#because teens fighting ghosts is something everyone is familiar with

[twentysidednerd]

it feels so weird when i’m knee-deep in the lore of a world i come up with, being a fantasy enthusiast and all that, and then in the middle of that, i think of a realistic fiction story that’s set in an actual place during an actual event that is just… so normal for what i’m used to writing lmao

in the midst of trying to develop an entire sci-fi borderline magical world, i just got the idea for a glorified teen ghostbuster’s-esque story because i’ve been reminiscing about a theater conference i went to in high school and my brain decided that was a good idea for a setting

i have nothing against realistic fiction by any means, it’s fun to write, but like… it’s just so jarring to go from a ‘gideon the ninth’ inspired sci-fi world with all this world building from the ground-up to a bunch of normal-ass teenagers fighting off a ghost that’s trying to kill them in upstate new york lol

[mischiefmaker615]

Ghost (Loki Love Story)Ch 6

You sat on the ground as you faced the door, doing your best to dry the rest of your hair with a towel while Loki bathed himself behind you. you did your best not to think about the previous moments that had happened not too long ago, frankly tied of blushing as you shook your head from the mere attempts to think about it. he was attractive, and could actually be a gentleman. Yet the mere knocking feeling of him changing, betraying, his habits from the past prevented you from thinking he had changed, that there was a possible chance.

‘’you never answered my question, by the way.’’

His words had you looking up and you almost turned around as you decided to study the wood swirls in front of you instead. ‘’remind me again?’’

‘’tell me about yourself and then you went about calling me an asshole’’ he explained calmly as you heard water sounds and movement.

‘’if I remember, you didn’t ask it in the form of a question.’’ You reminded and began drying the tips of your hair now with the towel.

‘’alright, please would you tell me about yourself?’’ he asked with a slight chuckle in his voice as you closed your eyes to try to remember.

‘’there’s nothing much to tell I suppose.. young teen leaves home to escape responsibilities and somehow find myself in Asgard. They called in one of the many hidden passage ways through the realm, I’m sure your familiar with them.’’ You half joke considering that was the base of his escape routes half the time. ‘’instead of sending me back, I suppose they took pity and put me in change of weaponry. Most likely because that’s what my people are best known for and figure I’d be better in that department. Sif helped train me as well, but I suppose I was never good enough to join the fights so I stayed behind and trained the soldiers instead. Years went by with multiple situation.., we found ourselves here now in New Asgard as they call it. Valkyrie is king.’’ You explain and hear movement and less water noise, figuring he was drying off.

‘’Valkyrie?’’ he snorted. ‘’I suppose my brother didn’t want the throne?’’

‘’he felt a calling elsewhere I suppose, and she’s not too bad. It’s a bit out of tradition but people are thriving here. I suppose that’s all that matters.’’ You explain and set the towel aside as you kept your eyes down. why was the past something you didn’t exactly favor?

‘’..what responsibilities were so terrible to send you away from your home?’’ he asked after a moment of silence, his voice quiet and careful as if he might be nearing a sensitive subject but you were numb now, and shrugged it off.

‘’an arranged marriage.’’

‘’oh?’’ he asked with interest, raising a brow as he began changing. ‘’I suppose at such a young age its only natural to rebel against the strange change’’

‘’we grew up with that being the norm, it’s for everyone there at home. For me.. I don’t know, I felt something different. Like there was something else out there. So I left and never went back. Asgard is my people now, despite my.. differences’’ you explain with a slight puff of your wings. ‘’they treat me no different for the most part, Midgard is a bit more judgmental for the most part so I only venture off from here if the heroes need extra assistance.’’

You could practically see the look Loki gave at the mention of the Avengers but ignored it, it was a pretty normal reaction from him as you got up and stretched, still facing the door. ‘’Steve was my first friend here, but to rid of some of the negativity towards my extra appendages, a jacket usually does the trick to keep them out of sight.’’

‘’Earths mightiest heroes have a variety of powers and they don’t conceal them, why do you feel the need?’’ by his voice you could tell he was facing you and you shifted a bit, trying not to feel nervous with his eyes behind you.

‘’Banner is feared for example. Midgard isn’t as educated but some no my kind, and they know their love for war. They fear I’d bring it here so it’s best just to blend in looking like the rest.’’

‘’you don’t look like the rest.’’ His voice was gentle and offering a compliment as you feel your cheeks grow red again. With a deep breath, you finally felt like it was okay to turn around and see him in shorts with a plain black shirt you had decided to add for him.

The clothes sculpted everything and you silently cussed to yourself as you kept your eyes on his as he gives a small wave at himself. ‘’practically feel like a Midgardian’’ he teased, indicating how he felt poor and you rolled your eyes with a small smile.

‘’it fits, its warm, be grateful. I’ll order some food while we do some more thinking.’’ You tell him and put anything that’s still wet still in the hamper before you go over to the tub and bend over to unplug the drain.

Instinctually Loki extended his hands behind you, looking as if he was about to grip your waist encase you’d fall in again but you straightened back up safety, unaware of his intention as he gazed off. ‘’alright darling, I’ll do my best to think of some things.’’

~ You told Loki you both could do some thinking after dinner so you sat on opposite ends of the couch while watching Titanic. he didn’t seem to get into the romantic part of it but he did seem intrigued as his eyes rarely looked down at his bowl while he ate.

“so what did you think?’’ you asked with genuine interest as the credits eventually began playing.

‘’it was quite.. interesting, though I’m unsure on why they gave up trying to reposition on the floating wreckage, do humans give up so easily?’’ he asked with a bit of disinterest of human’s foolish thought process.

‘’some do, but the smart ones would have done a lot of things differently. But if you get to annoyed, at least the characters themselves aren’t real. Just the unfortunate accident.’’ You sigh with a wave of your hand, taking both of your bowls in hand as Loki followed you towards the kitchen to keep your distance close by.

‘’accident? Weren’t those sailors distracted? It was out of poor negligence that cost the lives of thousands.’’ Loki scoffed, accidently showing how much he really was paying attention to the movie.

‘’well at the end of the day, we’ll never truly know what happened unless we were actually there. I’m just surprised idiots are trying to make another one, I hear they’ll be making another attempt at the voyage route- if it’s not just rumors’’ you tell him over your shoulder as you begin to wash the dishes.

‘’perhaps this is why humans aren’t considered the inferior race’’ Loki waved a hand with his nose in the air, making you give a little eye roll and you dried your hands off.

‘’I don’t think anyone is inferior, everyone has at least something better than the other and vice versa. It’s not a competition, it honestly be easier if we all work together with our talents.’’

‘’I doubt that will happen for a very long time.’’ Loki shook his head and you set the towel down before walking past him.

‘’perhaps this time on earth again will help give you an opportunity to think positive and see what’s good on this realm. See what people are doing instead of what they aren’t for a change.’’ You tell him as you turn the tv off and start setting up the couch.

‘’what are you doing?’’ he asks as he turns around to practically study you, leaning against the counter.

‘’..setting up your sleeping placement.’’ You told him, looking like you were about to say ‘duh’.

‘’yes, and where are you planning on sleeping?’’

You stop working, remembering how far apart the couch and the bedroom was as you looked around for a solution. ‘’..if we angle the couch-‘’

‘’we’re not moving furniture.’’ He said flatly, already knowing the couch won’t fit down the hall.

