#Danny's memory is going to be real shaky for a while

[phantoms-lair]

She was late. Okay, she wasn't on anyone's time but her own, since Ivy was still in lockdown in Arkham, but still. Every time she tried to leave the house something fell down or a door jammed. The was finally about to leave when her phone rung.

She let out a grow of frustration but went to answer it anyway. No reason to give her parole officer an excuse. "What do you want?"

"Aunt Harleen Help." Harley felt her heart seize up at the voice. It had been so many years since she'd heard it, the speaker having then been in elementary school and now on the verge of womanhood, But she'd know it anywhere. "Jazzy?"

"I'm scared."

And that broke her heart a little. What would scare her niece so much that she would reach out to the branch cut off the family tree. "Your parents-"

"I think they killed him." she sobbed.

Oh she hoped her niece wasn't calling to learn how to hide a body. "Your parents killed someone?"

"I think they killed Danny."

A wave of paradoxical calm washed over Harley. She was furious enough to be thinking with absolute clarity and that was never good. None of the Quinzel sisters had been entirely rational, in her professional opinion. Alicia, the eldest, had decided to say fuck you to society and live on a farm growing rutabaga in a house with no plumbing and powered by nothing more than her spite. She herself had tried to become a respectable doctor and instead become a rogue. And Maddie, well, their baby sister was obsessed with ghosts.

So much for Maddie being the harmless one.

"I'm on my way Jazzy. If they try to hurt you, either run or hurt them first."

"They won't." Jazz said. But it was filled with bitterness, not conviction. "They see me as an actual person."

She didn't know what kind of bigotry had taken a hold of Maddie and her husband, but if they had so much as laid a finger on her nephew's hair, they were going to find out why even the clown could fear her.

~

He's Mine the Spirit of Amity Park said petulantly.

The Quinzels are of Gotham. I have have claim on him. The Spirit of Gotham stated.

No, he's my champion Amity argued.

You have not cared for him Gotham argued.

And you care for yours? Amity accused.

Gotham was silent for a time. I can not erase all the hurts they receive or protect them from their own actions It had hurt Gotham so when the first baby bird had flown the nest of not only Wayne Manor, but of Gotham herself. But I can help in subtle ways. I give them the chance for support. I have them cross paths with those who will help. What support have you given your so-called champion? Who repairs his wounds and comforts him? Who helps guide him?

His friends Amity argued. His friends bandage his wounds. His sister comforts him. Clockwork helps guide him

His sister and friends he already had. And you cannot lay claim to Clockwork as Clockwork is not one of yours. And his guidance is more manipulation than not. Answer me again. What supports have you given?

The Red Huntress

Who hunts him as well

His parent's inventions

And look how that ended up! Gotham hissed, cradling the amalgamation of human and ghost to her. Your first champion almost ended up with his soul shattered because no one could aid him. A child, because you could not wait for a Champion who was grown.

Amity was silent.

Danny is mine now. I will care for him. Name the Huntress as your new Champion. If you do better by her....we can talk further.

Amity wouldn't argue further. It was young as far as city spirits went, where as Gotham was a major power. And like a mortal child given a pet before they were truly ready, it had let it's responsibilities slip. Gotham would have a harder time stepping in if the new Champion was failed in the same way,

Now what to do with the little one. As much as he'd make a wonderful bird, it wouldn't be the best for him. Not with the emotional wreck the Wayne household was and the little Champion's own distaste for the wealthy. (Another thing Amity had to answer for. Letting that man become mayor and use that position to harm her Champion) Hmm, if he couldn't be a bird, he'd make a delightful kitten.

[sonicnewschannel]

So I'm just gonna re-use an old image (which I already posted whoops!) But basically Echo's powers work on memory and his own beliefs/information about whoever he's copying.

Physically, due to the limitations of the brain, her form is always shifting slightly when she's copying. Be it colour, eye shape, etc. After a while, she's morphed into a completely different person! Think of it like drawing a character over and over again without a reference. After a while the character stops being consistent with the official art.

For the whole "belief" part, it's a bit shaky and more mental than physical. Echo can- technically- copy the power of whoever she's copying. This takes a LOT out of him, though, and after using said ability he can't keep the form up long. (Think of how in danny phantom Danny's Ghostly wail is a last resort before he transforms back into a human due to how much power it takes. Or if you haven't watched Danny Phantom watch Fright Before Christmas and come back to me). However, this also accounts for personality. For Echo's form to stay up, she needs to believe she is accurately portraying the person in question, both with powers and mentality.

Let's say, for example, Echo copies Sonic. First he would need to research information about Sonic, such as what he acts like, how fast he can go, how tall he is, his tone of voice, things like that. After proper studying, she can now copy sonic accurately! But he would still need to continually look at reference images and information on sonic to keep that form stable and convincing. After a while it just becomes overtly off-putting and creepy instead of just a tiny feeling of off-ness.

Echo, pre-amnesia, was used as a spy or a temperary replacement for authority/political figures in a group of zone criminals who enjoyed causing chaos within different zones/dimensions. Post-Amnesia Echo mainly uses it for party tricks or hiding.

It's important to note that echo can not make people up! Someone can be made up and then presented to Echo and he can copy that, but he can not make up a form or ability on his own. For her powers to work she needs to truly believe the person and their powers are real!

(Here's the image I'm re-using because I feel like it explains the physical differences when Echo copies someone well)

To summarize becuase I just spent like 5 paragraphs explaining something and that is TOO LONG: Echo's power is shapeshifting, and works via Echo knowing and fully believing the person she is copying, though the form shifts and changes based on his memory of the person in question and how long he stays in said form. They can only copy people and abilities she believes to be real, and using the abilities of the person he's copying makes him too drained to maintain the form.

If you thought this was interesting, you can vote for Echo in the @sonic-oc-showdown !! There's only 2-3 days left of round 1, so get your votes in now!! Vote in the poll Echo's in here:

[kudosmyhero]

The Spectacular Spider-Man (vol. 1) #179: The Child Within, pt. 2 - Wounds

Read Date: October 28, 2022 Cover Date: August 1991 ● Writer: J.M. DeMatteis ● Penciler: Sal Buscema ● Inker: Sal Buscema ● Colorist: Bob Sharen ● Letterer: Rick Parker ● Editor: Danny Fingeroth ●

Synopsis: The Vermin thinks back to his therapy sessions where Doctor Ashley Kafka. She was trying to break through the psychological walls the creature has put up and speak with the person he was before becoming the Vermin. The creature was frightened when he is asked about his home life. However, after some time, she managed to get through to Vermin to the point where he tells her his real name is Edward.

Now, standing at the gates in front of the family mansion, Vermin debates about going. The lost little boy he found in the sewers asks if they are going to go inside. Although Vermin is afraid, the boy tells the creature that it is his home and that his mother is there. Even though he feels nothing but darkness coming from the home, Vermin decides to listen to the boy and hugs him. Leaping up atop the wall, Vermin asks the boy if he is coming along. However, the child says that he is going to wait outside, and assures Vermin that there is no danger waiting for him inside. The creature then scurries across the lawn and goes into the mansion. Inside the mansion, an elderly couple sleeps in separate bedrooms. The woman wakes up because she has heard something in the house. However, her husband sleeps peacefully until he is awoken when the Vermin brushes the side of his face. Seeing the horror that has crawled into bed with him, he is shocked when it calls him daddy and says he loves him. With shaky hands, the man reaches for the draw on the bedside table for his gun. Suddenly, there is a gunshot and a scream. Vermin then leaps out of the window clutching his wounded shoulder. This entire scene is witnessed by the little boy who is standing at the gates in tears.

The following morning, Aunt May has brought Peter and Mary Jane to the local cemetery. She has taken them there to visit the graves of Richard and Mary Parker, Peter's parents. May begins recalling the memories she have of Peter's father. How he used to tag along when she and his brother Ben went on dates and how he met and later married Mary. As May continues her reminisces, Peter gazes at the graves and has a hallucination of Vermin digging himself out of the ground and screams. Startled, May and Mary Jane asks Peter if he is okay. He brushes off their concern, telling them that he just remembered that he has an appointment to keep at the Daily Bugle. May understands, and goes to her late husband's grave. As May walks off to pay her respects, Mary Jane sees through Peter's excuse and tries to get him to talk about his last battle with Vermin after he was buried alive by Kraven the Hunter. Peter admits that the Vermin's recent escape from captivity has been weighing heavily on his mind. He feels that until Vermin has been captured, the dead can wait.

Meanwhile, Harry Osborn and his wife Liz brought their son to Central Park for the day. As Liz and Normie are riding on the marry-go-round, Harry watches from nearby. He is once more visited by the apparent ghost of his father, Norman Osborn, the original Green Goblin. The specter of Norman scoffs at the activities he has been partaking in with his son. Harry points out that Norman used to do all these things with him while they were growing up. When the ghost of Norman realizes that he did love his son, he is suddenly struck in the back by a goblin glider. The hallucination intensifies, as Harry sees what he believes is Spider-Man, who tells Harry that Norman Osborn didn't really love him and needed to be put down like a mad dog. This who display stuns Harry to silence until Normie and Liz return to him. When Normie tries to get his father's attention, Harry suddenly snaps out of his trance and shouts at the child. Realizing that he is shouting at his child again, Harry composes himself and apologizes to the boy and suggests that they get some cotton candy. When Liz asks Harry if he is feeling okay, he assures her that he is fine.

That evening, the Vermin and his legion of rats have descended upon Central Park. Hurt and afraid, the Vermin. While back at her office, Doctor Ashley Kaufka goes over the recorded footage of her sessions with Vermin. She is interrupted by the arrival of Spider-Man. The wall-crawler wonders how Kafka could bring herself to get close enough to Vermin to hug the creature. Particularly, since they both agree he must emit some psychic poison that makes people repulsed by him. However, Kafka theorizes that Vermin's transformation is just as much psychological as it is biological. Growing impatient, Spider-Man demands answers from Ashley that can help him find Vermin. He quickly apologizes for snapping at her, admitting that his nerves have been on edge since Vermin escaped. Ashley tells the wall-crawler that during her sessions with Edward she discovered that he was sexually abused as a child. When she goes to the window of her office, she is shocked to find Vermin standing there. The creature begs her for help as police close in on the scene. However, the creature panics when he sees Spider-Man inside and tries to flee onto the rooftops. The wall-crawler catches up with him and assures Edward that he is there to help. The creature can't bring itself to trust Spider-Man and reverts completely back to his Vermin persona. He tells Spider-Man to not call him Edward and lunges at the hero.

Giving in to his rage, the web-slinger begins to lashing into the man-monster. With the thoughts of his parents in his mind, Spider-Man tries to reign himself in. However, his revulsion and disgust prevent him from getting back under control. It's not until Kafka gets on the roof and tells Spider-Man to stop, does the masked hero stops. Ashley tells Spider-Man that she can get through to Edward again if he can trust her. When she tries to reach out to Vermin, the creature bites her hand. As she is swarmed by Vermin's rats, Spider-Man rushes to her side to swat them off. As he does so, Vermin manages to escape just moments before the police arrive on the roof. While back at the Osborn home, Harry tucks his son Normie into bed and kisses him tonight. As he leaves the boy's room, he is once more confronted by the specter of his father. Norman Osborn holds out a Green Goblin costume and tells Harry that it is time.

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Spectacular_Spider-Man_Vol_1_179)

Fan Art: Harry Osborn by LucasVincent

Accompanying Podcast: ● Untold Talks of Spider-Man - episode 08

[plush-rabbit]

The Start of a Family

Picture Perfect Series

Warnings: Sickness, Forced Pregnancy, Noncon

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: I love being a degenerate with him

-

The sound of your door creaks, footsteps light as they make themselves to your bed. You let out a low whine, turning over onto your back, your hands loosely grasping at the sheets. The bed dips and you mumble your partner’s name. You believe it to be Danny, you're so sure of it, yet the hands that hold your face and they feel off. The skin is smooth, pressing into your cheeks without the press of nails. You feel off. It’s a slight feeling that twists at your stomach and you’re unable to figure out why. You open your eyes, your vision blurry and mind delirious with sleep, the only thing you’re able to make out is white, blurry at the edges and mixed with black and in your state, you think it's Danny coming home from work.

You whimper his name, closing your eyes and reaching your hands to grab at his face. However, instead of stubble that pricks your skin, it’s plastic, almost rubber in it’s feel and your hands edge towards the middle, meeting mesh. You open your eyes, blinking harshly in an effort to erase sleep from your eye but in that moment, a hand covers your mouth. It’s heavy and forceful, covering the lower half of your face, the body now above you, legs straddling you and the full body weight pressed onto you, digging into your hips. Your eyes widen, and beneath the hand, the name of your partner is muffled. You believe it to be a sick joke but when your lamp turns on, the glaring light shooting against your face, your blood turns into ice. You go rigid, your hands trying to pry off the one on your face, so desperate for air and yet, the force stays solid above you.

Terror spikes throughout your body, eyes wide and sickness thick on your tongue that you fear you’ll become sick against him and the thought of what he might do in that case terrifies you. His petrified look of a scream haunts you, mesh black that stares at you and with a body covered in black, he blends into the darkness, his body evaporating but weight still heavy on you. He wastes no time, removing your clothes and his, his body bare above yours and hands finally away from you but instead of hitting him, you lay there, with your hands over your eyes, as his mask brushes along your collarbone. You thought you were safe; you really thought that you were safe.

“Did you miss me?” Ghostface whispers, his breath nothing more than a wisp against your skin. “Because I missed you.” You let out an ugly wheeze in response, your palms wet with tears. “I miss you so much that it hurt.” His hands- covered by gloves- scratch against your skin, they squeeze against a breast, fingers pushing into your supple breast. “I couldn’t take it. I had to see you. I had to feel you under me, writhing and squirming-” his other hand cups at your sex, two digits pushing past your folds and teasing at your entrance- “feeling your cunt milk my cock.” His gloved fingers squirm inside of you, massaging at your walls, encouraging for the tight fit to become smoother. “Did you miss me?”

You take in a loud breath, peeking between the gaps in your fingers, looking to the door that remains open. “Danny,” you gasp, hoping that by saying his name, he’ll appear. The fingers inside of you stop inside of you. “I want Danny.” Tears slide down and wet at the crevices in your ear, and slip to the bed sheet beneath you.

“Danny, huh?” You look at him when he speaks, chills running across your body. “Is that your boyfriend’s name? The one with the camera at all my crime scenes?” Your mouth is stuffed with his gloved hand, the taste of your essence lingers against your tongue. “You know he’s a bit too involved, walking around, staining the soles of his shoes with blood.” His cock is erect, pressed harsh against the inside of your thigh, slipping past your folds and pressed against your entrance. “I wonder what he would do if he saw you getting fucked by the Ghostface?” He pushes himself inside of you, and you let out a wail muted by the hand that sickens you. “You’d think he’d join in?” He rocks inside of you, steady and hard, making sure to slam himself against your hips. “He could fuck your mouth with I fuck your pussy.” He lets out a breathless laugh, his mask closing in on you until you can smell the scent of alcohol on his breath. It’s intoxicating in all the wrong ways- thick and bitter, making your stomach churn and acid creep into your throat. “Fuck, that would be something, huh?” He slams himself back into you, grunting and letting out your name intermixed with his moans.

“Stop,” you cry, hiccupping and choking on your tears. Your hands clutch at your chest, stopping the bouncing motion from his roughness. “Please, just stop. I haven’t told anyone, please. You can go away,” you cry harder, wishing for death. “Just kill me,” you wheeze out, your chest stuttering with your heavy cries.

He pauses, stilling his movements for a moment, his head tilting. “Kill you?” He breathes out. He shakes his head. “No, no,” he repeats. “I could never kill you.” He resumes his thrusting, pushing himself deep inside of you. “I love you too much to ever do anything like that to you. Did you know that?” Despite his mask, you know that he’s staring into your eyes, watching for any reaction that you can give to him. “I love you so much. And when you get pregnant-” his hand curves over your belly- “you’ll never be able to escape me.” Your eyes go wide, and you suck in a deep breath. “You’ll look so cute with a round belly.” The mesh of his mask presses against your lips. His lips wet at the mask and his spit is on your lips. “You’ll be plump and begging for my cock, knowing that it was me who did that to your body.”

He’s ruthless. A true monster disguised as a human as he ravages your body. With every push inside of you, is a groan of despair from you, your cunt leaking with your arousal, slipping to the inside of your thighs and down his length. You lay beneath him, crying and holding onto him, feeling a pressure against your stomach when he releases inside of you. It’s thick and warm, burning your inside and it's pushed inside of you. You cry his name, “Ghostface,” begging for mercy as he continues his rutting, burying his cock inside of you until he’s drained and you’re full of seed.

-

Danny finds you in the morning, curled up with dried tear stains. Your clothes stick to you uncomfortably, your underwear feeling as if it were stuck to you, drenched with his semen that had spilled out. Danny walks to you, crouching to a squat as he brushes your hair away from your face.

“Nightmares again?” He asks in a low whisper, and you nod, your lips trembling as you go to hug him, sobbing against his shoulder and clinging to him like a child. “It’s okay,” he says gently, running his hand down your back, “it’s okay. I’m here now. It was just a bad dream.” He crawls into bed with you, pulling you close to him, his chin resting on the top of your head while you curl up on his lap, resting your head on his chest. “They’re just nightmares, they aren’t real.”

“It felt real,” you mumble, your head curving around his belly, letting your thumb arc over him. “I wished you were here last night.” A sob interrupts you and you’re soothed once again by Danny. “I wanted you here,” you cry, pressing yourself closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I wish I was here. I know how bad your nightmares can get.” His hand stills for a moment, clenching the back of your shirt into his fist. “But you were the one who didn’t want to move in with me, remember?” You nod slowly. “You can’t just guilt trip me into this. I’m sorry and I wish I were here but-”

“Danny?” You whisper, clenching his shirt loosely. He hums in response. “Can I move in with you? Please?” You can hear his heartbeat quicken, the hand on your back coming loose and returning to the soothing touch. “I don’t want-” you pause and look at him- “I miss you too much.”

“Of course you can.” His hand manages to find a way to hold yours, bringing your knuckles up to his lips and kissing each gently. “I would love nothing more than to have you at home with me.” His lips trace up a finger, kissing the tip of your thumb. “I’ll keep you safe there. Away from this place with all those gross memories- you’ll be safe with me.”

-

You lay on his bed. It’s not the first time, it’s nothing more than a bed you’ve both shared in the past and yet, now as you sit on it, it’s foregien to you. It’s nothing more than a bed, a bed that you share now because his home is now your home. The comforter has loose threads that you wrap around your finger until it pales and turns dark at the skin that protrudes from it. Your stuff is organized, fixed and moved into a space that he has made for you. You’ve come into his space and he’s made sure to welcome you.

The door clicks and you can hear him, his heavy footsteps and the jingle of his keys. “Honey, I’m home!” He sings, followed by a laugh and he’s searching for you throughout the house. Your heartbeat quickens and the comforter is gripped in your hands. “Want to go out to eat?” His voice sounds far away and you’ve realized you’ve forgotten to make a meal for him. For the both of you. “We can order take-out or something.” His voice is growing closer and you stare out the window expecting to see Ghostface but there’s no one there. “You know, since it’s a special night.” His voice is close, and when you turn, he’s at the doorway, loosening his ties and running a hand through his hair. “You good?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you whisper out. “I’m just- I feel so out of place here, you know?” You give out a shaky laugh as tears threaten to form, a lump in your throat as you release your grip and hold out your arms.

