

They both froze, the weight of Katara’s words settling in the air. They met each other’s eyes, lips parted slightly. Katara gulped involuntarily, mind racing. “A-Azu-”

Azula pressed her mouth against hers, swallowing her own name before Katara could finish saying it. Katara tilted her head, letting Azula run her tongue along her lower lip. She tasted like blood and cheap wine.

After a moment, Azula pulled away. Katara threaded her fingers in her black hair, pulling her back in. Azula chuckled against her mouth, letting Katara kiss her, letting herself be loved.

#winter atla femslash week #azula #katara #azutara #assassin au #atla fic #femslash #my fic

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guro-giri-letters · 4 years

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You think so? : Shigaraki x nurse reader!

- By Guro. ♡

/You’re a nurse at a recovery centre for villains, and you think you might be in love with one. Just a wholesome fluff fic! The VRC is an idea Sweets helped me come up with and I may write more things connected to it in the future! Hope you enjoy! ♡/

/Tags l Tw ; brief description of medical procedure, Shigaraki being grumpy, (secret?) established couple, nurse, wholesome. ♡/

“Tomura, stay still please,” Shigaraki grumbles, but you can see his fingers trembling around the glass you gave him to sip from. You don’t even think he drinks, but anything to keep him occupied while you give him a few stitches is good enough.

Snipping the medical thread and leaning back, you study your handiwork and give yourself a nod. It’s not too bad, a medium-size wound curving over the back of his shoulder, but awkward as hell to stitch. It looks good, despite all of his fidgeting. If he doesn’t do anything too strenuous for a few days he should heal fine, you think, resting your palm against his bony back. You can feel the knots of his spine through his pale skin. He jolts in surprise and shivers a little, leaning back against the warmth of your palm. “There, you want something for the pain?”

“No. I’m fine,” he mutters in response, voice rough as stones stuck in car-tyres. He stares into his glass a moment before downing the last of its contents, clenching his teeth right after doing so. “Ugh.”

“How about some of that for me, nurse?” Dabi’s own gritty voice rattles across to you and you turn your head. He’s laid out on the table in the middle of the kitchen, being worked on by your co-worker. You shoot him a look from where you sit behind Shigaraki, rising and tucking your stool back under the breakfast bar. “Come on, I’m torn open here,” the burnt man continues. He’s not lying. The patch of purple prosthetic skin that wraps around his side and creeps over his stomach has torn at the seams quite badly, your co-worker currently stitching it all back into place. They glare at Dabi every time he moves, earning a cheeky grin back from the villain each time.

“I thought you could tough out a few stitches?” You tease, but you pull down the whiskey bottle and offer it to him anyway. He takes it over the top of your co-workers head and un-caps it, taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“I can, but this is good- shit,” he hisses when the needle is dug in particularly hard, scowling at the nurse bent over him. “Asshole, you trying to kill me?”

“I wish, Dabi. I wish,” they mutter tiredly in reply.

“Stop the bickering, we’re all professionals here,” you chide them, pulling out a drawer and poking around until you find the tin that holds the medical staples. You pause, considering, and then pull out a container of pills as well. If Shigaraki won’t take pain relief you’ll at least give him something to help him sleep.

You work at the VRC. Yeah; Villains Recovery Center. It’s not much, just a small team of people with decent medical experience, funding, and a common hatred for hero society. You work out of a well-hidden and out of the way manor that doubles as your own and most of your co-workers main home. You’ve got a small apartment further into the city but honestly, you barely bother going back there anymore. You’ve found yourself a family here where you had no one before, and it feels good to help people that are out there doing the work you can’t.

Even if those people are often times ungrateful, grumpy, snarling villains. “I don’t want them!” Shigaraki snaps as you try, again, to get him to take the pills. “We’re not staying the night, I can’t take them. We’re on the move.”

“Not stay- yes, you are very much staying the night, and stop scratching!” You grasp his wrist and tug his hand away from his throat, ignoring the furious look he gives you as you grip his chin, tilting his head to inspect his neck. “I’m putting cream on this.”

“Get off.” He pulls his wrist back but you hang on to him, giving him a serious look. “What?”

“You’re all staying the night, Tomura, you need some proper sleep. Dabi’s in pieces and I’m pretty sure Spinner has a concussion,” the more you talk, the more the leader of the League of Villains deflates under your hands. By the time you’re done he’s slumped on his stool, still half-glaring but not really mad anymore. You know he’ll do the right thing for his group, you’ve known that since the first time they landed in needing your teams help. Shigaraki isn’t good at showing it, but he really does care for the little family he’s brought together. They hate it when you call them a family.

“Fine. We stay,” he rasps out eventually, looking up at you through his blood-flow gaze from where he sits. With no shirt on you can see how bony and thin he truly is, ribs and collarbones visible through paper-thin, raw skin. He almost looks delicate, you think, as you trace your fingers under his jaw and down his throat. Easy to break. Yet there’s so much power hidden inside of him. You can’t imagine being him... being Tomura Shigaraki. The leader of a war against a society of false idols.

His lips start to curl up at one corner, baring his teeth at you slightly. He’s happy to be admired by you in a more private setting, but your co-worker and Dabi’s eyes are two people too much it seems. “You’re staring, nurse.”

“Sorry,” you say quickly, because you genuinely hadn’t meant to. “Take your pills, let me get the cream for your neck.”

Shigaraki isn’t shy about undressing in front of you anymore. He had been once, yelling at you when you’d walked in on him naked as the day he was born. You know he was just embarrassed, self conscious. You’d made it very clear that, one, he shouldn’t yell at you if he liked receiving medical treatment. And two, you really didn’t care about his appearance or for that matter, find him ugly. All of his red, raw, scarred skin was just a part of him. Probably eczema or some other allergy. But you definitely didn’t find it ugly.

He strips off slowly, wincing any time he strains his stitches, and then shoves his clothes aside in a pile with his foot. “You want to have a shower?”

“No,” he sighs, sounding suddenly exhausted, scratching at his hip and stretching before shuffling toward the bed. You pull the covers back for him, your professionalism falling away, smiling thinly as he climbs under them a little awkwardly. “You baby all your villains this much?”

“Maybe I do,” you reply, pulling the covers up over him before he can do it himself, looking at his face. The look he’s giving you tells you he’s not amused. Quite the opposite, actually. He looks annoyed. “I’m kidding, Tomura. Only you get my VIP treatment.”

“I don’t think I believe you.”

“Are you jealous? Seriously?”

“No.”

Angry now, he turns over and away from you to face the wall. You can’t help the smile that curves your lips even further, looking at the stitched up wound on his shoulder. Shigaraki knows you care about him, more than you should care about any of your ‘clients’, he just likes to huff. He jumps in surprise when you press a kiss against his shoulder, just above his stitches. “Hey...”

“Hmm, Tomura?” You pull back to look at him as he turns his head, eyeing you over his shoulder.

“...Are you staying?” He asks, reaching a hand back to brush his knuckles over your cheek. You know what he means: Are you staying with him. How? How can this criminal, this villain, be so sweet all of a sudden?

You don’t even bother replying, just lean back from the bed and toe off your slippers. He watches over his shoulder as you undress down to your underwear, leaving your clothes in a heap next to his and climbing in. “Careful,” you murmur as he turns to face you, still wary of his stitches but it seems he’s already forgotten about them. When you’re both comfortable he just looks at you for a while, laying on his side as you lay on yours. Your lack of fear around him has always perplexed him. You lift your hand to his face slowly, smoothing the teal locks out of his eyes. He doesn’t flinch any more, he trusts you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” his rough voice is quiet in the empty room but he finally sounds calm, relaxed. You know there’s a lot of things he’d like to say to you, that he’d like to ask of you. He just doesn’t know how to. You don’t think people realise how young he is, how timid and inexperienced he can be. He’s not used to feeling cared for. Dabi likes to make terribly dirty jokes, about your relationship, about what the two of you get up to. Little does he know the most you’ve ever done is held each other. Touched each other’s faces and cuddled close when one of you needed to feel protected. Because you haven’t had an easy life either. No one hates heroes the way you do without a reason, and sometimes you need the comfort just as much as Shigaraki. You think he gets it, he knows.

You’ve kissed a few times, but it was all so gentle and... loving?

Are you in love?

“What’re you thinking about?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious, red eyes that almost glow in the dark studying your face close. You flush a little under his intense gaze; are you that easy to read?

“Just... that I think I’m in love with a villain.” Why not be honest for once?

“That so?” The smile that pulls at the corners of his cracked lips for a moment is so genuine, your heart does a little trick in your chest. You nod, burying the side of your face against the sheets and peeking over at him. “Hm..”

“I don’t know how he feels though-“ you’re silenced by a chaste yet warm kiss on the lips, your eyes closing instinctively as you lean into it without hesitation. For a while you two just kiss, your hands coming up to hold his face as he manoeuvres his arms around you with care. When you do pull back pink and breathless you don’t go far, Shigaraki letting his forehead rest against your own gently.

“...I think- I think, he may love you too...” he replies, almost inaudibly but he may as well have yelled it with how close you both are. You feel your heart leap up into your throat, lips breaking into a grin despite your best effort to keep your face calm.

“You think so?” You whisper back and Shigaraki snickers, snickers, nodding and letting his nose bump against your own.

“I think so.”

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wolfcha1k · 3 years

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It’s Our Nature

["You know, Grug. Eventually, Eep and Guy, they're going to want to start their own pack. Just like we did, it's our nature."] Grug is confused about when his little girl stopped being so little, perhaps its time Gran and Ugga tried reminding him it wasn't too long ago he was just like Guy and Eep are now. [Pre!A New Age, contains Guy/Eep and Grug/Ugga fluff/One-Shot]

You can read it here on Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13785964/1/It-s-Our-Nature

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28525908

Please leave a read and a review ~ Thank you ~It was really hard sometimes for Grug to accept his little girl wasn't so little anymore. She'd always been stuck like tar to his side and would demand stories as a young child. The old cave walls were filled with tiny hand prints he never realized had grown bigger until Guy came along and forced him to be reminded Eep was indeed a woman. She was nineteen summers old and the fact wasn't lost on anyone who had functioning eyes in their head.

Fathers only saw with their hearts though and inside Grug's his daughter was still that rambunctious sweet little girl who needed him to protect her. That also included suitors.

"Grug you're brooding again," he heard Ugga say from behind him.

"This is just my face." Grug shifted his weight from where he sat lounging against his favorite rock.

"Trust me, I can see them just as clearly as you can."

Grug couldn't help but stiffen at her call out of his snooping. Was it really spying though if the two were out in the open? They were together by the beach with Chunky playing third wheel. The demanding feline squeezed his way between them when he felt they were being too touchy. Or maybe it was just Grug self projecting, his cat generally liked being the center of attention. Guy and Eep were fishing by hand in the water but it soon turned into a game of seeing who could out run the tide first whilst trying to knock the other down. Chunky kept getting confused by this activity as he shook droplets off his wet paws.

Eep was in the lead by at least seven points, it wasn't like Grug was keeping track though. "Why didn't you tell me sooner Eep was all grown up?" Grug side eyed his mate who just laughed at him.

"She's up to your shoulder and gives you a hard time like every teenager, I thought it was obvious." Ugga nudged him with her elbow, her small hands were busy threading a bone needle with sinew as she sewed new clothes for her family.

"Well… she was always a stubborn girl and big for her age," he quipped as he crossed his arms.

"And then she got that doe-eyed look when mister-you-know-who showed up." Ugga batted her eyelashes playfully in emphasis and folded her hands beneath her chin a moment. It was hard to keep a straight face, Ugga quickly laughed it off. Grug set his jaw in a very uncharacteristic pout.

"Never should have stuffed him in the log," Grug said with less heart than he actually felt. Sure, he enjoyed roughing the kid up sometimes and making a big show of being upset seeing Eep with Guy but in truth he was fond of the… guy. It was still his job as a dad to scare Guy a little.

"Oh don't say that, he's practically our son now."

"Does that mean I need to protect him from Eep then?" He kept the edge of hope out of his voice the best he could as he faced his mate.

Ugga rested her chin on her fist thoughtfully, she put the needle safely away as she watched the two lovebirds chase one another on the beach. "You might, honestly," Ugga said with a warm voice. "She's a handful."

He heard a startled yelp from the shore and got to enjoy the sight of Guy yet again face planting in the sand. Eep pounced over his toppled form, he was spitting sand from his mouth.

"Gotta be faster than that!" She shouted with a victorious smile.

Guy mustered the energy to mockingly look at her like he was bothered but the toothy grin that spread on his face afterward said otherwise.

"Lovesick idiots," remarked Gran as she hobbled over to join them. She watched Eep and Guy fondly despite her toughness. "What I wouldn't give to be their age again. Especially with a boy like him, where was he fifty summers ago?"

"Ugh, I don't need that mental image," Grug mumbled with a shudder, his face surly.

"Aw Grug. Don't you remember what it was like to be young and in love?"

"I do, and that's why I'm worried!" Grug jutted a thumb behind him and caught the confused blank stare Guy gave the group at catching their gossip. "Young and hot blooded, Ugga."

Eep went over to haul Guy back up by the scruff of his neck. She shot Grug an embarrassed and irritated look that was muffled by her wild mane of red hair. "Ugh… Dad, we can hear you!"

"Good! So keep your hands to yourselves! You don't want little Eeps!" Grug paused. "I don't want more little Eeps, one of you is plenty!"

Guy gaped at them like a suffocating fish, Gran guffawed and shook her head. "Let them be, lunkhead. Not like they'll do anything in front of us, eh?" The two younger children of the Croods clan, Sandy and Thunk, looked up in confusion from where they were busy playing with Douglas a short distance away.

Eep pulled the curtain of hair over her eyes and wished for the ground to swallow her. Guy rubbed the back of his neck at the narrow eyed look Grug shot him.

Ugga rolled her eyes and began to try shooing the old woman off. "Mom, please."

"Come now, it's my generational right to tease the youngsters." Gran reached forward with her staff to hook it under the back of Grug's pelt shirt. She jerked it up with more speed than a lady her age should have, causing Grug to choke a moment as he grabbed for the shirt collar. "See? Like that! Sides, I got plenty of blackmail about you two turtledoves too. Grug was pathetic."

Grug eyed her with a pointed glare once he was free of her pesky walking stick. Gran was unbothered, only grinned a toothy smile as she flopped comfortably onto the sand. She glanced towards Eep who perked at the potential to embarrass her father for once. It was hard to miss the mischievous wink she sent her granddaughter. Grug didn't like the curious glint in those green eyes as his spunky daughter practically skidded to seat herself near Gran. Guy followed clumsily as she had a vice grip on his hand. How Eep hadn't pulled his shoulder out along the way, Grug would never know.

It wasn't long until the entire family were seated in front of Gran. Thunk had Douglas in his lap and Sandy was curled around Belt who cooed at the attention. Ugga gave her mate a look that was screaming 'you brought this on yourself', Grug resigned himself to his fate out of pride. Real men didn't run from such things and as the patriarch he refused to be cowed by silly stories of when he was courting Ugga.

"What was dad like with mom?" Eep asked as she leaned forward, grinning. She looked at Grug who just huffed.

"Like I said, utter mushy rotten fruit. You think Guy is tooth rotting, you should have seen your father in his day." Guy pouted at being the butt of the joke as usual, he cast his dark eyes at Grug. He smirked as if to boast at the boy, smug that he wasn't going down alone in this evening razzing. "I wanted to chuck a rock at him every time he came to see Ugga."

Some of Guy's pride was built back up again though when Eep fondly rubbed shoulders with him. Grug began to wonder if it really was self-projecting this time when Chunky nosed his way between the young couple for a snuggle. Guy looked startled whilst Eep just scratched the Macawnivore between the ears.

Ugga decided to play traitor this night. "Mom how about you tell the kids about that time when Grug went on that big errand you gave him."

Grug couldn't help but wince and gave Ugga a scowl. The little minx had the nerve to grin innocently at him despite the betrayal.

"Big errand?" Guy echoed, he was barely visible from under Chunky's massive form.

"That story is my favorite," Gran cackled with a devious gleam in her eye. "And see Guy, back in our day if you wanted to court a woman you had to do something for the head of the family! Gramp was dead so I got to pick the task. Bless that heart attack he had."

Eep and Guy shared a look before both teenagers gazed questionably at Grug. He fidgeted before rolling his eyes. "That was Yesterday stuff. Besides, Guy saved us from The End with all his weird ideas so… consider the tab paid off."

"That brain thing of yours is really useful," Eep agreed with a girlish tone.

Guy blushed red at the compliment but didn't shy away from it. If anything it just made him glow proudly. "There's more where that came from," he quipped and knocked his knuckles lightly against his temple.

Grug almost wished he'd missed the bright, lovesick smiles the two shared despite Chunky barring them apart to the best of his ability. The desire for his daughter's happiness won out though, luckily for Guy who beamed. Even protective fathers and clingy Macawnivores weren't enough to stop true love it seemed.

"Anyway… it's no secret I didn't like your dad. So I came up with the most impossible task ever to earn Ugga." Gran licked her dry lips as she grunted, "Of course Grug had to go and actually do it."

"What did you make dad do?"

"Told him to go get a hair off a naked molephant."