‘’..you can take the floor-‘’

Loki scoffed ‘’I am a royal, I do not sleep on the floor-‘’

‘’well it’s my house.’’ You said with an arm cross.

Loki narrowed his eyes and started walking away. Raising a brow, you began following him down the halls.

‘’where are you going?’’

‘’to arrange our sleeping arrangements.’’

Your eyes widened and you stopped walking dead in your tracks. ‘’we are not sharing a bed.’’

Loki walked far enough before he was snapped back a couple feet away from you again in the hall. Narrowing his eyes, he slowly turned back at you to see how stubborn you looked and wouldn’t be moving anytime soon. The way he walked over to you had you taking a few steps before suddenly he turned you around and lifted you with one arm around your waist, your back against his chest as he made sure to not touch your bad arm.

‘’put me down! I make the rules in this house and you’re taking the floor!’’ you snap as you try to pry his hand off. You thought you had successfully did only to see he was the one that put you down once in your room.

‘’which side do you prefer?’’

‘’are you even listening!’’

‘’fine, I’ll take closer to the door. So you feel safer.’’ He said with a small smirk as you scoffed at him.

‘’I don’t need your protection!’’

‘’you’re injured.’’ He said flatly and moved you out into the hall so you were closer to the bathroom before he went in and started going through your cabinets.

‘’what are you looking for??’’

He ignored you before pulling out a toothbrush in its package and rolled his eyes as he started opening it. ‘’for the soldier no doubt.’’ He thought more out loud than speaking to you as he began getting ready for bed. Apparently.

You watched almost dumbfounded as he seemed to be making himself at home. Worse part, you couldn’t even walk away from the bastard as you glared at him while he minded his own business. Once he was finished, he walked over to you and gave you an innocent look.

‘’excuse me,’’ he said and then closed the door in your face as your mouth fell open.

Did.. did he just- at the sound of him peeing, you quickly stopped complaining and turned away as if it would help get rid of the sound. Unbelievable! Soon after he opened the door again and scooted past you.

‘’excuse me.’’ He said a little to sweetly before he realized you weren’t following. Giving you a look, he got almost two steps from you before you slammed the bathroom door in his face.

Two could play at that game.

Ignoring some of the old Norse language that left his mouth, you took your bloody time getting ready for bed and didn’t consider opening the door until you heard him go silent. When you opened up, you saw him glaring daggers at you with his arms crossed and you scooted past him. ‘’shall we?’’

You heard him following behind you before you suddenly slammed the bedroom door in his face and locked the door. If he wasn’t going to move the couch, then the floor it was. Even if it was in the hallway- you were sure his banging and cursing would stop eventually. Going over to the bed, you went to get on it before suddenly you were teleported back to the door.

‘’damn..’’ you cussed quietly. The bed was just to far away from him and there was no way you were going to unscrew it from the ground- although you considered it. taking a deep breath, you went over to the door and opened it, looking calm so he wouldn’t figure out what just happened. ‘’fine, but stay on your side of the bed.’’

He didn’t look anywhere near happy as he looked down his nose at you and you turned to get on your side. His expression lightened when he watched the gracious display of your hips swaying in your sexy nightgown so he made no attempts at grumbling. It would get you no further at falling it love with him if he treated you like that, the only reason why he held his tongue.

You considered building a pillow wall as you got into bed on your side towards the edge and you felt the bed on the other side sink behind you as he slipped in. ‘’we need to meet half way here.’’

‘’I told you to stay on-‘’

‘’not in bed.’’ He interrupted dryly and took a breath, his voice growing gentle as he turned his head to look at you as you did the same with your fingers clutching the sheets around you. ‘’we’re stuck together for now, there’s got to be more positive ways on having this.. interesting connection than us using it to just annoy each other.’’

You looked at him as you took your own breath, wondering why he had suddenly become Mr. nice guy as you looked forward towards the ceiling. It even occurred to you that you both hadn’t gotten the chance to think about this whole connection anyway… tomorrow then..

‘’alright.. I’ll meet you half way.’’

Giving a satisfying now, he flicked his wrist and the lights went out before turning his back to you, figuring you’d feel a bit more comfortable that way with sharing a bed. ‘’goodnight Y/N.’’

You stared at his back as his breathing softened, a blush for some reason creeping onto your cheeks as you looked away and pulled the sheets over your head, biting your lip with your eyes closed.

‘’..goodnight Loki.’’

Tag List (Let me know if you wish to be added to this story���): @fire-in-her-veinz

[levok]

As everyone else, I like your Wilmon texts on Levok2 and I do think they texted even though they tried to keep their distance and had a lot of fights and misunderstandings during that time.

But, girrrrrl, it kills me that your texts are so intimate still (saying 'sweet dreams' instead of 'good night', reassuring one another, calling each other names affectionately, etc). Why do you think they were that familiar and soft with each other? I thought at least Simon would have more of a guard up. 💔

I know it’s not canon that Simon is so on board with Wille at this point, but I also don’t think it is too far fetched.

I felt like it was defendable, because we know that Simon is definitely not over Wille, and I know how easy it is to fall back into “old habits” when you’re speaking with an ex you still have feelings for.

I know Simon wants to guard himself and tried to move on, but it is freaking hard. And the way he is never actually into Marcus, but still keeps trying and failing and ghosting, tells me he is so in love with Wille still… so does he really have a chance? As a teen especially, it is so difficult to stand your ground with these things, even though you know it’s not good for you… Especially at night when you’re alone and miss the dude.

And then there’s the detail of me personally thinking season 2 is lacking wilmon content, and I wanted them to be the main characters again, so I took every single opportunity to do so 🙈 Texts about horses and straight couples ate something no one really wants.

[blauequuleus]

The brain worms have hit with this one.

So it’s post Danny becomes Phantom and it’s been a few years and he’s now 17-18 years old and the Ghost King.

When he gets a pulled by a summons.

Now normally he’s powerful enough now he can just brush them off and go back to what he was doing. But this was one of the cases he could sense there were sacrifices to him and welp time to go fuck up some probably cultist cause ain’t no way he gonna let that fly (under it all he senses a familiar presence but brushes it off as probably maybe having a repeat cultist in the group trying to summon him again)

So Danny comes in, in all his kingly glory ready to beat up some friutloops for their nonsense.

And he does very effortlessly after also putting the fear of him in all of them

That’s when his attention turns to the sacrifices/hostages. To which he sees….Batman??? and a few other hero’s/vigilantes he’s kinda heard of.

But then his eyes land on the person close to his age that was tied down in the circle and something seems awfully familiar about him that he just can’t put his finger on right up until the tied up teen below him chokes out a surprised

“….Danyal?”

To which the realization hits Danny full force of *‘Oh fuck that’s Damie!!!’*

Damian meanwhile knows without a doubt that, that’s Danyal. Yeah he’s older and his coloring is completely different but years of assassin training makes so changes in coloring and general aging doesn’t fool him in recognizing people

So after a shocked staring contest between the two for a few moments, Danny gets snapped out of it when the other Bats start making noise finally getting out of their restraints. Damian is still shell shocked just staring at him

Danny in full panic mode now cause it’s finally hitting him that, that’s BATMAN and crew, he takes one last look at Damian and without a word just disappears.