He’s quick to hold you, his face pressed against your neck and arms wrapping tight around you. “You shouldn’t. This is your home now.” He pulls away and kisses your lips, his nose bumping against yours. “You’re allowed to be comfortable here.” He pulls away, his hands holding onto yours. “I didn’t want to ask yesterday because we were both tired and hungry, but do you want to go take a picture? Something to commemorate our living situation?”

You stare up at the man who has kept you safe and you pull him down, kissing his lip and gesturing for him to get on the bed with you. He must understand what you want, why you want him to get on the bed with you, because in the same moment, he unbuttons his shirt and teases at the hem of yours. His hands stop there, his knuckles brushing against your stomach and for a moment, he stops, he pulls away from the kiss and licks his lips. Your only response is to remove the shirt yourself, continuing until you’re naked in front of him.

His lips brush against yours, his breath warm and hands lingering on your bare sides. His eyes stay fixed on yours, his thumb arching on your body, a shiver running down your spine. Your heart is beating erratically, so loud that you think he might hear it. You hesitantly raise your hands to cup his face, licking your lips when you realize that your hands have started to become clammy. You pull away from him, enough to no longer fear that he might see how flushed that you’ve become.

“I- I wanna do something else to commemorate.” You roll your lips, nervously swallowing, your legs twitching and stomach churning. “If you don’t mind.”

He stares at you with blank eyes and a parted mouth for a second until his smile grows, pulling high on the corner of his lips. He nods, leaning towards you, your hands falling onto his chest when he kisses you. It’s a blur of the moment, feeling his fingers edge against your sex, brush so carefully against your clit, and you’re gasping for breath under him, hidden in the crook of his neck with tears in your eyes.

His fingers are coarse, touching your sensitive bud, rolling it under his fingertips and he tries to move you, to signal for you to show him your expressions as he touches you, but you can’t. You stay hidden, digging your nails into his back and shaking your head. With your eyes shut tight, with only darkness in your vision, you can picture someone other than your partner. You picture him. You swear that you can feel his hands on you, but instead of the roughness, it’s gentleness, it’s him being tender, focusing on your pleasure and making you gasp and whine under him. You’ve never taken a proper look at his hands, but they’re thick, spreading your cunt and massaging at your walls, while you buck against him, feeling the tip of his cock against your thigh.

You arch your back into his chest, hissing at the contact and clutching tighter to him, squeezing his fingers in your cunt. A hand slips between and palms at your breast. He’s eager and clumsy, grabbing at your roughly and you hold on tighter to him, whimpering under his touch and his only response to hold you tighter, to pinch at your skin and push himself knuckle deep inside of you, adding a third finger and then a fourth, your sex burning with the spread and you’re calling his name, pulling away with tearstained eyes only to be kissed roughly.

Tears catch on your lashes, your hands digging into him, wanting to draw blood and get him off but at the same time, wanting him to never stop, to continue until he’s the one who has touched your body to the full extent.

He pulls away, the hand on your breast going to wipe a tear away, his head tilting and smiling softly. He looks much younger and handsome with the gentleness on his features. “Condom?” He asks in a low whisper.

While maintaining eye contact, you shake your head. Your hands hold him, and you pull him for a kiss. When his lips are on yours, you leave him, your hand slipping between your bodies and going to grab at his erection. He moans against you, bucking his hips into your hand while his tongue slips into your mouth. It lasts for a moment, the intimacy of holding him, only to disappear when he’s inside of you, pushing past your already stretched hole and pushing himself deep inside of you. He pulls away, face above you while he grunts and holds your hand, calling you everything sugar and nice. He kisses you with a gentleness that you don’t remember ever feeling.

It isn’t long until you’re clenching around him, gasping his name out and arching your back. You plead to him- begging for him to not stop with tears in your eyes, to be a bit rougher and you allow for him to spill inside of you. He’s hot inside of you, spilling his seed deep into your womb and making you warm all over. He doesn’t stop pumping inside of you, the tenderness making you gasp out and hands clench into loose fists. He holds you close, his cock fully inside of you, not allowing a droplet of semen to be wasted and you hold him, crying and thanking him, kissing at his neck and holding him there with you.

-

You rest your hands in the sink, the small space of the bathroom putrid as the air reeks of acid. Your stomach swirls and your eyes are filled with tears. Your throat burns and the birds sing their morning song outside. You want to believe that you woke up sick; that whatever it is that made you throw up is nothing more than the stomach flu.

But you know better. You know that it isn’t the flu. It’s something worse, something much more than it could ever be. You wish it were the flu. The bathroom drawer scratches open, your hands reaching towards the back where you’ve hidden your box, and when you pull it out, the box rattles in your hand and your heart sinks.

It takes only a few minutes until your timer is beeping, and you’re quick to stop it. Your hands shake as you grab the pregnancy test. You pray and you aren’t sure for what, but when you look at the pregnancy test, two loans, a faint red, stare back at you and you let the plastic clatter against the sink as you sob.

[datawyrms]

Not As Such

For Phic Fight 2021! Using @dp-marvel94 ‘s lovely prompt. On AO3

Something was different with him. It had been for a while, and to his horror, Danny Fenton thinks he might have finally pinpointed it. He's felt off, strange, like his memories, his life, even his own body was foreign to him because....he might not be Danny Fenton at all.

It was the photographs that ruined his life. They were a reminder of some choking wrongness curled up in his chest, solidified it so it got harder and harder to dismiss. The occasional twitches of discomfort that rolled beneath his skin was ignorable, just a weird side effect of being half ghost. Rubbing at his arm, scratching at his hair and running his tongue over his teeth to count them over and over again were just signs of stress. Anxious people didn’t like to keep still, Jazz said all of the extra responsibly just weighed on him that way. Of course a stressed out teenager might be a bit jumpy, or grit and grind at the meaty thing in his mouth that he needed to speak. He always stopped once the foul coppery taint of blood warned him. A damaged tongue could still taste, and the dull pain didn’t really matter. No one else noticed. It was just a way to cope. Totally normal. Even if he felt somehow, it wasn’t. Enough to know not to bring it up. Sam and Tucker would be concerned about the flakes of skin scratched from his ears, or hair tugged free of his scalp, because he lost parts of himself. Bleeding into his own mouth was fine, he didn’t lose anything. The logic was shaky, but he had better things to worry about. Grades, fighting ghosts, hanging out with friends. The little times where he was a cold outsider stuck in the wrong shape always passed. He just had to pull it together and relax.

The photographs always unsettled him. He was not in the photographs. He never remembered any of the times or circumstances that they were taken. He was in them, Danny Fenton absolutely was in those photographs, but the blue eyes always seemed to be judging him. Accusing him. Asking ‘when was this taken, how did you feel’. New photos didn’t do this. The new photos were of him. He compared some from slightly before the accident to now, trying to see the difference, but he never could find a flaw. He used to be able to play it off, think it was just a strange intrusive thought until he actually really looked at the family photo album. Not a single one was familiar. The only ones he recognized, felt attached to were ones his family had mentioned, or talked about before. Second hand knowledge that ‘felt’ right in the moment, but seemed more like a disconnected farce when he tried so hard to find something familiar. A fishing trip, a picnic, hell he’d take a ‘first day of school’ photo at this point, but none of them triggered a familiar sensation or memory. Danny Fenton had been there, he’s there in the photo, so why can’t he feel anything about them? Why can’t he recall something that prompted the picture, what had been happening without guessing from what he can see in that little framed moment of the past? ‘Oh do you remember this?’ was a question he ignored until they clarified, explained more about the photograph so she could nod and say ‘yes’. Even if the answer was always ‘no’. The events sounded right, felt right when a living person told him, but left on his own with only a silent image? Nothing. He’d sound ridiculous if he said that out loud. So what if his memory wasn’t the greatest? He was still Danny. Their friend.

Who didn’t remember grade school. Who didn’t remember their history, their friendship. Of course he remembered how they met. After Sam and Tucker had spoken about it. He was lucky they talked so much, were open and caring while he was disoriented and ‘weird’. From the accident. Of course he was a bit slow on the uptake after playing human electric cable. He only noticed now how he never corrected them, or remembered something different. Tucker would often go ‘oh this reminds me of x’, and he never said that. As nothing really triggered that feeling, the recognition that was fun or amusing to his friends. Ignoring how ‘bad’ his memory was was taking a toll. Sliding a nail under the curve of his ear to scratch at the uneven mess of broken skin helped. He didn’t leave it alone long enough for it to properly heal, the different texture somewhat soothing. The layers and bumps were 'wrong', but only because he'd damaged it when it was whole and flat. It was still his ear, even if the outside was smooth as he hid the self inflicted damage. He was still Danny, just a bit different where no one could see. He had to be, he insisted. Fallen skin, a bit of blood, it wasn’t a big deal.

The photos knew he was a liar. More and more ended up face down, or ‘went missing’. He didn’t want to see the Danny Fenton that wasn’t him. He remembered his friends, he loved his parents (even if he didn’t love being threatened, but nobody’s perfect), and cared about doing well in school. He was still Danny Fenton. Not a ghost just...going along with what he heard and following social norms. You needed to do well in school to get a good job. What kind of job? Should he care? He didn’t know yet, he was young, that was fine. He always liked space, he didn’t just make that up. Didn’t just see how his room was decorated and accepted those were his interests. He didn’t like fighting ghosts as an escape from Danny Fenton’s life. He fought them to protect people, to make up for letting them out in the first place. The tension that eased in his ghost form had nothing to do with being a ‘different’ person. It had nothing to do with being a different face, one with no expectations set that he had not created himself. Danny Phantom was him, and always had been. Always would be. His gloves weren’t a problem, he never needed to scratch or pull or dig. He didn’t need to breathe, so he didn’t choke on the hissing voice in his mind that insisted he was an imposter.

Running away from a problem wasn’t too hard. Just exhausting. He had always been bad at math. Except Danny Fenton had not been bad at math. He had always done fairly well in school, As across the board, like Jazz. Fentons did not get C minuses. It was just being tired, just the ghost fighting that kept him from applying himself like before. There were hundreds of excuses, and everyone bought them. They made far more sense than something as ridiculous as ‘someone else is pretending to be Danny’. Except he spent time staring at questions, reading books that ‘built on fundamentals’ and still struggled. Fundamentals he had, had demonstrated he had, but had lost. Forget solving for ‘x’, he could barely muddle through a times table. ‘You should know this from previous years’ always made him ill. He didn’t know. He didn’t remember it. Danny Fenton knew, because he was the one who lived it. Denying it wasn’t working. Staring at himself in a mirror, trying to find some sign or quirk that felt familiar and purely human only made his veins hum in a furious frustration. Everything comforting, everything familiar was something true of his ghost form. A reflection, an inverted copy of a face that was his; but wasn’t. He should be alarmed, or concerned his anger was strong enough to turn those blue eyes green, but it only felt right that they did. Unnatural, glowing, inhuman. His real eyes to show his own emotion.

Ectoplasm and post human consciousness. That’s what ghosts were, according to his-yes his parents. So he should be fully, properly dead. Danny Fenton could be who he was, while alive. That would be easier. It didn’t explain why he felt nothing familiar about himself. If he was a post human version, why wasn’t there any of the human? Other than the beating heart, the heaving lungs and the smothering, crushing expectation of an identity he’d been expected to assume. One that he liked, at first until the cracks widened. As his discomfort grew and the evidence started making the cracks into chasms. The obvious flaws that everyone glossed over but clung to him like a leech, until there were so many that simply existing was too much to tolerate. He denied it so long that he no longer had a choice in the matter.

He genuinely loved Sam and Tucker, his best friends that always stuck by him, ghost troubles or not. The first people he’d seen, worried about him and trying to calm him from the jarring sensation of existing. So he had to be Danny Fenton. That’s who they thought they were talking to, thought they were helping out, and he’d latched on to that. He’d been confused, adrift and they’d given him a role to fill and a group to belong to. He had so many reasons to admire and like them, separate from who Danny was before. Things he had witnessed first hand, Sam’s willingness to go to bat for those who were pushed aside or considered inferior. How Tucker would throw aside his personal dislike and fears if someone he cared about was in danger, that he could and would put aside even his own jealousy just to be a pleasant person to spend time with. He didn’t need to know about before, or why they chose to be Danny’s friends. They would see it differently. That he had deceived them, pretended to be their friend- even if he truly thought of them as friends. Would they think he was a mockery of Danny Fenton? A creature that wanted to cause them pain and anguish by deception? He couldn’t tell them Danny Fenton was dead. He had to keep being who they expected him to be. They expected Danny to be in this body, and he was stuck in it. A part of it, but not the part his human friends would like. It would be so much easier if they suspected something was wrong. Then they might understand that he hadn’t meant to be lying. That he really did think he was the boy he saw in the mirror, at first.

Jazz noticed more. She knew Danny best, to be fair. Siblings, always under the same roof. Someone who always helped out when going to his parents wasn’t an option. Yet she mostly noticed his fidgeting, not the cause of it. Her ‘dorky little brother’. The one who liked to make spaceship models, but hadn’t so much as looked at one to wistfully hope for it. Not since the accident. They seemed fiddly and complicated, not an enjoyable way to pass the time. Still, that was chalked up to being a teenager with different priorities. Friends and school came first. She’d cover for him, try and help with ghost hunting even though she had avoided it before and generally was a helpful shoulder to lean on when hearing how much pain their parents wanted ghosts to be in. She would be crushed to know her brother, her first brother, the real one was gone. She might even deny it, assure him that it was all in his head, that she loved him even if on some days he just felt like a freak. That he was fine as he was. So he had to keep being Danny Fenton for her too. Even if the taste of blood wasn’t enough to make the unbearable itch stop anymore, that he’d taken to biting his knuckles until flesh broke. The red, thin blood was enough. Human, he just had to be a certain human. It wasn’t that hard. His body knew how to bleed.

Why had he let himself find the answer? Why did he look at those photos enough that he noticed the common thread of where his memory issues stopped? An answer he couldn’t use, couldn’t act on was worse than the baffling twinges and strange thoughts that boiled to the surface of his mind unbidden. Why did he feel heavy and weighed down in his own body, why did the sound of his heart jar him awake in the night like it was some foreign sound? Because it wasn’t his. He felt like he didn’t fit because he wasn’t meant to fit. He was ectoplasm twisted and shoved in an emptied vessel, a monster squirming in a meat puppet that was his- but also not. If he had just ignored it, kept taking it as just ‘ghost powers and humans don’t mix well’ he wouldn’t be sitting here, desperately wishing he could claw free of himself- of Danny without ruining everything for everyone he cared about. One desperate thought was that he was a ghost, fully and entirely. A spirit in a bad place at a bad time, just unlucky. That he could figure out a way to separate himself from this human life he’d stolen by mistake. Except he had no memory of being a ghost either. The Ghost Zone was new and terrifying territory. He genuinely struggled to grasp how to use his powers, and didn’t have a helpful family like he did as a human, people that could remind him how legs worked. Didn’t have people he could mimic and follow enough that it felt natural after the fog of confusion after his accident faded. If he’d woken up on the other side, would he still be like this? Thinking he was a ghost, had always been one until suddenly gaining a weird human side? The Ghost Catcher didn’t work because there was no Danny Fenton to split from. It just skewed aspects of himself. The thing left behind would be no more Fenton than he was, and he doubted either would live long. He was still half human, in body at least. Just not the human they expected, or wanted. A new thing, created in that portal with feet in two worlds he didn’t understand. He didn’t want to be a new thing, he wanted to be the old thing, but he hated being the old thing. He had to keep everyone happy, he couldn’t branch out or act differently, that would be wrong. He owed it to Danny Fenton to live like he would have. He stole his life and gave his family and friends a false hope, he could hardly take it back now. Realized too late, far too late. So he pretended. Noticed how he could pick things up of how he should be when people talked, felt the sickly squirm inside as he lied about remembering, or nodded along. How he could almost sense how people were feeling and follow their lead. A ghost thing? A human thing? A freak thing? He didn’t know how, he just knew once he was alone he wanted to throttle that feeling until it died, and only another pain seemed to lessen it. It was fine. Chapped lips were common enough, it wasn’t a sign that he kept biting them open. Humans didn’t heal that quickly.

 He wasn’t fine. He’d never be fine. Everyone he loved would despise him if he ever slipped up, if they knew the truth. His mom and dad were proof of it. They hated him, completely and utterly. Which they should, he’d stolen their son’s body. Not that they knew that. They didn’t really know they had another son. They made the portal. They looked after him, fed him, said they loved him while he was Danny Fenton. He couldn’t exist without them, it still felt right to call them Mom and Dad, even if he wasn’t a proper Fenton. Maybe on some level they did know. Maybe that’s why they hated Danny Phantom so much, recognized him as the thing that set off their devices and weaponry. Phantom was him, had never been something before he existed. He could feel comfortable in that form, and somehow they could feel it and despised him for it. The monster pretending to be their child daring to feel unrestricted and at ease. Jazz would call him delusional. She would probably be right, if he was Danny Fenton. Which he wasn’t. That was the entire problem. Just crack a smile, remember what he was meant to like and forget it. He owes them. Everything. He can handle it, even if he wants to grab his friends by the shoulders and tell them to really look at him, and stop seeing who they want to see. Who he wants them to see; for their own sake. He half expects the lie curled under his rib cage to fling it open one day in a gory splatter of ‘justice’, but it is content to stay still and remind him with every stolen breath who he isn’t.

 Jazz catches him ‘managing’. She thinks the wounds are for a fight, and he goes along with it. Danny Fenton wasn’t some animal that needed to claw out of his own skin to repent for the constant lies he tells the people he loves. All he needs to do is go along, like always. Maybe fight a bit sloppier next time, take a few more blows. He just wants to move on, live as himself, but can’t. He never can. He probably isn’t all that different from Danny Fenton anyway, but unless they know it isn’t genuine. There’s always the chance he’s acting, pretending to be a dead kid. He can’t tell what feelings are his if he learned how he felt about things second hand, if he hadn’t been doing anything but trying to ‘get back to normal’. Was his ‘favourite food’ his favourite because he genuinely enjoyed the taste? Or was it because someone told him it was, so he deluded himself into agreeing? He slips up.

“I’m so tired of lying, Jazz.”

His sister is thrilled that he’s opened up, even as he bites his lip and wishes he could take those words back. Can he spin it back into a joke, or something less important?

“Danny, I know you’re worried. If it’s stressing you out this much, you should tell them.” Her hand on his shoulder is warm, her tone is encouraging.

She means Mom and Dad. She thinks he means the other secret. The secret that isn't. Yet telling one is impossible. It’s too much as it is. Adding them to the list of those tricked about his nature- it makes the blood in his body feel like phlegm. “I can’t, Jazz. They hate me, remember?” Playing it off, but he’s slipping again. He knows the ‘truth’. They accept Danny Fenton. Which is why they can’t know.

“Danny, you know they don’t hate you. They just need to understand they’re wrong about you.” A weary smile, her hand still in place. “The sooner they know, the sooner they’ll stop saying those kinds of things. And the sooner I can tell them off properly!”

“No- Jazz, they hate me. They’re pretty loud about that.” He doesn’t know why he’s trying to convince her. He just needs to back away, say he’ll think about it and leave it. Now he can’t with how she crouches down a little to look into his eyes, instead of his red and angry knuckles.