Guy blinked. "But naked molephants don't have hair."

"Well, this is Grug so of course the nincompoop found the one blasted molephant that had hair." Grug let himself puff his chest out like a peacock preening its feathers.

"Yeah, well, you should have known better when you set me out on a job, Gran." He gave his mother-in-law a catty grin, for now he could relish in a past victory that smarted her way back when.

Eep looked at her grandmother mischievously. "So… when does the story get good?"

Ugga snickered, by now she had abandoned her sewing to sit between Thunk and Sandy. Thunk leaned against his mother as the woman combed her fingers through his scruffy mop of hair. "When he came back with his tunic ripped apart by a tusk," Ugga interjected.

"Wow," Thunk said in awe, turning his eyes to stare at Grug. Grug appreciated at least one Crood wasn't laughing at him. "How'd you do that?"

Gran cocked an eyebrow with a chuckle. "Yeah Grug, tell them."

Grug crossed his arms moodily. "Just for the record, it was a real life or death battle getting that stupid hair."

"Ugga was sewing his left buttocks for weeks," Gran said with a slap to her knee, the memory made her lifetime, really. She lifted her bony hands up to gesture with those old curled fingers of hers a measurement. "He's got a scar like this—"

"—ANYWAY! Like I was saying," Grug grumbled. He turned his attention back to his family. He scooped up a clump of sand and clay from the ground below and drew a vaguely person-like shape into the rock he had been lounging on. Then he drew a beast with tusks and a long nose next to him. "It was a battle of life and death, there I was, twenty two summers old—"

It was pure spite that kept him going hours after setting forth into the desert. Gran was convinced he couldn't win her daughter as his mate, and so when the old lizard raised the stakes he was determined to prove her wrong. He would get Ugga, she was something special and worth more than daylight itself.

He loved her and if it took getting a stupid molephant hair to be with her then so be it. Gran had been making him jump through hurdles since the day he'd met Ugga, it was no secret they shared a mutual loathing for each other. It also came from the same selfless affection the two had for Ugga, though Grug would have thought knowing he made her daughter happy was enough for her. Growling under his breath, he wiped the sweat from his brow.

There was still a good five knuckles before the sun would set, he'd find it before then. Either that or he was going to face the dangers night brought—

“You? Staying outside at night?” Eep sounded doubtful.

“...yes,” Grug huffed.

“See? Big mush,” Gran interrupted.

"Can I finish? Nobody interrupted this much back in the cave," he grumbled moodily.

—He was sure the beast was around here somewhere as he took a cautionary sniff of the dry, dusty air. Grug could see footprints inbedded in the barren and broken ground that sand didn't cover yet. Running onwards, he pressed his knuckles into the ground as he paced himself.

Grug crossed the desert quickly and ignored the aching in his palms and feet from the hot tough earth. He was built strong and a little pain wouldn't stop his pride. He paused when the scent grew stronger, flaring his nostrils he climbed up a nearby tree to survey what was around. The sun was strong against his eyes and Grug strained through the bright rays of light to see a dark speck in the distance. In a nearby canyon below, Grug finally found what he was looking for—

"What about never being afraid?" Thunk asked his father.

Grug looked at Thunk before settling his dark eyes on his beloved Ugga. "I was afraid," he admitted with a chuckle. "But I wanted to impress your mother more. Being stubborn and hormonal is a terrible mix."

"You stubborn? No!" Eep exclaimed with a teasing grin. Guy gave her a playful look from where he was walled by Chunky.

Grug made a vague gesture with his hand and he relished in the confused faces Eep and Guy made when Chunky pressed his full weight against both of them. Guy yelped for mercy as Eep tugged on the cheeky feline that was crushing him into the sand.

"Grug! Please call him off!" A large paw cuffed his head, Guy's words quickly muffled.

"Dad!"

Grug suppressed a grin as he went back to his story. "I found the molephant so what was next was getting the hair—"

Grug couldn't say how long it took climbing down that cliff wall to reach the level the molephant was at. It was risky and went against what Grug practiced in his beliefs. Caution and fear kept him alive this long, yet here he was about to go harass an molephant for some hair it might or might not have. Dread pooled in his belly and made him cold, going after more beasts was not how he wanted this to go. Breathing heavily through his gritted teeth, Grug crept as quietly as he could across the canyon. There were many tall and small rocks around that would provide cover should he need to hide.

Grug didn't have a brain, cavemen didn't use those. At least he didn't and it showed when he found himself running full speed away from a rampaging molephant. He relied on his gut instinct to weave and dodge its massive tusks that were swung at him. Grug scrambled and whenever he managed to get close, the creature stomped it's way towards him with a vengeance.

He bit back a curse when a tusk just barely ripped part of his tunic at his chest—

"—so this is when the story gets to the best part," Eep interrupted with a cheeky hum. She'd since rescued Guy from the weight of Chunky and had him cuddled protectively in her arms. She rested her chin on his mused up brown hair. Guy idly stroked one of her hands that were interlocked at his neck and chest.

"I thought it was always at the best part," Thunk quipped in a confused voice to his sister.

"If I say anything else I'm worried I'll become Macawnivore food," Guy said and tipped his head to the side with a huff.

Ugga smiled at her children as Grug shot them a look to be silent. "Look if you want to laugh at me can I finish this up then first?"

Gran reached her staff out to bop Eep over the head, her bushy red hair cushioned the blow. "Yeah, hush your tongue."

Eep huffed when she felt Guy trying to muffle his grin into her arm. Grug shook his head at the sight, feeling a fond nostalgia swell within him despite the protective instinct. He looked at Ugga and she just arched a brow at her mate. Grug turned back to telling the story, large fingers drawing more on the rock.

"The molephant was putting up a good fight but your old dad was better—"

—He was swearing aloud and screaming as he hung onto the tusk by his shirt. Grug was glad he didn't feel wounded but this was just a disaster waiting to happen. Even the molephant seemed dismayed at the fact he now had the man stuck on his face. It kept rampaging and Grug strained against the beast in order to sink his feet forcibly into the hard earth. Dust filled the air and with his innate strength, Grug managed to swing his body around to grab it by its tusk. The molephant slowed and leaned back to buck, swinging Grug off after a lot of effort.

He was thrown through the air and scrambled to find his feet as he rolled like a big boulder. Dazed, Grug just barely got out of the way of the molephant as it charged him. Panting, Grug finally saw the hair on its angrily swishing tail. It groaned in frustration and Grug realized the molephant had gotten its massive body stuck between two rocks. Panicked and running strictly on adrenaline, Grug reached forward to yank off a clump of hair from its tail. It trumpeted its distress, Grug began to rush away but there was the sound movement. He dared to look behind him, yelling out he did all he could to escape the incredibly pissed off beast.

It only took one stupid stumble to find that in that split moment he was thrown into the air. Pain flowered under his back and rump. The last seconds felt like they were slow motion as he landed harshly into a patch of huge, prickly brambles. Everything went blurry and before he knew it, there was nothing...

He'd awoken to darkness and the scent of blood in his nose. He was tangled upside down in a bramble bush and covered in an uncomfortable amount of burrs. There was also pain in his rear end and back, Grug noted with a groan. However the panic he felt for that hair won out his concern for his current state. He couldn't go back without that blasted hair!

He froze his struggling at a sound in the distance and cowardly he hunkered down the best he could whilst suspended in the air head facing down. However, it soon turned into a voice. "...Grug! Grug?!'

"Ugga?!" He whispered harshly and in the moonlight he saw the cavewoman trotting cautiously on all fours. "I'm over here!"

Ugga hurried towards him and gave him a worried once over. Grug grinned at her concern until she scowled, harshly tugging on his ear like he was an impudent child. "Are you asking for a death wish, Grug?! Look at you! I can't believe you took mom seriously!"

"...it's good to see you too, Ugga," he grunted, pressing a hand to his ear to drown out the headache she gave him.

Ugga circled him with careful gray eyes as she tried to figure out how to get him down. "You are lucky no hungry predators sniffed you out first before I did," Ugga continued to scold.

Grug stiffened at the mention of such a risk and reached an arm to grab her shoulder as if it would protect her. "You shouldn't even be out here," he grumbled back.

"I know but after hearing mom laughing it up with the tribe about this stupid errand I needed to find you," Ugga hissed, pulling away to give him another stink eye. "I'm so mad at you right now."

"Yeah well once I find where that dumb hair went I'll be the one laughing at her!" Grug exclaimed, wiggling in an attempt to dislodge himself.

"Would you hold still? You're just going to make yourself worse," she complained and began to tear at the thicket with her strong, calloused hands.

Grug, being the stubborn man he was, continued to squirm this way and that. "I can get down myself," he huffed.

Ugga threw her hands up in frustration before yanking at a cord of bramble. "You have a head made of rocks, Grug."

Grug opened his mouth to argue back before suddenly falling. He cried out when his head hit the ground, grabbing at his neck in pain of the impact. Nursing a bump that felt like some giant goose egg, Ugga examined his tunic.

She made a noise through her teeth in fret. "How are you not dead right now?"

"I don't know!" He said with a growl, shuffling to sit up. Everything hurt from his skull to his toes that spread out in the pulse of his blood. "But between you, your mom and that molephant, all of you are really trying to bury me!"

Ugga rolled her eyes and spun him around, she pulled up his shirt before Grug could even protest. "You're lucky," she sighed, relief warming her voice. "That molephant tusk missed a major arterie. Really ruined your tunic though."

He softened and reached a hand out to touch her arm. "I got other shirts."

"It's probably going to scar. Can you walk?" Ugga faced him once again, he couldn't help but frown as he watched her wipe her bloody palm in the sand. My blood, Grug thought with a pained wince.

The adrenaline of the moment and even beyond it was wearing off, Grug really wanted to go back to his cave to nurse his wounds and ego. "I think so. Um… help balance me?"

A smile lit up her face and Grug wondered if it was the blood loss or her that made him sway breathlessly. "Sure." Ugga offered her arm to him which he took.

However, he stopped with a groan. "Ugh… wait. The hair, I'm not going back without that hair!"

"Forget the hair, Grug. Mom will get over it."

"Oh no! Ugga, I'll never hear the end of it if I don't give her that stupid hair!" Grug let go of Ugga to try peering through the darkness on the ground, crouching on his knuckles.

Ugga put her hands on her hips. "What is so important about getting my mom this hair? Naked molephants don't even have hair."

Grug just stuck a finger at her triumphantly. "Yes, yes they do and I swear to the sun it's not just me getting loopy from all this blood loss."

"Grug, you're scaring me," Ugga said in a deadpanned tone, brows arched.

"That old lizard can't keep us apart anymore after this," he continued to ramble on and on.

"Grug…"

"If it's a hair that ancient fossil wants in order to get her out of mine for good then so be it," he continued.

"Grug!"

"What?!"

"If you want to be my mate so bad why don't you just ask me yourself?"

Grug stopped his frantic search and stiffened up like a ribbit being hunted by a liyote. He turned to face her and saw she looked disappointed, arms crossed over her muscular chest. "Um… excuse me?" He wanted to kick himself for stuttering, he wasn't a boy anymore.

"I'm not something to trade for, and the fact you actually went through with it astounds me." Ugga shook her head with a sigh.

Grug shuffled his weight uncomfortably, he'd never been good at addressing his feelings out in the open like that. Even if it was for Ugga whom he loved dearly. "I know you're not an object, Ugga."

"Then why ask mom?"

"I… I don't know. I guess… I got tired of her talking badly about, you know… us." Grug looked at her with a frown, uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Ugga reached out to cup his cheek in her hand as she stood in front of him. "Mom says a lot of things, you really need to tune her out."

He turned his head to brush his nose against her palm in a fond gesture, slouching. "She always says I'm no good for you, Ugga."

"Well, lucky for us mom isn't the one you have to court. It's me." She leaned back on her heels, still stroking his face with a gentle touch for a woman as fierce as Ugga.

"I'm just saying, getting her to shut up would be a win win to this mess." Grug shrugged his shoulders in a dismissive way, a small grin on his face.

Ugga rolled her eyes at him. "You and your manly pride are going to get you into trouble."

"If I'm already in trouble I might as well finish up," he quipped. Grug found his molephant hair amongst the broken debris the molephant had left in its rampaging wake, he’d lifted it up triumphantly in the moonlight. Ugga shook her head. “Okay, now, we can go back!”

When they returned, the sun had started to rise over the desert as dawn chased off the night. Gran had stood outside the dwelling she shared with Ugga, her scowl etched deep into her wrinkled features. The other families were creeping out of their dens in preparation of the morning hunt and foraging, their curious eyes were shocked to see Grug limping back into the canyon with Ugga supporting his hulking mass.

Grug shoved the wad of hair into Gran's face with a low growl, "Here's your stupid hair!" The old woman took it with muted shock for once, gaping mouth wide as she looked between Grug and Ugga. With a burst of adrenaline and pride, he looped his massive arm around Ugga's waist to haul her over his shoulder.

She gave a startled laugh, lightly smacking her fists into his back. "We're going back to this tradition, are we?"

"I gotta make sure your mom doesn't try anything again, you're as good as mine now," Grug huffed, limping with his Ugga secured in his grasp like she weighed light as a feather.

"You're too much, Grug."

"You've never complained before," he shot back with a grin.

"C'mon big guy, I think all that blood loss is affecting your head. Let me patch you up."

Grug headed for his cave, merry that he'd gotten Ugga and at the same time shut that awful lizard of a mother-in-law up. It costed him his pride, he noted, it was hard to ignore the snickering of the families around them. He only bared his teeth at them which seemed to work for the moment. Once his back was turned the whispering and giggling continued.

Ugga merely pressed her forehead into the back of his neck and it made everything better… least until Gran moved in but that was a different story for another tomorrow.

Grug finished his story with flourish, loosely drawing what seemed to be a lopsided circle around the two images presenting Ugga and himself.

"I like that story," Eep said, a bit dreamily as she looked at the pictures. "It wasn't really embarrassing though."

"It was if you were there," Grug scoffed as he wiped his clay covered hands on his pelt.

"Well, it still makes me laugh at least," Gran said from where she sat, cackling.

"You laugh at anything that has me getting beat up," he pointed out, surprisingly with a much more amiable tone.

"Not true, now that you learned some jokes I laugh at other things too."

Ugga smiled fondly at her mate, letting Thunk sit up so she could go wrap her arms around his bicep in a hug. "Thank you," Ugga said, rubbing her nose into his cheek.

Grug softened and felt his ears burn, giving her a small smile. His eyes fell to his audience and he couldn't help lingering on Eep who still had Guy draped in her lap. They were gazing at one another like nobody else existed around them for the moment, Guy lifting a finger to fondly boop her nose.

Ugga shook her head. "Let them be, you remember what it was like still." She patted his arm fondly with a knowing smile.

Grug huffed but said nothing, just reluctantly looked away from the two lovestruck teenagers. "I've been lounging around too much anyway." He tried shrugging off the blatant teenage romance going on right in front of him. "Since they're busy, dinner duty is on me now." The plan had been fish but he knew that failed disastrously from the word go.

He grabbed Thunk by the shoulder and the boy protested a moment, Douglas scampered between their legs as Grug lead the way towards the woodland hugging the beachfront. Ugga watched Grug go, sighing like she was a girl of twenty summers old again. She reached down to grab Sandy who wiggled in her arms, Ugga tucked her under her elbow without batting an eye over the feral snarling. She cast one last look at Eep and Guy before walking off herself, intending to put Sandy down for a nap.

"C'mon you little scamp," Ugga told her daughter. "You need all the rest you can get for when Dada comes back with food."

"Hey… where did everybody go?" Eep found a moment to look away from Guy to realize the clearing had been well… cleared out. Only one that remained was Gran, the old battle ax of a woman rolled her eyes.

Guy lingered his gaze on her still. "I don't know but you are still here so it's not a problem yet for me."

She fought off a smile best she could but failed at his widening one.

"About time the two of you joined us back in this world," she grunted in a teasing tone, her joints creaking as she pushed herself to her feet.

"Oh, hey Gran." Guy waved a hand idly in her direction.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eep inquired, huffing.

"Oh, you know very well what I mean," Gran replied, stretching a kink out of her back. She gave a satisfied sigh at the pop, leaning comfortably against her stick. "Anyway lovebirds… I want my afternoon nap now. Laughing at Grug really wipes an old lady out."

"Hold on a second!" Eep exclaimed, springing up to her feet. She unceremoniously hefted Guy up in her arms as she did so, his dark eyes only startled for a second. "Why is that story your favorite, really?" Eep asked with a squint.

She put Guy back on his own two feet though clung to his bicep. He leaned against her solid form without a thought, it came as easy as breathing air. "You and Grug didn't seem to have the best relationship," Guy added thoughtfully as he looked at her.

Gran huffed through what was left of her teeth, shaking her head. "It reminds me of how foolishly in love you two are," she chuckled at the matching blushes on their faces. "Being so devoted that you go and do something stupid to prove it. I'd watch your back Guy, Grug knows he can get you to climb in Chunky's mouth if it means Eep is your reward for it."

"Eep isn't a thing," he sputtered.

Eep couldn't help but playfully jab his ribs. "I'm not a catch then?"

"Of course you are!" Even at her most gentle, Eep knocked the wind out of him and he was wheezing.