So now Damian is DEVASTATED and is trying to get out of his ropes shouting after Danyal because that was just confirmation that 1) yes Danyal is dead but 2) some form of him still exists out there.

The Bats are trying to figure out what has gotten into Damian and what does he know about the being the cult summoned

Danny back home or in the Ghost Zone is flipping out cause as far as he’s aware Damian is still loyal to the League and yeah he may be a ghost but now they have info on how to possibly now summon him (which Danny is mentally beating himself up that he didn’t destroy all that before dipping). He just decides he’s absolutely not gonna answer any summons from here on out just to be safe

Damian meanwhile starts on a rampage and is taking all the evidence from the cult to every magic user he knows to figure out how to get Danyal back or at least contact him.

To which a real kicker of a misunderstanding happens.

Now the magic users all know that the summons was for the Ghost King. And for whatever reason they have not been updated that Pariah Dark is no longer the Ghost King. So when they show Damian and the Bats images of the Ghost King and it looks nothing like Danny they all immediately just to the worst but most logical conclusion.

Cause if Pariah Dark didn’t come/couldn’t come through in the summons then obviously it’s gonna fall on the next one in charge….aka Danny. Who they all now believe was killed as a ritual bride to the Ghost King when he went missing all those years ago. Which the ages for that just give them all, all kinds of disgust and. fury cause Danyal would have been and still is technically a child since he’s about the same age as Damian

Now though Damian is on a Warpath 2.0 and is gearing up to fight the Ghost King or whoever he needs to, to save Danyal from that creep. Everyone trying to stop him or talk him out of it until they find another solution to which Damian is having none of it cause Danyal has suffered long enough and he won’t wait a second longer to save him.

Damian try’s the summons again but with Danny not answering Damian further jumps to the conclusion that Danny is now being punished or locked up to the point he can’t come through the summons. Damian with the help of magic users even changes it to address Danny directly (which inadvertently freaks Danny out even more thinking the League is trying to get him back somehow)

This all comes to a head eventually with two conclusions I can’t choose between

If we go down the bad Fenton parents route.

Danny is captured and in the middle of being dissected when he feels the tug of the summons and answers it, the League or not it’s better than where he is currently. Only to land right in Damian’s arms heavily bleeding managing a weak “Hey Damie” before passing out and turning back to human. (Which just sets Damian off even more on wanting to find out who did all this to Danyal and make them pay for it)

Or just with GIW

Damian wanting other weapons other than what the magic users are willing to give him (which is next to nothing to try and stop him Contantine is the only one that gives him a little something that big Bats won’t notice too much)

So he follows some leads on some government organization that claim to have made weapons to fight ghosts and with as any lead as ever he follows it right to the GIW base where he finds Danyal trapped/strapped down being tortured by these scientists. He doesn’t let any in his path live in his escape with Danny

From there on it’s just Danny healing and rebefriending Damian after he finds out he also left the League.

And Damian working through the slight heartbreak of Danny not trusting him enough and faking his own death or at least death at the time. But also understanding a bit because he remembers how loyal he used to be at that time and he himself isn’t even sure if he’d have ratted out Danny or not.

Also Danny explaining to everyone much to their relief that “No I’m not the result of some creepy sacrificial child bride thing, I kicked his ass when I was 14 and now I’m King” (which also only makes Damian fall more in love with Danny)

And just it turns into mutual crushing with everyone around them either super entertained by it or bemoaning having to watch the two dance around each other for way longer than they should have to suffer through watching

Danyal and Damian grew up in the League together, but they’re not related; some other member just happened to also have a kid at a similar time to Talia.

Damian outranks the other boy by a significant margin, but they still manage to interact sometimes. It’s not like there’s many other kids to socialize with.

And, well, Damian starts to fall. He may still be young, but he can feel how deep his emotions run. As the heir to the Demon’s Head, he has access to treasures beyond reckoning, but the only treasure that he truly desires is Danyal at his side.

Then one day, Danyal never returns from a mission.

Damian slaughters every last person connected to the target. It doesn’t change a thing. Danyal is still gone. He’ll never forgive them for that. Nor the League, for that matter. Regardless of if it was their fault, they sent his love on the mission that took him away from him.

But for now, he’ll continue to make use of their resources. No stone will be left unturned until he finds the truth of what happened to his love. Even if he has to make use of the Pits, they will be reunited.

Meanwhile, many miles away, Danyal lets out a sigh of relief. It seems his plan worked; there’s no sign of anyone having come after him.

He spares only a brief thought to the boy he left behind. A part of him regrets leaving the other boy, but only a small part. The Demon’s Heir seemed happy with his life in the League. He doubts the other boy will care about the loss of a nobody like him, even if they had interacted occasionally.

Besides, he has far more immediate concerns at the moment, like staying off the League’s radar and finding where to go next. He should probably leave the country at minimum, but then what? He doesn’t want to have to keep running forever just to avoid going back. He wants to be free.

[redrobin-detective]

Danny Phantom au where the citizens of Amity Park have 1.5 extra braincells than canon and realized that something happened to Danny Fenton because he is very obviously Not Human anymore.

It starts out a bit concerning and no one really knows what to do so it becomes sort of an open secret, something everyone knows. Something that Danny knows that everyone knows. There’s of course the curious and the prejudiced and the fans but the majority of people don’t directly comment on it because it’s all kind of too much. The Fenton boy just sometimes does things that no one can explain and it soon becomes a normal part of life in the town.

So when Danny, stressed out on an exam and starts slipping through his chair; Lancer quietly excuses him and his friends for the bathroom while the rest of the students keep their heads down. And when he gets embarrassed and turns partially invisible at the Nasty Burger in plain view, everyone collectively gives the kid some space. Danny gets a better grip on his powers just as ghosts start invading, that people pay attention to but when a white haired specter with a familiar face starts fighting them off, they simply don’t see.

To acknowledge that Fenton is Phantom is to also acknowledge his completely impossible existence. It’s to realize that the shy, awkward nerd they’ve all collectively dunked on has immense power but uses it to protect them all at personal great cost. It’s to understand that they’ve essentially offered up this child and his friends as a sacrifice for their own continued safety.

Dash will offer a quiet, “nice fight” before going through their usual bully/victim routine even as he carefully avoids roughing the teen up after the beating he just took. Valerie, always uncomfortable with Danny’s out of control, inhuman abilities, becomes downright brusque and rude when she becomes a hunter herself even if she can’t bring herself to actually fire on her classmate. Some shop owners offer the tired teen discounts and freebies while others bar him from the store and call him slurs. It’s a secret that everyone carries in their pocket but no one addresses directly because they’ll be forced to admit their own complacency.

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight: [REDACTED] “Oh Goddamnit. DANNY!”

Prompt Creator: @mr-lancers-english-class

Even Danny’s school projects cause ghostly issues and Lancer really should have seen this coming.