“They love you just as much. Hiding from them isn’t helping you, you’re jumpier than a jackrabbit every day. I don’t want you here while I’m off at University feeling like everyone in the house hates you, okay?”

She’s begging for him to let her help. Wanting what’s best for him. As she doesn’t know she isn’t talking to her brother of fourteen years. His tongue bleeds, but the guilt doesn’t lessen. “There’s nothing I can tell them.” She doesn't catch how his words slur slightly.

“What? Danny, just tell them you’re their son. I’ll help you, oaky? You’ll feel so much better not needing to hide anymore.”

He probably would feel better. Every bit of him longed for it, but knew he couldn’t in equal measure. “I can’t tell them that.” He doesn’t want to tell that lie, to double down on it. Their absolute hatred of him is warranted- he can’t steal that from them with another lie.

She rolls her eyes. Like he’s being a fool. “Of course you can! If the lies are stressing you out, you can tell them the truth.”

She doesn’t understand. It’s easier to slip away by going intangible so she can’t keep her hand on his shoulder. The comfort feels unearned. “They wouldn’t like the truth.” No one would. Besides him. He’d be free of the burden of his ‘human form’. The body he took to exist with. Not that he’d probably last long once Mom and Dad knew. They’d properly hate him in both forms, not just the one he was comfortable in.

“They’d be thrilled to know you’re a ghost hunter like them, you know that. Seriously, what’s wrong? You look pale.”

“I’m always pale.” He can’t answer that question. He’s wrong, everything’s wrong. He wants to spit, but he has to choke the blood down instead. She was just trying to help. Stay calm, stop talking.

“No, this is little brother is being weird pale. Did something happen? Why do you think they’ll hate you now?”

She won’t believe him anyway. “Uh. Being told how much they hate Danny Phantom will do that to a guy.”

“All the more reason to make them stop, you just need to tell them Fenton and Phantom are the same person.”

“And what if we weren't?” He isn’t thinking. He’s covering his mouth, too late for it to matter. Yet so many muscles relax once it’s out. The weight on his back shrugged off by even posing the question. A question he shouldn't be posing, one she’ll disregard, but the moment of freedom is nice.

Her eyes are too serious as she looks at him, a quick scan up and down. To check if he’s joking? Does she see how ‘the truth set him free’ there? A corny saying, but he can admit it feels better than the snarling smothering force jabbing at his heart. “But you are?”

Not a statement. A question. All he has to do is laugh and lie again. So why- “No. I don’t think I am.”

[justanotheronechicagofan]

Previous Chapter 

10. Elephants 

series summary - Will the Halstead brothers be able to reconnect with their sister after 5 years? chapter summary - the Halstead reunion continues Madeline Halstead (oc), Will Halstead, Jay Halstead, Mouse [mentioned]  TW - pregnancy related death 

series masterlist  | main masterlist

Madeline basked in the warmth, feeling her roots revitalising as their chatter enveloped her, a sense of tribe, a much missed shield. Still, It seeped in corroding the cocoon.

It. An unwanted guest - never leaving, always looming. Ready to creep, sprinkling in doubt, threatening to ruin… well, anything. They won’t like them. A decorated hero turned detective and a doctor. They like boxes, they like lines, they like nor-

“Babe, just tell them already!” she could hear Jess’ laughter. Angelic against Its coils.“You’ve got this! They all love them, what’s different this time?”

But what if they don’t Jess? What if they lea-

"-addie, you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry" The brothers watched Madeline flash a smile. They didn't miss her tenseness, the way she clasped her trembling hands onto her teacup. The siblings were glad at the more smoother than expected reunion but they all knew of the certain elephants they couldn’t ignore. They decided to ride out the silence. 

Finally, she broke the quiet. “I uh- I need to tell you guys something. Something important” That phrase paired with her expression would have warranted teasing from the brothers followed by Madeline's bursts of laughter. Something related to getting seconds of ice cream or wanting a second dog perhaps. But this wasn't 5 years ago. 

Madeline bore into them, searching as if their eyes laid a hint of what their reactions would be. Both brothers tried for a reassuring smile, hoping to pass this sudden test she had put them on. Jay hadn't felt this level of nervousness, if ever - which was saying something considering he sat across from _the worst _of what Chicago had to offer everyday - he felt as if she didn't like what she found, there would be another five years lost. 

When she seemed satisfied, Madeline spoke, “Jay- you’ve met but uh I don’t think I introduced him. Not officially anyway. And Will, you haven’t met yet but,” she took a deep breath and beamed, “I have a son. His name is Nathan, Nate … He’s 3 and I love him, more than anything in the world. I know- sounds corny but it’s true” Her expression was undeniable.

Will was elated. He had heard from Jay that night when the detective had stumbled into his apartment - “Will, she was right there. And there’s this kid, the cutest kid man. He called her mama… Fuck - Will, she had a kid and we weren’t there” - still, he could count the times he had been this happy. The brothers knew that after half a decade apart, it would be a gamble if their little sister would want them to be in her life let alone her family’s. Will hoped that her telling them was a good sign - maybe some sort of invitation that would lead to him becoming an uncle… He realised he had just been sitting there - smiling like an idiot - and rushed to congratulate but was stopped by Madeline's shake of her head.

"Please. J-just let me- I need to tell you this" Madeline breathed out, her eyes dripping with something they couldn't quite place. 

Jay recognised the mint green envelope that she pulled out of her purse. She opened it and laid out a photograph on the table, her movements so careful as if the slightest jolt would would make it evaporate. 

They immediately recognised Madeline - younger and thinner - sat on a sofa, mid laughter with a young woman in the middle. The woman reflecting Madeline (who Jay guessed was in her early 20's at most) had blonde hair, glowing skin and a growing bump to match. She was snuggled against a similarly aged man with dark brown skin who lovingly gazed at her as he held her close.

"Danny took this one, it's one of my favourites," her eyes crinkled at the memory. "That's Ty and Jess - they're family y'know. Really helped me out" 

Jay recognised that look even through her misting eyes - it was one he had seen many times before - the look Nadia and Erin had when they had talked about each other. 

Madeline continued, "Jess and I - we were so close, like sisters. And people used to think we were cause of our eyes," she shared a wistful smile, pausing as her baby pink nails traced the edges of the photograph. 

Jay furrowed his eyebrows at the past tense - were they no longer friends? did this 'Ty' have something to do with it? had this ‘Jess’ just upped and left? 

When she looked up, her eyes were filled with pride, "Nate ... he was a preemie, nearly 2 months early. But healthy considering - 4 lbs, 6oz." 

A smile touched the brothers' eyes as they imagined their little sister, a part of that precious moment. But it faded away at her features starting to cloud. 

"But Jess-," Madeline started as if on rote, her agony seeping through her blankness, "-she had complications and they took her for an emergency c section-” 

Jay recognised that look as she trailed off. It was one he was all too familiar with - the one he couldn’t hide. Hoping to be the anchor Will and now Hailey were, Jay shifted closer to her where she was fiddling with her bracelet.  

Madeline jerked, blinking herself back to the banquette. She took a shaky breath and continued, "Before they took her, I was so scared y’know?” Jay couldn’t take his little sister’s gaze as it crushed his spirit.

Her eyes empty, she shared a hollow laugh, “But she was laughing … told me to chill out, that she'd be back with Nate before I knew it-” She braved a tight smile, hoping to smother the pain. Knowing it never did. It didn’t matter that every syllable had been rehearsed, imprinted in her mind - Madeline always wished she could pause at Jess, beaming before they wheeled her away, before they- 

The brothers held a breath as they realised where this was heading. Will had seen one too many of these cases even working in the ED. The ones where what should be a happy occasion would turn into one of much grief - the ones where more often than not, they couldn’t give answers. 

“They said she lost too much blood- t-that there was nothing they could do.”

“Jess- she never got to hold him” 

They saw the blame laced with confusion. The waves of emotions she had fought to surf, the numbers of tears she had shed, the days she had clung onto to arrive at this exact place with her grief. They saw it all. They knew the power of the nightmare those two sentences held. It was too great. 

Will found himself thanking God in that moment. He didn’t know what to feel about that. Or in fact any of it. Guilty for being thankful that it had been the friend that was struck with the ultimate misfortune? Or was it because he let this happen to her, his little sister in the first place? Maybe it was both. Or was it relief? None of that changes anything. He could hear in the back of his mind. None of that changes the fact that you failed her.

Jay didn’t know what to say. Having done one too many notifications and witnessed the tragedy that came with the job, he knew. That no apology would be enough. Probably better than none though he thought. But everything about one just sounded phoney. Because in the end, it wouldn’t change the fact that he hadn’t been there. That he had failed her. All he could bring himself to say was,

“What’s he like?” 

“Nate? He has Ty’s eyes y’know. So Much life in them. And he has this laugh … you have to hear him, it’s just like Jess’ - it lightens everything. Oh and he’s silly and hilarious, just like his Dad … has the biggest heart … he’s just amazing.” 

You have to meet him, I want you to. She wanted to say. Madeline didn’t know why she felt as if she had to make an appeal of Nate. You’ve done this before - why all this now? she thought. But she knew, that this was different. Because this was Jay and Will. 

As he listened to Madeline beam about her son, Jay couldn’t help but replay the all too short meeting he had at her porch that day. And before he could swallow it back, it slipped out, 

“Can we meet him?” Shit. That was way too soon. 

But his growing doubt came to a halt as soon as Madeline’s features lit up. “Y-Yeah? For real? You want to?” 

“Maddie, heck yeah! Of course we do” The brothers’ reply didn’t do justice for how truly, undeniably happy they were. 

See? Told ya Madeline heard Jess’ smile. She breathed again,_ It_ silenced. Madeline couldn’t put a word to it but it felt great, something like relief and ecstasy rolled into one. But she wasn’t done yet. She still had another brother to ask about … 

"And Mousey?” 

Will gave a cautious glance, knowing how much it hurt his little brother to see his best friend go. 

Jay chuckled at that nickname. He hadn’t heard that one in a while, “He went back about 2 years ago, comms specialist”

“Really?" 

“Mmhh. Do you remember the sergeant we used to tell you about? Well, he put a unit together and he reached out to Mouse” Jay smiled, proud. 

With the same admiration as when she was little, Madeline spoke, “Seriously? That’s awesome! That unit’s lucky they have him. And … he’s okay?” Will noticed the look his younger siblings shared - he wondered if it had something to do with that one and only phone call he ever got from Pat while he was in New York. 

“Mads, He’s good, spoke to him about a month ago - I should probably call him again soon though” Tell him you’re finally home, safe. 

“Yeah? That’s great. Maybe I’ll join you, make it a surprise? Oh! And do you know his address? I want to send him something. Samoas and Cinnamon Crunch right? And jerky. Wait… or was that your thing?”

Jay smiled at her chatter, “No, he likes ‘em too Mads. And yeah, I’ll text you everything - Man, he is gonna freak out when he hears you.” He was surprised that Madeline had remembered those little details because even though the nightmares chased him, being overseas felt like another life ago. He guessed in a way it was. Will couldn’t help but feel a pang as he was reminded yet again of how his sister who was barely in school at the time knew more about Jay’s time with the Rangers than him. 

“Good. I missed him” she shared a sweet smile before it turned into a mischievous grin. “So?”

“Yes Madeline?” Will amused, raising his eyebrows. 

She huffed in return, “C’mon! All I know so far is that Jay’s a detective in a district with a nice sergeant and that you work in the Emergency Room in the same hospital as Connor which who kne-”

“Hang on ‘nice’? Which district did you go to?” Jay joked. There was one thing everyone agreed on at the 21st district - Trudy Platt although one of the best cops in the city, nice was not the first word that came to mind. 

“Yeah, Sergeant Platt” she stated as if it was the most obvious. 

“Pretty sure this is the first and last time I’ll ever hear Platt and nice in the same sentence - the less I have to interact with her the better.” Will dramatically shuddered before laughing with the others. 

“But seriously, stop avoiding my question.” Madeline mocked annoyance. 

Will jokingly put his hands up. “Alright, alright,” He straightened up and announced “Well Maddie, I have a girlfriend. Her name’s Natalie-”

“About damn time too. He’s been pining after her for how long? since you started there?" Jay smirked. 

“Ooooh. So she’s at Gaffney’s too? Is she a doctor? Or a nurse? What’s she like?” 

Will’s eyes crinkled at her curiosity. “Yeah, we work in the ED together - she’s a doctor too. Natalie’s great, I think you’ll like her. Hang on -” he paused, fumbling with his phone. “She can’t wait to meet you by the way.” He added before giving her his screen. 

It was a selfie taken in a park or maybe a garden. Will’s girlfriend ‘Natalie’ was white and had shoulder length brunette hair - there was something kind in her eyes as she laughed. Probably to one of Will’s Really Bad jokes… Madeline amused. She’s pretty … I’m loving that top, maybe I’ll ask her where it’s from. Madeline chuckled at her eldest brother’s grin as he held her close. There was only one word to describe his expression - Smitten. 

When she swiped to the next picture, she was pretty sure her heart stopped. It was probably taken a few seconds after the first one and everything else was the same except from one unmissable detail. Madeline zeroed in on the toddler now in Natalie’s arms. Crap, I waited too late. Did I miss becoming an aunt?! How old is he? Maybe like two? 

Will laughed at her shocked beyond belief expression. “You’re not an aunt just yet Tiny. He’s Natalie’s son but hoping that down the road y’know …” He trailed off, giving a lopsided smile. 

“You are SO in love with her” she teased before turning her attention to … “Jay?”

“Good luck” Will laughed. “Even if there is someone, he’s not sharing - Believe me Maddie, I’ve tried.” 

“Uh-huh. Like I believe that. C'mon there's no one?” She tried again, now putting the puppy eyes on max. 

“Nope.” Jay smiled and she couldn’t tell if he was lying - she never could to be honest. Damn his Ranger training. She was about to let it go but she saw Will raise his eyebrows and take a sip of his mug.

So there is someone she smirked. 

As he looked at the row of townhouses standing impressive against the dusking sky, Jay wondered what this place was to his little sister. He had barely resisted the urge to ask the whole less than 5 minute drive to this street. The not knowing was honestly killing him but he heard his partners voice, “She’ll come home Jay.” He smiled, hugging Madeline. Guess I’ll have to follow Hails on this one too.

Watching his younger siblings hugging, Will smiled. Our family’s back. Maybe he hadn’t let himself get there but it was clear to him now how much he had craved it. He squeezed her tight, feeling that missing part of his soul starting to be found. And as he watched her walk through the gate, he made a promise right there and then - He wasn’t going to let go. Not this time.

Walking up the stone steps, Madeline couldn’t hide her grin at her body full with that warm cozy feeling. That’s got to be one of the best days ever. Replaying bits of the long awaited catch up, she chuckled at Will calling her Tiny - a nickname she almost forgot about and hated when she had turned a teen - she now realised how much she missed it. 

The brothers drove back in silence for a while and when Jay heard Will say,

“She didn’t ask about Dad.”

He nodded and stared ahead. That was an elephant he was unwilling to touch. Not yet anyway. 

                                            💙✨🦋✨💙

A/N - The characters belong to Dick Wolf and are from the One Chicago universe he created. Thank you so much for reading! This chapter was really difficult for me to write and at one point I considered deleting the whole series but I kept at it and about 4 months later here we are ;) This one touched on a really heavy topic but I hope I was able to do it justice and that you enjoyed it. I’m still not sure how I feel about it but I think this is the best I can hope for in this chapter - let me know what you think 💗

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: You definitely won’t trust now, but I hope to see y’all in two weeks anyway, please don’t hate me -Danny

Words: 5,048

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Book 5

Listen to: I Only Wanna Talk To You -by The Maine

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A New Vow.

Many things changed as the school year came to an end, none of them was good. 

Students would avoid her in the halls, they would stare at her and Harry carelessly, some frowning, some just plain scared. That wasn't new and it didn't hurt her anymore.

What hurt her was the way Harry grew distant out of the blue. He wouldn't touch her, not even sit beside her on accident. He would talk to her as if nothing had happened but she could see it in his eyes, some kind of distress, she had the ugly feeling that he resented her.

Mel was talking to Erick one morning in the courtyard, where they used to hang out during her first year. She was there to deliver Dumbledore's message and to thank him, it was their first time talking since the first task.

"I don't know what I would've done without the watch... it saved us."

Erick shook his head. "I merely confirmed his suspicions, Dumbledore was already looking for you when I got to him."

"You got him when I fainted during the task, you stood guard outside the tent while we were inside and I was..." She didn't know what to call it, her first thought was always directed to the word 'dying' but she knew now that those weren't her feelings, it was Harry who'd been dying, not her.

"You looked possessed. I thought you were... that you had..."

"That I was crazy," Mel sighed.

"...How's Harry?"

"We don't talk about that," Mel frowned, not wanting to go there. "Dumbledore has a message for you."

"Tell me."

"You won't like it."

"Try me."

"He said you could be of help," She replied carefully. "That if you're willing, you could join us."

"For what?" Erick asked in puzzlement.

"He didn't explain... said you could search for rogues."

After ten seconds, Erick spoke timidly. "Rogues like me?"

"I think so..."

"He wants me to dig around, see if any other Slytherin shares my... views."

"He kept saying how we have to stick together," Mel shook her head. "I think he's expecting us to try harder next year, unite the houses while we can..."

"I..." Erick started to stress. "It's too dangerous for me, you know that. Half of my friends come from Death Eaters or you-know-who's supporters. It's like walking on thin ice."

"You don't have to do it," Mel said promptly. "I know how your parents feel about this, and if they catch you doing something like that, trying to speak in Dumbledore's favour... I know that in comparison to me, you're on your own. I can't make you risk your well being like this."

Erick stared at her, he remained silent for a while, Mel didn't know what to do.

"Did you know, Miss," He finally uttered, "that Rapunzel isn't saved by a prince?"

She tilted her head and waited for him to finish.

"Found her way out of the mess, rebuilt her life on her own," Erick continued calmly. "I believe we'll do too."

"Bin havin' a cuppa with Olympe," Hagrid said as they settled around his table. "She's jus' left."

"Who?" said Ron curiously.

"Madame Maxime, o' course!" said Hagrid.

"You two made up, have you?" said Ron.

"Dunno what yeh're talkin' about," said Hagrid. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and examined Harry and Mel closely. "You all righ'?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"All right," Mel smiled.

"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. " 'Course yeh're not. But yeh will be. Knew he was goin' ter come back. Known it fer years, Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledore's plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried."

Mel looked down to her cup, frowning.

"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," He said, patting her shoulder gently. "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did. Yeh did as much as yer fathers would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that."

They smiled, the very first glimpse of their old self coming to the surface.

"What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?" Harry asked. "He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him — that night."

"Got a little job fer me over the summer– Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou' it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe — Madame Maxime ter you — might be comin' with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded."

"Is it to do with Voldemort?" "Migh' be," Hagrid grimaced. "Now... who'd like ter come an'visit the las' skrewt with me? I was jokin' — jokin'!"

Mel's eyes found Harry's and he quickly averted his gaze. She frowned, a resolution already forming in her mind that she would clear things out with her best friend before they were back home.

She walked into his room when she knew he'd be alone packing up his things.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" He said, gaze fixed on his trunk.

"I want to talk to you. You're the only one I want to talk to, but you keep avoiding me..."

"What d'you mean?"

"Can you at least look at me for just a second?" She frowned.

Harry did as told, his face remaining neutral as Mel approached. She looked into his eyes and pulled him in for a hug.