"See! That is what I mean," Gran cackled as she reached out to pat Guy fondly on the shoulder. "Lovesick idiot. Eep has you down pat. That's okay though, us ladies like a man who's easy to boss around." She winked at Eep and Guy.

She heard Eep's disgruntled scoff as she turned away, a mischievous grin tugging her old lips. "Do try to behave yourselves. Well, I'll say ta-ta for now, loves." Leaving the two to their own devices at last, Gran began to hobble off after the direction her daughter Ugga had gone.

Guy stared at the pathway until Gran was a mere speck and turned to look at Eep. "Am I easy to boss around?"

"Behave ourselves," Eep said, pouting. "She's acting like we have no restraint!"

Guy chuckled with a teasing grin, leaning down to brush his lips against the hinge of her jaw. She immediately melted. "Maybe she's kinda right about that, at least," he mumbled against her chin.

Eep nuzzled herself closer to him, feeling his breath fan her neck. “We probably shouldn’t prove her right, you know how Gran is.”

Guy just huffed and began to pepper her neck and face in kisses, Eep had no complaints despite her playful refusal. Rebellion just came with being young, even if the old codger would relish in teasing them later for it.

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mystyrust · 4 years

Text

Fracture - Ectober 2020

Day 2 Prompt: Bones / Pulse

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27203635

Word Count: 2387

Tags: Past torture, identity reveal

There were many ways Maddie liked to spend her weekend. When her kids were younger, she and Jack would take them out to museums or parks – a family outing. Now that her kids are in high school and have a lot of homework, they don’t go out every weekend anymore. In fact, it feels like they haven’t had time to bond as a family in months. Jazz is always in the library and Danny is always with his friends – sometimes even sleeping over – or catching up on missed homework. Maddie could never figure out why Danny had a backlog of homework to catch up on, yet always had time to hang out with Sam and Tucker.

Now, with her kids spending all their free time by themselves, Maddie liked to spend her free time in her lab, creating and improving her inventions to catch the elusive ghost Phantom. It had been around the time that Phantom appeared that Danny and Jazz became more distant – while both her children were in support of the ghost vigilante, Maddie and Jack were against it, devoting their free time into solving the mystery of what made Phantom different from every other ghost that haunted Amity Park. They wanted to catch it, run experiments with it, and dissect it.

So this weekend was like any other – Maddie was huddled in her lab with Jack, working out the schematics of a new invention – when their Fenton Ghost Detector beeped; a strong ecto-signature was detected inside the Fenton household. This was normal if the ghost came out of the Fenton portal – this signature came from… the living room. Maddie and Jack ran up to find Phantom having stumbled through the front door, leaking ectoplasm behind it.

“What do you think you’re doing here, spook?!” Jack raised his ecto gun at the intruder, his large frame standing in between Maddie and the ghost. But Phantom was in no shape to fight.

“I… I need help,” The ghost managed to gasp out. Maddie paused in confusion. The ghost had tears streaming down its face, heavy breathing, and ectoplasm leaking down one limp arm. It’s mimicking of human physiology was fascinating. And to come to ghost hunters for help? Either this was a trap, or it wasn’t thinking straight.

“The..guys in…white… barely got away from them,” Phantom continued to explain. Maddie noticed him sway where he stood. And that was the weird part – he stood. Not floated. And he had legs, instead of a spectral tail.

“Please, before they… finish me… like they did…”

Jack lowered his ecto gun ever so slightly – not lowering his guard, but still confused about what to do. It was odd, seeing the always confident Phantom reduced to pleading and begging its former enemies. Something in his psyche was so shattered from his experience with the GIW…

Maddie didn’t know what to make of that, but she couldn’t waste a perfectly good opportunity when it knocked phased right through her front door.

“Let’s… let’s stabilize him for now,” Maddie said, lowering Jack’s aim. “Then we can ask him what happened. And decide what to do after that,”

Jack nodded in agreement. He gingerly placed his ectogun down, approaching Phantom with both is hands up and in front.

“We’ll help you, spook,” Jack spoke loud and purposefully. “But we’ll need to take you down to the lab to do that,” Phantom nodded slightly, and Jack took that as permission to walk up to the ghost. Phantom was… he wasn’t heavy but Jack wasn’t expecting the ghost to be as solid and corporeal as he was. He lifted the ghost in his arms, and followed Maddie down to the basement.

The ghost offered little resistance, but he was breathing heavily, and leaking a concerning amount of ectoplasm from his limp arm and one of his legs. It must be difficult to keep up the charade of struggling to breathe, when he’s lost as much ectoplasm as he has, Maddie thinks.

They place him on an examination table, with Maddie grabbing a scanner and running it over his damaged arm.

“Jack…” Her voice shuddered, “His arm is… it’s fractured.”

“What? That makes no sense, he doesn’t even have…bones…” but the scanner showed Jack exactly that.

There were a million and one questions that ghosted Maddie’s lips: How did you get bones? Do other ghosts also have bones? Where do the bones in your body go when you form a spectral tail? Are your bones made of calcium, just like human bodies? But the words that left her mouth were:

“You have bones?”

All her years of academic study, her dual MD/PhD, wasted on a Captain Obvious™ moment.

“Yeah, no duh,” Phantom cracked an eye open, while the rest of his face continued to grimace. “And it hurts…like hell…” There was that snarky teenaged attitude the Fentons were so familiar with.

“How do we even treat this?” Jack asked. One of Phantom’s legs was badly muddled – peeling the suit back revealed deep and numerous gashes. He was losing ounces of ectoplasm a second, and if these injuries were on a human, he’d need blood transfusion and stitches.

“Well, we can supplement ectoplasm to help his healing factor. And then…” Maddie gulped. “Stitch the leg. And set the arm.”

Maddie went to the back of the lab, returning with a set of tools. Scalpels, needles, and bandages. The glint of the metal must have caught Phantom’s eyes – how was he still conscious? A human with this much blood loss would not be awake right now – and the ghost started hyperventilating.

“What are you –? No, please! Please don’t! I wasn’t – !”

“Phantom! We’re helping you!” Jack yelled back. Phantom stared at Jack, eyes fogging over and breathing uneven.

“I’m sorry I never…I should have told you sooner,” Phantom cried. It was an ugly cry, from a body and heart in pain. Maddie didn’t know what else to call it. What kind of guilt could be eating Phantom alive, from the inside?

“I can’t –” Phantom grunted. “I can’t change back! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I should have –”

“How about we help you first, then you tell us what you should have told us when your arm and leg are better?”

Phantom, still sniffling, nodded silently.

Maddie set to work with putting stitches on his leg, while Jack hooked an IV of purified ectoplasm. She looped phase proof thread – from Jack’s Fenton Fishing Pole – onto a surgical needle, and set to work, closing one of the many wounds. Since the wound was deep, Maddie needed to stitch the inner layers first, before sewing the outer layers shut. She was marveled at the level of detail in this ghosts’ body – maybe she could ask him about that when he was healed up.

It was strange that only one leg was injured, while the other leg looked fine. It was stranger how Phantom’s breathing and crying hitched every time her needle pierced his flesh.

“Phantom, can you –? Can you feel the needle as I –?”

“Mhmm,” Phantom managed to grunt, tears freely flowing from his eyes. “Please hurry, Mom.”

Maddie froze in her tracks. Why did he even –? Okay calm down.

He can feel pain. He can display emotion. He can appear delusional with loss of bodily fluids. And in that delusion, he seeks a parental figure.

He has the psyche of a child, her rational mind concludes. So she’ll play that part.

“Almost,…Almost done, sweetie.” Maddie responds hesitantly. “You’re doing great.”

As for the feeling pain part, she isn’t how drugs can affect a ghost – and she can’t take a chance that Phantom will react badly to some experimental medication they use on him. She can only hope that he passes out at some point, and doesn’t feel any pain for the remainder of the procedure. From watching previous footage of his battles in chronological order, Maddie had concluded that Phantom has a fast healing factor. She can only hope that healing factor is still fast. He’ll be fine.

Funny how in the course of an hour, she stopped thinking of Phantom from an “it” and started to think of Phantom as a “he”

It took thirty more minutes of verbal coaxing and soothing for Maddie to finish stitching Phantom’s leg. He promptly passed out when that was done. While Phantom was asleep, Jack finished bandaging the arm, adding a splint to keep it straight.

Finally, with ghostly patient asleep and treated, Maddie and Jack sat down, exhausted.

“Well, I never thought – ” Jack paused, unsure how to word it. They learned more about Phantom’s physiology today than ever before, and he broke every known convention about ghosts that they’d researched thus far. Not to mention a ghost turning to a ghost hunter for help.

“I want to take a sample of his ectoplasm while we can,” Maddie said. “But he might not have enough to spare. And I have a feeling that we’ll get more questions than answers under the microscope, too.”

“You’re right,” Jack agreed. “I wonder what he went through, for him to be as injured as he was and decide to come to us, of all people. Heh, Danny and Jazz would freak.”

“Well, Danny’s sleeping over at Sam’s again, and Jazz was tutoring someone else this weekend.” Maddie mused. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Phantom stayed here for a few days without them even knowing.” It hurt her to know how detached her children had become from her, and it hurt her to know that her assessment of the situation was objectively correct – Jazz and Danny were rarely home.

“Well, he mentioned the guys in white,” Jack said. “If they are the ones who did this to him, and we protect him from those guys, we can earn his trust. And then maybe he’ll let his guard down enough for us to …at least solve the mystery of what he is.”

The two scientists stare at the sleeping form of Phantom, noticing how even in a seemingly unconscious state, his chest rises and falls with each breath.

“With his consent, I suppose,” Jack added.

A few hours later, in the middle of dinner, Maddie and Jack are interrupted to rude knocking from their front door.

“Ugh, not another door to door salesman,” Jack grunted. Answering the door revealed that their rude guests were none other than

“GIW,” an agent dressed in white answered, holding up an identification badge. There were two agents, both equipped with ecto guns and headphones, Maddie noted.

“Yes, we can see that,” Jack responded, keeping the shock out of his face. “If you wanted to come over for dinner, you should have called earlier. We don’t have leftovers.”

“We came to inform you that Phantom has escaped our captivity,”

“We didn’t even know you had Phantom in captivity,” Jack raised his brows in surprise.

“Just a few hours of questioning. We underestimated his abilities, and his allies.” The agent continued. “We’ll need extra weapons, the latest of whatever you’ve developed.”

“Well, we don’t have anything, since we gave you everything we made last time,” Maddie interjected. “So we don’t have anything complete yet. And besides, wouldn’t it have been faster for you to send an email or announcement that Phantom escaped? You must have lost a lot of time driving around to come tell us in person.”

“You never know who could be listening.”

“And besides,” the agent in the back added, “There was a chase. We don’t know where he disappeared to, but we suspect he stopped by here.”

“And why do you think he stopped by here?” Jack was very good at keeping the caution out of his voice, Maddie noted. If it were her, their cover would have probably been blown by now.

“Isn’t it weird for a ghost to hide out at a ghost hunter’s house?”

“True, but the same ghost uses technology he stole from a ghost hunter, and he can go into the ghost zone from the portal in your basement,” This was nothing new to Maddie. In fact, it annoyed her that Phantom used Fenton tech, because it meant he somehow evaded ghost detectors in their home to acquire it, or it was handed to him directly by Danny or Jazz. That last one hurt the most; she couldn’t bear the thought of her children going behind her back to support someone who was the very antithesis of everything they stood for.

Or, someone who used to be that. Maddie isn’t sure how she feels about Phantom now, but at the very least, she doesn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“Well, we’ve been home all day, and our equipment didn’t detect anything. But if we find anything new, we’ll call.” Jack told the two agents.

“Alright, stay on alert!” The first agent said, before leaving. Jack closed the front door, and the two waited until they saw the agents sit in their vehicle and drive off, before moving from their spot. Thank goodness they didn’t come inside or into the lab; the lab’s high ectoplasmic content could somewhat mask Phantom’s signature, and could be explained as a false positive on ghost detecting radars, but they wouldn’t be able to hide an unconscious ghost – an unconscious ghost! How wild is that?! – if the agents wound up downstairs.

Maddie breathed a sigh of relief.

“It’s been a few hours, let’s check on him”

Maddie and Jack headed downstairs to their lab. Just as they had left him, Phantom was sleeping on the examination table, hooked to an IV of ectoplasm. The fracture on his arm looked like it would heal completely – the naturally cool body temperature of the ghost helped, along with his quick healing factor. His leg looked significantly better, though Maddie wasn’t sure if the stitches would leave behind scars.

Maddie pulled a notebook from the work table, adding and updating her notes with everything they’d learned about Phantom today.

“Can ghosts get scars?” Maddie mused out loud. “Or is it unique to him?”

“I dunno, I guess we’ll have to ask –”

Their conversation is interrupted by a groan – Phantom was waking up – followed by a flash of bright white light. The Fentons covered their eyes, and when the light died down, they’re met with even more questions than answers.

“Danny?!”

#ectoberweek2020 #ectober2020 #danny phantom #dp fanfic #day 2

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sugarbutterbroadway · 4 years

Text

Benjamin Buttons and His Cup Of Brandy

The reception was beautiful, far more luxurious than Buttons felt he deserved. He felt just a little self conscious in his layaway suit while everyone else was dressed to the nines. Jack looked like royalty, it was a little freaky seeing his friend who used to wear the same three shirts dressed like a king. This whole day felt freaky in general, like a blast to the past but not at the same time. He couldn’t describe it. Just a few days prior he had been in his dorm,sipping on wine and trying not to cry over his fashion history essay. Now he was back in New York where it all started, his home. And he hadn’t visited in so long because he knew how he was. He knew the minute he touched down at JFK he wouldn’t want to go back. He liked Europe well enough but this, this was his home.

Then the guilt started creeping in. He came here with a clear agenda,be a good friend,congratulate the couple and then be on his way. How did that turn into him perched at the open bar, sipping on brandy? He sighed, how did seeing Jojo after all those years still make his stomach turn?

How could Jojo act as if he wasn’t a monster?

They had made so many plans together, plans made on the rooftops of abandoned buildings and only said at the hush of night so the world couldn’t taint them. Plans that were spoken from cherry sweet lips that Buttons once knew like the back of his hand--no, he knew those lips like he knew his way around a needle and thread. He needed them, he needed to be in Jojo’s arms, he needed to know that they were okay. But how could they be okay? Jojo had stuck to those plans through and through to the very end, but then life took such a sour turn that Buttons left.

No, he didn’t just leave. He ran, like a coward. He jumped at the first opportunity to leave because he felt suffocated by the city, felt suffocated every time he passed the seamstress shop of the woman who raised him. The woman he had to put into the ground, in a coffin that was less than what she deserved because he was only seventeen. And Jojo had been there for it all. Jojo had been there counting his beads and mumbling silent prayers in a language that sounded like music, it sounded like ambrosia must have tasted to the gods, it was worship and it was beautiful and Jojo was beautiful and god did Buttons need another drink.

He got the attention of the bartender and didn’t even have to speak before his glass was being refilled. He wanted to laugh at himself, how pathetic must it be to be crying at a wedding? A soft chuckle slid past his lips as he sipped his brandy. He wanted something harder, something to make him forget, maybe even put him into a long sleep. He wanted to forget words that sounded like music and the widest smile he’s ever seen in his life. He wanted to forget how that hand had felt in his own as they walked side by side down the aisle. How for a moment it almost seemed like he wouldn’t let go, like they could stay like that forever. But the second Jojo let go, reality came crashing down around him.

Buttons had been the one who fucked up. He went back on his promise and had left. Without a call or a text he had gotten on a plane and hadn’t been back since. And he had the audacity to speak to Jojo like none of that even happened. How had no one else seen the way his eyes dimmed, the way his smile faltered? He was hurt. He had every right to be hurt and Buttons wanted to fix it. But how could he? How do you even start to fix the biggest mistake of your life?

How cou-

“Benny,”a warm voice said, soon after he felt a hand on his shoulder. He froze, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.

“Benny, look at me” but he couldn’t, how could he when he felt so awful? The hand on his shoulder moved to gently cup his jaw and tilted it.

“You’re crying”

He was? He brought a hand up to his face and sure enough there were definitely tears there.

“I’m sorry”He whispered.

“What are you sorry for?”Jojo asked.

“I..”he trailed off, a sob threatening to shoot to the surface. And Jojo knew, just how he always seemed to know.

“Let’s take this outside,”Jojo said. He didn’t give Buttons a chance to react before leading him away from the bar and outside the venue hall. Buttons thought that was where they were going to stop but Jojo had kept walking until they were outside the castle. The night air felt chilly against his tear slicked face, he shivered.

“What happened?”Jojo asked.

“I-I don’t know what you mean”He stammered, he wished he was drunk.

“You know exactly what I mean,”Jojo said patiently. “No one just sits at a bar and cries”

“I can’t”He croaked, this felt like his worst nightmare. His heart pounded against his chest and his face now felt hot, his entire body felt like he was burning.

“Yes you can”Jojo said, “You can tell me anything”

“Why?”He blurted out, he wanted to punch himself.

Jojo tilted his head, “what do you mean?”

“Why-”He took a shaky breath, “Why do you still care about me?”

“Am I not supposed to?”Jojo chuckled, though his eyes were serious.