Alright fine, Lancer knew this was a bad idea. He knew it. And yet... here they all are, with each of his students doing their self-chosen presentations. And as he should have expected, Every. Single. One. has been on Phantom. Sure at least there’s been some variety. Star’s piece on his fashion and how that reflects on his personality and the era he died was actually fairly interesting (if it wasn’t for the fact that Phantom spiced up his jumpsuit with t-shirts and whatnot sometimes then this would have been a very boring one). Kwan also surprised him some, apparently he’s spent the past year or so sneaking photos of Phantom eating and did a piece on Phantom’s rather peculiar food tastes (who dips their pickles in milkshakes???) as well as effectively providing proof for the existence of ectoplasmic food (there’s no way any earth apples are neon green on the inside). Dash’s wasn’t even correctly calculated, trying to figure out how far Phantom could throw footballs based on his known strength and if he could kill someone by tackling them (disturbingly the answer -regardless of Dash’s bad math- was decidedly yes. Daniel seemed particularly disturbed). And Paulina’s was quite literally a badly written self-insert ship fan fic; the added drawings of what their child would look like only made it worse (Daniel left, not that Lancer could blame him. Lancer’s also glad for the ghost fight interrupting the presentation). Emilie’s was... disturbingly about ghost hunger and purposed the thesis that Phantom, for the good of the town, should eat the aggressor ghosts (he actually had to cut her off for getting too graphic).

But the single most interesting thing was that a ghost apparently caught wind of this and literally Every. Single. Presentation so far had words that were permanently replaced with [REDACTED], which, needless to say, caused some chaos when Samantha gave the very first presentation.

-

Lancer clicked his pen, crossing his legs and resting the evaluation sheet on his thigh, “alright, Samantha. Feel free to start whenever you please, though soon would be preferred”, by ‘preferred’ he had meant required, but no need to be mean. He chooses to ignore the goth teen's eyeroll.

Predictably the projected screen doesn’t work when she opens her file so Lancer has to spend ten minutes fiddling with the outdated tech that they wouldn’t give the school funding to replace. Eventually, he does get it up and running showing Ms. Manson’s title screen reading ‘Phantom And Hate Crimes Against Blood Blossoms’. Lancer’s positive ‘blood blossoms’ are a type of flower, figures she would do something nature-focused. She’d make for a great herbalist or botanist someday. He does catch Daniel and Tucker giving her ‘death glares’, as the kids call it, though; Samatha doesn’t look any less smug. The second page has what he thinks was supposed to be a detailed drawing of a flower but it’s severely pixilated, almost as if it been blurred; Samantha looks visibly upset so he’s going to assume something when wrong with the file or pasting format. He’s not marking on artistic capabilities though, so effort is effort there.

She quickly clicks to the next page, where the actual writing of the assignment is and looks decidedly pissed; Lancer even quirks an eyebrow since at least two-thirds of the words are a very bold noticeable [REDACTED]. Lancer watches her yank out her physical copy while glaring with murderous intent at Daniel -Lancer will have to dock him marks if he messed with another student's project- before looking at the physical copy in bafflement for a few seconds. Half the class shrieking when she drops the papers and basically launches herself over the desks at Daniel, “OH YOU LITTLE FUCKER!!!! HOW THE FUCK!”.

Lancer’s sighs and stands, “language, Ms. Manson”, moving to pick up the papers and quirking an eyebrow over them looking the same. Sighing again and eyeing Daniel, who’s being choked -or throttled perhaps?- by Samantha yet is grinning innocently. “Daniel, messing with other students' work is against student policy”, sighing yet again, “and I’ll let Star go while Samantha fixes her document”, summoning up the blonde while glaring at Daniel. Some days that boy was more trouble than he was worth but he was also insanely bright and had a heart of gold. Lancer knows he’ll do good things someday, and that’s why he still tries with him.

Half the class is snickering or laughing now and Star is very clearly trying not to laugh as she sets up.

However, as soon as it opens up the class is met with a very familiar sight. [REDACTED] litters every single page; he checked. And Star’s physical copy was in the same state.

Kwan blinks, “okay seriously, what is going on”, before scrambling to grab out his own physical copy; the rest of the class going wide-eyed and following suit. Lancer just puts his head in his hands and sighs very audibly while shaking his head. Why could nothing go right? Sighing again as the class erupts into noise.

“Mines all weird too!”.

“Same here!”.

“Okay there is no way Fenturd messed up everyone’s work”.

“And I actually tried on mine! It was about the merits of Phantom getting armour!”.

“Oh damn do we just get auto hundreds now? Please please please say yes”.

“Oh damn, Phantom would actually look awesome in armour”.

“I know right”.

“Can we just skip class entirely now?”.

“Oh my Zone a ghost messed with or work”.

“Holy Shit”.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! You don’t think Phantom did do you?”.

“Why the heck would he do that? How would he even know??????”.

“Oh I hope Phantom was inside my computer. That would be so hot”.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone told him or he overheard shit. He’s a ghost, he can be invisible. Heck, he could be here, right now, invisible”.

“Invisible and laughing at us”.

“No! No! Hold up! What if he doesn’t want us writing about him or maybe someone wrote some sus shit and he just nerfed us all for good measure”.

“That would mean Phantom totally read my stuff, aw Hell yeah man. That was some boss shit”,

Lancer sighs and stands up, “alright that’s enough”, sighing again because why did this have to happen to him, “and I apologies for blaming you earlier, Daniel”.

Samantha snaps, “oh no, I still blame him”, and continues glaring at the teen. Lancer suspects Samantha would continue blaming the boy even if it was firmly proven he wasn’t at fault.

Addressing the class again, “here’s what we’re going to do, you’re going to read off what of your projects you actually can and allude to the rest. Please reframe from repeating what you know was there beforehand as I’d rather not have whatever ghost responsible -Phantom or otherwise- come here pissed off”, glaring at few students who look slightly encouraged rather than discouraged by that prospect, “anyone who does will receive automatic zeroes”, ah and the encouraged looks have deflated. Good. Gesturing at Star, “you’re already up here, so do continue”. Better to not bring the clearly infuriated Samantha back to the front until she’s had some time to calm down.

Star nods and clears her throat, thankfully everyone quiets down. “O-okay, well, um”, gesturing at the screen, “I did my piece on Phantom’s sense of fashion and the cover image was one with him dressed in one of the Spook Sense stores meme shirts....”.

-

Lancer shakes away the memory, he honestly slightly regrets giving this project. But regardless right now is Daniel’s turn and Lancer is honestly slightly fearful of what his file is going to look like. Thankfully all their files were saved to his computer before the [REDACTED] debacle, so no one could go back in and edit theirs to add [REDACTED]’s for an easy grade. Lancer’s still not exactly sure how he’s supposed to mark assignments that were anywhere from one-fifth to one-third [REDACTED]. That word will be burned into his head after this grading period.

Lancer moves to find the boys file, but stares when clicking it crashes the computer. Not once. Not twice. But thrice. The fourth time rebooting the computer he inspects the file and is a bit dumbfounded, “Daniel, your entire file’s corrupted. The file type has even been changed to redacted, which I’m fairly sure, isn’t actually any possible file designation”. Everyone’s silent for a bit before bursting out into laughter.

“Just what the Zone did you write, Danny!”.

“Oh we so have to know what this is now”.

“Danny has the forbidden knowledge! We haft found him! The keeper of things forbidden and Ghostly! Haza!”.

“Ha! It was probably so lame that Phantom wanted to save him the embarrassment”.