"I'm sorry," She mumbled against his shoulder. "Whatever I did– Please don't be mad. I swear all I wanted was to help you–"

Harry stepped away from her, not returning the hug.

"What're you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about! You don't... you won't–"

"I'm not mad at you!" Harry said exasperated. "Don't you see this is all my fault?"

Mel blinked.

"What?"

"I saw the bruises... What happened to you during the time Voldemort got me– you could've died!"

"Harry," She looked at him in disbelief. "You could've died."

"This is about you," He replied firmly. "It's my fault. I've dragged you to all of my mistakes and you end up hurt–"

"Those were my choices–"

"It was never your idea," He stated. "Dumbledore said that we're too close..."

"No! That's not... I did all that because I need you to be–"

"This was a mistake," Harry was breathing heavily, he was in distress. "What we did was a mistake."

"What, exactly?" She said in a shaky whisper, knowing where this was going.

"You know," His eyes hardened.

"That's rubbish!" It felt like holding sand, desperately trying not to let him slip away from her fingers. "This is not the solution–!"

"I don't think I ever liked you for real," He blurted out, "it wasn't my choice..."

"What?"

"I... I mean it," He turned around, hastily packing the last bits of clothing. "I think it might be the lifeline stuff... didn't like that you were getting close to other people– It sounds selfish, but it makes sense... some kind of instinct– doesn't mean it was real..."

"Harry, don't be stu–"

"I don't want you," He insisted. "I can't have you."

"Glasses–"

"My name is Harry!" He yelled, turning to face her. "Stop calling me that! I hate it! I hate the stupid nickname and I don't like you!"

Mel felt cornered, Harry had never spoken to her like that before. He turned back and slammed down the lid of his trunk.

"Just leave me alone." He said, abandoning the conversation as well as the room.

She stumbled back to his bed, falling heavily on it. Without being able to control herself, she burst into tears.

Mel avoided him for the rest of the term, spending most of her free time with the twins like the old times. It was good for her spirit, they knew how to make her laugh. During the feast she was seated between them, Dumbledore stood up to give his farewell speech and they fell silent.

"The end of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, fixing his eyes on the Hufflepuff table, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here, enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

And so they did. Every student in the room.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about... Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

George looked down at her and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory. There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

She refused to look for him and kept her gaze on the old man ahead.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honour him."

She lifted her goblet and said his name, but found herself saying it with a new resentment that had never been there before. It didn't feel right.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before. Every guest in this Hall, will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst."

Her fists were closed tightly, there was still a faint greenish shadow were the bruise on her forearm had been days before.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

" 'Arry!" Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps, Joseph was beside her.  "We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope. I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."

"It's very good already," said Ron clumsily.

Mel had her attention on Joseph.

"It was nice," Mel smiled fondly. "You're ten times funnier than your cousin."

Joseph laughed.

"Don't judge him too hard, it's the way he's been brought up. He used to be a lousy kid, very loving too... people grow out of it, unfortunately."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Maybe," He smiled sweetly at her. "Take care, will you?"

"Yes."

"Will you watch after my cousin too?"

"Not like I have a choice..."

He chuckled. "See you, Mel."

"Good-bye, 'Arry," said Fleur, turning to go with Joseph. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"

As Mel watched them leave, she had the reassuring feeling that maybe Erick wasn't entirely on his own after all.

"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," said Ron. "D'you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"

"Karkaroff did not steer. He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork." Krum said behind them. He looked at Hermione. "Could I have a vord?"

"Oh... yes... all right," said Hermione.

"You'd better hurry up!" Ron called loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!"

"Oh shut up, Ron," Mel scolded. "Let her have one moment in private with him."

"What, is not like she'll be missing him lots, they didn't even date."

"You don't need to date someone in order to miss them," She snapped. "Or like them, for that matter..." She felt Harry purposefully look away as she spoke. When Krum returned, he talked to them.

"I liked Diggory. He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang — with Karkaroff."

"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" Harry asked.

Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. Krum had already started walking away when Ron burst out, "Can I have your autograph?"

Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless carriages that were now trundling toward them up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for Ron.

The trip back was good enough, even if Mel and Harry couldn't look at each other in the eye. Dumbledore's speech had given them energies, and just like he'd said before, they still had to remain together, for the greater good.

"There's nothing in there," Hermione signalled to the Daily Prophet Harry was staring at. "You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."

"Of course he is," Mel scoffed, "he's an idiot, but not that kind of idiot."

"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this."

"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," said Hermione delightedly. "As a matter of fact, Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron.

"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," said Hermione.

"Oh, right!" Mel said. "What was that about?"

"How was she doing it?" said Harry.

"How did you find out?" said Ron.

"Well, it was you and Mel who gave me the idea, Harry."

"What? How?"

"Bugging," said Hermione happily.

"But you said they didn't work —"

"Oh not electronic bugs," said Hermione. "No, you see... Rita Skeeter" — Hermione's voice trembled with quiet triumph — "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn —" Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag. "— into a beetle."

"You're kidding," said Ron. "You haven't... she's not..."

"Oh yes she is," said Hermione.

"Holy Godric," Mel laughed loudly for the first time in days.

"That's never — you're kidding —" Ron mumbled, examining the jar.

"No, I'm not. I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."

"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry exclaimed.

"When you fainted there was a beetle in the curtain as well," Mel replied, her eyes fixed on the tiny creature. "And when I talked to Cedric before the first task..."

"Exactly. And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."

"When we saw Malfoy under that tree..."

"He was talking to her, in his hand. He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid. I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London. I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."

"Hermione, I love you," Mel grinned.

The door of the compartment slid open.

"Very clever, Granger," Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there. "So, you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favourite boy again. Big deal." He stared at them with bright eyes. "Trying not to think about it, are we? Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out," Harry tensed.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this! Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well — second — Diggory was the f —"

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Harry blinked and looked down at the floor.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all on the ground and they were on their feet, all four of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred entering their compartment.

"Interesting effect," said George, examining Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Odd– I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, Harry, and George pushed them out into the corridor, when they straighten up, Ron turned his head slightly towards her.

"Er... Mel?"

She walked out of the compartment and found Erick standing there, looking down at the three Slytherins.

"Oh," She smiled. "Hello. Don't worry boys, I got this."

Erick had a sort of exasperated look on his face.

"Why don't you turn around and forget you saw this," George ignored her. "We promise not to hurt you if you do."

"You promise not to hurt me?" Erick let out a dry laugh. "Right..."

"He's not here to report us," Ron said, pushing his brother back into the compartment. "Listen to Mel..."

"Don't annoy her, the year's over and so is the committee," George insisted.

"George," Mel sighed. "It's okay."

"Listen, we can clear all doubts in a moment, but can I talk to her first?" Erick frowned. "In private."

The boys entered the compartment reluctantly, they had just closed the door when he spoke.

"I'll do it. Whatever Dumbledore wants me to do."

Mel was taken by surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"What he said during the speech... he's right," He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's time to make a choice."

"But your parents–"

"Don't have to know. If there's any chance that there are more people like me... if I can convince them... it'll be worth it, right?"

Before she could stop herself, she held his hand.

"Come."

"What?"

"Come in for a second, meet the Weasleys."

"So they can kill me? No thanks–"

"They won't," She dragged him inside. Everyone stared at them. "Erick won't report us."

"Good for him," Ron replied in disinterest.

"I think it's time we clear things up," She continued with determination. "Erick and I are good friends. He doesn't need to prove his loyalty to anyone, but he wants to help my uncle, so it'd be brilliant if you could, you know, be nice to him."

"No need to look so outraged," Erick said, staring at the twins' faces. "Being a Slytherin doesn't equal being a monster. I could've reported you to Professor McGonagall thousands of times during the school year but I kept my mouth shut. Why?"

"Because you knew we could've kicked your arse?"

"Very classy," He rolled his eyes. "I did it out of consideration for Mel. Now Dumbledore asked for my help and that's what I'll give. All I want is for you to stay out of my way and stop acting like I'm the danger. I assure you, Mel's the bad influence here. All I care about is being of use."

A heavy silence surrounded them as the boys processed the news.

"All right then, be of use," George shrugged. "Close the door and sit down, we've had enough visitors for today."

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards. "Be of use, Flint, open the window before you sit."

"I'm going to regret this..." Erick groaned, doing as asked.

She purposely seated Erick between her and Harry for the rest of the trip.

"You going to tell us, then?" Harry said to George after a while. "Who you were blackmailing?"

"What?" Erick looked around in confusion.

"Long story," Hermione said over her book.

"It doesn't matter," said Fred. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," said George, shrugging.

"Come on!"

Harry, Hermione, Ron and her insisted so much that Fred lost his patience.

"All right, all right, if you really want to know... it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman? Are you saying he was involved in —"

"Nah. Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?"

"You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah."

"Well," He glanced at Mel, "The git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

"So?"

"So," said Fred, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"So I guess, you could say I told you so, Lady," George scowled. "We were idiots."

"But — it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione.

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back."  

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!"

"Tell me about it," George scoffed. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?"

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"I knew it!" Mel exclaimed.

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win! Well — I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope– The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

"My Grandad's a big fan of Zonko's," Erick mentioned casually, placing his cards on the table. "And he relishes on supporting young inventors, reminds him of the old days. If you send me samples I'll show them to him and he might help you... What? Don't look at me like that, it's not dirty money!"

"Sorry," Fred said, raising a brow. "It's weird to see you acting like... well, like a good person."

"Unexpected, you mean," George suggested. "You have the looks of a conceited prat."

"Give it time," Mel muttered.

"Shut it," Erick nudged her arm. "Anyway, I better leave and finish my rounds before we arrive... I'll write if anything comes up, Mel."

They waved him goodbye, the twins looked at her with their eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"Nothing," Fred smirked. "Bad influence you are then, aren't you?"

"You've corrupted Slytherin's Prince!"

"Careful Harry," Fred teased. "Don't let him get too comfortable or he'll think he's got a chance!"

"Shut up," Mel interrupted harshly. "Erick doesn't like me that way..."

"Sure thing, and Krum's nothing but a good mate to Hermione," George grinned.

"Fred — George — wait a moment."

She heard Harry said after leaving the compartment. She froze, curiosity winning over her.

"Take it," He said, and she could hear the distinct sound of coins inside a sack falling onto someone's hands.

"What?" said one of the twins.

"Take it. I don't want it."

"You're mental–"

"No, I'm not. You take it and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."

"He is mental."

"Listen, if you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long."

He was giving them the tournament's money. Her heart did that odd flip it hadn't done in days.

"Harry," she kept hearing, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here."

"Yeah, think how many Canary Creams that is– Just don't tell your mum where you got it... although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it..."

"Harry–"

"Look, take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favour, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."

Harry left the compartment and faced her. There was a moment where she caught a glimpse of something, for a second he looked like he wanted to speak. It disappeared right away though, taking all her hopes with it. He scowled and walked past her without uttering a word.

"See you, Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the back.

"'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Harry — thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.

Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station. There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys' car.

As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come... and he would have to meet it when it did.

Mel entered her mother's car in silence, she was still trying to understand how things had gone to the dogs between her and Harry so quickly. There was something pressing on her chest and she wasn't sure she wanted to plug it out.

Her mother spoke for the first time in the day.

"We're not staying at Privet Drive this summer."

"What?" Mel asked absently.

"We'll go there to get your clothes, then we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning to Remus' place," Her mother explained quickly. "I know you want to stay and make sure Harry's fine, but I have things to do and you can't be left alone–"

"Okay."

Her mother stared at her.

"What?"

"I know Harry's going to be safe, surrounded by muggles and all," She tried to keep her voice neutral. "If we're of use somewhere else, I want to go."

Emily knew right away that something was wrong, but whether if she thought it was about Harry or not, she didn't comment on it.

"All right. It'll be a long summer, this one..."

"Yeah," Mel looked out the window as the car left their parking spot.

The girl felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she'd been dreading to go back and have no one to talk to but Harry. Not that he'd be visiting her house at all, but at least now she had an excuse to stay away from him. To leave him alone, just as he'd requested.

Mel thought, very bitterly, that her biggest dream and worst nightmare had come true at the same time. She made a vow not to wish for anything ever again.

Next Part —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha��� @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere​ @t-rexs-world

[oliveiraveiro]

Control

Open Heart, Rafael Aveiro x F!MC

Additional Rafael scene after the events of Book 2, Chapter 12 in which Casey seeks comfort from Rafael after the funeral.

rating: teen & up / words: 2117

note: a great day to raf stans only <3 this is my offering so we can all pretend ohsy doesn’t exist

Casey could swear she can hear her own heartbeat as she waited for someone to answer the door. Throughout the memorial, as well as in the past few days, she has done really well in putting up a brave face.

But after today… after Jackie, the strongest person she knew, broke down crying in front of her and fell asleep listening to her breathing… the gravity of losing two good people who were her friends finally hit her. And when she thinks about how she almost died too, how he almost died… she cannot help but to want to scream and cry and punch something all at the same time.

It is late at night, and she knows at the back of her mind that knocking at Juliana’s door at this time is too impolite. But she must see him. She just needs a reminder too that he is alive and breathing, that although she lost him before, he is not gone like Danny and Bobby.

Before she can focus on feeling like something is gripping her heart again as she thinks about them, Juliana finally opens the door. Her doubts about coming tonight completely turn into regret as she sees her looking sleepy in her nightgown, but before she can apologize and attempt to just leave, the older woman gives her a kind, sad smile and immediately motions her to come inside.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t wake me. Raf couldn’t sleep either.” Juliana thankfully says before she can fumble with her words. She is relieved that she is awake, but to hear that Rafael also was… Casey swallows the lump in her throat, willing herself not to tear up. “The room on the right upstairs.”

Casey simply gives her a grateful smile before she goes without hugging her or speaking a word because she knows she only needs one comforting touch for the dam holding back her tears to give out and break. She quietly runs up the stairs, then softly knocks at the familiar door of Rafael’s childhood room. A second passes then she hears an invitation to come in.

With a deep breath she opens the door, steps inside the room, then closes it behind her. She gives Rafael time to take in that she was here. She watches her own hand at the doorknob for another second before she turns and finally meets his gaze.

Rafael is sat up on his bed in a white T-shirt and gray sweats. Apart from looking like he recently woke up from a coma, it was very obvious that he had been crying. Casey watches him set something down on the side table as she walks towards him, and as soon as she realized it was the photobooth picture of them along with Sienna and Danny from the carnival, there was no stopping the dam from breaking.

She reaches for the photo but fails to take it as she falls to her knees after a violent sob. Casey cries, a hand holding onto Rafael’s knee for support as she lets out all that she has been keeping deep inside.

He quickly joins her on the floor, pulling her close to him so she can cry on his chest. He stopped crying almost half an hour ago, already thinking that there were probably no tears left in him, but the agony in Casey’s sobs has tears streaming down his face yet again.

To think that she was feeling the same torment as him. The same guilt, the same mourning, the same feeling of absolute helplessness. He holds her tight, wishing he can shield her from all the pain. But sadly, and extremely ironically, the way for them to process their grief is to first drown in it.

And so that is what they do. Like being near death’s doorstep hand by hand, they do it together.

For the first time, Casey lets herself feel. She lets herself feel beyond terrified thinking about what happened to them. She wallows in her grief for Danny and Bobby. She accepts the anger she has for Travis, for Senator Farrugia, for this unfair, cruel world. She lets her love for Sienna overwhelm her. The same with her love for Rafael. She takes in the guilt that she is relieved that he did not die too. That she did not. She lets all of it overcome her because Rafael is here to pull her back up to the surface.

Rafael also lets himself sink to the deepest end of his sorrow. He lets himself realize that all he can do right now is accept things as they are. That while he might be heroic, he is not a superhero who can and will save everyone all the time. And as terrifying this fact is, sometimes all he can do is save himself.

It did not seem like either of them could stop crying, but after maybe an hour Rafael was relieved to realize that sobs no longer wracked Casey’s body. He moves one of his arms, starting to gently rub her back.

Casey moves after another minute, wiping her face and sniffing, sitting next to Rafael so he could also change his position.

He looked even more of a mess now, and judging his ruined shirt, she knows she only looked worse. “Raf…” Casey starts, but was unable to continue without her lips trembling once again.

Rafael gives her hand a squeeze, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips, then another that lingers a second longer. “I know, Casey.” He answers softly before getting the both of them up and making her sit on the bed. He gets her some tissues and a glass of water from his desk and later they both lay on their backs on his bed, both comfortable and comforted by silence and each other’s presence.

Rafael was now just thinking about how warm his fresh shirt was, but Casey’s thoughts are still far away from the room.

“They’re gone, Raf. They’re really gone.” Casey finally speaks a sentence. “When we go back to Edenbrook, Bobby and Danny won’t be there.”

She spoke with such finality that Rafael feels like his face has been splashed with ice cold water. He struggles to take in a full breath of air, but he finds her hands and again he gives it a squeeze, their fingers interlocking. “They’re gone,” he agrees.

Casey looks over at Rafael, and he meets her gaze almost immediately. “But we’re still here.”

“We are.” This time Rafael answers without missing a beat. “And we’re gonna make it count. If not for ourselves, for the people who love us.”

“And Danny and Bobby?��

“Especially them.” Rafael agrees again, turning on his side to face Casey, and she follows suit.

She looks up into his eyes, then steals a glance at his lips. He smiles a little and slowly leans in to meet her lips with his, and they share a gentle, comforting kiss.

They pull away after a while, Rafael pressing another kiss on top of Casey’s head, and he pulls her close to him again.

“Did Sora ever come to visit?” Casey asks almost immediately, and despite being emotionally spent, Rafael finds it in him to laugh softly.

“Really? Right after our great kiss?” He gives her a small grin, to which she only smiles sheepishly. “She visited right after I was discharged.”

“What did she say?” Casey wraps an arm around his torso, cuddling closer. Despite now feeling numb with all that has happened, her heart flutters at how much she missed being this close to him and how safe it feels in his arms.

“She apologized for breaking up with me when she did.” Rafael lightly massages Casey’s shoulder with one hand.

“Did she want to take you back?” Casey was worried to ask despite being laid next to him in his bed right now.

“No. I think we both finally realized we both rushed into something we didn’t really want.” He sighs. “If I could just go back…” He starts, but then trails off. If the past few days and their recent crying session taught him something, it is that this kind of thinking is not going to help him or anyone.

“Listen, Casey, I know I can’t go back and change anything that already happened. But I just want you to know that I’m gonna do all that I can to make it up to you.”

Casey blinks slowly, biting on her lip. She was already in so much pain; she did not need to revisit how it felt like when Rafael left her. Granted, it already felt like forever ago, with all that has happened. But still… she has to know why he left.

“Why did you do it, Raf?” She asks, voice small. “I… I know we weren’t officially together, but we were dating. It was special-- at least I thought it was. Why did you leave me?”

Rafael takes a deep breath. “You’re gonna hate me.” He does not even need to look to know that Casey already had a frown, but he continues. “I didn’t really have a real reason. It’s like… something made me get back together with Sora. As soon as she got back to Boston she came here to visit Juliana when I was also over. When I opened the door and saw her, my childhood sweetheart, visiting my vovo at the same time I did, it felt like… fate, if you will. I just-- I had this voice in my mind telling me I should pursue her again.”

Casey still furrowed her eyebrows. Rafael, like always, is too honest, but after months of second-guessing herself, she finally knew the truth. She is conflicted if it was comforting or infuriating that it was not even about her.