“No,”Buttons said slowly. Jojo’s eyes seemed to flood with realization. He took a seat on the steps of the manor and motioned for Buttons to sit as well. Once they were both seated, Jojo took one of his hands and looked directly into his eyes.

“If we have this talk there’s no going back”Jojo said.

“I want to”Buttons whispered.

“You left me”he said, in a voice so calm he could be saying the weather. So calm that it knocked the wind out of Buttons’ chest. He startled a bit but Jojo just squeezed his hand and continued. “You left me, Benny...but I forgave you a long time ago”

Buttons eyes began to water once again. “Why?”

“Because it was the only way I could move on” and for the first time that night Buttons had seen Jojo's face grow serious. The smile that seemed to split his face in two was replaced with somber eyes. “You hurt me”

“I’m sorry”

“I know”Jojo said, shaking his head. “I know you’re sorry, and i’m sorry too”

“For what?”he said. Jojo squeezed his hand and for the second time that day he let go.

“For leading you on” Buttons felt his heart flutter, and not in a good way. It felt like it had fluttered into an electrical wire and sent his whole body seizing up. He pulled back as if he had been burned. Jojo gave a sad smile and folded his hands in his lap.

“I wanted to pretend”Jojo whispered, “I wanted to pretend that we were okay and I didn’t want to make a fuss because it’s Jack and Davey’s day. I saw you and...and I thought we would just bounce back, like nothing happened, like you hadn’t broke my heart”

“I broke your heart?”He said, he felt mortified.

Jojo nodded and brought a hand up to rub his face. “I’ve thought of having this conversation for years. I wanted to scream at you, I wanted to tell you just how broken you left me. But i’m an adult now and I don’t have time to sit around and cry anymore. I couldn’t keep living in the past, I dreamt of you coming back, of you answering my calls, of you holding me like we used to-”

“Jojo-”he sobbed.

“-but I had to face the music,”Jojo continued. “I still care about you, I never told anyone what you did because I didn’t want them to hate you. But I...I can’t play pretend anymore-”

“W-what if it’s not pretend”He interjected, wiping his eyes. “I’ll move back Jojo, I can do school onl-”

In that moment something seemed to snap deep inside of Jojo because the soft look in his eyes shifted to rage.

“If it wasn’t pretend you wouldn’t have left in the first place!”Jojo exploded, the silence that followed was deafening, but the outburst must have broken a dam because Jojo was livid. “How can you tell me I meant everything to you and not even tell me you’re moving? I tried to reach out to you for months until I found out from Jack that you had moved to fucking Scotland! I held onto the dream of you coming back for years and-I-ugh, fuck you Benjamin! Just fuck you!”

Seeing Jojo angry was about as rare as seeing a shooting star, and Buttons couldn’t believe that he was the cause of it.

“I left because I felt alone-”He tried to explain, but jojo wasn’t having it.

“And you couldn’t just tell me!”Jojo shouted. “I loved you so much! I gave every inch of myself to you and you-you left me!”

Then came the tears. Silent tears that seemed to shoot down his read face, Buttons had tried to comfort him but Jojo had shoved him away.

“Do not touch me”the words said through clenched teeth. “What can I do?”He whispered.

“Did I even mean anything to you?”Jojo asked, rubbing roughly at his eyes.

“Of course you meant something to me!”He spluttered.

“Then why did you leave me?”

“Because I was fucking stupid”He said, “I was stupid and i’m so sorry”

“That’s all you have to say?”Jojo said, “You disappear for six years and that’s all you have to say?”

“Joj...I-”

“I don't want to hear it”Jo said, shaking his head. “You can leave and take your bullshit excuses with you”

“I don’t want to leave you out here,”He said.

“Oh now you don’t want to leave”

Maybe it was the way Jojo had practically spat the words or maybe it was the disgust on his face, but it struck a nerve deep inside of him.

“I left because I felt suffocated,”He said sharply. “I left because my mom had just died and I couldn’t stand living in the city where her body was buried, so I ran! And yeah, it was a dick move but I was seventeen years old and fucking stupid!”he shouted,”I didn’t tell you because I knew you were going to try to talk me out of it and I knew you were going to succeed and I didn’t want that! I know it was wrong, I know Jojo! I was scared to reach out because i’m a coward and I suck at facing my problems! I...I thought if I tried to forget about you, I would stop loving you but obviously that’s not how things work”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,”Jojo said, after a few beats. “You fucked up, Benny. You fucked up big time”

“I know,”he sighed.

“I thought I forgave you,”Jojo said, shaking his head, “But I don’t even know...I...don’t know. This isn’t some movie where we yell and make up...you’re a few years too late, Benny”

“No”He whispered, “no, please. Jojo please just...i’m sorry, let me make it up to you”

“And how are you going to do that?”Jojo laughed, “You turned my whole life upside down, you made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered, we had plans. Then you leave me to pick up the pieces of the mess you made”His voice had taken on a distant and stony quality, his eyes stared at nothing. “I played nice today, but don’t even think anything will ever come of this. I’ll be your friend, i can do that but I-”He took a deep breath, “I will not take another heartbreak like that,lying to our friends about why I changed just to save your ass. I can’t believe I did that”

“That’s fair,”Buttons said. “I...this is what I deserve”

“Don’t play with people's hearts, Benny”He said, “Especially the people who cared about you the most”

Buttons nodded, “Can you just do me one favor?”

Jojo hummed.

“Please just...please don’t call me Benny anymore”

“Alright, Buttons,”Jojo said briskly, without another word he got up and walked back into the manor. Now Buttons was once again alone in the world without even dreams of Jojo to fall back on. So this was it, this was what happened when your worst fears became your reality. He looked at the cup of brandy that sat next to him, half empty.

He took a sip.

#newsies #broadway #newsies broadway #jojo newsies #jojo de la guerra #buttons newsies #jojo x buttons #Paint The Sky

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erintoknow · 4 years

Text

a little victimless crime

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Nothing like combining business and pleasure. [Do It All The Time] Originally: [bigger than the sound]

[Read on AO3]

It is as if you’re fighting with one arm behind your back.

When you originally conceived of this plan, you figured you’d use the villain suit sparingly. When infiltration as either Jane or some other possessed stooge wouldn’t cut it. Maneuver people into positions where you could plant suggestions, instill compulsions, weave a web of threads over the city with yourself at the center.

Argent’s possession has entered into your regular stable of nightmares. If that wasn’t enough, she’s hounding you at every turn, ensuring you can’t forget. Even pushing the mental commands, is starting to fray at you. Are you really any better than The Directive if you don’t let people think for themselves?

As long as they go down, does it matter?

“Ugh.”

Dr. Mortum frowns from across the table. “Is everything okay, mon amie?”

“Oh, sorry.” Jane grimaces as she looks up from the day planner in front of her. “I’m just trying to figure out how to – to fit all this shit into one week.”

“Mm.” She picks up her wine glass, eyes scanning the night’s crowd at Joes. “Your boss is running you ragged these days.”

“Tell me about it. Oh, that reminds me, I need to put in another order for more of that black 2.0 paint.” Jane groans, one hand holding her forehead as she scans the week for an open time slot. “Can’t believe how high-maintenance that damn suit is.”

“A problem with my work?”

“No, no, it’s the damn paint. The slightest scratch ruins the effect. And of course, I have to route the money to pay for it, through like, three shell companies.” She chews at the end of her pen, circles an open slot and jots the reminder in. “There, hope that’s enough time.”

How many lives are you living at this point? Jane with Mortum, Jane dating Ortega, Jane as criminal fixer, Ghost, Ariadne the retired vigilante, and whatever the hell is going on between Ariadne and Ortega… to say nothing of keeping both bodies fed and healthy, or skimming enough cash to pay for everything.

“Do not forget to put aside time to sleep, mon amie.”

Jane puts her planner to one side and looks up at Mortum with a hopeless smile. “Personally, I think that’s a feature, not a bug.”

That does nothing to ease the look of concern on the doctor’s face. “Trouble sleeping?”

“It’s nothing. It’s fine.” Jane sighs, waving the concern away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Mon amie–”

“I said don’t worry.” It’s touching, almost, how concerned Dr. Mortum has started to get over Jane’s wellbeing. Haven’t figured out what exactly her angle there is. “Look…” Jane trails off as you try to find the right words, a way to thread the needle. “I… appreciate your concern but I’m fine. Seriously.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Say so. Look, I’m not even working the frontlines anymore. No more being blown up, you know? I promised.”

Mortum does not look convinced. “Spying on the ex-marshal does not count as ‘front lines’ to you, mon amie?”

Jane scoffs, “What’s she gonna do, give me the tingler?” Actually...

No! Stay focused!

Mortum gives her a tired expression. “Charge is a craftier woman than you’re giving her credit, mon amie.”

Loud, brash Ortega? The woman whose smile makes Jane feel like she’s lighter than air? She shakes her head. “I don’t see it.”

“Well, that’s rather the idea now, is it not?” Mortum’s smile is grim and she holds out her hands, palms up. “We all play up particular roles so that others might overlook the parts we wish them too.”

That gets a raised eyebrow, “And are you hiding something from me, doc?”

“But of course, mon amie. As I assume you are from me. This is how people are. Can anyone ever truly know another?”

“I thought your thing was science, not philosophy.”

“In my prefered field? The distinction between the two can get terribly blurry.”

It’s hard to argue with her. And that alone is enough to make you nervous. Is Ortega up to something? How much does she know about Ghost and how much does she just suspect? You thought she was just trying to reconnect with Ariadne out of sentimentality, but what if she’s trying to keep tabs? The thought is enough to make Jane frown.

You have to face facts and admit that cutting ties with Ortega completely is the safest move. Jane’s the one with the relationship, the one making a connection. Ariadne’s a ghost from the past, a hanger-on. She’s got no business making eyes at Ortega.

Being around her… being forced to confront face-to-face with the impossibility of what you can never have… it’s painful. Ortega would hate her, if she knew the truth about Ariadne; what she was, what she’d done.

You can’t go back. It’s unthinkable. So, if you can’t work yourself up to dying then there’s no choice. You’re stuck on this path. You can’t unring the bell.

“–mon amie?”

Jane blinks, jerking her head up from her planner. “S–sorry, what?”

Dr. Mortum watches her from across the table, concern knitting her brow. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, ah.” Jane winces, an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I got lost in my head there.”

“It is the lack of sleep mon amie.” She smiles.

“Maybe.” Jane mirrors the smile back. “Still – there’s no rest in sight for this bad girl.” With a sigh, she snaps her planning shut and tucks it away in her purse. “I’ve got another, very exciting meeting tonight.”

“Be careful, mon amie.”

Jane flashes a smile and downs the rest of her drink before leaving a twenty on the table. “You know me, I always am.”

–––

“Thanks for coming with me,” Ortega whispers from the corner of her mouth.

“Of course, thanks for inviting me.” A smile flits across Jane’s face as she studies the mess of an abstract portrait hanging on the wall in front of them. “Hopefully no super villains crash this party.”

Ortega laughs, uneasy, as she rubs the back of her neck. “Anyone that does is going to regret it.”

Jane arches an eyebrow as you try to keep her from smiling. In the aftermath of the Gala fiasco, security has tripled in order to keep the city’s elite feeling safe. The Mayor’s Guardian force was milling around here somewhere, ready to jump into duty in a split second. For the Rangers, beside Ortega, Jane has seen Herald milling around somewhere and it wouldn’t surprise you if either Argent, or Steel, or both had been bullied into attending.

The Mayor needs to prove to her benefactors she was worth keeping in office. The Rangers needed to prove they were worth keeping in Los Diablos.

Lucky for you then, Ortega still owed Jane a second date.

No explosives this time. No dramatic fights, or burning buildings. No terrible mistakes with people screaming and blood everywhere and emergency rooms filling up. Going to do this right. Going to do this quiet. The bastards won’t realize the damage until it’s too late.

“Charge! How are you holding up?”

Jane and Ortega turn together to find Herald walking towards them. It’s a little strange seeming him in a tuxedo again. All crisp angles and sharp features. He raises an arm to wave and you think Jane spies a glimpse of blue sleeve from a Ranger skinsuit underneath. Well, that confirms what you suspected from the Gala. Wonderbread really is ready to throw-down at a moment’s notice.

Is Ortega? She’s in a suit this time instead of a dress. Easier to fight in?

Ortega waves back at Herald with a smile. “Haven’t throttled anyone yet, how about you?”

Herald takes Ortega’s hand and pulls her into a quick hug. “Oh, this is old hat to me. I just focus on the art, and see how many fancy hors d’oeuvres I can sneak before anyone notices.” Ortega laughs and Jane politely covers her mouth to hide the smile. He shifts his gaze down to Jane and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Sides–?” He flinches and shakes his head. “Wait, no?”

Jane keeps her face blank. Sidestep? Sidestep who? Never heard of the bitch.

There is a tense silence and then Ortega breaks it with a forced laugh. “Sorry, this is my friend Jane I was telling you about.” She gestures towards you and then from you to Herald. “And Jane, this is Herald, but you probably already knew that.” More forced laughter.

Friend?

“Sorry,” Herald rubs at his knee, “you just reminded me of someone.” He shoots Ortega a curious look.

Was it too late now to go back and dye Jane’s hair? You idiot. You stupid vain idiot. All the more reason to keep the two lives separated. Why did you have to go and get Jane involved with Ortega?

Moron. Fool. Buffoon.

Jane keeps her face a careful blank. “It’s… nice to meet you too, Mr. …?”

Herald smiles, awkward. “Just Herald is fine. Nice to meet you, Jane.” He doesn’t offer a hand to shake.

When Ortega and Herald descend into small talk Jane breathes a sigh of relief and politely detaches herself from the conversation. A few tense moments, but it had at least bought you some needed freedom from Ortega.

Time to get to work then.

“Excuse me, folks, I’m just gonna duck into the restroom real quick.”

Ortega nods, “You know where it is?”

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll see you at the shrimp bar, sweetie.” Jane winks at Ortega, a smirk spreading across her face at the slight color on her hero’s face. Still got her.

Your sense of direction as Jane isn’t as strong as Ariadne’s but enough time spent studying floor plans makes up for it. Weave through the crowd, past the buffet table. The further from the food and the booze Jane gets the less people in ritzy outfights milling around being offensively rich.

There, next to the restrooms, a side entrance for the gallery. A very bored looking cop stands next to the door, watching the guests.

Mustering up all the elitist disdain she can muster, Jane approaches the door and gives the cop a dismissive glance, adding some gravel to her voice. “I’m taking a smoke break.” The man frowns but otherwise doesn’t stop Jane as she steps through the door, pretending to fish through her purse. Perfect.

Outside, the street gives a clear view to the Hero Museum just down the block. Once again closed for renovation and repair. The dumb bastards. Maybe you’ll trash the next grand opening too. Keep it up until they get the idea.

It doesn’t take long to spot her. The woman pacing back and forth down the sidewalk, staring anxiously at her phone, purse hanging loose in the crook of her arm. Jane whispers to get her attention and when that doesn’t work progressively raises her voice. “Hey! Ochoa!”

She looks up, sags in relief and hurries over to Jane, her movements stiff and awkward in the tight black and gold floral dress. “Finally! I was about to call the whole thing off.”

“Do you want your dirt or not?” Jane hisses.

“Please, Jane.” Mia Ochoa’s frowns, “I’m an investigative journalist, not a tabloid columnist.”

“Sure, whatever.” Jane glances up and down the street. She keeps a hand in her purse, fingering the gadget from Dr. Mortum that should be disrupting the video cameras. How long did the charge last for again? Five minutes? “Sit tight, I need to get the pig out of the way first.”

“You’re not going to–?”

Jane snorts, “I’m not going to hurt anybody. I’m not stupid.” She tilts her head, thinking. “Well. I’m probably not going to hurt anybody.” She shakes her head and holds up a hand. “Whatever, wait here. This’ll only take a second.”

“Ugh,” Jane contorts her face into a visage of barely contained fury as she steps back inside. “I can’t believe some people.”

The cop sighs, “There a problem, Ma’am?”

A short bark of a laugh. “Problem?” Jane glowers down the hallway. “Yeah, there’s a fucking problem.”

Eyes flicker to Jane’s nametag. “There’s no need for that kind of language, Miss Smith.”

Jane snarls, “Tell that to the asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

That gets the cop’s attention. “Again, is there something I can help you with, Ma’am.”

Jane holds her breath. You’re about to do something really shitty. Oh well. Sorry Kieth, it’s for the greater good. “Yeah, alright.” Jane sighs, avoiding the cop’s gaze. “someone ought to teach that damn waiter at the cocktail bar some manners. I’m not the only woman either he’s harassed tonight. The ass.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “I’ll see someone talks to him.” He puts a hand up to the walkie-talkie strapped to his breast pocket. Presses the button. Jane holds her breath. “Hey, Sam? I got a woman here reporting a problem with one of the help.”

The cop frowns as no one answers.

“Sam? You there?” No response. “Kim? José?”

Jane crosses her arms, and taps her foot. “I thought you said you’d take care of it.”

He shakes his head, “Something’s wrong with my damn walkie.” He taps it one more time and shakes his head. “Goddamn this garbage keeps busting. Sorry miss, I’ll have to find my superior.” He shoots Jane a glance, eyeing her up and down. “In the meantime, use some common sense.”