Lancer sighs, but Daniel gestures Tucker up, “hey Tuck, feel like trying to fix the file”. Tucker chuckles and walks up, though apparently glaring at the boy. Based on Daniel’s smirk he finds this quite amusing.

Tucker does manage to make the file viewable at least. Lancer nods and leans back in his seat, “thank you, Mr. Foley”, while the file loads on screen.

Tucker sits back down with a head shake while Daniel stands at the front and gestures to the screen, “aight, as you can see from my not redacted title-”, that earns a couple laughs, “I did mine on Phantom’s portfolio of crime. Every single time our dear Phantom broke ghost law. Including such wonderful things as, that time he caused not one, not two, not even three, but five, prison breaks in one day. Or that time he invalidated a Observant spectator duel by bringing an inflatable sword”. Samantha slams a hand on her desk, “IT IS YOUR FAULT YOU DICK!”.

Lancer has some serious questions as Daniel clicks for the next page, the entire class going dead silent as a screen comprising of almost nothing but the word [REDACTED] shows. Lancer sighs very audibly. Eventually the class starts up again.

“Fenton... actually has forbidden knowledge”.

“If it wasn’t for the teacher computer saved thing I’d think he was fucking with us”.

“I mean... he is a Fenton, right?”.

“Okay the fact that this entire presentation is on ghost crimes is concerning alone. But they’re forbidden ghost crimes at that”.

“Shit I wanted the tea. Damnit”.

“Better question, how does Danny know?”.

Daniel clicking the button to go forward is very audible. And, Chicken Soup For The Soul, every single page is [REDACTED] to the point of being completely and utterly unintelligible. There are occasional lines pointing out how Phantom apparently ate confetti at a ghosts third wedding (which is apparently illegal for some reason) or that time he beat someone up with a violin that had a pie inside it (Lancer can see this one, Lancer himself has smacked a ghost with stranger).  Literally the only photo that isn’t blurred beyond recognition is one of Phantom in a prison uniform (Paulina was very vocal about liking men in uniform here). Lancer is absolutely positive the end of his conclusion ‘[REDACTED] are a bunch of [REDACTED]’ is an insult.

Samantha chucks a boot at his smirking face, “YOU IDIOT. Of course they were going to block you from talking about them. Ancients, I can’t believe you”. Tucker’s busy laughing into his hand.

“Oh my Zone, they know too”.

“They’re really earning that weirdo trio title, huh”.

Daniel snickers as he sits back down, “they broke into my room and wrecked that epic puzzle I was working on. They shoulda seen this shit coming. Literally”. Tucker snorts, “they probably did but couldn’t do anything else about it. They can’t stop you and your endless bullshit”.

“Damn fucking straight”.

Lancer isn’t going to claim to know what exactly they’re talking about but apparently Daniel effectively orchestrated this entire fiasco just to annoy some ghost. Lancer is honestly more impressed than disturbed. A for effort but an A- for making everyone's work nigh unusable.

End.

Prompt: For the last project of their senior year in high school, Mr. Lancer is letting his class do presentations on literally whatever topic they want. He is very, /very/ sure that this is going to go poorly, but that's a problem for later...

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 4

Hiya @pocketramblr

.

While the other ghosts watched poor Izuku more and more, Yoichi gathered a pile of pillows and beanbags, and a small container of popcorn, then dropped unceremoniously onto the pile, ready to watch a bunch of teens beat the tar out of each other. En noticed this, glanced at him, and did a double-take.

"Since when do you have popcorn? How do you have popcorn? Where did you get it? Have you been holding out on me? Can I have some? I'll fight you!"

"Uh... it isn't real," said Yoichi.

"Neither are we!"

"No, I mean, you can't taste it. Or smell it. It's just a construct. For the aesthetic." Something none of them really bothered with, lately, but Yoichi wanted to put the effort in for Izuku. Even if Izuku probably would never be aware of it.

"But... popcorn..."

"Shhh! It's starting!"

.

The first round was Kouda and Satou vs Yaoyorzu and Kirishima.

If he had to guess, he'd say Yaoyorozu and Kirishima would win. Yaoyorozu's quirk was perfect for setting up quick and simple barriers and traps, and Kirishima's was good for defense as well.

That wasn't to say Kouda and Satou couldn't win as well... Satou had what seemed to be a fairly powerful strength enhancer, perfect for ripping through hastily constructed defenses, and Izuku didn't know if Kirishima would be able to completely counter him.

Izuku also wasn't entirely sure what Kouda's quirk was. His first guess would have been a physical mutation, given his appearance, but thinking back, it didn't seem like he'd used anything like that during the quirk assessment, so those features were most likely vestigial, like Izuku's hair color, which suggested a less physical quirk. It had to be something that could be applied in combat against robots, though. Izuku was the only one who'd passed without villain points.

So, it could go either way.

He could continue to analyze, but his attention was drawn back to the team he'd be facing. Hagakure and Monoma.

A blush rose up in his cheeks. It had to be Hagakure. He still hadn't apologized for running into her during the entrance exam. Hand to hand against her was going to be tough- he could only hope the support department had given her an invisible costume, and she wasn't... well... uncostumed. Again.

But, beyond that, not being able to see her would be a problem. She could get to the fake bomb without him even noticing.

Monoma would be a challenge, too. Given the number of pocket watches on his costume, Izuku suspected he had a time limit for how long he could copy a quirk. But he had no idea how long that could be, and it could be misdirection, too. Izuku certainly wouldn't want to telegraph a weakness like that if he had that kind of quirk.

Another option could be that he could only hold one quirk copy at a time. That'd be trickier for Izuku to deal with. Either way, he doubted Monoma could permanently hold an unlimited number of quirk copies. Monoma's personality was all wrong for that, and he didn't have Iida's engines anymore- unless he could choose to dump quirks? But why would he do that? Izuku's (formerly) quirkless sensibilities rebelled against the very thought.

He was overthinking this. He'd have to assume that Monoma could come at him with any quirk in the class. So. What would be the most inconvenient? All Might's, except Izuku had All Might's, and Monoma wasn't able to use it.

(Oh, and that could be a problem, couldn't it? Could Monoma be able to tell All Might didn't have a quirk anymore?)

Well, judging from what he was seeing right now, Izuku really didn't want him to take Yaoyorozu's quirk. It was sort of terrifying.

Other scary ones would be Todoroki (he'd launched that ball with a glacier) and Tokoyami (a sentient quirk! So cool!) but he thought Monoma would avoid Shouji and Asui (full body mutations). Other than that... Monoma would probably wait and see who did the best, or which quirk would work best with Hagakure's.

He'd have to take Hagakure's quirk into account, too. What if they both came at him invisibly (and naked)? Izuku would die...

Each battle lasted for up to fifteen minutes, not counting the ten minutes the villain team had to set up. That's how long Izuku had to defend the fake bomb. As the defender, Izuku had another handicap. He only had to fail once to fail entirely...

No. Stop that. This was a school exercise, and All Might wasn't going to expell him. Losing would suck, but he'd be together with half the class on that front. The important thing was learning from the experience. And not getting too hurt.

Right. He returned his gaze to the screen as the match started.

.

"We're a sentient quirk, too," said Banjo. "Aren't we cool?"