“You didn’t… it wasn’t- about me? Or about us?” Her shaky voice told the both of them what she really felt.

“I’m sorry, Casey.” Rafael clenched his jaw. “If I could take it back, if I could somehow go back and make myself realize how much I loved you before I ended things between us…” he sighed deeply. “Up to this day I still regret that I only realized how very important you were to me when I already lost you. God, after I left you.”

She swallows, letting herself take a moment to process that. There was too much to unpack: suddenly she knows Rafael loved her and thought she was very important to him.

“What is this now, Raf? What are we doing here?” After a long moment, Casey asks.

“If you just need someone to lean on, Casey, I’m the perfect person. Not only because I’ve been through what you’ve been through… it’s the least I can do and want to do for you.” He starts. “If you just want that… that’s okay, and I’m here for you no matter what. But if you’ll still have me, Case, despite what I did and my reason for it… I want to give us another chance. We both lost so much, and I think it’s only fitting we start building our lives again together.”

Casey plays with her bottom lip, again taking a minute to let that sink in. Exhaustion is finally taking over her, and judging Raf’s sleepy voice despite his declaration of feelings, he is obviously tired as well. Casey pulled away a little so she can look up at Rafael, only able to ask, “You don’t have another childhood sweetheart I have to worry about? Because I swear I won’t be so nice the next time you leave me for no reason.”

He chuckles. “I won’t be living that down any time soon, am I?”

“You won’t be living it down, ever.” Casey grins.

“Well… as long as you take me back, I really won’t be in the position to complain.” Rafael holds Casey’s face with one hand, rubbing her cheek gently and smiling, eyes fluttering sleepily.

How absolutely adorable and lovable he looked made her kiss him again. It was way too gentle than their usual kisses, but right now it was perfect. Innocent, honest, genuine. “Get some sleep, my boyfriend who absolutely cannot break up with me for an ex-girlfriend from high school.” She presses another soft kiss on his lips once more.

“You won’t leave before I wake up?” Raf asks, pulling Casey’s body close to him again.

“I won’t if you promise not to break up with me for an ex partner from college or from work either.”

Again he laughs softly, eyes fluttering close. “I promise, Casey. I’ll love you and make you feel loved each day. I promise.” He whispers goodnight.

[haberdashing]

open your eyes (i see your eyes are open) (2/?)

Jon, faced with being the last one left in a dying world, sends his memories back in time to someone who might be able to fix things before the worst can happen.

Sasha James, for her part, is very confused.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

on AO3

The night before had been ordinary enough, the only quirk being that Tim had used it being the Friday marking the end of their first week in the Archives as an excuse to invite Sasha out to the pubs that night, as opposed to any of the other excuses he always managed to find to do the same.

Sasha’s head was pounding from the beginning of a hangover, though it was early enough in the morning (and her drinking had ended late enough at night) that she could still feel the tail end of her drunkenness in her system, a few drops of alcohol still sluggishly coursing through her veins.

The memories that filled her head now weren’t a mere drunken vision, though, Sasha knew that much.

It was a bizarre feeling, seeing the world through another person’s eyes, another person’s memories. Seeing herself through Jon’s eyes might have been worse still, but Sasha was spared that particular awkwardness... if only by having her place in all of his memories taken up by somebody else entirely, which was just as awkward in a different way that Sasha wasn’t sure she actually preferred.

A small part of Sasha wondered dimly why now, why her, but most of her mind was focused instead on analyzing the treasure trove of future memories that now lay before her.

This wasn’t a dream, a vision, a hallucination. The details were too clear, too specific, too vivid. This was real. This was supernatural, and this was real.

...Sasha wasn’t so sure anymore that her pounding headache was anything so simple as a mere hangover.

She groaned a little as she sat up, taking in her surroundings. They hadn’t changed since the night before, of course, even though Sasha had. She’d ended up getting a little too drunk accidentally-on-purpose and spending the night at Tim’s flat, on the couch that was probably beginning to form an outline of her prone body on it after all this time. (Tim would’ve let her have the bed if she asked, but Sasha didn’t dare; that’d mean either inconveniencing Tim or sharing the bed with him and neither were palatable options for her, not when she hated the idea of imposing on others, not when their friendship was still being rebuilt from the last time they’d been in a bed together.)

It was early still, too early, and part of Sasha wanted nothing more than to curl up in the haphazard pile of blankets Tim had assembled for her and go back to sleep, but she knew that would be a lost cause. Her thoughts were moving a mile a minute now, ideas flowing quickly and steadily even as Sasha stared blearily out at Tim’s living room, and her mind showed no signs of slowing any time soon.

(Unless she encountered a certain web-covered table, perhaps...)

What was she going to do with all this information? Where should she start? How much of the worst of it could she prevent from happening all over again?

Sasha was just grabbing a notebook out of her bag to jot some initial thoughts down when she heard footsteps coming her way, looked up to see Tim entering the room.

“You’re up early.” Tim’s face was covered in a grin, but his eyes told a different story, bleary and glossed over, though he still didn’t look as bad as Sasha felt.

One benefit to being up earlier than her usual, Sasha supposed: Tim was always a morning person, something she could never quite understand, so she’d have someone else to bounce ideas off of, someone who was probably more awake than she’d managed to become so far.

“I am, aren’t I?” Sasha cracked a smile as best she could manage.

“What’s the story, morning glory?”

Sasha hesitated for a moment, biting her lip before finally speaking up. “Can I tell you something weird, something that might sound crazy?”

Tim blinked a few times, and the bleariness faded from his eyes, leaving only that strange early morning energy of his. “Of course. It’d only be fair, right?”

“...right.”

Neither of them mentioned Danny’s name. Neither of them needed to. The grim story lingered over them just the same.

Sasha considered her words carefully. She trusted Tim with the truth, would trust him with her life, but... but she wanted to make sure too much didn’t get out too fast, that her efforts to prevent the end of the world weren’t ruined before they could begin, and even speaking everything aloud here and now wasn’t entirely safe.

Tim sat down on the couch next to Sasha, her scooting over to make room for him as she lay there, planning out her next move.

“I just got hit with this weird wave of... information, I guess? Just this knowledge pouring into my head about the Archives, the Institute, the supernatural in general. And most of it’s not good. We’re really in over our heads here.”

“...you’re not just talking about how Jon doesn’t know the first thing about archiving, are you.” A statement, not a question.

Sasha snorted. “No, though I suppose that bit doesn’t help any. But it’s so much bigger than that. All these things out to get us, ways loads of people could die along the way... I saw a way you could die, Tim.”

Sasha watched Tim’s reaction to that news carefully. He didn’t look happy about it, which Sasha supposed was a good thing, but he didn’t look especially surprised, either. His eyes were dark and hard to read.

“But you’re going to fix it, right? Make sure nothing too bad happens?”

“I’m damn well going to try.” Sasha leaned her head, filled with sleep-time fog and racing thoughts and far too much knowledge now, against Tim’s shoulder; it was firm and warm and comfortable against her cheek. “But I don’t know how much I can do, or even where I should start.”

“I’m sure that big brain of yours will figure out some master plan soon enough.” Tim turned his body a bit, and Sasha adjusted her position in turn to match. “Especially if I have anything to say about it.”

“I think- no, I know I could use the help.” Sasha rested her hand on top of Tim’s. “It means a lot, really, not being alone in figuring it all out.”

“Of course.” Tim squirmed in his seat a bit, and Sasha lifted her head, not wanting to bother repositioning it yet again--where did he get all that energy so early in the morning? “Want me to start making breakfast while you think it all through?”

Sasha’s laugh was shaky but clear just the same. “That’d be lovely.”

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Burn the Ships, Epilogue

A/N: And now we’ve reached the end. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the final chapter! I have no excuses for why this took so long except for who I am as a person, meaning “I started reading the Power of Five series, and I can’t even,” lol. :P

This started out as completely self-indulgent fluff (with some angst because I can’t control myself apparently) because it’s what they deserve, but honestly now it’s just self-indulgent. Still some fluff but much angstier than I intended, lol. Most of the real fluff got cut because it got too long, unfortunately (this is still one of the longest chapters, and I didn’t even write half of what I had planned, ahahahaha). You’ve been warned. :P

Content warnings: A panic attack, mentions of a nightmare and trauma, vomiting (nothing graphic by any means, but...) . . . . .

Epilogue

February

“I’m sorry.” Alex’s elbows hit the countertop, his head falling into his hands. “I didn’t mean -- I’m sorry.”

“Alex. It’s okay. I’m not angry. This isn’t your fault.”

He didn’t look up. There was glass shattered on the floor now because he’d failed to control his temper. He had lashed out, and now something -- he didn’t even know what -- was broken, and why had he even been angry, anyway? He couldn’t remember, but it definitely was his fault, and he had no idea why Steve was saying it wasn’t. “Sure seems like it is.”

A tired sigh. Alex knew what he would find if he looked up, so he didn’t bother. This situation was all-too familiar, and one of these times Steve was going to get tired of him -- just like everyone else had. Honestly, it was a miracle he’d lasted this long.

“Look at me, please, buddy.”

He didn’t want to.

Another sigh, then: “Alright, just listen, okay? There are three things in play right now, and none of them are your fault. The first is the amount of trauma you’ve been through the last couple of years. The second is that you’re sixteen, which means raging hormones. The third is that you’re still trying to settle in here -- transition into a new life. Any one of those by itself would be hard enough, but you have to deal with all three at the same time.” A pause. “Mood swings are gonna happen -- that’s just a fact. But it’s not always going to be this bad. It’s gonna get better, but you need to be patient with yourself because it’s going to take time. Remember? You need to give yourself time.”

Alex finally straightened up and turned to face Steve, almost still surprised to find nothing but concern and kindness etched on his face where Alex had been sure would be nothing but irritation. “How long, Steve?” he begged, frustration bleeding into every word. “Because it’s been almost two months, and I’m still just --.” He cut himself off, looking away, his gaze catching on the mess on the floor. “I’m still just broken,” he finally muttered.

“Yeah. You are.”

His head whipped up, eyes wide. Surely he hadn’t heard that right?

A smile ghosted over Steve’s lips. “But so am I. You, me, Chin, Kono, Lou, Danny… We all are. There’s nothing wrong with being broken as long as you pick up the pieces. Even then, you won’t be the same as you were. But that’s okay. No one expects you to be.”

Alex didn’t know what to say, what to think about that statement. He’d never considered that maybe it was okay to be damaged.

Maybe it was enough just to try. . . .

March

“Steve, it’s three o’clock in the morning. This has better be important.”

Steve glanced at the clock. “Sorry, Danny. I honestly hadn’t realized the time. I might have...panicked. Just a little.”

“What’s wrong?”

His partner sounded a bit more awake now, at least. He took a deep breath. “What do you do with a puking teenager?”

A startled laugh. “What? Okay, let me get this straight: you called me in the middle of the night because Alex is sick and you don’t know what to do?”

Steve swallowed his pride. “Basically, yeah. Look, the only person I have experience taking care of while ill is myself. You have kids -- more specifically, you have a teenager -- so please just tell me what I’m supposed to do right now.”

Danny’s next words were -- thankfully, mercifully -- serious. “I take it that, since you called in a panic, he is currently, at this moment, throwing up?”

“I’m...actually not sure. I just heard him make a run for it. He hasn’t gone back to bed yet, though.”

A sigh. “Okay, first things first -- go in there so at least you can assess the damage, and he’ll know that you know so he doesn’t try to hide it in the morning. He’ll probably be embarrassed but also grateful. If he’s not ready to go back to bed yet, sit with him until he is, and make sure he drinks something once his stomach has settled a little. In the middle of the night, that’s about all there is to it.”

Steve let out a breath. “I think I can handle that…”

“I would hope so.”

“Thanks, Danny.”

“Yeah, I’m going back to sleep. Try to save any other questions for daylight hours. Now go take care of your kid.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.” He pulled the phone from his ear to hang up, but Danny had beat him to it. Slipping it into the pocket of his sweatpants, he quietly made his way down the hall.

He gently knocked twice on the slightly ajar door before he pushed it open. Alex was on his knees beside the toilet, forehead resting on his arm against the seat, breathing heavily. He didn’t look up as Steve entered. “Hey, buddy. Really not feeling great now, huh?”

Alex let out a huff as Steve knelt down beside him, hand instinctively falling between his shoulder blades and rubbing in slow, gentle circles. “You could say that.”

Alex’s voice came out shaky, and Steve didn’t even bother asking if he was ready to go back to bed; his pinched expression, eyes squeezed shut, and labored breathing were answer enough.

Not a minute had passed since Steve had come in when Alex tensed then jolted back up over the toilet as he gagged. Steve winced as he felt the muscles contracting under his hand as the poor kid heaved. Judging from the sound, there wasn’t much left to even bring up, and if there was one thing worse than vomiting, Steve thought, it was dry heaving.

He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from -- long buried memories of Dorris fussing over him, maybe -- but he started murmuring reassurances anyway. “It’s alright, Alex. Shhh. Just breathe through it. That’s it.”

After a minute or so, Alex finally dropped his head back down to rest on the toilet seat, with a horsley muttered, “This sucks.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin a little. “Yeah, I’ll bet it does, buddy. I’ll bet it does.” . . .

June

“Hey, there you are.”

Alex turned his head but didn’t get up from his chair, wind off the ocean whipping his hair around wildly. “Hey.”

Steve sat down in the other chair, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Looks like you’re about due for a haircut.”

Alex shrugged, resting his chin back on his knees. “I don’t mind it.”

Steve chose not to say anything, turning to look out at the waves. Six months had passed and yet Steve still had a hard time figuring the kid out sometimes; was what Alex just said the truth or did he not want to ‘inconvenience’ Steve with the price of the service? He would tackle that another day, though; there were other things they needed to talk about right now.

“Doing okay?” Steve always asked when he came home; Alex always answered honestly. That had been the arrangement for a while now; Alex was struggling to settle in still, and Steve couldn’t do anything to help if he didn’t know. “This isn’t exactly prime sitting outside weather, after all.” It wasn’t, truly; the sky was overcast, and the temperature was unseasonably cool. While it wasn’t unusual to find Alex outside, on a day like today? That was questionable, and Steve got the feeling Alex wasn’t having a great day.

“I don’t know.” Alex shrugged. “Just kind of restless, I guess. Needed to get out of the house.”

Steve nodded; that wasn’t the worst answer he’d ever gotten by far. “Yeah, you are here by yourself most of the time. That can happen.” He paused. “That - uh, that kind of brings me to something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, actually.”

“Oh?” Alex tilted his head so his cheek rested on his knee instead of his chin, his gaze meeting Steve’s again.

Steve knew Alex would balk at the idea before he’d even started, but he had to try. Alex couldn’t stay cooped up in the house for the rest of his life; he needed to get out and live. “I know the last six months have been rough, but I think it’s time you at least start thinking about going back to a public school. You don’t need to decide right now; I just want you to think about it, okay? If you decide you don’t want to or you’re not ready, that’s fine. I don’t have a problem with this whole homeschool thing we’ve got going on now. But honestly, Alex, it might actually help. Going to school is normal. Something that’s always been a constant might help you adjust.”

Alex sat up straighter and stared down at his bare feet. “I won’t fit in. I’m too different from them. They’ll ask too many questions I can’t answer.”

“Maybe so.” Steve sighed. “I’m not gonna force you, but seriously consider it, alright?”

Alex nodded. “Fine. I will.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.” Steve stood with a small smile. “I’m gonna go start dinner.”

As he headed for the house, he already knew Alex would make the decision that was best for himself, whatever that might be. . . .

September

Alex nervously followed behind the officer. Steve had told him he was always welcome to drop in at the Palace, but this was the first time he’d taken up that offer. If they were busy, he didn’t want to interrupt or be in the way, but it was actually important this time.

Chin was the first to see him as he stepped through the door. “Well, this is a surprise. Hey, Alex.” He turned to the officer. “Thanks for bringing him up.”

As the officer walked away, Lou said, “If you’re looking for Steve, he’s not here. He and Danny are in a meeting with the governor. Should be back before long, though.”

“Was there something you needed?” Kono asked. “I think this is the first time you’ve been in without Steve.

“Not really.” He grabbed onto the straps of his backpack to keep from fidgeting. “It’s nothing, and I’m sure you’re busy with a case anyway. I don’t want to interrupt.”

Lou shrugged. “Nope. Been a slow day.”

“And I doubt it’s nothing,” Chin added. “It’s obviously something if you made the trip down here instead of calling or waiting until Steve got home tonight. So what’s up?”

Alex gnawed on his bottom lip. He didn’t want to bother them with this when he was most likely just being paranoid. It was one thing to talk to Steve and entirely another to bring in the rest of Five-0.

Kono must have sensed his hesitation because she said, “Alex, you know you can talk to us, right? You’re ohana. If something’s going on, we want to help you.”

Ohana. What did that even mean, really? Family, but they weren’t related in any way. He didn’t seem to fit. But since Steve wasn’t here, maybe it wouldn’t hurt? He sighed and, after another moment, nodded. “Okay, but it probably really is nothing.” He pulled out his phone as he stepped closer. Opening his photos, he set it down on the table so the other three could see it. “These two guys have been sitting outside the school everyday for the past two weeks. They never pick anyone up, and no one ever goes over to talk to them, either. They sit there for about an hour after the final bell, and then they drive away. It’s just...weird. And kind of creepy.”

Chin moved his phone to connect it to the holotable. “Do you have any more photos?”

“Yeah, just swipe right. I took one of the plates on the car, too.”

“Atta boy,” Lou grinned, clapping him on the back. “Good work. Let’s see if we can get an ID on these creeps.”

Alex was momentarily floored at the response. They weren’t writing him off; they weren’t laughing or mocking. “You’re...taking this seriously.”

Chin’s hands hovered over the table for a moment before he turned to face Alex fully. “You thought we wouldn’t?”

Alex shrugged. “People usually don’t.”

Chin turned back with a smile. “Like Kono said: you’re ohana now. Better get used to it, because we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

Alex smiled back. For once someone actually had his back. It was a nice feeling -- one he thought he definitely wouldn’t mind getting used to. . . .

December

His lungs felt like they were filled with lead as he desperately tried to pull in another breath, his whole body shaking with the effort. The strong arms around him tightened ever-so-slightly, one hand sliding up to cradle the the back of his head, as if knowing if they didn’t hold him together then he’d crumble into ash.

They do know, he realized with a start. Steve does know. Because they’d been in this same position a million times already this year.

Alex’s fingers involuntarily tightened their grip on Steve’s shirt as another wave of panic hit, blinding his senses, making it impossible to get his lungs to function. He could hear Steve talking, but he couldn’t seem to make sense of any of it. The blood was rushing in his ears, and every instinct was telling him to run, and he couldn’t make heads or tails of anything. So he latched on to the one thing he could find outside the chaos in his head: the thrumming of a heart that wasn’t his. Alex’s own was rapid and hammering; the one he could feel against his temple was calm and steady.

He forced himself to focus on that rhythm -- it was all the proof he needed that he was safe. Another living person right beside him meant he wasn’t strapped down in Cairo or drowning in Cornwall. He was safe. He was okay. Because there was someone with him.

Steve’s words started to filter through the fray: “Try to breathe with me, Alex. Everything’s going to be okay. You’re safe, buddy; you’re safe.”

Reality came back in small doses. A nightmare. 4:41am. An impending panic attack sending him straight to Steve. Collapsing to the hardwood floor beside the man’s bed.