Jane huffs, as the cop walks off, grumbling about equipment.

Honestly, you half-expected that not to work. Thank you, Dr. Mortum.

A quick glance around to check for any other eyes and you step back to hold the door open. “Alright Ochoa, you’re in.”

“Finally.” The reporter quickly steps inside and you let the door close. “I can’t believe I’m really doing this.”

Jane frowns as she digs through her purse again. “Yeah, well, if you want the real meat you gotta go where they don’t want you to be.”

“Oh believe me, I know.”

“Ah, here we go.” Jane pulls out a small laminated pin, holds it up for Ochoa’s inspection. “Your own name pin. It’s like you were supposed to be here all along.”

“Oh!” The woman takes it from Jane’s hand with a look of surprise. “You thought of everything.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

As the two of you walk down the hallway to rejoin the main event Ochoa pins the name tag to her chest and smoothes out her dress. “Alright, well, thanks for getting me in. I can take it from here.”

“Just don’t forget our deal. You owe now.”

The smile fades from Ochoa’s face. “Of course.”

Jane scans the room as the two of you step in. There’s Ortega and Herald still talking in the far corner, and then there’s… “Actually,” a tight smile crosses Jane’s face, “how do you feel about an introduction to the Mayor’s right-hand man?”

Ochoa’s eyes light up, “I’d love it.” She frowns, “But do you think he’ll talk?”

“I think you might be surprised.” Jane grabs Ochoa’s hand, pulling her through the crowd. There we go. Jane raises her free hand in greeting, “Professor Vanderpoel, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

The balding clerk turns with startled surprise towards Jane, as the other two men in his group stop talking, watching the two approaching women with mild interest. “I’m sorry… do I know you?”

Jane laughs, a bright smile on her face. “Don’t tell me you forgot me already? Tell me you at least remember the linden trees?”

A cascade of color rockets up the man’s face. “That– that was a very different time in my life.”

One of Vanderpoel’s companions laughs and elbows him in the side. “You never told me you used to teach!”

Vanderpoel flinches, “I haven’t for eight years.”

Jane nods, knowingly. “Such a shame what happened! Still, I’m so happy to see you’ve bounced back without any problems.”

“Well…”

“Anyway,” Jane cuts him off without mercy, “I was just catching up with my good friend Mia,” Jane tugs Mia forward by the arm. “When I saw you over here.”

One of Vanderpoel’s friends tilts his head, “Mia…? You look familiar.”

Ochoa’s smile is strained. “I’m a reporter for LD Confidential.”

Jane laughs, “Don’t worry, she’s not working today.”

Vanderpoel’s two friends laugh with Jane, but Vanderpoel himself has a thoughtful look in his eye. Encouraging. Ghost’s bridge-side chat with the man has been sinking in after all.

The man on the right claps Vanderpoel on the back. “You know some lovely ladies man, I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us!” A strange look crosses across Vanderpoel’s face and the three men make room for the two of you to join their conversation. You can’t stop the smirk on Jane’s face. You’ve got them.

S u c k e r s.

Not every bomb needs to be literal.

A few more minutes of smalltalk to help work Ochoa into the conversation and then Jane politely excuses herself from the group. She’s got a date to rejoin after all.

Ortega perks up as Jane crosses the room, a glass of wine in each hand. She doesn’t wait to ask before offering Jane one of them. “I was beginning to think you might have ditched me.”

Jane smiles, laughs, as she takes the wine glass. “Sorry, sorry, I saw some people I knew and got distracted.”

“Oh?” Ortega’s focus zeros in on Jane, “Anyone I’d know?”

“Oh, I doubt it.” Jane shakes her head and waves a hand to dismiss the idea. “Just some old college friends. “ She glances about the room, “Herald still around?”

Ortega laughs, “He’s around somewhere. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering.” Jane sips from her glass. “You have a lot of attractive friends.”

Wait, fuck what? Why did you say that? What the fuck? What happened to that masterclass of infiltration?

Ortega blinks, surprised, then laughs. “I hadn’t pegged you for being into men too.”

Jane glowers up at her. “So what?”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m bi too.” Ortega smiles, pats Jane on the shoulder, then lets her hand run down the arm.

“You are?” Jane winces, “Ugh, what am I saying, of course you are. Sorry, I’ve apparently lost my mind tonight.”

“I suppose my love life is pretty well documented at this point.” There’s a bitter tinge to Ortega’s voice that catches you by surprise.

“I’m surprised we haven’t shown up in a tabloid yet,” Jane admits.

“Ghost’s debut kind of took over the headlines for awhile, didn’t it?.” Ortega laughs, “It’s just as well. I don’t get the kind of media attention that I used to.”

“Miss it any?”

“God no.” Ortega smiles widely, and then the smile quickly fades. “Sometimes I wonder how many relationships it cost me.”

Huh. “Was it that bad?”

“You got out for dinner with one guy and suddenly they’re your boyfriend. After awhile I just kind of embraced it. Especially once I became Marshal. At least I could take some ownership over it that way, you know?”

“I’m… sorry, that sounds pretty rough actually.”

“It’s in the past now.”

Silence threatens to stretch out between you two. Jane coughs, “So… when did you figure out you liked women, then?”

Ortega rubs her neck, “When I figured it out…? Hrm.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, I’m just… it feels like so long ago now.” Ortega sighs. “I guess… there was this vigilante…”

Jane holds her breath. No– It couldn’t be, could it? “A vigilante?”

“Well, I had just joined the Rangers properly.” Oh. “This vigilante, Axel. She was this speed boost that worked in the south end of the city. She was Latina too, and we just… kind of hit it off.”

“Wow,” Jane says. You try to wrack you memory for anything about an ‘Axel.’ It’s not ringing a bell. “What ended up happening?”

“It wasn’t easy trying to keep it out of the press. Eventually it got to be too much and we just kind of… mutually broke it off. She retired not long after. Or moved, maybe?” Ortega crosses her arms, thinking. “That’s it, she moved down further south. I haven’t heard from her since.”

“She didn’t want to go public?”

Ortega sighs. “This was like the early aughts. Things were starting to change but…”

Jane frowns. “There would have been consequences.”

“Yeah. I think…” Ortega stares at the floor between the two of you, lost in memory or maybe regret. “I think maybe I had been too pushy. I was under a lot of pressure at the time. The new face of the Rangers. They told me I needed a relationship to look ‘normal.’”

“Human.” Jane prompts, unbidden.

“Yeah,” Ortega laughs, bitter. “That too, I guess. Not that it was an excuse, mind.”

“Would a relationship with a woman really work for that though?”

“Well, we’ll never know now. I wanted to try but…”

“But?”

“I don’t think I gave her the space to really process what coming out would mean. We just fought about it. A lot.”

Jane rocks back and forth on her heels, avoids looking at Ortega. “That’s rough, I’m sorry.” Ortega never shared this with you – with Ariadne. You’re not sure what that means. How to feel about it.

“Well, hey,” Ortega looks up, catches Jane’s eye. “I learned from it. Eventually.” She smiles, and Jane smiles back. “Well, I told you my story, what’s yours?”

Jane blinks, bites her lip. “Oh! Uh. Hrm.”

“Sore subject for you too?”

“Uh… not exactly…” Jane laughs while panic runs through your head. “Like… when I figured out I liked guys…?”

“I was more thinking women? Society kind of expects the male interest.”

Jane forces a laugh. “I guess that’s true. I’ve never actually dated a guy though.”

Ortega shrugs, “Doesn’t make you any less bi. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Is it still bi if you don’t want to date guys though?” Jane frowns, looking away. Floor, artwork, the crowd. Anywhere else.

“Oh. Hrm,” Ortega pauses, “I guess that’s up to you? I’m not the sexuality police.” She laughs and Jane finds herself joining in.

“Oh good. I’m safe then. I mean… guys can be… attractive, I guess.” Jane shrugs helplessly, “But… I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of afraid of them?”

“Jane…?” There’s a note of concern in Ortega’s voice, and Jane cringes. This conversation is getting too real.

“This isn’t really the place to talk about it.”

“Okay. I get that. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Jane sighs. That is absolutely not a subject you want Ortega to chew on. You need something to distract her. “ As far as women go, well..” You need to think of a story quickly. “There was this… girl I worked with in – in… college.”

“You know,” There’s an impish grin on Ortega’s face, “they say you should never date a coworker.”

Jane scowls, “Oh believe me, no dating was involved.”

Ortega puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh no! You just pined from afar?”

“Uh… more like, right next to her. For five years.”

“Ouch. She never caught on?”

The pained expression on Jane’s face matches the one in your heart. “I… have no idea?” Shesighs and downs the rest of her wine glass in one go. “Honestly, I didn’t really… understand what it was I was feeling until years later. And then… it was too late.” She shrugs and looks away. Can’t believe this conversation is happening. Have you lost your goddamn mind?

Ortega is shaking her head, equal parts amused and pitying. “I never would have pegged you for the shy type.”

“Hey!” Jane crosses her arms, “not shy enough to keep from kissing you.”

Ortega laughs again, “I’ve noticed.”

“I learned from my mistakes too,” Jane lies.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

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aka-willow · 4 years

Text

SHIELD

gif

Words: 1526

Characters: Willow Wren, Phil Coulson, Jemma Simmons, Leo Fitz, Daisy Johnson

Prompt/Tag:

“Don’t touch me.”

“here’s a glass of whatever.”

Summary: Willow wakes up in an unfamiliar place

Timeline: March 2016

Song: Rocket Launch - Bear McCreary

A/N: ugh i love aos SO MUCH and i’d incorporate them more if the story allowed for it but i gotta pick my battles so to speak

—————————————————————————–

I woke up in another laboratory, machines beeping around me, and several needles stuck in my arm. I wanted them out, but when I tried to move, I realized I was strapped to this hospital bed as well. Again.

Don’t talk to these people. Don’t listen to what they say. This could still be enemy territory. As my eyes adjusted, I saw a few figures beyond the area I was being held in, discussing something at a lab bench. Both had accents and they bantered back and forth in short jabs. Just to test, I flexed my palms as much as I could, and at least try to summon a breeze. The papers on the nearby table fluttered, and it caught the attention of the people at the bench.

“Woah, hey, don’t do that,” said the man, holding up his hands. “Jemma, she’s awake.”

The other woman hurried over and checked one of the machines before reading notes off a tablet. “Hi,” she said, and even though it sounded friendly, her wide eyes indicated a measured caution. “You’re safe. You’re at a SHIELD base.” She pointed at herself. “Agent Simmons. And that’s Agent Fitz.” He gave a small wave. “How are you feeling?”

When I didn’t respond, she looked at Agent Fitz for help, but he looked equally uncomfortable. “I’ll let Coulson know,” Agent Simmons murmured. She typed out a message on the tablet and then put it down on a table. “Mine if I…?” she pointed to the IV line and I pulled my arm away as far as the straps would let me. Don’t touch me.

“I’m going to take it out,” Agent Simmons explained. I watched as she unstuck the tape and slide the needle out. “See? That wasn’t bad, was it?”

She hummed as she checked the other machines, occasionally shooting a look at the man. “You heal fast,” she commented. “But it’s lucky Coulson found you when he did.” Agent Simmons wrote a few more things down. “Never treated someone with wings before,” she said, almost to herself, and Agent Fitz cleared his throat, cutting her off.

“I’m going to undo these now,” Jemma said softly, gesturing to the restraints. “Can I trust you not to do anything?”

I looked around the lab, listened to the conversations in the hallway beyond. My ribs hurt when I breathed, and I had never felt so weak in my life. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

“Just... promise me you won’t pull out the needle in your other arm,” she said. “Please?”

I nodded once.

Someone knocked on the door frame of the lab and it was the same man who had come to Marty’s apartment, a time that felt like years ago now. Remember when that was my biggest worry?

“Miss Wren, it’s good to see you with us again. How are you? Phil Coulson, we’ve met before.” He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. “Agent Simmons said all your tests checked out. You’re going to recover just fine. I’m so sorry for what you went through there.”

So, what happens to me now? Where do I go from here? This is exactly what Jessica warned you about so long ago. I’m never getting out of here. I went from HYDRA to SHIELD. What’s the difference? I’m still trapped.

“When you’re ready, we’d like to assess you for the Index,” Coulson continued. I began to shake my head slowly. “Look,” he said. “We know. But this is the protocol. It’s for everyone’s safety.” There was so much he wasn’t saying—surely, he must have known about all those HYDRA agents and about Marty and who I was and what I had been doing. There was no way he didn’t know. The fact that it hadn’t been mentioned yet made me nervous. He offered a smile and then got up and walked over to where Agent Fitz and Agent Simmons were working, back at the lab bench.

“Has she spoken to you yet?”

“Not a word,” Agent Simmons replied. “She seems petrified.”

“Well, that can be expected.” He looked back over at me. “Stay with her. I’ve made some calls.”

“We should give her something to eat,” Agent Fitz offered. “She’s probably starving.”

Shortly after the conversation, I dozed off, and when I woke up, there was another familiar face in the doorway of the medical area, holding a tray and several wrapped items under her arm. Agent Johnson? Is that who it was?

“Hi,” she said. “Mind if I sit here?” She pointed to the space at the end of the bed. I shifted my legs and finally sat up, using the pillow as support. “Fitzsimmons thought it would be good for you to eat something. So, they recommended this from the canteen,” she said, holding out the tray, and I saw a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bag of crackers, and a bowl of cut fruit. “But I got you some better things as well.” She produced a package of pop-tarts and two Rice Crispy Treats. “Don’t tell Jemma.”

I almost smiled, and she then placed a glass down on the table next to me. “And here’s a glass of whatever. She said it’s some sort of electrolyte thing. I don’t know. But it’s grape flavored.” I picked at the sandwich and pulled a small chunk out from the middle on one half, touching it to my lips and finally eating it. Somehow, it was the most delicious peanut butter and jelly I had ever tasted.

“You can call me Daisy, by the way. And you’re Willow, right? I remember meeting you.” She sighed. “Look, take it from me, these are genuinely good people. You can trust them. All right? I know you hardly know me, but I’ll promise you that if it makes you feel better.”

I looked up and made eye contact, but I didn’t say anything.

“Coulson says you have abilities, right?” She smiled. “I do, too. I know how weird this all seems, the Index, trying to control them, feeling like you have to hide. You don’t have to do that here, okay? We’ve all seen some pretty weird shit.”

I heard footsteps in the hallway beyond the lab and turned and watched the door, where about five seconds later, Agent Simmons entered again. “What are you doing bothering her?” she exclaimed to Daisy. “She needs her rest!”

“Nah, we’re friends already,” Daisy said. “Right?”

By now, neither of them seemed to expect a response. “I have to take one more blood sample,” said Agent Simmons. “Is that all right?”

I held out my arm and looked away as she poked it with the needle, which Daisy watched the scientist. “Jeez, she’s not going to have any left at this rate,” she joked.

“Coulson asked me to be thorough,” Agent Simmons huffed. “I’m sorry to keep sticking you like this,” she said to me. “We just wanted to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

They hung out longer, the two of them chatting back and forth as Agent Simmons ran the samples. Eventually, Agent Fitz returned to the lab as well and when I fell asleep again, the three of them were joking around about something one of their friends had done. I found myself wondering if Peter had gotten my message by now, if Ned knew what happened, or Jessica. What happens now?

Agent Johnson must have noticed me watching them, because she waved a hand, motioning me over. “You can sit over here if you’d like.” Agent Simmons shot her a look and Agent Johnson scoffed at her. “It’s just across the room.”

“Coulson said…”

“Her… uh… powers…” Agent Fitz interrupted.

“You’re not going to do your airbending or whatever, are you?” Agent Johnson asked me. “See? She’s fine. Come on.”

I slowly climbed out of the hospital bed and walked over to the lab bench they were sitting at, putting up a stool. I picked at a loose thread on the hospital gown while the others let me into the circle. They continued to talk about random things, missions, or whatever, pretending like I was a normal part of the conversation even though I still hadn’t said a word. The three of them stayed late until Agent Johnson got called away and Agent Simmons sent me back to bed, mock-horrified when she saw how late it had gotten.

“Shame they’re picking her up tomorrow,” I overheard Agent Fitz say as I lay my head down on the crinkly pillow. “Think Daisy likes having another powered person around. Even if she doesn’t say much.”

“Hasn’t said anything,” Agent Simmons murmured. “Don’t know how they plan to interview her tomorrow.”

Who’s coming tomorrow? And why? Where am I going now?

“You know, Romanoff used to be a SHIELD agent,” said Agent Fitz.

“Everybody knows that.”

“I didn’t in the beginning.”

“That’s because you’re clueless about those things.”

“Am not!”

I shut my eyes and tried to block out the rest of the lab and get some sleep. One hour at a time, even if I couldn’t imagine living the way I was anymore. One hour at a time. I didn’t care enough to escape, and I didn’t have anywhere to escape to. I was stuck with whatever this was, whoever was coming, even if I didn’t see the point in any of it. I’m not worth all this. I did what I set out to do. What happens next, I don’t care. If I had died at that base, that would have been okay, too. Maybe it would have been for the better.