"He doesn't know we're sentient, though," said Yoichi. "Also, he spent like two months straight gushing about how cool One for All was when we were with Eighth. Didn't you get enough?"

Banjo sulked. "It isn't the same."

"Speaking of Monoma," said En, "why didn't you slap his little grabby hands away from One for All yesterday?"

"Because a late bloomer is one thing, but someone confirmed not to have a quirk suddenly having bone-breaking super strength? Yeah. No. Yagi might have beaten my brother, but that doesn't mean everyone who worked for him is gone. Eight never knew about Garaki at all."

"Way to bring down the mood, En," said Banjo, elbowing the younger ghost.

"The mood was already brought down by the fake popcorn."

.

Izuku wrote furiously in his notebook, trying to record every detail of the match. He pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth to get a better grip on his pencil. He'd need to practice writing with gloves on. He was missing important notes. Speaking of which...

"Can we get copies of these recordings?"

"You should be able to access them through your Ultra Account on the school website!"

Izuku nodded and continued writing. As expected, Kirishima and Satou had gotten into a one on one fight down the hallway from the bomb room. Unexpectedly, however, they had seemed rather hesitant to hit each other. At least, until Satou dumped a packet of white powder (sugar according to All Might) into his mouth and started smacking at Kirishima indiscriminately. Kouda, meanwhile, had sent a small army of mice (animal control! Very cool) at Yaoyorozu, who had responded with mousetraps.

The clock ran out, to the villains' victory.

.

"It was surprisingly hard to hit someone," admitted Kirishima in the debrief.

"We've been socialized to avoid violence," said All Might, nodding. "Overcoming that hesitation is part of our training. As is when not to use force."

.

Next up were Kaminari and Sero vs Aoyama and Jirou.

Kaminari entered the building first, quickly engaging Aoyama, who had been directed towards Kaminari by Jirou. That fight got loud quickly. Sero, meanwhile, scaled the outside of the building with his tape.

Kaminari ultimately defeated himself with his own quirk (that was a pretty severe drawback- maybe Kaminari should consider other fighting styles?), which allowed Jirou to hear Sero climbing up the wall. But Aoyama couldn't get back fast enough to prevent Jirou from being captured by Sero.

.

"I think Kaminari was the MVP," said Izuku. "He did hurt himself, which was bad, but his sacrifice allowed his teammate to safely reach the objective. If he hadn't, um, shorted out...? It would have been better, of course, but..."

Yaoyorozu shook her head. "Sero managed to capture one of the villains and safely reach the bomb. Additionally, he's the one who came up with the plan of attack."

"Ah," said Izuku, "that's- that's true..."

"Regardless, it is a plan that only bore fruit due to teamwork! Excellent work! Jirou, Aoyama, your division of labor was also a good plan, but don't forget the enemies you don't see! Time for our next match!"

.

This time, Asui and Tokoyami were defending against Todoroki and Uraraka.

"Good luck," Izuku said, waving slightly to Uraraka.

"Thanks!" She gave him two thumbs up as she trailed slightly behind Todoroki. "So," she said, as they walked out through the door, "how are we doing-?"

The door closed. Izuku winced. Surely, they had strategized beforehand...

.

"Young Todoroki," said All Might, somewhat sternly, "you... that was certainly an impressive display, but even when dealing with real villains, a hero has to be conscious of the damage they may do. A large number of villains are only minor criminals, or even otherwise ordinary citizens having a bad day."

"That's not what the media says," mumbled Todoroki, though he looked pale as medi-bots carried Asui from the scene.

"The media is full of sensationalists. And even if it weren't, Asui isn't a real villain. There is a difference," he said, very gently, "between going beyond and going too far."

All Might paused. Todoroki hunched his shoulders. There was something familiar about his posture, something that made Izuku's stomach knot.

All Might continued. "It was a good strategy. Against another team, or against real villains, it would have been a more than appropriate strategy. In fact, it was even an appropriate strategy in this case, since you didn't know Asui had trouble with cold temperatures. But when you encountered her in the hall and noticed how poorly she was doing, you should have hit the emergency stop button."

Instead of laying down mode ice when Asui struggled to get free, which was what actually happened.

"Why didn't you stop the match?" He didn't sound accusatory. Just flat and resigned.

All Might made a face and gestured to the screens on the wall. About half of them showed static and the rest blurry shades of white and gray. Like the rest of the building, they had been iced over.

Todoroki sighed. "How much trouble am I in?"

"You aren't," replied All Might. "In trouble, that is. As your teacher, this is entirely my responsibility. I shouldn't have set you against Asui or should have gone over safety concerns more clearly..." All Might paused, his face that of someone who knew they weren't getting their point across but didn't quite know what the problem was. "Injuries are inevitable in heroics and hero training, but you don't want to maim your classmates. Or minor villains, really, if you can help it. So... consider this a learning moment."

"But it was just ice," said Kaminari.

"Cold kills people frequently," said All Might. "People lose fingers and toes to frostbite regularly. Again, for anyone but Asui, this level of ice for such a short time period wouldn't have caused lasting damage, but it is something to be mindful of. Does... that make sense, young Todoroki?"

"Yes," said Todoroki, head bowed.

"All right. Young Uraraka, thank you for hitting the emergency stop button. It showed good thinking and good awareness. Young Tokoyami, your decision to hide the bomb in the basement was a good one, complimentary to your quirk."

Izuku glanced over at Monoma. He had a sinking suspicion he knew what quirk he would copy.

.

After moving to a new building, Iida and Ashido managed to pull a win as heroes from Ojiro and Shouji by melting a hole in the ceiling above the bomb and then jumping through to tag it after Iida confirmed its location with a scouting run. The general consensus of the class was that it was surprisingly clever and out of the box, but that it probably wouldn't have been feasible in real life. Ashido had then sheepishly admitted that she'd come up with the idea after hearing Izuku mumble about it.

This, of course, made Izuku blush. Strawberry would probably bee his nickname from now on.

Better than Deku.

It was his turn to go set up, now.

He was unlikely to be able to beat Hagakure and Monoma at the same time, even if Monoma didn't copy any quirks at all. Assuming they didn't split up, a ridiculous course of action, he'd have to find a way to protect the bomb other than physically defending it.

This was the problem that had been plaguing him all afternoon.

He had to hide it. Then, he either had to hide himself or use his location to steer them away from where the bomb really was. His capture would also lose him the match, so he had to be careful.

He carried the bomb to the top floor. Uraraka's quirk could get them up there, but Izuku didn't think Monoma could handle the nausea. And if he did have a time limit, he wouldn't want to be airborne when it ran out. Sero had demonstrated his quirk could get him up the side of the building, but that had clearly also required a lot of skill in climbing, not just the quirk itself.

Iida's quirk would get Monoma to the top of the building fast, but since he'd have to go room by room... Either way, the top floor would slow them down the most, buy Izuku the most time.

The room he picked was full of prop boxes. Izuku had to rearrange them to completely hide the bomb, and there was a chance Monoma and Hagakure would remember what it looked like before, from the camera feeds, but he hoped they'd overlook it.

He still had time. Next...

The second floor had office equipment in it. Clearly old junk the school didn't mind loosing. Izuku pulled as much of it out into the hallway as he could, his experience from the beach helping him maneuver quickly. He dumped a lot of it into the stairwell. The rest he left in the hallways.