The floor, where he was currently curled up half in Steve’s lap, head pressed into his sternum, fingers twisted in a white-knuckled grip in the back of his t-shirt. Steve’s arms were secure around him, one hand still at the back of his head, the other following a slow path up and down his spine.

He forced his focus to the hand on his back, knowing its purpose from repetition. His breaths were erratic and shallow; the motion was a breathing pattern for him to try to follow. His chest ached, but he did his best to match it anyway; he knew he needed to -- that it would get easier even though it felt impossible now.

“There you go, buddy; that’s it. You’re doing great.”

As the muscles in his chest slowly loosened and he could breathe more normally -- albeit shakily -- again, he let his thoughts wander.

When had he become so comfortable with this arrangement that it had become second nature to run to Steve when he started to panic? The first time he’d had a panic attack in front of the man, he’d pushed him away, embarrassed, unwilling to let him help. He had managed to keep them a secret for an entire month, and Alex had thought Steve would be angry when he found out. But he hadn’t been. He’d understood. Since then, they had talked about triggers and what helped and what didn’t. And, at first, it had been weird to let Steve help him, but now…

Now it was comfortable.

“How you doing, Alex?” The softly spoken question brought him back to the present.

Alex shifted slightly. He knew what Steve was asking, but all the same, he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander back over the previous year. Once, he had thought that he’d never get to truly know what home felt like; he had thought he’d never have another family. But now he thought maybe he did.

Maybe this was home.

Maybe this was family.

If it was, Alex knew he never wanted to let it go.

“Good,” he rasped. “I’m good.” . . .

“This is my family. I found it all on my own. It’s little and broken, but still good. 

Yeah, still good.”

--Lilo and Stitch

. . . . .

Tag List: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @ghostly-homo @grungeweasel @just-add-butter

[madelainesvixens]

Title: Blood Mary

Ship: Alice (Cooper) Smith + FP Jones (Falice)

_______________

''Don't do it,'' begged Hermione, trying to hid her skeptical fright.

Alice rolled her eyes. ''Don't be such pussies. It's just a legend.''

''A girl died in Greendale last night from invoking...her. It's not just some legend, Alice. It's very real,'' Sierra pointed out, glancing at Hermione for support.

An old legend had made the buzz at school, frightening students of Riverdale High: the legend of Bloody Mary. Although there was a lot of version of this legend in folklore, they all were revolving around a similar ritual. The first step was to stand in front of a mirror and call her name three times. Once the name pronounced, said Mary was set to happen in the mirror, covered in blood.

But, the best was yet to come.

Following the ritual, it was recounted that the woman in the mirror - Bloody Mary - would scratch the eyes out of whoever had invoked her, causing them to bleed out and die.

Naturally, Alice didn't believe this stupid legend. It was just some invented stories to creep people out - and it seemed to be working.

The blonde Serpent had been hiding in a bathroom stall during lunch break, smoking a cigarette when she heard Hermione and Sierra talking about Bloody Mary's legend.

''In that case, let's try it,'' Alice decided, just to spook the two girls out.

''Alice, are you serious? Please don't-''

Ignoring girls's pleas, a grin spread on the blonde's lips as she stared into the mirror, pronouncing the name of the one -who-shall-not-be-named. ''Bloody Mary.''

Sierra sucked in a sharp breath as Alice said the woman's name.

Bringing her hand over her own mouth, Hermione gasped, shocked. ''The curse is going to fall on you and you're going to...die.''

A part of Alice was surprised that Hermione got trapped into believing this absurd legend. She came from a very religious family and figured she'd know better than this. What would her parents think if they knew that their daughter believed in such nonsense.

Sierra, on the other hand, was not surprising. She was known to believe all sorts of gossips.

''Die?'' Alice huffed out an humored laugh, glancing at the raven haired girl with the plaid skirt through the mirror's reflection. ''Don't be so dramatic, Hermione.''

''I'm not. I'm being serious!'' she insisted.

''Bloody Mary,'' Alice said for the second time, just as the lights flickered in the bathroom.

Sierra gulped, suddenly feeling nauseous. She glanced at Hermione who was looking just as frightened as her. ''Come on, Alice. This isn't funny...''

Just one more time and the invocation will be through. Just one more time and Bloody Mary will appear in the mirror and-

''Bloody Mary.''

A vacant silence filled the bathroom. Hermione and Sierra went completely still, holding their breath as Alice stared expectantly in the mirror.

Nothing.

''I don't understand what you're so afraid of. This is just some stupid legend, see?'' Alice nodded at the mirror, seeing only their reflection. ''No one appeared in the mirror and my eyes aren't busted out.''

.

Later that day, everyone had gathered at the Andrews's for a couple drinks before the big Halloween party at Marty's.

''No way! I didn't think you'd go through,'' Fred said just as Alice and FP entered the basement, dressed as Bonnie and Clyde, America's famous criminal couple who were known for bank robberies together during the 30s.

Although their costumes were a drastic contrast to their usual style, it was perfectly fitting for their personality and couple aesthetic as they were each other's ride of die.

FP exchanged a shoulder hug with Fred, snickering at his attempt at Danny Zuko. He might've got the hair down, but those tight pants were a laugh.

''You clean up well in a suit, Pendleton,'' Hermione pointed out from her spot on the couch, taking a sip of her mixed drink.

Instead of thanking her, FP retorted a question. ''And, you're dressed as..?''

''Rizzo, of course. You didn't recognize the jacket?'' She smoothed down her pencil skirt, glancing at him in a flirty way, as if he wasn't already taken. Classic Hermione Gomez.

FP rolled his eyes. Right. The bright Pink Ladies jacket and neck scarf were massive hints at Grease's Rizzo. She even had pulled her hair into a sort of updo, giving the illusion of a short hairstyle.

Stepping in, Alice broke the interaction and gave FP a beer. ''Here.''

He thanked her with a kiss and led her to the armchair, sitting down first and making enough room for Alice who followed and laid her legs over FP's lap, keeping a close hand on her thigh.

''Who's going to come tonight? Else than the Bulldogs?'' Hermione asked, plucking a stray thread from her skirt.

Before anyone could answer, Alice spoke up.

''That Gladys bitch better not show her face tonight or I'll-'' she warned with gritted teeth, taking a sip from her beer.

''How can you talk about people like that?'' Fred interrupted, shaking his head.

''She gave me a shiner at the last party, in case you don't remember.''

''And you think hitting her back is gonna solve things?''

The blonde nodded. ''Revenge is a bitch and, too bad for her,  Alice Smith has good memory.''

Behind her, FP grinned and kissed her exposed neck. ''That's my girl.''

Fred shook his head in discouragement. ''God, you two are really made for each other...'' he concluded, glancing between her and his best friend.

The basement door opened, followed by a clicking of heels resonating as Sierra made her way down in her Scary Spice costume.

Hermione stood, going to greet her friend. ''Wow, girl, you nailed it!'' she commented, looking her up and down, smiling at Sierra's camo pants and matching bra top.

''It's cold out though... The jacket ruins the look.'' She motioned to the colorblock parka on her arm. ''When do we show up at Marty's?'' Sierra asked to the group, taking the wooden chair while Hermione went to sit back down beside Fred.

They weren't dating, but it was clear that the raven haired girl was falling for the baseball player - especially with their semi-matching costume. It was as if they were subtly telling other people to back off, they're already taken. If Fred had dressed up as Kenickie, it would've been perfect.

Standing up, Alice went to use the bathroom, leaving the quatuor to themselves.

Taking advantage of the blonde's absence, Sierra decided to open her mouth and blab to the boys about her. ''Boys. Do you know what Alice did today at lunch?''

Fred gave her a curious look while FP seemed half interested. Whatever Miss. Gossips was going to tell them, there wasn't much that could surprise of shock him.

''We were in the school's bathroom and...'' Sierra glanced at Hermione, biting her bottom lip anxiously. ''She summoned Bloody Mary.''

''What? You mean, like the legend going on at school?''

Sierra nodded.

''Didn't someone die in Greendale from doing this?'' Fred asked.

''And, did you see her in the mirror?'' FP asked, cocky smile on his lips.

Sierra straightened up before responding. ''No, but I heard that you don't always see her right away. Once you summon her, she can appear at any time.''

''That's just some old superstitions, right, FP?'' Fred asked his best friend, suddenly skeptical.

FP shrugged. ''I don't know, man. I'm not into this stuff...''

The lights in Fred's basement flickered, followed by a piercing scream echoing from the bathroom, causing Sierra and Hermione to scream too.

''Alice?'' FP called out, raising an eyebrow. ''Everything okay?''

Another scream.

This time, they all scrambled up from their seats and rushed to the bathroom.

''Help! She's gonna get me,'' Alice screamed from the bathroom.

FP juggled the door, trying to open it and failing. ''Alice? Alice, open the door,'' he demanded, his voice frantic and panicked.

''Do something!'' Hermione begged FP and Fred. ''You must have a toothpick or something to pick the lock. S-she's gonna kill her-''

Alice's terrified scream cut off Hermione's sentence, followed by a vacant silence.

''Ali?''

Nodding, Fred went to find something to pick the lock, leaving the girls with FP by the door. No one had ever been locked out of the basement bathroom so Fred - nor his dad - never had to pick the lock. Fred's could barely think properly as he searched, his mind crowded by the adrenaline in his veins from the possibility of his friend being dead behind this very door.

''Alice?'' Sierra called, her voice shaky.

Hermione's eyes filled with water behind her glasses, realizing what might've happened to Alice. ''I-is she-''

Just then, the bathroom door opened and Alice came out, a huge grin on her face. She gave FP a high-five, confusing everyone.

''You idiots really thought it was true? That Bloody Mary had attacked me in the bathroom?'' Alice laughed mischievously, shaking her head.

Sierra narrowed her eyes at Alice. ''Have you lost your mind? You can't do stuff like that!''

A sigh of relief wash through Fred, realizing that it was a prank. A very bad prank, if you ask him.

''This is called revenge, Sierra. Next time you see a used condom the girls's bathroom, don't blindly accuse me.'' Alice turned to Hermione. ''I know it was you who spread the rumor, Hermione. You're no better.''

Hermione gaped, giving Alice a scandalized look. ''So, it was all a prank?''

.

Later, when Alice and FP made it back to Alice's trailer - slightly inebriated -, the two were still amused by they little prank. They'll admit, maybe it had gone a bit too far - they didn't mean to implicate or scare Fred, but he was there -, but it was a damn good prank.

''You should've seen their faces,'' FP told her with a grin, shaking his head and tossing his bowtie, hating that damn thing. It was so uncomfortable, how can people wear that? ''Hermione really thought Bloody Mary had killed you.''

Alice threw her head back, laughing as she untucked her yellow sweater, slipping it over her head, removing the last bit of her costume. ''I should've covered myself in syrup and let them think Bloody Mary had killed me.''

Cert, syrup could've given a more gruesome turn to the prank, but it would've made a huge mess - and Fred would've probably fainted from the 'blood'. He had already been caught in the middle of this prank by admission, there was no need to scar him with an image of a 'lifeless' Alice covered in blood on his bathroom floor.

''Poor Fred would've had an aneurysm. He was so panicked, frantically searching for something to open the door and..save you.'' He sighed, thinking back. ''Man, I feel bad for him.''

Alice came behind him as he finished undressing, kissing his shoulder blade as she snaked her arms around his middle, pressing herself against his back. ''He'll survive.''

Rolling his eyes, FP turned around in his girlfriend's hold. ''I know...''

''It was Sierra and Hermione's fault in the first place,'' the blonde justified. ''If they hadn't spread that nasty rumor about me, I wouldn't have had to scare them with this prank and Fred wouldn't have been put through this.'' She pressed her forehead to FP's, about to kiss him. ''Now they know not to mess with me and spread nasty rumors.''

FP's hands slid on the sides of her body, fingertips brushing against the lace of her underwear, causing goosebumps to form on her skin at his touch. Was this what Danny was talking about when he said Sandy's presence was electrifying?

A crackling noise filled the silence of the trailer, some branch scraping against the window as Alice closed the gap between their mouth, sliding her tongue past his parted lips.

A gasp left FP's lips, Alice's slender hands slipping to the front of his boxer and breaking the kiss. She smiled wickedly, plump lips brushing over his as she spoke. ''Even if it was ours.''

''They don't have to know that,'' FP said with a smug grin, grabbing the blonde by the back of her thighs and bringing her over to the bed, taking advantage of Alice's parents being out of town.

[ecto-american]

October Nights C5

Ectober fanfiction || Day One | Day Two | Day Three | Day Four || On AO3

Summary: Danny may have died, but he is certainly not gone. And he refuses to be forgotten.

Day 5: Scarecrow & Grave Robber 

Tucker had missed that day. He had finally texted her back at eight that morning when Sam was already anxiously waiting at the steps of the school. He said that he simply felt too depressed to go that day, and that his mom was letting him take a mental health day. Boy, could she ever relate. Sam had to rely on her grandma to motivate her out of bed that morning, and it was not an easy task to do.

But she had to force herself to go to school that day. It was the last place she wanted to be, but at least she'd be surrounded by people. At least he would be attached to her and here, instead of at home with her vulnerable grandmother and parents. Being in a crowd would also make it much harder for him to catch her alone and do anything. Her dad had driven her there, cheerfully talking about nothing and being oblivious to the cold air that had origins in the ghost that sat invisible in the back seat. Sam almost found it comical how her dad missed that Danny, even as a haunting full ghost specter, had buckled his seat belt. Tucker still agreed to meet her at the cemetery after school, then give her a ride home. Especially after she was able to spit out part of what had happened. She spared him some of the details for now, but she did warn him to wear his specter deflector to their hang out. Just in case.

Because she knew that this figure would absolutely not leave her alone that easily. And once Tucker was fully in the loop, she was afraid that he'd be a target next. Sam merely prolonged the inevitable obsession from continuing to escalate.

The feeling of being watched was mild all that school day, but it served as a reminder of his constant looming threat. He was keeping his distance, cautious and unsure of what she had planned after her freak out against him. Sam wore the specter deflector under Danny's oversized NASA sweatshirt as a precaution and kept a blaster strapped to her thigh underneath her knee length skirt as a warning.

Her eyes watched the rows of houses, desperately assuring herself that she had some kind of comfort and help within their walls. She spied a few people home in the windows, a few scarce people in their driveways as they returned home from work or some errand, several people driving past her. Kids' screams of excitement filled some sections of the neighborhood as they played in their yards. It put her at some sort of ease, that, in theory, somebody would be a witness to that looming presence that was following her. She could feel it, his gaze. He had to be invisible, but he was close.

A scarecrow caught her eye as she began to approach the shopping district. It smiled cutely as it stood propped up in the flower bed, leaning on the shop's sign. The scarecrow was just another part of that shop, Aloe There!, and their regular fall decorations. It was one of Sam's favorite shops, a small family owned business that had been around for as long as she could remember. She found herself stopping in front of it.

The small local greenhouse and store that she always got her supplies at, where she'd drag Danny and Tucker to. Just three days before he died, Danny had taken her there to get some new lighting for a special plant she had bought. Her boyfriend had dorkily brought her a mint plant during his silent fit of boredom while she shopped, expressing how they were mint-to be. At the time, she had rolled her eyes, telling that idiot to put the plant back where he found it.

Now she'd give anything to hear another stupid pun.

She stared at the scarecrow. That stupid smile reminded her so much of Danny. The adorable charm, the bright blue buttons shining. It reminded her of that plant. Her fingers grasped her backpack straps. She absolutely needed that mint plant.

Sam made her way into the shop, hearing the familiar bell ring. The store was a bit too warm, as always, but it was like it melted away her grief and troubles. If only for a short while. The shop owner, a plump grandmotherly figure, brightened the second she saw her. She stopped stocking shelves to brush her dark green apron. As usual, the shopowner's bored fifteen year old granddaughter was behind the counter, watching videos on a smartphone and only mumbled out a half-hearted greeting.

"Hello, Sam!" the owner greeted warmly.

"Hello, Mrs. Addison!" she replied cheerfully.

"Do you need any help, dear?"

"No, ma'am!"

"Alrighty, hon. Just call if you need me."

"I will!"

Sam knew where everything was. She had visited this shop countless times, and she knew exactly where to find the plant. A tiny, unimpressive plant. It wasn't a good idea to plant it now. But she knew it'd survive the cold weather. Mint, like Danny, was very strong and stubborn. It'd just remain dormant for the winter.

Regardless, she picked up the cheap plastic pot that held it, hugging it tightly to her. She also found a cheap hand shovel, and she brought them to the counter. The bored teen put down her phone and began to ring up her items.

"Will that be all for you, Sam?" she questioned.

"Yeah. No bag or receipt, and debit card please," Sam answered before it could even be asked. The teen simply nodded, swiping the card and handing it back. Sam put her wallet and the shovel into her backpack. The receipt printed, and the teen tossed it in a trash can behind the counter.

"Have a good day," she told her, and the teen immediately returned her attention back to her phone. Sam hummed in return, picking up the plant and holding it to her chest.

After a brief goodbye, she continued on her way. The now distinct coldly feel intensified around her, and she scowled. Sam didn't break her pace.

"Go away. Cold air's bad for the plants," she grumbled.

"...You bought the mint." The invisible voice sounded surprised and a bit confused. Sam stared down at the dormant plant.

"...I did." There was no hiding her impulse buy. Not that she had any doubts that he had watched her pick it out and purchase it anyway.

Sam could feel the air shift near her arm, as if he was going to grab her. Only to stop suddenly.

"...You really did miss me."

Sam bit her lip, and she refused to reply. She picked up speed, continuing to walk quickly towards the iron gates of the Amity Park Cemetery. It was still so hard to believe...only weeks prior, she watched Danny be buried in his final spot. The last place she truly saw him, the real him.

Sam shivered as she felt the faintest ice cold air gently hit her back, and the forced breathing became very audible to her. Not this...thing that kept following her.

Tucker's car was already parked in the lot, but he wasn't there. Sam didn't bother breaking her stride, going up to the gate and just pushing it open to slip inside. She made her way through the rows and rows of headstones, absentmindedly taking note of the odder names of those buried anywhere from hundreds of years ago to barely a week ago.

The cemetery was sorrowfully beautiful, always so well landscaped and made for the perfect spooky setting. The woods that sat just behind it held fond memories of her and her friends exploring them as kids. The leaves were becoming bare as autumn had continued, leaving scarce to the imagination of what was hidden there. Danny used to tell them that the woods were haunted and full of ghosts when they were little. Of course, Sam believed him. He was from the ghost hunter family after all, and even though Jazz had always scowled and insisted at the time ghosts didn't exist, the irony of those memories made Sam smile sadly. A painful ache and the cold that followed her made her, despite all the wonderful memories they made for her, silently wish that ghosts were truly just a myth.

As Sam walked deeper into the cemetery, she saw the familiar outline of her best friend sitting next to a headstone. Relief washed over her at knowing that she would not be alone much longer, and she broke into a jog towards him. Tucker paid her no mind, staring at the headstone: DANIEL JAMES FENTON, BELOVED SON AND BROTHER. He was muttering softly to it, and she could tell that he had been crying. He also clutched some tissues in a shaking hand. To her relief, he had heeded the warning she gave him when they were agreeing to meet up. He, too, was wearing a specter deflector.

"Hey Tucker," she greeted him quietly. Sam set the plant next to him before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind. She squeezed him tightly, resting her cheek on the top of his head as she felt his arm grab her arm to squeeze. Sam stared at the headstone with him as they fell into silence.