#ww writing #willow wren #daisy johnson #leo fitz #jemma simmons #phil coulson

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unfolded73 · 6 years

Text

Enough of Feeling Like This (7/7) *complete!*

Thank you so much to everyone who followed this story - I received some of the most lovely comments I’ve ever gotten on this fic. You’re all wonderful and I love you.

Summary: Many years after peace settles in Storybrooke, a struggle with drinking threatens Killian’s happy ending with his family.

This story includes depictions of alcoholism, alcohol abuse, binge drinking, you name it. Heed the trigger warnings if you need to.

Rated E. Beta’d by @j-philly-b, who pointed me toward some terrible pirate jokes in Reader’s Digest of all places, so she really went above and beyond the call on this one. Word count this chapter: 4.6k.

Chapter 7

Killian was so lost in the mundane rhythm of patching a long tear in the mainsail, heavy needle and coarse thread weaving in and out, up and down, that he didn’t notice Snow White had boarded his ship until she was almost standing on top of him.

“Snow,” he said, looking up from his seat on the deck, shielding his eyes from the sun. “What brings you down to the harbor?”

“Emma said you’d be hard at work on the Jolly, and I thought you might need something to eat,” she said, lifting the basket she was carrying.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he demurred, but then he noticed that he was, in fact, a bit famished. “Although I do appreciate it.”

Snow surveyed his task with a raised eyebrow. The sail was partially spread out across the deck, which only began to give an impression of its true scale. “This is a huge job. Couldn’t Emma use magic to help you?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps, but for now, I don’t need to trouble her. Besides, there’s something soothing about the labor.” Gazing out over the prow, he added, “and I feel like it’s a debt I owe my ship.” He set aside the section of sail he was working on as Snow laid a stadium blanket on an empty spot and began unpacking her basket. It quickly became clear she’d brought enough food for twelve people.

Snow surveyed her banquet with a critical eye. “Yes, okay, I brought too much.”

“Especially given that I’m trying to drop a few pounds,” he said, patting his stomach as he seated himself next to her on the blanket.

“Oh please, you look better than you have in years,” Snow said. “None of us are as thin as we were when we were young.”

“Aye, but I was young for a very, very long time,” he said with a wink. Picking up a slice of cheese, he took a bite. “As to my looking better, a month without alcohol will do that.”

Snow smiled and reached out, gripping his hook as if he could feel the pressure of her fingers. “I’m so proud of you.”

Killian grimaced, looking down at her hand curled around the curved metal. “I don’t know if it’s anything to be proud of. I should have done it years ago.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is today, and every day from here on out. That’s all you can do, right? Take it day by day?”

Killian swallowed against a lump in his throat. “Aye. Thank you.”

Snow looked up at the ropes crisscrossing over their heads. “So what’s on your to-do list? What do you have to do to make her seaworthy?”

Chewing and swallowing a bite of apple, Killian let his head fall back to follow his mother-in-law’s gaze. “Replace much of the rigging with fresh rope, mend the sails, repaint… It’s a long list.”

“Well, David and I can give you a hand anytime you need it; all you have to do is ask. And I’m sure a lot of people in Storybrooke would be willing to pitch in.”

As if on cue, Maureen appeared at the top of the gangplank, hopping down onto the deck in an old t-shirt and cut-off shorts. Killian bit his tongue, remembering the lecture he’d gotten from Emma once when he’d scolded Maureen for showing off too much skin. After the earful he got from his wife about putting the blame for men’s behavior onto the way women choose to dress, he’d learned his lesson about saying anything on the topic.

“Oh my god, there’s food? I’d have gotten down here earlier if I’d known there was food!” Maureen bounced over and dropped onto the blanket next to her grandmother. She crossed her legs, shorts riding up higher on her thighs.

Killian glared. Not that it made being confronted with his daughter’s womanly appearance any easier to take. With a sigh, he averted his gaze from Maureen and focused on his lunch.

“So, I heard there’s been a breakthrough on what you’re wearing next weekend to the ball,” Snow said in an almost sing-songy voice.

Maureen took the nudging from Snow with surprising grace and only a small sigh. “Yeah, I found something to wear that isn’t completely awful.”

“I’m so glad!” her grandmother enthused. “Now we just have to see about getting your hair done.”

Killian looked up to see if that would get a rise out of his daughter, but she remained placid. “Yeah, I was thinking purple this time. What do you think, Grandma?”

Snow huffed. “I think your natural hair color is a lovely shade of brown not unlike my own once was, but you do what you want.”

When they were finished polishing off as much of the food as they could, Snow packed the leftovers up. “I’ve gotta run,” Snow said, her hand settling on Killian’s shoulder, “but will you call us to come help the next time you’re planning a day to work out here? We could make it a family project!”

Uncertain if he would prefer the controlled chaos of the whole Charming clan climbing all over his ship to the calming solitude of working alone, Killian summoned a smile. Perhaps in small doses, it would be nice. “I will.”

Snow kissed him on the cheek. “Take care.”

After he’d helped Snow down the gangplank, Killian returned to his daughter. “Can I pull down more of the old rigging?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Aye, if you wear the safety harness.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “Yes, Dad.” Then her grin widened. “Hey, didn’t you notice?”

He was already gazing up, determining the best place for his daughter to begin her task. “Notice what?”

“This.”

Killian dropped his gaze and saw that Maureen was pointing to her nose, where she’d replaced the diamond stud with a small gold hoop.

“I thought you’d like it,” she said. “More piratey.”

Suddenly, Killian felt like he might cry. “I love it,” he said, his voice coming out raspy.

“Ugh, Dad, don’t get mushy about it, it’s just a nose ring.” Visibly discomfited by his reaction, she reached for the harness he required her to wear when she climbed up into the rigging of his ship.

“I know, but it’s…” He took a deep breath. “For a long time, I thought you were ashamed of my past. After you learned I’d been a villain, you didn’t seem to want much to do with this old girl anymore,” he said, patting his hand against the mast. “Which I could understand.”

Maureen gave him a stricken look. “No, god, it wasn’t that!” She gestured helplessly, her shoulders rising and falling. “It was just me being a stupid kid, sitting on my ass and playing video games instead of coming outside and doing stuff. Why didn’t you just say something?”

“That’s the thing about self-loathing, darling; you tend to assume that any negative feedback from another person is only what you deserve.”

Maureen raised an eyebrow. “You sound like a therapist.”

“Well, I’ve been spending a good bit of time in therapy lately, so…” He shrugged his shoulders.

She snorted, returning to untangling the harness. “Yeah.”

“I realized recently that I allowed us to drift apart these last couple of years because I feared you were better off without so much of me in your life.”

He could see a glassiness come into her eyes, lashes fluttering as she blinked back tears. “Well, that’s really stupid, Dad.”

“I know, love. Sometimes your dad can be very stupid.”

She laughed, a little gasped hiccup of a giggle, then she sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand before following his gaze up at the main mast. “Okay, then. Where do you want me to start?”

~*~

Emma clicked her tablet off and set it aside, turning off her bedside lamp. She closed her eyes, wiggling a little as she settled herself against the give of the mattress. Lately, she’d been wondering whether a new mattress would stop that pain in her lower back that she’d been waking up with, but she wasn’t sure if they needed a softer mattress or a firmer one. She rolled from one side over onto the other, shifting again to get comfortable.

“You all right, love?” Killian asked.

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No.”

“I’m just having a hard time getting comfortable.”

Killian rolled over onto his back, holding his arm out to her, so she scooted over and snuggled into his side, slinging an arm over his chest. It was a little too warm to fall asleep this way, but it was nice having a cuddle since he was offering.

They settled into silence again. Using the stump of his left arm, he pressed up and down along the curve of her spine, soothing the ache in her back. It struck Emma suddenly to try to remember the point when Killian had gone from merely exposing his amputation to her to touching her with it. Somewhere over the course of all their years together, he’d stopped even thinking about whether she would find that kind of touch unpleasant, and of course she didn’t. She was so accustomed to his lack of a left hand — the way his stump or his hook felt against her skin, the tasks he’d be able to do without aid and the ones he might want her help with — she hadn’t given any real thought to his disability in ages.

“Do you think Philip would want to run for sheriff when my term is up?” Killian asked.

Emma lifted her head to look at him. “He’s awfully young.”

“My term won’t be up for a couple of years yet.”

“He’ll still be awfully young in a couple of years.”

Killian sighed. “I suppose.”

“You don’t want to be sheriff anymore, do you?” Emma asked.

“I’m content to complete the term for which I was elected.”

“Killian.”

He pinched her arm gently. “I am.”

Emma rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe. I feel like I must’ve pushed you into doing a job that you didn’t want.”

He was silent for a few moments, not denying her statement, which hurt a little. “I think I enjoyed it before because I was working with you, not because I had any particular passion for law enforcement. So now, I’m… at loose ends, I suppose. I don’t hate it, but I recently realized that don’t get much fulfillment from it.” He rubbed her back again. “And I’m starting to be rather keenly aware of the fact that I have a finite number of years left.”

“Wow, that’s a little morbid,” she said, scratching her nails through his chest hair.

“I just mean I’m pondering what we might do together after my term as sheriff is over. Maureen will be nearly grown, and you and I might think about doing more traveling.”

Emma lifted her head again, this time with a smile growing on her lips.

“An adventure at sea, maybe? You, me, the Jolly, and the open ocean?”

He reached up and slid his index finger down the slope of her nose. “Precisely, my love.”

“We could disappear for months at a time if we wanted to,” she said, warming to the topic. “Hop from tropical island to tropical island—”

“Clothing optional, of course.” Killian’s hand slid down, seeking under her shirt and cupping the side of her breast where it was pressed against his torso.

Emma snorted. “Yeah, that’s not the appealing prospect it once was.”

“Nonsense.” Killian rolled them onto their sides, nuzzling her neck, his warm breath making her shiver. “You’re beautiful.” His mouth came up to meet hers, and she welcomed his kiss. Slow and gentle presses of his lips shifted into something more, deep and wet and searching.

“So you’ll travel the world with me?” he whispered as he lifted her shirt up, mouth descending on her breast.

“I’d love to,” she said, gasping as he sucked on her nipple. “With how hard you’ve been working, that ship’s going to be in better shape than it was when you got it.” He raised his head, giving her sad smile, and Emma wondered what she’d said to kill the mood. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just… keeping busy makes it easier not to think about how badly I want a drink sometimes.”

Emma reached out to cup his cheek, uncertain how to respond. She didn’t think a vague platitude about being strong or taking it one day at a time would be helpful. “I’ll be here with you no matter what, you know that, right?”

He nodded, turning his head to kiss her palm. He seemed to be hesitating over telling her something else so Emma waited, resisting the urge to writhe against him, offering him a physical distraction from his thoughts.

“I called him the other day,” he finally said.

Emma wrinkled her brow. “Called who?”

“The other me. The one from the wish realm.”

Unable to keep the surprise off her face, Emma tried to read her husband’s expression in the dim moonlight. She hadn’t even known Killian had a way to contact his other self, much less that he’d want to.

“He’s been sober for years, and I thought… I don’t know. I thought he could tell me it would get easier.”

Emma continued to stroke his face. “And did he?”

He grimaced. “Not exactly. But it was helpful all the same.”

“I’m glad.” She rose up on the bed so that she could kiss him again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” he said between kisses, his breath puffing out over her lips.

“Now,” Emma said, lying back down and pulling Killian over her, “what can I do to get this foreplay back on track?”

Killian chuckled, diving in for another kiss.

~*~

“Hey, looking sharp!” David called, ambling across the community center ballroom to join Killian. He appeared every inch the king that he would have been in his home realm.

Killian tried to put his hand in his pocket, but the Enchanted Forest-style breeches were too tight to be able to do such a thing. He looked down at his outfit and grimaced. “I would have preferred something more of the black and leather variety, but Emma insisted on this,” he said, running his hand down the front of his embroidered vest. “Said it reminded her of our adventure in the past all those years ago.”

David gave him a sympathetic smile. “Emma’s with Maureen and Snow, I assume?”

“Aye, and Ella and Lucy.” Henry and his family had been staying with Emma and Killian during their visit to Storybrooke. Killian tried to think of the most diplomatic thing to say about the chaos of hair products and makeup that seemed to have taken over his home. “I was a bit out of my depth with the ladies’ preparations for the ball.”

David just rolled his eyes. “Please. As if you haven’t always been the vainest man I know.”

Killian smirked and leaned closer. “Well, Dave, when you’ve got it…”

“Uh huh, whatever.” David searched the crowd. “Wasn’t Henry riding over with you?”

“He did, but he was waylaid by a group of old friends.”

They stood side by side, watching as Storybrooke’s residents moved around the room, munching on canapes and exclaiming at each others’ appearances in formalwear. A constant stream of people came over to greet them until Killian started to feel like he’d stumbled into an impromptu receiving line somehow.

When the music started to play and most people’s attention was drawn to the dance floor, Killian sighed heavily and scrubbed a hand over his face. “This is just the sort of event that a flask of rum made much more tolerable.”

David put a hand on his back and gestured over to the banquet table. “I know a glass of punch isn’t exactly the same thing, but I’d be happy to get you one.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Just as Dave disappeared into the crowd, Henry appeared out of it and made his way over. “I just heard from Ella — the ladies will be here momentarily.”

“Good.” Killian had been feeling a bit uncomfortable around his stepson since he arrived. He knew Emma had given Henry a head’s up about the fact that Killian wasn’t drinking before Henry and his family arrived in town, but he wasn’t sure exactly what she’d said.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Henry said, his eyes on the entranceway as he spoke. “That night you called me, several weeks ago… the night I thought you sounded sad… was that…?”

“Are you asking if that was related to my drinking problem?” Killian asked, saving Henry from his floundering. “Aye, I was looking for a distraction, something to convince me not to fall back into the bottle.” He stole a quick glance at his stepson. “I wasn’t successful, not that night.”

“I’m sorry, Killian, I wish I had known—”

“Don’t be silly, lad, how could you have known if I refused to tell you?”

“Still.” Henry met his gaze. “I hope you know you can call me anytime, day or night.”

“Thank you,” Killian replied.

“Hey, your daughter was asking me a lot of questions about other realms last night,” Henry continued. “Are you guys planning a trip I don’t know about?”

“No.” Killian was reassured that his daughter was actually talking with her older brother, someone she’d professed to resent, but he worried about her motives. “Although given that she expressed unhappiness with her ordinary, peaceful life recently, I worry what she might be contemplating.”

“Ordinary, peaceful life, huh?” Henry chuckled. “What a nightmare.”

Killian gave him a half-smile. “My daughter says that all the tales of magic and curses are unreal to her. She feels distant from us, like she’s not a part of our world. And I don’t know how to change that.”

Raising an eyebrow, Henry said, “Well, the obvious answer is take her to visit the Enchanted Forest yourself.” He crossed his arms. “How come you never have?”

“Because I want her to be safe. Storybrooke is safe, or at least it has been since the Final Battle. That realm may not be.” He sighed. “And what am I going to show her? The ports where I traded my stolen loot for gold? The taverns that I drank and whored my way through?”

Henry acknowledged that with a tilt of his head. “Okay, well I wouldn’t recommend that, no. But you still might want to consider a trip. You and mom can keep her safe. She deserves to see where she comes from, don’t you think?” He smirked. “And she deserves to experience first hand what living without modern plumbing is like so she’ll appreciate this place more.”

Killian chuckled at that as David rejoined them, carrying cups of punch.

The music stopped and Snow White stepped up onto the stage, which made Killian whirl around toward the door, looking for his wife and daughter.

“Can I have your attention please?” she said into a microphone, and the din in the room gradually quieted down as everyone turned to face their mayor. Killian stole a look at David, who was looking up at his wife in her elegant ball gown with the same lovestruck expression he’d had for as long as Killian known him.

“First, I wanted to say that the twentieth annual Storybrooke Fair has been the most successful one yet, and it’s due to the tireless efforts of so many of you, so give yourselves a round of applause!” She clapped her hands enthusiastically and everyone followed. Killian spotted his deputy across the room clapping as he leaned over and whispered to the lady on his arm. When Killian caught the man’s eye, he gave Philip a nod of approval. Philip had worked harder than anyone to help implement Snow’s grand vision for this fair. He’d make an excellent Sheriff when the time came. Storybrooke would be in good hands.

“Second, I want to say that you all clean up remarkably well!” Snow said, engendering a laugh from the crowd. “I have to admit, I didn’t just want to have this ball because I love getting dressed up and dancing, although I do.” There was another genuine laugh. Snow certainly knew how to wrap her audience around her finger, Killian thought.

“One of the things that the first dark curse caused me to miss was a formal debut for my own daughter, Emma.” David had moved over toward the stage, and at this point he joined his wife, taking her hand. “So when it occurred to me that we could introduce our granddaughter at a ball on the occasion of her fifteenth birthday, I couldn’t pass up the chance.

“Now, I’m sure Maureen doesn’t want me to stand up here and talk about how intelligent she is, or how talented, or how beautiful and kind-hearted, so I won’t say any of that. Nor will I say how much I’m enjoying watching her blossoming into a young woman who has great things in her future. Instead let me just introduce our princess, Maureen Swan-Jones!”