How much time did he have?

Not long.

He ran up the stairs, to the fourth floor, where Ashido had melted a hole in the floor. Here, he had multiple egress points. It would be harder for them to corner him. Also...

He randomly closed half the doors on the floor. He could pretend to be guarding one of them. Delay them. How much longer?

No time at all.

Right on schedule, the air went dry and cold. Izuku, having planned for this, leapt for one of the door frames and held on. A thin layer of ice, not as thick as the one on the floor, crusted over his gloved fingers.

Izuku counted to five, then let his hands slip out of his gloves and dropped to the floor. Then he reached up and tugged his now empty gloves out of the ice.

He inspected the ice momentarily, and tested his ability to move on it. It wasn't as even or as thick as it had been when Todoroki used it, and the surface was a difficult and unpredictable mixture of smooth and rough... but it would become slicker as it melted.

Good. Izuku had predicted this. It made his closed doors and stacked boxes much more formidable obstacles. The ice wouldn't allow doors to open easily, and the boxes would also be reinforced and hard to move.

Izuku was glad for the conversation All Might had with Todoroki. Although it probably hadn't been his intention, the way he had phrased his commentary on Todoroki's freezing strategy had made it seem like an automatic win, given that it wasn't used against someone who'd be seriously injured by it.

Izuku hadn't been sure they'd do it, since it would handicap Hagakure so much. She couldn't walk around on ice barefoot. Unless she had a secondary mutation that made her skin tougher, or less sensitive to temperature- that would be so cool! No, focus, focus.

Monoma wouldn't have Iida's quirk, either with this strategy. Even if was unfamiliar with speed quirks, he would know that high speeds and ice didn't mix... Unless you were a speed skater, Izuku supposed. But Monoma didn't have ice skates- Unless, unless he took Yaoyorozu's quirk and made ice skates. But that would be horribly impractical with this uneven ice, and probably wouldn't work with Iida's quirk at all. So.

He'd probably have Yaoyorozu's quirk anyway. And after that, for this exercise, Jirou's would be the most valuable. With Jirou's quirk, Monoma would be able to locate Izuku quickly.

Another reason to separate himself from the bomb.

They were coming.

He hid himself out of immediate sight, in the room with the hole, on the off chance that Monoma couldn't hold that many quirks.

There was a clatter from the stairwell.

They were coming.

Muffled voices. A louder thump.

"Maybe if you hadn't frozen everything-"

A sort of fwoosh brought an oddly warm breeze and Izuku hissed. Todoroki's quirk must be more than ice. Given his overall appearance... Fire? Izuku was screwed.

Well. Hopefully his precautions would at least get him a good grade.

There were more scrapes and clatters as Hagakure and Monoma forced their way through the stairwell. Then, relative silence.

They were coming.

"I thought you said he was on this floor," said Hagakure, plaintively.

"He must have gotten free," said Monoma.

"Can't you listen for him again?"

There was a pause. Monoma must have responded nonverbally.

"We'll just have to be careful checking everything out," said Hagakure. "The bomb must be on this floor, after all."

Okay. Okay, great, this was good news for Izuku. He eyed the hole in the floor. Part of him really didn't want to jump through. His brain was supplying him with all the things that could go wrong with such a jump. Especially with the layer of ice. Ugh, he should have dragged one of the office desks up underneath it.

Too late now.

Minding his visibility, Izuku crept over to the side of the hole and lowered himself until he was hanging by his finger tips.

It was still a long fall. Monoma and Hagakure's footsteps were growing closer.

He let go.

He tried to hit the ground properly, but his roll turned into a slide, and he hit a wall at a higher speed than he would have liked. Reflexively he grabbed at his left arm. Ow.

He knew this was going to happen.

"He's on the third floor!"

"What?"

"He jumped through Ashido's hole!"

Izuku forced himself to his feet and sprinted towards the stairs. The second floor had more hiding places than the third. At the last minute, something twinged in the back of his mind, and he tried to stop. Tried. The ice made this difficult.

His legs went out from underneath him, and he went skidding down the hallway on his back, taking a mercifully, mercifully, clothed Hagakure out at the ankles. They slid together into the bottom of the stairs descending from the fourth floor, further battering Izuku's poor arm.

He dodged Hagakure's capture tape and briefly considered pulling out his own, but there was Monoma, cautiously coming down the icy stairs.

Icy stairs.

It seemed neither Izuku nor Monoma had fully considered the obstacles that would result from coating a building like this in ice. Todoroki's ability to maneuver easily on this terrain was, in retrospect, a keystone of the 'freeze everything' strategy, not incidental.

He needed to get away.

He pushed Hagakure off of himself (and noted that she was just as muscular as he was) and slid on his knees to the banister. He pulled himself up and slid down the rail, using the ice to his benefit. Using his uninjured arm, he gripped the end of the banister connected to the wall to slingshot himself down the second floor hallway.

... and almost right into a desk he'd half forgotten he'd put there. He dodged it and recovered quickly before scrambling over the other obstacles in the hallway. He came to a scraping halt and tucked himself into the leg well of one of the desks. A convenient bar meant he could keep his feet off the ground and out of sight as well.

Just like hiding from bullies. Only less dangerous and more fun.

How much time was left?

It had taken them about five minutes to get past the desks on the stairs, then maybe two or three to get to the fourth floor? They hadn't been moving quickly, probably because of the ice. Then, they'd been on the fourth floor for another couple of minutes before Izuku dropped to the third, even if it had felt longer to Izuku. The tussle on the third had taken a minute, tops, so he had... Four minutes left? Less, now.

He could win this. He could run out the clock. Maybe it wasn't the most heroic way to win, but he was supposed to be playing the villain, and he hoped Mr. Yagi would be proud of him anyway.

"Show yourself!" called Monoma. "Or I'll freeze you out."

Could he do that? Maybe he had Jirou's quirk at first, but switched to Todoroki's later, and lost access to Jirou's? If only he knew more about how Monoma's quirk worked... It could be a bluff, too. Even if it wasn't, why would he reveal himself? This late in the game, even if he was frozen in place, he could still win.

And winning... it wasn't something he got to do very often.

A buzz signaled the end of the match. "Villains win! Or, rather villain wins? Good job everyone! Come on out for the final debrief."

.

"MVP, MVP, MVP," chanted Yoichi, Banjo, and En, arms slung around each others' shoulders.

"Our boy is MVP!" cried Banjo.

"You know what this means, of course," said Hikage during a pause in the noise. The other ghosts looked at him. "It means, my quirk is the most valuable. The greatest power in the universe is the power of anxiety."

"Take that back!" said Yoichu, throwing an imaginary kazoo at Hikage. "The most powerful thing in the universe is the power of friendship. Everyone knows that!"

"What about those two?" asked Hikage, pointing at Second and Third.

"Unfortunately, the power of spite is also great," said Yoichi. "Even so, they will soon find themselves defeated."

Nana rubbed her temples. "If I hadn't given up on sanity within ten minutes of waking up in here, this would be what did me in."

.

After an intense practical, the next stop was the nurse's office. There, the class found Asui already mostly recovered, and Izuku found out that he had, in fact broken his arm.

"Are you sure it isn't just a sprain? It is broken?"