The trio was back together again.

Sam gave a deep shaky sigh. She could feel him nearby. A rush of cold air passed her, and she shook a bit. Her arms wrapped tighter around Tucker in light fear before letting go to sit next to him. She dug through her backpack to pull out the shovel.

Tucker said nothing as Sam dug a small hole next to the headstone. With an expert ease, she replanted the mint into the ground. Pushing the dirt around it and patting it down, she spoke quietly to the plant. About how lovely he was, that she knew he was dormant now but that come spring he'd be so handsome. In her mind, she already had named him. His name was Dean. The name Danny always brought up wanting to name any son they'd have in the future. A name she always jokingly teased him for, because she honestly loved the name too.

"So, wanna give me the deets on what's been going on?" Tucker finally spoke up when Sam had shifted to sit back next to her. Sam said nothing for a moment, staring at the plant. He took her hand, and she finally began to talk.

With every word, Tucker got noticeably more and more disturbed at what she had to say. His grip on her hand would tighten as she recounted her night of horror. She tried to focus on Tucker, but she could still...god that watched feeling. Sam knew it was an icy hot glare of anger as she told the story. As she neared the end of her explanation, she could see Tucker violently shiver with her as an unbearably cold and unnatural wind hit them.

"Sammy," his voice finally spoke up, and she saw Tucker freeze upon hearing it. He didn't have to say it. She could see the look plastered on his face to know that the mere voice was terrible to him as well. His hold on her hand was firm.

Again, her free hand went to her hip to make sure the precious specter deflector was on. It was. Cold breath blew against her cheek, but she kept her focus on Tucker. His face paled, and she could see his eyes widen. She knew why. This thing made itself visible to them, and she could see out of the corner of her eye his hand. It moved as if he was going to cup her cheek, but keeping his distance for his own safety.

"The gang's back together," he said, and Sam almost felt bad at how...happy he sounded. She turned to glare at him as she let go of Tucker. She shifted to stand up.

"No, the gang is not," she replied coldly. Those red eyes darkened at her. "The gang involves Tucker Foley, Sam Manson, and Danny Fenton. You are not Danny Fenton."

"Why are you so angry at me?" he frowned. "Sam, I love you. You love me, remember?"

"No I don't!" Sam snapped. Tucker got to his feet as well. "I loved Danny Fenton! You're not him! You're somebody entirely different! Something that won't leave me alone! That's obsessed! You need to go away! I don't love you because you're not Danny Fenton!

A deep, angry chattering noise and it moved a few feet back in an angry jerk. His eyes glared at them both, glowing brighter and brighter as he raised his fists.

"Is this the fucking thanks I get for saving you all these years!?" the voice shrieked with a soul piercing tone that struck immediate fear into her core. The haunting echo was bad, and it only amplified the terror. "I fucking died to protect this ungrateful town! I did everything to be a good boyfriend and friend! I love you, Sammy! I died doing what I could to protect you, to make sure no ghost ever came to harm you, and I'll be damned if I be forced to leave you again!"

"Dude, you need to leave her alone!" Tucker shouted, scrambling to stand closer to Sam. He grabbed her hand again protectively, half-standing in front of her. "You were Danny Fenton once, but not anymore! You gotta go!"

"Tucker, you better fucking move before I end you!" it snarled.

"No!"

A blast hit the ground two feet in front of them, causing them both to fumble back in fear. Sam's free hand grasped the back of Tucker's shirt. This was the first time this...this thing actively used an attack against her. She could tell that it was a warning shot, but it was still so close. She could smell the grass as it smoldered from the blast. He was escalating. Fast. She swallowed hard, and she lightly pushed Tucker to the side so she could properly face her spectral stalker.

"You're not Danny Fenton!" Sam screamed. "Danny Fenton would never hurt his best friends!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" The figure slapped his hands over his ears, closing his eyes tightly and roared in anger. "I AM Danny Fenton!"

"NO! YOU! AREN'T!" Sam stomped her foot with every scream as her hand ripped out of Tuckers so she could fling her arms wildly to emphasis. His eyes snapped open and gave her the coldest look she had ever received. Her knees nearly buckled.

"I'll prove it," he hissed.

The figure shot into the ground, and Sam's heart continued to race as she stared. It wasn't over. It couldn't be over. It couldn't be the end.

A hand shot out of the ground, akin to the start of a cliche zombie movie. Sam felt all the color drain from her face as she grew so, so cold. Soon, an entire body began to emerge from the ground, along with a horrific smell that instantly hit her. Despite having never truly smelled it before, Sam had a very good guess as to what it was. Death.

"Oh god," Tucker's voice came out in barely a whisper of horror. She felt him wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him as a hand clamped over her eyes before she could truly see anything. Sam was too numb to stop him, and she didn't want to. Sam could feel Tucker shake as he clung to her tightly. "Sam, don't look."

Sam could hear an odd rattling and lots of cracking, with terrible groaning and wheezing. The smell was overwhelming. She fumbled a bit as Tucker took a step back, but she was quickly able to walk back with him. Her best friend's breathing was short and fast. Nearly a panic attack.

"...Is it bad?" she dared herself to ask. Her fingers began to cling to his shirt. Tucker swallowed hard.

"...Just keep your eyes closed," he practically begged. He took another step back, and Sam fumbled to follow. That smell was either getting closer, or it was getting immensely worse. Either could be true. Sam felt Tucker's breath on her ear, as he desperately whispered, "Sam, reach into my pocket and pull out the thermos. Trap this thing."

Sam's hands immediately began to pat Tucker down blindly. She soon was able to locate his pocket, feeling the familiar metal container. Grabbing it, she pulled it out and uncapped it with shaky hands. Straight ahead, she heard angry, breathless groans. Something came towards them. She could feel the grass and leaves being trampled. Tucker forced them both to take another step back.

"Sam!" Tucker's voice was full of panic.

Sam fumbled with the thermos, letting the cap fall to the ground as she held it up. Tucker's hold on her loosened so she could properly aim, but she was still aiming blindly. She pressed the single button of the thermos, and the familiar jerk of the invention working. Her ears strained for the familiar noise of a ghost being sucked in. Their angry screams, the invention powering down. But none of it came. It just kept going, and Sam gestured the invention around. Maybe she wasn't aiming right.

"It's not working!" Tucker seemed more panicked, and it caused Sam's heart to thud hard. "It's not sucking him in!"

But it worked on ghosts...and Danny was a ghost...It never worked on him when he was in his human form but he was a full-Oh god.

Part of her had already guessed, but the subtly confirmed reality petrified her. Her free hand grabbed Tucker's shirt, grasping it tightly in her first.

"What do we do?" she asked. Tucker made them step back once more.

"Stay BACK!" Tucker barked, causing Sam to jump. In her ear, he whispered, "Do you have anything?" Sam perked up.

"Yes!" she replied eagerly. She pulled her skirt up a bit to grab the blaster, and she handed it to Tucker. He accepted it.

"I have the Fenton Fisher in my glove box and some towels and blankets in the trunk," Tucker told her quietly. "Please get them."

Sam felt him turn her around, and he took his hand off her eyes. She blinked as she faced the parking lot, her vision adjusting to being able to see again. Tucker's hand slipped into hers, giving her his set of keys. She glanced down at them, and she clutched them tightly in her hand.

"Don't look back at us," Tucker told her. His voice soon became distressed, but angry. "I told you to stay BACK!"

An angry wheezing and stomps on the leaves, more horrible cracking and snapping. Sam didn't stick around, and she quickly made her way to the parking lot. Her mind raced as she half-jogged down the path to the gate of the cemetery. She quickly opened it and slipped out, hurrying to Tucker's car. She retrieved the Fenton Fisher and opened the truck. She draped a large, worn blanket over her arm before shutting the car and locking it.

She heard the blaster fire. She snapped her attention to the hill in worry. There was no screaming or noises from Tucker or...him, that she could hear. Sam quickly raced her way back up towards her friend.

Tucker glanced behind him as Sam approached, and he motioned for her to come as he shifted to be in the way. So she couldn't see. And she kept it that way, primarily watching the ground as she stepped forward. While she rationally knew what was there, pretending that she didn't made her feel better.

She looked up to watch Tucker as he grabbed the Fenton Fisher from her. He handed her the blaster, and she traded with him. His other hand grabbed the blanket, and he began to walk away from her towards the figure. He tossed the blanket onto the figure, covering his face and upper body.

For the first time, Sam let herself look, and she felt sick. The figure was not in the jumpsuit as she tried to convince herself. Instead he sported the dark gray suit that they had buried her boyfriend in. The skin of the hands was a sickly and bruised color, the fingers distorted as they jerked to try and remove the cover. The corpse moved slowly and with that sickening cracking accompanying every gesture as the figure overshadowing it forced activity despite the rigor mortis. It had stupidly trapped itself, stubbornly refusing to leave to save itself. Thankfully it allowed Tucker to quickly wrap it in the Fenton Fisher before it could do anything.

Once wrapped, Tucker tied it off the best he could. He took a step back, unraveling the line a bit. They both stared silently at the figure as it continued to move and crack. To Sam's relief, when Tucker wrapped the line around him, he unintentionally made it to where the blanket wouldn't slide off. Sam didn't know the extent of Danny's injuries before his death...but based on Tucker's reaction, it wasn't a sight she wanted to see anytime soon.

"We need to get him out," Sam finally spoke up. Tucker stared at her, his eyes occasionally flickering back to the covered form as it jerked violently against him. He kept a firm hold onto the line.

"How?" he questioned.

Sam stared off at the woods, thinking for a moment. She pointed to them.

"I have an idea. Let's go there, more private," she said. Tucker glanced behind him to where she pointed, and he shot her an odd look, but complied.

He made a clicking noise, tugging on the pole. The form reluctantly took a step forward, the cracking making Sam's stomach churn. She reluctantly turned her belt off, and she got behind the figure to give it a push. It would be a slow process to get to the woods.

[ectoterrestrials-moved]

Danny’s Mental Health HCs ( content warning: alternate timeline suicide, depression, anxiety, phobias & PTSD )

Under Read More For Sensitive Content As Stated Above

Danny’s Depression - Before The Incident

Danny’s depression became most apparent during his early teen years, and mostly manifested itself in the form of anger. Other symptoms of his include insomnia, and feelings of worthlessness.

Danny’s Trauma - The Incident

Danny is electrocuted while messing with his parents’ ghost portal before it was finished. The shock would have killed his human-half if hadn’t undergone a transformation that resulted in him becoming half-ghost. Danny has repressed the memory of the electrocution and the initial transformation, but because he woke up in the ghost portal in his ghost form, he was able to understand what happened.

Danny’s PTSD ( Combined with Pre-existing Mental Health Issues - Post Incident )

Electrophobia: Danny has a fear of electricity. It’s NOT a fear of electronics/everyday electricity that can’t be seen ( he’s not going to freak out every time he plugs in his phone ). Things like lightening, electric dog collars, and electroshock therapy could potentially trigger a response of anxiety and, in severe cases, panic attacks.

Identity

Because of Danny’s depression growing up, he never had a completely concrete sense of self. Being constantly bullied, comparing himself to Jazz, and disconnect from his parents exaggerated this.

With a new part of himself to identify with ( his ghost-half ) Danny’s struggle to understand himself worsened.

Identity Crisis ( episode )

This is a pretty great episode to look at when exploring Danny’s sense of Identity.

While attempting to separate his ghost-half from his human-half, Danny gets divided into his Id and Superego. His Id winds up and his human-half, and his superego winds up as his ghost-half.

Danny’s ghost-half tells his human-half that he’s a disappointment to their family, illustrating how he believes he’s viewed by his family. Danny’s human-half corrects him by saying it’s HIS family, illustrating how Danny believes his family will never accept his ghost-half.

New Anxiety

Danny develops an anxiety disorder that stems from his constant search for identity and his constant worry of how he’s perceived by others. Symptoms of this disorder include: general anxiety, stressed-induced-nightmares, panic attacks.

Sidenote: among many benefits of being half-ghost is that beating up bad guys becomes one of the most successful ways for Danny to blow off steam/control his anger.

The Ultimate Enemy - Alternate Timeline Suicide

Danny’s sense of self-doubt comes around full force right before Casper High’s C.A.T. exams. He’s reminded of how much of a disappointment he is to his family, his friends, his teachers, fellow ghosts, and himself.

He doesn’t question the ethics of cheating on the exam, because cheating on and acing the exam would be an instantaneous, tangible way to prove that he’s not a total failure. Even though the gesture would be empty, he still desires that written validation. His sense of self-worth isn’t based on anything real. It’s based on his shaky grip on his identity, and vague idea of society’s standards.

IN AN ALTERNATE TIMELINE ( sill canon tho ): Via a time travel paradox, Danny is the sole survivor of an explosion that kills his friends and family. He sees the incident as a result of everything he has feared within himself. He is overcome with survivors’ guilt, grief, loss, and an overwhelming amount of complex emotions that he doesn’t understand or know how to cope with. He turns to the only person on Earth who he thinks will have a chance at understanding his pain, even though that person is extremely toxic, abusive, and manipulative: Vlad Masters. Danny tells Vlad that he just wants the pain to go away -- that he wants to be rid of all his human emotion, and Vlad, like the disgusting villain that he is, complies.

Here’s where it gets head-canon-y: Vlad assisting Danny in separating his ghost-half from his human-half is assisted suicide. Danny kills his human half, ridding himself of emotion and pain.

Back to the Main Timeline IN CANON: Danny, in the main timeline, sees all of this play out and fixes almost everything ( clockwork fixes what Danny can’t ). This results in a lot of great character development including strengthened bonds between him and Jazz, as well as Danny having a more concrete sense of self-worth/identity when he decides being a good person is more important than a test score.

Back to HC Main Timeline: Danny becomes aware of how severe his mental health issues are. He realizes that he could be putting his own life in danger. He sees how vulnerable he can be and how manipulable he is when he’s suffering from severe symptoms. When he and Jazz reconnect after Danny talks to her about her knowing about his ghost powers, he also opens up to her about his concerns, and together they get help for him. This is the first time Danny reaches out for help. Danny attends regular therapy sessions from ages 15-19 and stops going regularly after his first semester of college.

What This Means For Danny Now - Main Verse

Danny is mostly able to see his feelings of worthlessness and lack of identity as symptoms of his depression and trauma, and not as absolute truths. He knows that these feelings are a part of him, but they do not define him. He still struggles with these symptoms, but he manages them.

[cabinofimagines]

Our road back home (Piper Mclean x Male!reader)

A/N: Y’ALL THIS IS THE LAST REQUEST I HAD IN LINE IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF, hope u like it, I made it very sad. -Danny c:

Words: 1,755

Warnings: none, besides bad writing lol

Request: May I request a Piper x Male!reader - maybe in the last war is where the reader is holding onto dear life, and Piper now holding on to him- trying to charm speak him to keep going as they battle is waging but is forced to leave them to keep fighting, and somebody else has to take him for to get treated. And with the major head trauma his memory goes fuzzy and can’t recall Piper anymore.

“I’m sorry...”

Piper never thought this could happen, somewhere inside her, even if it was silly, she expected her mom could do an exception, after all she did for her, she wanted nothing but a happily ever after.

But it wasn’t there.

Y/N was the best. He was sweet, smart, pretty... How could this happen to him? it wasn’t his fault, everyone suffered, people lost more than what they could stand after the war, to think that she was safe from the pain was too naive.

He got hurt during the last minutes, Piper found him by her side, blood coming out in excessive amounts from his head, she got scared, fought to keep him standing and “Please,” she muttered on his ear, “please don’t close your eyes”

I worked once with Jason, it had to work with Y/N, there was no other option. Piper loved him. Love conquered all.

Or so she thought.

Will and Kayla practically had to rip him from her hands, they wanted to help but she didn’t have the mind to understand. She saw red. Jason and Nico had to grab her by the arms and pull her apart while she screamed. He wasn’t dead. Y/N couldn’t be dead.

She had lost one of her best friends, and with Leo away she couldn’t bear to lose Y/N so she prayed to all the gods known, she prayed for his life. Surprisingly the listened and obliged. Piper heard Will’s voice coming out of his cabin, his blond curls peeking through the door with a shy smile on his face, and the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders.

Y/N was unconscious at the time, but he looked okay, even cute. Most importantly, he was breathing. She stayed there for what it felt like days and nights compressed into one hour; until Y/N moved quietly in his bed, blinking slowly, showing his bright, cheery eyes.

“Hey, you” Piper whispered, wiping her tears away, “how ya feeling?”

“I’m throwing up any minute now,” He complained in a husky voice, “holy Hades, what the hell happened?”

“A monster hit you” she explained patiently, “you were bleeding. A lot. Thought I’d lost you”

She reached to touch his cheek, but Y/N pushed it away gently, looking around.

“I’m sorry, “ He said, “am I in the Apollo cabin?”

“Yes,” Piper frowned, not sure of what was going on inside his head.

“Alright, one thing at a time” He rubbed his eyes, then looked at her curiously, “you’re new. Are you the person in charge of my recovery?”

“What?”

“Hey Y/N, you’re up!” Kayla approached the boy with a glass of nectar, handing it to him, “how are you?”

“I’m fine” He retorted, sipping his drink carefully, “I mean I have no idea how I ended up in here, but yeah I guess I’m fine.”

“What?” Kayla looked at Piper, “What does he mean?”

“I-I don’t know”

Y/N snorted.

“What a good healer you are then, having no idea what is wrong with me.”

“She’s not your healer” Kayla replied in a stern voice, “Piper’s your girlfriend.”

Y/N choked on his nectar, his eyes widening at the news.

“She’s my what?!”

“You don’t remember?” His friend asked in utter surprise, “oh man, we need Will”

She ran out of the room, leaving Piper and Y/N alone, again. A heavy silence fell around them and the weight that was no longer on Piper’s shoulders fell right on her stomach, it was way worse like this.

“Y/N, what’s the last thing you remember?” She asked softly.

“I-uh... I know I’m a demigod, and I have no family. I’ve been living here all my life and fought in the war against Kronos. Then Percy disappeared and Annabeth went nuts...”

“And?”

“Another war against other demigods, we protected camp while some of us went on a quest” He frowned profusely, “I’m skipping things, aren’t I? Did the war happen? That’s the reason I’m here, right?”

“I was one of the demigods that went on the quest” she replied with a shaky voice, “and when I came back you started talking to me, and... we...”

“Kayla’s telling the truth?” Y/N stared at her, it was hard to see how distant his eyes could look, “we were a thing?”

“We are a thing, Y/N!” Piper stood up, “gods, I can’t have this, please don’t joke like this” she begged.

“I’m not joking!” the boy replied, shifting uncomfortably on his bed, “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you.”

Will came in right on time to see Piper walking out, fighting against her tears. Y/N didn’t have to see her so affected, he didn’t know. He didn’t remember.

Leo had sent a message a week ago, he was alive. He was lost but looked completely okay. He’d be back any day, they just had to be patient. Piper trusted him enough to know Leo’d go back. She wished she could say the same about Y/N.

“There you are,” Hazel sat next to her, sinking her feet on the sand, “you didn’t have breakfast and is time for lunch, here” She handed her an apple.

“You didn’t have to” 

“Oh I did, cause see, Piper, if people don’t eat, they die” She joked, patting on her back.

“Gee, how wise” She smirked, “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve been distant with... well, everyone”

“I understand” Hazel nodded, “how is he?”