Snow gestured to the back of the room as the music started up again, and first he saw Emma, Ella, and Lucy come through the doorway. Emma wore a pale yellow gown that he’d caught a glimpse of as she’d brought it into the house a few weeks ago, but she’d quickly spirited it into a spare closet, scolding him for peeking at it. The beaded neckline accentuated her delicate collarbones, and Killian found himself impatient to dance with his wife, to put his hand on her waist and to breath in the scent of her skin.

Then his daughter appeared, and all thoughts of Emma momentarily fled his mind.

Her hair was close to the natural dark brown color that they shared, but with streaks of purple (which it turned out she hadn’t been joking about) woven through the brown. It was swept up on top of her head, and he thought he could make out sparking glitter in it as well.

The gown she wore matched the deep purple in her hair. With its simple lines dropping straight to the floor, it never would have been mistaken for a ball gown from his realm, but it was striking all the same. A memory arose in his mind suddenly, of the time Snow had given Maureen a little dress-up princess gown as a gift. Maureen must have been around seven years old, and while she had happily put the gown on, within an hour she’d ended up covered in mud, the costume entirely ruined.

With pink cheeks and what Killian could tell was a mostly fake smile, Maureen walked the path that her mother and sister-in-law had cleared toward the stage, where she greeted her grandparents with hugs and kisses on cheeks. As Killian watched Maureen, Emma slipped up beside him and took his hand.

“She looks good, right?” his wife whispered.

“Aye.” He swallowed. “I can’t believe she’s my daughter.”

Emma grinned. “I think those were your first words when you held her at the hospital.” The music changed, and Emma let go of his hand and gave him a push on the shoulder. “Go on; this dance is for you, Dad.”

He took a couple of steps and then turned back to Emma. “You’ll leave room for me on your dance card later?”

Emma winked. “Count on it, sailor.”

Killian made his way to the dance floor, where he met Maureen and held out his hook for her to hold. Her hand trembled slightly, but she took the dancing position she had reluctantly practiced with him in the days leading up to the ball.

“This is excruciating,” she murmured as he began to lead her around the dance floor.

“I know, love. Just a few more minutes and the worst of it will be over.” He could feel her start to step wrong, but his strong leading movements kept them with the rhythm of the music. “You look beautiful.”

“Ugh, don’t.”

“And I’m not just saying that because I’m your dad. You are beautiful.”

She grimaced. “I actually don’t hate the way my hair ended up. And the dress is okay.”

“I think your grandfather expected you to show up in a pantsuit.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “He knows we aren’t all butch, right?”

“Well, in his defense, you’ve never been a particularly girly girl.”

His daughter shrugged, a hint of a smile on her face. “I figured I’d give it a try and see what it was like.”

“And?”

“My feet hurt and this lipstick tastes gross.”

Killian laughed. “I’m sorry, love.”

They made a quiet circuit around the room, and Killian watched his daughter’s gaze dart from place to place. He could feel the tension in her shoulders, no doubt a reaction to so many eyes being on her.

“Why did no one want to play cards with the pirate?” he said.

Maureen blinked, turning her attention to him. “What?”

“I said, why did no one want to play cards with the pirate?”

“Dad, no.”

“Because he was standing on the deck.”

She groaned, but she also relaxed a little bit.

“Why is pirating so addictive?”

“Dad.” She almost laughed, covering it with an exaggerated furrow of her brow.

“Because once ye lose yer first hand, ye get hooked!” he replied in an exaggerated accent, jiggling her hand with the hook she was gripping.

“Oh my god.” This time she couldn’t stop herself from laughing, her eyes twinkling under the lights.

“I love you, my girl,” he said, giving her a wide smile. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Killian continued to twirl his daughter around the dance floor, surrounded by friends and family, and he let the happiness of the moment settle into his heart.

Once, long ago, he’d defined his happy ending as being with Emma, and he had focused entirely on making himself into her perfect partner, regardless of his own identity. Then he became a father to Maureen, and the definition of his happy ending shifted. But even then, it hadn’t been about him, not really. He’d once told Maureen, cuddling her on his lap while she asked uncomfortable questions about the story of how he died, that Zeus must’ve brought him back to life because he’d needed to bring Maureen into the world. But that hadn’t been just comforting words for a distressed child; he’d believed it, because why else would a god care if a blackguard like himself lived or died? It was for Emma. It was for Maureen. Never for himself.

His happy ending was never an ending, nor was it the beginning of unending happiness as he’d once naively hoped. It was this, it was moments like this. Moments like tomorrow, when he’d be back at work on his ship with his family by his side. The burdens he carried would never truly be gone, but he had people to help shoulder them, and that made them bearable. And right now, in this community center dressed up to look like a ballroom, with this wonderful, awkward, fiery girl on the cusp of womanhood in his arms, he could finally accept that maybe he deserved this life. That the happiness he felt was earned, and that it belonged to him.

End

#cs ff #captain swan ff #eoflt fic #tw: alcoholism #my fic #maureen swan jones fic

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fooled-around-and-fell · 6 years

Text

Time and Misunderstandings

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: When Sam died, Dean decided to go have the cherry pie life he always dreamed of, leaving you in the hunting world alone.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, romance

A/N: This is just something in my head I NEED desperately get out. I hope you like it!

word count: 2,909 words

Ever since Sam died, Dean decided that he was done. He was done with hunting. He’s lost Sam, and he couldn’t deal with anything else.

He wanted out.

He screamed at the top of his lungs that night.

You wanted to comfort him, but he shut you out. You still stayed outside of his room nonetheless, until his smashing and screaming finally died down and only his sobs were heard.

“Dean,” You opened his door. He was on the ground, leaning his back to the bed with his head in his hands. You approached the man and sat next to him.

You weren’t good at this; at comforting people. You didn’t know how, and you were always afraid of saying the wrong thing. So instead of saying anything, you put your arm around his shoulders, and he finally looked up.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” He muttered out.

“What do you mean?”

Dean sighed, “this.. this hunting shit. I’ve lost everyone. Everyone’s dead because of me.”

“It’s not your fault, Dean-”

“The hell it is!” He shouted, “And it’s only a matter of time before you, too..”

You touched his cheek to grab his attention, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighed, “I was afraid you were going to say that..you have to leave, Y/N.”

“And I told you, I’m not leaving.”

“You have to.” Dean said, “because I am.”

You could only look at him. Dean was leaving? “You mean you’re going solo?”

“No,” He said, “I’m..I’m done with hunting.”

“Wait a minute, Dean. Give it some thought. What happened to protecting the world for those innocent people??” You tried to be reasonable with him.

“And look at the price we paid!!” He cried aloud. “I’m tired, Y/N. I want to have a normal life, I want to be able to love, to feel loved without having to worry about the other shoe.”

“Dean..”

He sniffled back a tear, “can’t I be selfish just once?” He whispered, as if talking to God.

You’re sad that Dean wanted to leave, but he’s been a hunter for..too many years to count. He was right, he did deserve to be selfish. “You can go if you want to, but I’m staying..”

Dean snapped his head at you, surprised. “What? Why? Y/N-”

“Dean,” you stopped him, “it’s obvious you’re going to look for Lisa and Ben. And I won’t stop you.” After all, we’re only friends.. “But this..the bunker has become my home, and you know I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Besides,” you continued, “somebody has to take over the job, right?” You tried to sound as cheerful as possible.

You’ve always had feelings for Dean. And once, you had told him about them. He didn’t feel the same, but you still cared for the man. Until Lisa came into his life. Lisa was..to Dean’s eyes, Lisa was everything he could have ever dreamed of. And for the first time in your life, you saw Dean actually wanting to spend the rest of his life with someone.

Of course, you got jealous. A terrible, evil kind of jealous. You were being rude to Lisa without her doing anything but love Dean, and you realized- you were being the classic bitch to every romantic movie there is. Which is most cases, the bitch didn’t get the guy.

So, you accepted your fate. So Dean didn’t love you the way you did, that’s fine. But now he wants to quit. You were struggling to deal with it. If Sam was still here, you’d be less frantic, but he’s not. You’re actually going to hunt alone.

“Y/N, I’m still not sure about this..” Dean started as he was at the front door.

You chuckled, “Go, Dean. I’ll be fine. Your girl’s probably waiting for you.”

stab.

Dean smiled, as if he could actually see Lisa and Ben, smiling and surprise on their faces. “Call me if you need anything alright, sweetcheeks?”

“Of course, Dean.” You smiled one last time before watching him get into the Impala and driving off after he waved a final goodbye.

It was really, really goodbye.

A few months after Dean left, you’ve been dealing with cases and feeling extremely exhausted after. Because you were alone, you needed much more time and energy than usual. Laying down on the couch, you sighed and stared into the ceiling.

If only they were still here..

Never once did you call Dean. Because he’s probably busy with Lisa and Ben, having fun with them and actually living his apple pie life. Just imagining him laughing and smiling made you chuckle, too. At least one of the three of you is happy. He deserves it.

Not long after, your phone rang. Chloe. One of your friends.

“What’s up girl??” You tried to sound energetic.

“Drop the act, you shithead.” She sighed, “come on, I’m picking you up for a drink.”

You wanted to argue, but she was right. You needed a drink or two. Grabbing your purse and not bothering to change from you jeans and navy shirt, you waited at the porch for her to arrive and drive you away from reality.

The bar was empty, despite being a Sunday, but you automatically noticed the bartender and he smiled at you too. The bartender immediately recognized you and Chloe, and served what you both normally do.

“Still thinking about him?” Chloe raised a brow.

“No cheers then? Okay.” You said as you took a sip of your drink. “I’m trying not to.”

Chloe knew better than to ask more. She then revealed why she actually called you out tonight. “Look, I know you’re in a rough shape-”

“Spill it, Chloe, I’m fine.” You said.

She sighed. “There’s a case I found. It’s supposed to be an easy salt and burn, but I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about it.”

“Okay, I’ll check it out.”

“Good, I’ll meet you at-”

“Whoa, no, no, no,” you stopped her, “I thought you had a baby shower tomorrow?”

“Baby shower can kiss my ass-”

“Chloe,” you said firmly, “go to the baby shower. It’s your sister’s daughter, Goddammit.”

Chloe groaned, “are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry. I’ll give you a call if anything comes up, okay?” You said before paying and leaving. Chloe followed you behind and drove you home, thanking you after.

You took a shower and did some research after that. Chloe had told you the details in the car earlier. From what you read, it should be a simple salt an burn, so it wouldn’t hurt, right?

Wrong.

Long story short, it was not a simple salt and burn. It was anything but. You drove back to the bunker while trying your best to stay awake. You had gotten hurt badly.

“Fucking werewolves.” You muttered and grabbed the first aid kit. “I’m going to kill Chloe later.” You mumbled as you took out some alcohol to clean your wounds and thread and needle.

You took off your shirt, sat on the floor and bit it hard as you poured the alcohol on a cotton pad and pressed it to your wound. Tears welled up in your eyes as you bit the cotton and screamed.

If Dean or Sam was here, you’d be able to ask them to stitch it up for you. You didn’t want to call Cas, though. He wouldn’t approve of this and would call Dean back, so you didn’t call him.

Grabbing the needle and finally succeeded inserting the thread, your hands trembled when you needed to stitch up yourself. Taking a few deep breaths, you bit the cloth back and plunged the needle. Going in, and out, in and out. When you were done, you didn’t even bother to tidy the mess up. You leaned against the wall, and your head hits it. You couldn’t bring yourself up to your room, all you wanted to do was sleep.

Knock. knock. There was someone on the door. “Damn it.” You squinted your eyes, adjusting to the sun. Your whole body hurt from sleeping the way you did last night; on a sitting position?

“Y/N??” The voice called.

For a moment you felt your heart drop. And then it raced. Could it be? You got up to your feet as quick as you could, forgetting your pain for a second. Racing to the door, you took deep breaths and peeked through the hole.

No way. No. No. Sam’s..Sam’s dead. You grabbed your bag by the shoe shelf and took the holy water and the knife.

“Y/N?” He called again.

Right when you opened the door, you splashed holy water to his face, and Sam winced. He wiped the water off his face and chuckled, “yeah, I deserve that.”

“Hand.” You muttered.

“Y/N, what the hell happened to you???” Sam asked, looking at your -almost- dead state. He gave you his hand nonetheless and you cut his finger, drawing blood.

Once you were sure it was Sam, you sighed in relief. “Oh my God, you’re back.”

Sam grabbed you as you were about to fall, “Y/N, what happened to you??” He carried you to the couch.

“Ugh, just a bad wound from a case. But how are you still alive?” You asked.

“Long story.” He said and glanced at the first aid kit that was sprawled on the floor. “I need to see it.”

You nodded and lifted your shirt.

Sam winced at the terrible stitching and sighed, “Y/N, did Dean stitch you up when he was drunk??”

You chuckled, “No, I did it myself.”

Sam walked over to the first aid kit, got what he needed and knelt beside you. “Why did you do it yourself? You’re the one injured. Where the hell was- Where is Dean, anyway??”

“Ouch,” you flinched when he re-opened your stitches, cleaning them with alcohol again. You didn’t answer his question.

“Y/N,” Sam warned, “where is Dean?”

As Sam was done stitching you up, he asked you the same question again. You knew it would upset him, but you also knew that he’d be happy for him. Although he’d be sad for you.

You smiled, “he’s fine, Sam.”

“Where is he?” Sam asked again.

Sighing, you told him what had happened, and you were right. Sam was fuming. “He what?”

“Sam, don’t be like that. Dean deserves it.” You said in his defense, “he’s been doing this for too long.”

Sam sighed. “Y/N, you go get some rest, okay?”

“Why? What are you going to do?” You eyed him.

“I’m just going to call him,” he assured you, “you’re exhausted, you need some rest.”

Feeling tired, you eventually nodded and closed your eyes while Sam headed out to make a phone call. The line connected, and after a few moment, Dean picked up.

“Whoever this is, if this is some sick joke, I swear I’m gonna-”

“If you don’t get your fucking ass home right now, I swear I’m going to kill you.” Sam said, his voice clearly angry and ready to explode.

There was a pause.

“..Sammy?”

Sam had returned inside to take care of you, until he heard the door open. Not wanting to wake you, Sam asked Dean to talk outside and he had mindlessly agreed.

“Sam..?” Dean’s voice cracked. “It’s really you?”

Sam nodded, “Y/N’s done the thing, don’t worry.”

“God, Sam.” Dean hugged his brother. “But how-”

Sam cut him off, “let’s talk about that later. Right now, I want to talk about why the hell did you leave Y/N alone?”

Dean sighed. “Look Sam-”

“She told me that you went looking for Lisa. Dean, we both know Lisa’s found somebody else.” Sam said, “if you said that to her as an excuse to just-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait no.” Dean stopped him. “I didn’t- I wouldn’t- Urgh.” He groaned, “okay, I did tell her I was done, BUT not because I said I wanted to look for Lisa. In fact, she said that herself. I wanted to take her with me, okay? I wanted for us to.. to have some kind of future together, I guess. But she assumed that I was going to look for Lisa and I don’t know man, she seemed pretty fine- she even told me to go.”

“Because she didn’t know that Lisa has found someone else and that you’re head over heels for her!” Sam tried not to shout.

“Well it’s not my fault she didn’t- okay, yeah, it’s my fault.” Dean said and sighed, “I just thought she liked me too, but then she said about Lisa and I assumed she didn’t like me, so..yeah..I was a chicken and I left.”

Sam glared at him, “damn straight you were. Now get it there and apologize. When she wakes up.”

Dean didn’t say any more and went inside.

His breath hitched when he saw your state. There was no color on your face, and he feared that it was because of him. “What happened to her?” He asked Sam, his voice suddenly turned into a whisper.

“Werewolves.” Sam said, “it’s pretty bad, but she’ll pull through.”

Dean crouched next to your sleeping figure and wiped the frown on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. I missed you so much.”

Sam had left you two some space when you stirred awake. You couldn’t process what was happening, or who was in front of you, but those green eyes gave it off. “..Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He quirked a sad smile. “I’m back, I’m home.”

When your vision started to get clearer, you got up and pain shot through your stomach. “Ah!” You winced, and strong arms immediately supported your back into a sitting position.

“Take it easy, take it easy.” Dean repeated and sat next to you, holding you close by. “You good now?”

You nodded. “Wow, that was..the best sleep I’ve ever had.”

Dean frowned, sleeping on the couch was the best sleep you’ve ever had? What the hell have you been doing??

“Wait,” You turned your head towards Dean, “what are you doing here?? Aren’t you supposed to be..um..wherever Lisa lives, that is??”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, “um, well.. the truth is..”

He sighed, “I never looked or even wanted to look for Lisa.”

“What??” You frowned, “but you said-”

“Technically, yes, I said that. But you assumed that I would and I just nodded my head.” Dean said, “The last time I ever saw Lisa was..maybe five or six years ago. And..she’s found another person.”

Was it bad that you were glad?

You held Dean’s hand, “I’m sorry..I assumed things and didn’t even think-”

“No, no, it was my fault really. I didn’t know why I didn’t tell you about it..but maybe because a part of me still wanted to believe that she still loves me.” He looked at you softly, “but that’s all behind me now. Right now, all that matters is you.”

Your eyes widened and you were at a loss for words. “What- Dean, uh.. I-”

“Listen Y/N, I’m so sorry for leaving you. I should have never done that. I thought..I thought you liked me the way I do and maybe you’d leave all this hunting behind, but then I figured out that you didn’t, so..I left. I should’ve never left you alone, I’m so sorry.” He embraced you. “Forgive me?”

“Hold on,” You pushed away to look at him, “you like me?”

Dean blushed and nodded.

“As in like like me?”

“Yes, I like you, like you.” He grinned, “and I understand if you don’t feel the same.”

You furrowed your brows, completely confused. “But you were the one who rejected me when I told you how I felt!”

“That was..many years ago..” He scratched his neck, “When I knew Lisa found someone else, the jealousy got the better part of me. And then when I finally worked it out, that was when you told me how you felt. During my struggles, you were the one there who supported me without knowing what the problem was. But I couldn’t tell you how I felt then because apart of me still not knowing how I did feel, I didn’t want you to become a rebound.”

Tears stung your eyes because of pain from your wound, because your body was turned to look at Dean. Or so you convinced yourself.

“I need to lay down, it’s getting painful to sit.” You reasoned, and Dean helped you lay down, on his lap. Which you didn’t expect.

A moment later, you figured Dean was waiting for an answer. Gulping, you caught Dean’s attention and said, “I never stopped liking you. Hell, I think I even love you-” You stopped yourself, “I’m sorry, it’s uh..the...morphine...?”

Dean grinned widely and crouched down to kiss you. You shifted so Dean wouldn’t bend his back so much, and he cupped your cheek. “God, I love you so much Y/N. And I’m never leaving you again. Ever.” He said.

“I haven’t been gone for even a year and things got so messed up.” Sam sighed loudly and both of you stopped to look at Sam, “I don’t think you guys can afford to lose me again. Both of you better thank me!”

“You can go now, Sam.” He grunted as Sam left. “Now, where were we?”

Chuckling, you helped Dean get into a more comfortable position. “I think I remember.” You pulled him in for another kiss.

#dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #fluff #romance #angst #love #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader fluff #supernatural #spn #sam #sam winchester #fanfiction #dean x reader angst #dean x reader romance

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kizakiren · 7 years

Text

VOTALIA’S FULLY VOICED ANIME STORY - PART 2

Yay! This time it took only 2 hours to translate since the lovely demon boys used much easier phrases this time around.

The ???1 and ???2 characters are basically just randoms who were doing something. I was too lazy to translate their names. I’ll assume they were kidnapping a baby or something, based on the anime preview, and Ira caught them, I guess...

Anyway, enjoy!

LET’S GET MEGA HYPE FOR THE ANIME EPISODE TOMORROW!!!

Superbia (narration): I am sponsoring the lunch party...

Superbia: Ugh! I will not be late!

Superbia (narration): Because it was done from troubleshooting measures of the fashion show that will be held this time,

Superbia (narration): I was going to be late for the meeting time with the other princes.

Superbia: But still...

Superbia: It's them, so they can wait.

Superbia: I'll take my time with the makeup.

Superbia (narration): While I was relaxing like this, I couldn't believe that such an incident happened...

... ... ...

Las: ... In the end, Ira forced me to come.

Ira: Of course. If only you are skipping, I don't want to remember you and get angry.

Las: You're so short-tempered.

Ira: I... Today, I definitely won't get mad.

Las: Yes. Me too, I love Ira's smile, you know?

Ira: ... Is that true, I wonder?

Vashti: Las, Ira.

Ira: Vashti. It's been awhile.

Vashti: Yeah. You guys are looking better than ever.

Las: So... What is that big loading platform?

Acedia: Zzz...

Ira: Acedia...!

Vashti: My belonging. I brought it.

Ira: Vashti carried him, huh...

Acedia: Un... My body hurts.

Vashti: It hurts? Sorry. But, with this, everyone is gathered.

Vashti: After all, everyone is my belonging. I can't leave one person behind.

Las: As usual, we all belong to you, huh.

Vedy: Oh! You're all so fast!

Grad: ... Hungry.

Vashti: You came. Vedy, Grad.

Vedy: Vashti! ... And Acedia... You brought him? Just as expected!

Vedy: Wait, Superbia hasn't come yet?

Las: Looks like it. The person who invited us is late.

Vedy: What... Then, just for a bit, I'll play basketball.

Vashti: Vedy. Have your arms gotten stronger?

Vedy: Of course! I won't lose to Vashti anymore! Vashti: Then, why don’t we have a match? There is a court nearby.

Vedy: Oh! Nice! Superbia hasn’t come yet, so let’s play for a bit.

Las: Then, I will also go elsewhere to have fun.

Grad: … Me too, I can’t stand being hungry anymore… Vashti: Wait… In that case…

Ira: Eh?

Vashti: Ira. I’ll leave Acedia to you. I won’t let him sleep with nobody protecting him. Ira: Eh?! Wait…!

Vedy: Sorry, Ira, it’s just for a bit!

Las: See you~

Ira: Everyone, wait-

Grad: So hungry… No more… I have to go eat…

Ira: … (angry inhaling) !!!

Ira: Seriously, everyone… So selfish!

Ira: … Hm?

Acedia: Zzz… Lazing around in bed… This is the best…

Ira: These people near Acedia… Who are they?

???1: Hey… Hurry it up! ???2: Ugh, I know! Ira: You guys. What are you doing? ???1: Ah? ???2: Who the hell are you…! Ira: …! What… What is with you? Ira: I am asking what you guys are doing. Listen properly.

???2: Shut up! Ira: Shut up, huh… I see. Acedia: Zzz… (snooze)... Ira: … If you don’t answer my question, then you don’t need a mouth. Well then, how about I sew it shut with a needle and thread? Ira: Or should I put a pointed stone in your mouth? ???1: What is this guy! This isn’t going well!

???2: Tch… Let’s give up and run! Ira: …

Las: Iiiiii~ra. I thought you said you weren’t going to get mad. Ira: Ah....! I, I haven’t…! Ira: In any case, Las! How long have you been here?! Las: You don’t need to worry, Ira. Ira: Don’t you dare lie! Acedia: … hm…? What…? Acedia: Ira…? What’s wrong? Your face is scary~ Ira: No...thing…

… … …

Vashti: Alright. Let’s begin. Vedy: Yeah! Let’s go, Vashti!

… … …

Grad: Ah… No matter how much I eat, I’m still hungry, huh. Grad: Anything is fine… I want to eat.

… … …

Superbia: Alright. Next, I need to do my eyelashes. Superbia: Have I kept them waiting for too long? Well, it’s fine because I organized it, right? Superbia (narration): I went to the venue after I finished up the preparations, where I waited… There was an unexpected encounter. Superbia (narration): Really, I was surprised.

#hirotexts #hirosave #HiroTranslates

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pafians-blog · 7 years

Text

What Even.

You're midway into your flight when you, feeling bored, decided to surf the Internet. You read breaking news about another plane disappearance. You're on that flight.

I checked the map on the large TV screen, six more hours until we land. Ugh. “Travelling alone sure is boring!” I thought. This was the first time I was travelling alone, some people may be scared but I wasn’t scared at all. Since my parents both work as airline crew I had already been on hundreds of flights before, the experience was nothing new. Not having anyone to talk to and having already watched all the inflight ‘feature films’, I decided to use the charged internet for a while. It wasn’t that expensive, 1 dollar for every hindered mega-bytes was fine by me.

Unlike most people, instead of going on Facebook or Twitter, the first thing I did is go on Reddit. The front page, as usual had posts about cute cat pictures, some guy who broke his ceiling trying to make a pizza for the first time, another post about the world’s fattest kangaroo. Haha. Pretty typical stuff, I switched to the ‘Hot’ tab to have a look at some of the trending news. One of the threads caught my eye. ‘Flight PK 789 has gone missing’ “Another missing plane, how does this keep happening?” I thought. I clicked to view the details and it opened into the /r/worldnews subreddit. Then it occurred to me that PK is the code for Pakistan! “Wait what… a Pakistani flight?” It said,’PIA’s flight PK 789 en route from Jinnah International Airport, Karachi, to Pearson International Airport, Toronto, went missing just as it left the European coast into the Atlantic…’

Now it hit me. “THIS IS MY FLIGHT!! What? It must be a mistake!” I quickly bent down and opened my hand carry’s outer pocket to check my flight number. People gave me strange looks due to my sudden behaviour but it didn’t matter, was it April 1st or something?? Sure enough my boarding pass said the same. PK 789 KHI to YYZ.

Now I was extremely confused. I pressed the help button and a young flight attendant was by my side in a minute. I told her to tell me that I’m crazy and showed her my iPad. She gave it back to me and without saying a word went back to the galley she came from. I could see from her face that she didn’t quite know what was going on either. After a minute she came back with another attendant, a rather bulky lady who assured me that it was a mistake and everything would be fine. Well, that didn’t help. It wasn’t just reddit. I went on BBC and CNN just to double check. When I opened Geo.tv just to check for the final time the internet stopped working, and so did the large television. Most of the passengers were asleep but a few others began to notice the peculiar antics just as I did.

I had no idea what to do. Was this even real? Was I going mad?? While I was thinking the airplane took a sudden nosedive. YEAH, THIS IS DEFINITELY REAL. I buckled my seatbelt

and bent forward with my hands over my head just as the safety manual said so. The oxygen masks dropped and people started frantically putting them on. I saw the young flight attendant who came to me get catapulted to the back of the plane. Poor woman probably had a family. I didn’t have time to think about her, I had to put on the Oxygen mask or I would suffocate! It was barely out of reach, things were flying around, and a baby’s bottle full of milk hit my head. OWWWWW! I screamed, still unable to reach the oxygen mask. Then after the longest minute of my life the airplane straightened again. “THE PILOTS HAVE SURELY GONE MAD” I thought. I finally got hold of my oxygen mask. Only then did I realize the severity of the situation. Two thirds of the passengers were unconscious, some probably even dead. The others were distraught and damaged like me. The baby bottle left a bigger mark than I thought when I realized the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. My teeth had cut into my cheek.

I barely had time to get a feel for the situation when I heard noises again. “MOVE MOVE MOVE” … “SECTOR CLEAR SIR”. I heard footsteps and voices of people who sounded like they were wearing gas masks. They were getting closer and closer. “WE’VE GOT A LIVE ONE” bang “Did they just shoot a passenger?? Oh my god. I have to do something. I can’t die like this”. Not having been able to come up with an insanely good idea I decided my best option was to play dead or be dead. I lied on the ground like the rest of the passengers and closed my eyes. The footsteps were all around me now. They were in my cabin. I heard them looking through the already opened head racks. They were looking for something. One of the footsteps grew closer and closer toward me and then the noise stopped. I heard him pick up my iPad.

“WHAT HAPPENED PRIVATE? WHY DID YOU STOP? DID YOU FIND IT?” “NO SIR! BUT THIS KID ALREADY KNEW OF THE HIJACKING. WE NEED HIM ALIVE AND WE NEED TO FIND OUT IF HE KNOWS ANYMORE” “TAKE HIM OUTSIDE!” Outside? We’re in the air for God’s sake! What outside? “SIR YES SIR!” They would obviously torture me for information if I showed them I was awake. I kept playing dead.

The man who appeared to be ex-army picked me up with and carried me to the door. I could still hear the airplane engines, we definitely didn’t land! What on earth was going on? Do I dare open my eyes?

With me still in his hands, the man opened the door and jumped outside. I couldn’t take it anymore. WHAT WAS GOING ON? I opened my eyes to see a large man. His body was tall and slender, fully black. He had long arms and legs and thin fingers which looked like claws. I couldn’t discern any clothes, the black looked like his skin. He definitely wasn’t human, I tried to make out his face…but I couldn’t make out any facial features - all I could see was the blackness in his eyes.

Then I looked down, we weren’t falling, the airplane had long sped past us but we were still there, hovering, in the air. Another aircraft suddenly visualized in front of me, right out of thin air. A door opened and the man carried me in like I was his pet or something. Another large man greeted me, “Hello human… Sweet dreams”. He then pierced a small needle into the center of my forehead, and then, everything went dark.

Written By: Faryab Haye.

#the blogging society #pafians #random stories #faryab haye

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wolfcha1k · 3 years

Photo

Decided to just do another cover, since all three had one minus this one. Ngl, I traced Ugga and Grug's head shapes and stuff to get them on model bc fuck Grug is hard to draw, bodies were referenced from a photo and several screenshots in the movie. Also totally convinced Grug had plenty of hair until Eep was born and stressed it off to hell lol Below is the story that goes along with this story, featuring Grug and Ugga and a story about them in their younger days ~ - <3 - "Is this the little girl I carried? Is this the little boy at play? I don't remember growing older When did she get to be a beauty? When did he grow to be so tall? Wasn't it yesterday When they were small? Sunrise, sunset Sunrise, sunset Swiftly flow the days"

"You know, Grug. Eventually, Eep and Guy, they're going to want to start their own pack. Just like we did, it's our nature."

Grug is confused about when his little girl stopped being so little, perhaps its time Gran and Ugga tried reminding him it wasn't too long ago he was just like Guy and Eep are now.

The Sun Was a Wayfarer - Series

<Previous> Flood and Flame <next> All I Can Think About

It was really hard sometimes for Grug to accept his little girl wasn't so little anymore. She'd always been stuck like tar to his side and would demand stories as a young child. The old cave walls were filled with tiny hand prints he never realized had grown bigger until Guy came along and forced him to be reminded Eep was indeed a woman. She was seventeen summers old and the fact wasn't lost on anyone who had functioning eyes in their head.

Fathers only saw with their hearts though and inside Grug's his daughter was still that rambunctious sweet little girl who needed him to protect her. That also included suitors.

"Grug you're brooding again," he heard Ugga say from behind him.

"This is just my face." Grug shifted his weight from where he sat lounging against his favorite rock.

"Trust me, I can see them just as clearly as you can."

Eep was in the lead by at least seven points, it wasn't like Grug was keeping track though. "Why didn't you tell me sooner Eep was all grown up?" Grug side eyed his mate who just laughed at him.

"Well… she was always a stubborn girl and big for her age," he quipped as he crossed his arms.

"Oh don't say that, he's practically our son now."

"Does that mean I need to protect him from Eep then?" He kept the edge of hope out of his voice the best he could as he faced his mate.

He heard a startled yelp from the shore and got to enjoy the sight of Guy yet again face planting in the sand. Eep pounced over his toppled form, he was spitting sand from his mouth.

"Gotta be faster than that!" She shouted with a victorious smile.

Guy mustered the energy to mockingly look at her like he was bothered but the toothy grin that spread on his face afterward said otherwise.

"Ugh, I don't need that mental image," Grug mumbled with a shudder, his face surly.

"Aw Grug. Don't you remember what it was like to be young and in love?"

"I do, and that's why I'm worried!" Grug jutted a thumb behind him and caught the confused blank stare Guy gave the group at catching their gossip. "Young and hot blooded , Ugga."

Eep went over to haul Guy back up by the scruff of his neck. She shot Grug an embarrassed and irritated look that was muffled by her wild mane of red hair. "Ugh… Dad, we can hear you!"

"Good! So keep your hands to yourselves! You don't want little Eeps!" Grug paused. " I don't want more little Eeps, one of you is plenty!"

Eep pulled the curtain of hair over her eyes and wished for the ground to swallow her. Guy rubbed the back of his neck at the narrow eyed look Grug shot him.

Ugga rolled her eyes and began to try shooing the old woman off. "Mom, please."

"What was dad like with mom?" Eep asked as she leaned forward, grinning. She looked at Grug who just huffed.

Ugga decided to play traitor this night. "Mom how about you tell the kids about that time when Grug went on that big errand you gave him."

Grug couldn't help but wince and gave Ugga a scowl. The little minx had the nerve to grin innocently at him despite the betrayal.

"Big errand?" Guy echoed, he was barely visible from under Chunky's massive form.

"That brain thing of yours is really useful," Eep agreed with a girlish tone.

"What did you make dad do?"

"Told him to go get a hair off a naked molephant."

Guy blinked. "But naked molephants don't have hair."

"Well, this is Grug so of course the nincompoop found the one blasted molephant that had hair." Grug let himself puff his chest out like a peacock preening its feathers.

"Yeah, well, you should have known better when you set me out on a job, Gran." He gave his mother-in-law a catty grin, for now he could relish in a past victory that smarted her way back when.

Eep looked at her grandmother mischievously. "So… when does the story get good?"

"Wow," Thunk said in awe, turning his eyes to stare at Grug. Grug appreciated at least one Crood wasn't laughing at him. "How'd you do that?"

Gran cocked an eyebrow with a chuckle. "Yeah Grug, tell them."

Grug crossed his arms moodily. "Just for the record, it was a real life or death battle getting that stupid hair."

"— ANYWAY! Like I was saying," Grug grumbled. He turned his attention back to his family. He scooped up a clump of sand and clay from the ground below and drew a vaguely person-like shape into the rock he had been lounging on. Then he drew a beast with tusks and a long nose next to him. "It was a battle of life and death, there I was, twenty two summers old—"

There was still a good five knuckles before the sun would set, he'd find it before then. Either that or he was going to face the dangers night brought—

“You? Staying outside at night?” Eep sounded doubtful.

“... yes ,” Grug huffed.