Piper shrugged, the feeling in her stomach coming back in full force, “dunno, I don’t really talk to him, it’s kind of... well, it sucks”

Her friend nodded again, grabbing her by the shoulder in a protective way.

“He’s very sorry, Piper. I mean, he’s confused as hell but you can tell he hates hurting you, maybe something inside him tells him is wrong”

“I don’t want to think about it,” she said bitterly, “it’s so stupid that I get this luck being the daughter of Aphrodite”

“It’s life” Hazel sighed, “but perhaps you can do something about it”

Piper raised her brows, “Like what?”

“Well, maybe win him back” the girl offered, “it’s cheesy, but if he doesn’t get his memory back nothing stops you from making him fall for you again.”

“It’s different now” Piper muttered, “I don’t know we could get together the same way we did before”

“Then do it differently” Hazel smiled, “people do crazy things for love, Pipes”

“Oh gods, please don’t quote Hercules like that” Piper cringed, “it’s hard to think positively about the story once, you know, meet the real Hercules”

“Oh no,” she giggled, “you’re so right”

“Huh, hi” Some boy talked behind them, “hey Piper, can I talk to you?”

Y/N stood awkwardly, looking like he had no idea of what to do with his hands. Piper remembered it being one of his quirks, ‘at least he’s still the same’ she thought. Hazel excuse herself and went up to eat lunch, while Y/N occupied her seat.

“So...” Piper started not sure of how to talk to him now.

“So” He repeated, clasping his hands together nervously, “Hello.”

“Hi?” Piper answered with a half smile.

“I have no idea how to start, I’m so sorry,” He whined, hiding his face with both hands, “I’m trying to ask you something, but I don’t know how to do it without making it awkward.”

“Just say it,” She shrugged, “can’t be too bad.”

At least she hoped it wasn’t that bad.

“See, I feel like shit all the time,” He said, “because I know I hurt you, and that... well, it sucks”

“Please don’t” Piper replied worryingly, “don’t feel bad, these things happen sometimes but is not your fault-”

“I know is not” Y/N sighed, “it isn’t fair either, you deserve to be happy”

“I don’t wanna force you into things”

“Don’t worry, you’re not doing this, I am” He smiled, and for a moment Piper felt at home, “so anyway, I’m here to offer peace”

“What does that mean?”

“I think that, whatever we had before my accident,” Y/N stopped for a moment, thinking his words, “well people had told me about it, and it sounded nice.” 

“It was nice, yeah” Piper nodded nostalgic.

“I hope you understand it would be weird for me to start up everything again since I don’t really feel like I know you” His voice was soothing, allowing her a safe place to stay at ease, “but I think we can maybe, try to be friends?”

“You are very special to me, Y/N” Piper murmured, “I’d do anything for you, at some point you knew that but now you don’t, still was important to me you knew that”

“Thanks, Piper” He blushed, nodding at her words, “that’s nice of you.”

They stayed silent. When the sun was starting to paint a faint orange, Piper spoke up.

“I would love to be your friend again.”

Y/N looked up at her, mildly surprised that she had agreed, he then nodded showing one of his best smiles.

“Great, then I could finally meet the legend behind all the stories people already say around camp”

“They have stories about me?” She grinned.

“Kayla told me you made Drew quit her title as a counselor”

“Well yeah, but I had reasons.”

“Like what?”

“She annoyed me.”

Y/N laughed, and it was like things were going back to their place. They stayed there for a long time, talking until dinner was ready and the moon stood tall up their heads.  Once more, she was totally head over heels, losing her senses to a simple boy, the best boy.

“We should go eat now before they leave us without any food.” Y/N shook the sand from his legs and held his hand out to help her stand. Like he used to do before the accident. Maybe not everything was lost.

“Sure” Piper brushed her clothes too, then she looked at him again, “this was nice, Y/N, I hope we can do it again soon”

“Me too” He tilted his head, eyeing her curiously, “I like you, Piper, I get why old me felt things about you”

“Woah, that’s so romantic” She snorted.

“Hey, I’m trying!” He laughed, “I’ll get it right at some point, don’t be bad”

“Yeah” and her heart pounded at the chances, “I believe you”

“I’ll find my way home” He beamed, puppy eyes staring at the girl. His best girl.

Yay, you really thought I would make real angst? Bitch, AS IF, everyone knows I’m completely incapable lmao 

Hope you guys like it anyway <3

-Danny :)

[everything-lobotomy-corporation]

Worries & Welfare ::Chesed x Reader::

-Chapter 1-

This is a heavily modified AU. Sephirah are human, CEO has a daughter, PS you’re the daughter. I’m making stuff up at this point, I hope other people like it.

He tracked a small bit of blood behind him as he walked, trudging through the puddles of blood and bile and bits of viscera. The man ran a hand through his blue hair, letting out a tough sigh as he named off every single mangled body that he passed. He tried to imagine them walking triumphantly behind them, telling him the news and keeping him up to date with the abnormalities. He almost managed to smile, even though the top of his shoe knocked an eye ball out of his path. He took in a shaky breath. If only he had a coffee right now. The smell was overwhelming and it had only been a few hours since the incident. The remainders of teams were rounding up the few escaped abnormalities left. Nothing remained in his department. The Sephirah sighed, his eyes darting back and forth at the twisted faces of corpses he passed.

"Sefirot meeting. now." He heard. He didn't bother to stop walking or turn around, still shambling down the hall just as slowly as before. "Chesed," He heard sternly. "I need you to come with me."

"Yesod, I'm busy." He finally answered, putting his hands in his pockets. " Go bother someone else."

"Angela needs to speak to all of us on the CEO's behalf." The purple haired man said once more. He seemed a bit steamed, gritting his teeth as he spoke. "It's in your best interest to show up."

"I'll get there. Let me grieve in peace." Chesed said firmly, finally glaring over his shoulder at the man. Yesod scoffed, not bothering any longer and simply walking away.Chesed stayed for a bit longer, the sound of light chanting still ringing in his memory as he took in the carnage around him. He didn't want to be here any longer. He thought he prepared himself for this. Maybe not well enough.

Chesed arrived in the meeting room, noting that he was the 5th one to arrive. He smiled, taking a seat next to the twins and kicking back in his chair with a fresh cup of coffee in his right hand. At the end of the table sat you. Chesed couldn't help but smile wider to see you. The CEO didn't let his daughter deal with such affairs quite normally, so it was a joy to see him prepping you for the position of manager. Angela stood to your right, informing you in her robotic way of your basic duties and such.

"Sorry I'm late." Said the man with the olive hair, making the female twin to Chesed's right let out a low groan.

"Why don't you take your job seriously!?"

"Lisa, Not today-"

"No, Netzach, Not in here." Angela quickly warned, hearing the man enter. "She is referred to as Tiphereth in a professional setting."

"That makes it hard as fuck to differentiate between them." Netzach said under his breath, taking a seat beside Chesed. They smiled at each other. "I can call you by your name right, Danny boy?"

" Shut up, Giovanni." Chesed joked under his breath, making sure not to be heard by Angela. It seemed that she turned her focus back to you. Chesed liked the name he was given. Much more so than Daniel. Sephirah's weren't allowed to go by their real names, which was weird for the twins but mostly no one complained. A few more people entered the room but Chesed didn't turn to look, still watching you thumb through paperwork, trying to figure out what was what.

"Everyone, Thank you for coming." Angela started. The doors closed almost on cue, putting a few of the more meek sefirot on edge. "Now. As I'm sure you all are aware, we suffered a massive breach 4 hours ago that we have, only 20 minutes ago, gotten under control." While her voice sounded calm, everyone winced at the surely scathing intentions. "The breach started in the Security Department."

"Big shocker." The female Tiphereth said under her breath. She didn't really care who heard and Netzach sunk lower in his chair after hearing his department on blast. Chesed offered him a weak smile, hoping he wasn't discouraged.

"Because of this over 100 employee's are now dead." Angela continued, " The entirety of Welfare team, including clerks, is dead."

"Ouch," Started the Snarky red head across the table. "Chesed how could you let them all die?" He pursed his lips, moving to take a sip of coffee only to notice that his hand was shaking. He seemed surprised, trying his best to remain calm.

"Sephirah Chesed."

"Yes, Ma'am." He answered quickly. Angela looked pleased with that, at least. She looked through some papers for a moment, handing a few off to you, who looked very confused sitting at the head of the table.

"With your team dead, we may have to move abnormalities and close your department until we can hire some replacements." He simply nodded. He didn't really want to hear that but at this point there was nothing he could do. Until you spoke.

"Why?" Your question was simple yet the room sat in silence. You almost felt stupid, all those eyes on you. You leaned back a little in your fancy chair, biting your lip. Reluctantly, you explained. "I've seen departments run with only a couple people."

"It's possible," Angela started, "but Chesed has some very dangerous abnormalities in his department. We cannot entrust one person to handle them all."

"I have an idea," the raven haired woman spoke, the tone of her voice dragging along.

"Yes, Binah?"

"Swap his out with a couple of simple ones from other departments. Give him some easy ones and he'll be able to handle the job on his own. If we take Welfare team out of commission totally then we'd be losing a lot of energy production."

"I do not believe Chesed could handle his entire department on his own." Angela said flatly. Chesed felt a sting but quickly spoke up.

"I can handle it. We need the energy production."

"What if I help?" You asked, the entire room looking at you again, a couple of themes snickering. Angela seemed shocked, holding a hand to where a heart would be. "I needed field experience anyway."

"I meant more of from a Sefirot perspective. Sefirots do not normally go into abnormality chambers. Chesed is only doing it because he has no team." She clarified, "I would never send you in there-"

"I want to help!" You insisted, making Chesed smile. "I know it could be dangerous but isn't that what this whole line of work is like? I want to get to know this place from an employee's perspective!" Angela just blinked, staring at you with disbelief. She looked back to Chesed, who just shrugged.

"... um... very well... I will try and fill his team quickly then.. in the mean time. Chesed.. get acquainted with your new... 'team member' ."

[diinofayce]

Like A Whisper In The Night - 16

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC (Layne Hardin) | Word Count: 2,144 | Warnings: Angst, Angsty-fluff, implied smut, drugs and alcohol mentions, mentions of torture, language | A/N: This is a little bit of a filler chapter to help round out the series to end on a nice even 20 chapters. Inspiration was taken from Gasoline by Halsey | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Layne laid in her bed staring up at her ceiling. She had told Bucky she just needed some time alone to grieve and promised that she would be fine. He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone, but respected her wishes and reluctantly kissed her softly in the threshold of her room before letting the door separate them. She changed into cotton pajama shorts and a worn Megadeth t-shirt that was thinned with age and riddled with holes. One leg was twisted in her orange comforter that smelled so strongly of Bucky from when he stayed in her room while she was gone, the other dangling off the side of her bed swinging softly. Layne had tried opening up her balcony door to let the night air breeze in, but even that didn’t help to settle her thoughts.

Her mind was like a bull in a china shop, cramped and raging and confused and lost and breaking every. Damn. Thing. Around. It. Layne groaned in frustration and tangled her fingers roughly in her hair, tugging sharply until her scalp tingled in pain. She squeezed her eyes shut forcefully, willing her brain to just shut off and go to sleep. She didn’t want to think about Danny, she didn’t want to think about her parents, she didn’t want to think about Ava List or Hydra or the things she did…was forced to do…no…did willingly so that she wouldn’t be beat anymore. FRIDAY and everyone else in the tower may call her Agent Hardin, but she was anything but a real agent. She wasn’t a soldier, or a super spy, or in any way able to keep any semblance of composure under duress. Layne begged and she pleaded and she cried and it didn’t matter, so she killed for them because then the pain stopped and that’s what kept her up at night.

The Avengers put everyone before themselves else time and time again. Steve almost dies on a daily basis just so someone else will be safe. Layne felt a scream settled in her chest, begging to tear out of her throat, but she swallowed it down. She let out a soft growl, as if trying to placate the urge to just scream herself to sleep and when that didn’t work she swung both her legs out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, Layne was satisfied to see the hospital gown still hanging in front of her mirror, the last thing she wanted to look at was the darkness she couldn’t stop seeing in her eyes.

Layne knew Bucky drank through most of her reserves while she had been kidnapped, but she was pretty sure in thinking that one bottle would be safe. Reaching into the cabinet under the sink, she pushed the cleaning supplies out of the way and pressed her hand against the back wall. The false back fell away and Layne came out with an expensive bottle of champagne, she had nicked it from one of Tony’s fancy parties and had been saving it for a special occasion. Sitting on the lip of her bathtub she ripped the foil off and carefully twisted off the wire cage. Pointing the cork away from her she hit the neck with palm of her hand once, twice, three times and the cork flew out of the neck with a loud pop, foam flowing freely from the bottle and splashing across her feet and tile. Layne ran her tongue up the side of the bottle, sucking the foam into her mouth and took one deep swallow. Her cheeks pushed out from her mouth being full of the expensive champagne, she looked at the label and then immediately leaned over and spit the alcohol into the toilet. Layne let out a heavy groan and before she could change her mind, dropped the bottle - mouth down - into the toilet.

Layne dug back into her little secret hiding hole and came out with a mason jar stuffed with laundry dryer sheets. Opening the lid she pulled the sheets out and chucked them in the trash before pulling out a little baggie of marijuana and some rolling papers. She pulled this jar out only in emergencies, when sleep just evaded her all night. Layne got her stock from one of the bartenders at the little dive bar she played at some Wednesdays. Opening the baggie, she stuck her fingers in and pulled a little bud out rolling it carefully between her thumb and pointer finger. The batch was about three weeks old now and was drier than the desert, the whole baggie was nothing more than ditch weed at this point. Sighing she crumbled it apart and spread it in a thin line on a paper, rolling it tightly and licking it closed. Layne placed the joint between her lips, flicked her lighter alive and paused with the flame raised. She suddenly threw the lighter with a yell out of the bathroom where it hit the far wall and fell to the floor with a clatter, she removed the joint from her mouth and held it gently between her pointer and middle finger. Layne watched the little joint shake in her quaking hands before she crumpled it in her fist with a growl and deposited the ball of paper and green into the sink.

Layne couldn’t get her brain to stop, flipping through the faces and memories of the girls from the bunker. Her feet moved on their own and with each step a name and face came to her.

Sarah. Porcelain skin, blond, mascara down her face. A memory of sitting on a floor surrounded by books with an orange kitten in her lap.

Cora. A beautiful lanky girl with dark, flawless skin. Brown doe eyes and soft curly hair that was matted with blood. A memory of her dancing in the club with her friends before the cute boy she had been flirting with had drug her out into the alley and into a van.

A small girl with fiery red hair, blue eyes, and freckles for days. The Avengers had concluded her ID to be fake so she probably wasn’t old enough to get into the bar. All Layne knew about the girl was a memory of her laying in bed with a beautiful woman, their naked limbs tangled as the morning sun brushed over her lover’s face. ‘I love you’ they whispered to each other as the memory was sliced by Layne ripping the girl’s soul from her body.

When Layne’s feet stopped moving it took her a moment to realize she was outside Bucky’s door. She took a shaky breath to calm her nerves before raising her hand and knocking softly. It didn’t even take ten seconds for Bucky to whip the door open wide, his hair tangled and the bags under his eyes puffy and dark. Layne winced and looked down at her toes, her hands rubbing up and down her arms.

“I’m not fine,” Layne whispered desperately before she was engulfed by Bucky’s arms. As soon as his scent engulfed her the sob tore from her throat and Bucky was picking her up and carrying her into his room, closing the door behind him with his foot.

Bucky set Layne down in the mound of pillows and the comforter of his bed and crawled in next to her, pulling the comforter up over the both of them and pulled her tight to his chest. Bucky kissed the top of her head softly, humming an old tune from the thirties, and rubbed his hand up and down her spine letting her cry herself out into his shirt. Their legs tangled together as Layne tightened her grip on his shirt and just came apart in his arms. Everything from the last few weeks just came pounding down on her and she felt her chest constricting and it was becoming harder to suck in air between her sobs.

Bucky pulled back slightly and tipped Layne’s chin up to look at him. “Hey. You’re panicking and I need you to breath, doll. Look at me, breath with me.” Bucky over-exaggerated his breathing to make it easy for Layne to match.

Layne locked gaze with Bucky, his icy blue gaze cutting through all the ghosts in her brain like a hot knife, her breath coming back to her in between soft hiccups. Bucky reached up and swiped the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks to swipe away her tears and Layne turned her head to kiss his vibranium palm, a small loving smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He leaned forward and placed a tiny kiss to the tip of her nose and she gave a watery giggle.

“No one expects you to be okay, Layne,” Bucky finally whispered, afraid for some reason to talk too loud.

Layne broke his gaze and looked down to fiddle with the V of Bucky’s shirt. “I just…I don’t know how to compartmentalize this. I don’t know how to accept what has happened and just move on.”

Bucky reached out slowly and softly tucked hair out of the way of the enhancer and it’s little spinning gears, making a mental note to ask Tony about creating some sort of covering or something for it. He raked his stormy eyes over her face, down the the soft slope of her nose to her lips that were red and raw from her chewing on them. “Show them to me,” he demanded softly and Layne’s caramel eyes flicked up to his with fear and confusion.

“What?” she gasped softly, not understanding his request.

“Let me compartmentalize them for you. There is nothing you could show me that would make me look at you any different, that would change how I feel about you,” Bucky assured, pressing a kiss softly to her forehead.

Layne shook her head. “How is it you feel about me?”

Bucky licked his lips and searched her eyes as if he could find the words he wanted in them. “I feel like I need you because you keep me calm and grounded. I spent so long under Steve’s shadow with him trying to protect me, having you around has given me a weird sense of purpose. I feel terrified because you keep yourself standing against these walls you’ve built and I’m afraid that you don’t actually need me like I hope you do. I feel like I could be falling in love with you and I’m worried after all of this is said and done you’re going to want to leave.”

The raw honesty that poured from Bucky made Layne’s heart speed up and the breath to freeze in her lungs. “That…is a lot of feeling.” Layne finally responded. Her eyes searched Bucky’s face and caught him trying to brace himself for her rejection, for her to run. “I’m afraid that I’m going to let all my walls down and let you in and you’re going to see how much work I am and not want anything to do with it. That you’re going to wipe your hands of me and walk away and I’m going to have to rebuild. I’m afraid of falling in love with you because every version of love that I have experienced has been so warped and twisted that I’m not sure I know what it even is. I feel like a fucking hurricane and I don’t want to destroy you.”

“Each love is different. We can figure ours out as we go, that’s okay. Just know that you aren’t in this alone, if you need to just get the stuff beating you up in your head out…I’m here for you. I want to help. You can’t destroy me, I’m pretty damn resilient,” Bucky promised, nuzzling her nose with his.

Layne pressed her lips against Bucky’s. It started slow and soft, her tears still drying on her cheeks, but it turned hungry and desperate quickly. Layne’s fingers drifted lower and slipped between Bucky’s shirt and skin, her finger tips tracing the hard planes of his abs. Bucky’s hands settled firmly on Layne’s hips, pulling her close against him, his need growing and pressing into her stomach. Layne needed him, needed the distraction of his touch, of his taste. If she overfilled her senses on Bucky then maybe everything else would just quiet down.

Bucky was not unaware to Layne’s strategy, but as more clothing was pulled off and hands got a little more adventurous Bucky gave into what Layne was desperately telling him she needed. He knew she would talk to him when she was ready, just like she came to him when she was ready. Bucky would always wait for Layne because knew how exhausting it was to run.

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