"A fracture, and, yes, quite sure. But a sprain can actually be worse than a break- many true sprains never quite heal correctly... either way, with my quirk you don't have to worry about it." She pressed her lips to Izuku's forehead. He felt his energy ebb to a new low. "You should talk to Mr. Aizawa about falling techniques. Your body type is more like his than your other mentor's."

"I- I will," promised Izuku.

"Good. You can go get changed, now."

"Thanks," said Izuku, not quite wobbling out of the room.

"Midoriya!"

He almost jumped out of his skin. "A-ah! Uraraka!"

"Sorry to startle you!"

"No, no, it's fine. What is it?"

"Oh, well, Iida and I were wondering if you'd like to come out with use to a café after school? It's nearby and apparently it has discounts for UA students?"

"Indeed! My older brother talked about it frequently when he was a student here!"

"W-well," said Izuku. He looked at All Might, who was awkwardly supervising and directing other students in the hallway to the locker rooms. All Might caught his eye and nodded. "Sure! That sounds like fun!"

.

This would be the last time Shouta would have to nap after school for a while. From tomorrow on, he'd be alternating quirk counseling with Midoriya with hero work. Why did he agree to do this again?

Kan opened the door to the break room. With him came the acrid smell of smoke and hot dust. "Which companies did the first year costumes this year?" he asked, voice dangerously soft enough to impress Aizawa.

"Why?" asked Hizashi.

"Because I want to... talk to whoever thought it was a good idea to give a fifteen-year-old with no training in demolition not one, but two weapons that could level buildings at full charge. I just want to talk."

Judging by the expression on Kan's face, Shouta seriously doubted that.

Kan took a deep breath. "What about your hellions?"

"Don't know. Yagi had them today."

"And you didn't watch?"

"I was in court."

"What's wrong with Yagi, anyway?"

Shouta, Hizashi, and Kan all turned to where Yagi was splayed in a chair. If the scene were a painting, it could easily be titled 'depression.'

"I'm a failure as a teacher and a hero," he moaned.

"Huh?" said Hizashi. "Why?"

"Young Asui nearly became hypothermic, and young Midoriya fractured his arm."

There was a beat of silence as the others waited for him to go on.

"What?" Kan asked. "Is that it?"

[tyrantisterror]

Some clarifications on this post that I made at the end of my lunchbreak and, ironically, did not think about the potential audience it might reach:

First, please note I said "weirdest" and not "worst." Weird and Bad are two very different adjectives - specifically, weird is not a judgment of quality, merely a note that something is odd (and in this specific case, a little confusing). If I was talking about my worst experience with my incredibly small audience, it'd be that guy on deviantart who got into an argument with me about the "true" name of the devil where I essentially called him a condescending pedant, to which he responded that me criticizing him was ableist because he was autistic, and then stalked my account to find every person I'd ever interacted with on deviantart to tell them that I hated autistic people so they'd stop interacting with me (which, for anyone still wondering, was the final indignity that made me quit that website altogether). If I was talking about my second worst experience, it would be that guy who review bombed my books on amazon (and is still doing it on goodreads) to essentially spend half a sentence saying they suck and then a long rambly paragraph explaining how pathetic I am and inexplicably comparing me to MovieBob, a youtuber that I'm still only vaguely familiar with (he's the one Lindsay Ellis called out on twitter for creeping on female youtubers, right?). If I was talking about my third worst experience, it would be the guy who lied about his age to join my discord forum, told me a year later when he was still underage, and then got really pissy because I kicked him out, and is the reason why I subsequently enacted a rule that everyone who joined that forum had to show me their driver's license to prove they were the age they said they were (only one person since has actually done this, and they are in my opinion the coolest motherfucker around for doing so, although I feel bad that the discord server was basically a ghost town by the time they did it).

So, yeah, not a bad experience in the grand scheme of things. Just odd, you know? I generally don't think of fanart as something you do for works of fiction you find mediocre at best. Maybe it's just because I have carpal tunnel syndrome, but I'd only put in that level of effort for a work of fiction I actually think is good. That's why I draw fanart for Godzilla and not, like, The Giant Gila Monster.

Second, I think it's perfectly valid for someone to say my work is mediocre. They're, like, probably right, honestly? They are at the very least entitled to have that opinion and to be able to say it in public, even if it's in an odd (not bad, just odd) mixed message post with cute fanart. While I am human and care enough about my work to feel hurt when people find it lacking, I also do genuinely care about my craft and want to know when people don't like it. I am fortunate to have a good handful of people who both like my work AND actually read it sometimes, so my ego can take the bruising.

And, like, honestly? While some people might find "you are a mediocre artist who knows they are mediocre" to be a sad fate, I think it's a lot worse to be a mediocre artist who thinks they're Perfect and Flawless. That's where the real problems lie - a mediocre writer who thinks they're perfect is going to stop trying to improve, stop caring about the details, and worst of all, they're going to get really self righteous about everything they say. If a mediocre writer goes unchecked for too long, why, before you know it they'll be picking fights with one of the guys from Dragon Ball Z Abridged on twitter because they dared to say the mediocre writer was wrong for believing that trans people should be executed in the town-square for using bathrooms. A mediocre writer who thinks they're perfect is going to spend all day on twitter name-searching themselves to pick fights with queer teenagers about how they think the teens' identities are invalid. A mediocre writer who thinks they're perfect is gonna write multiple Cormoran Strike novels. I don't want to end like that! Please, anything other than that, I beg you!

To go back to the food metaphors, I personally like to think of my writing like a greasy spoon diner in a small town - a locally owned business with no aspirations for expansion, just a desire to make food to feed people. Is it especially good? Probably not. Is it full of new experiences? Nah, you've probably had food just like this (or extremely close to it) before, and will in countless other small towns later in your life. But it's got a small group of beloved regular customers, its doors are always open to people who need some decent food, and you're gonna walk away with a full belly of something that's at least digestible. As the inventer of The Creech the Truck Monster from Monster Trucks Seal of Cinematic Adequacy, I'm happy if that's how my work is viewed by the dozen or so people who read it and actually enjoy the experience.

And yeah, to more refined palettes, the greasy spoon diner may well be indistinguishable from a shitty Arby's sandwich, and that's ok. Because, ultimately, the person who decides how food is received isn't the chef who makes it, but rather the person who actually eats it.

...still would be weird to make a whole piece of fanart about the shitty Arby's sandwich you didn't like, though. Not bad, per se, but strange.

I think my weirdest experience with my incredibly small audience has to be the guy who, on two separate occasions, made well-rendered fanart for ATOM and then underneath it wrote about all the things he disliked about it and how it was mediocre. Put me in a weird "Should I say thanks or apologize for his bad reading experience?" situation.

It's like if I put effort into drawing a beautiful Arby's sandwich illustration and wrote under it "Yeah this was barely food, but what should we expect?" And then did it again two years later.

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Chapter 3

ship: naruhina

rating: teen (this chapter is a little ecchi, but I think it's still T)

tags: Modern Day AU, Foster Siblings, Family, Angst, Unrequited Love, Poor Communication

summary: An awkward journey full of self-denial and missed moments between two foster siblings. Perhaps their love will find the right timing someday.

She didn't know what she was expecting when Kurenai announced that another child would be joining them soon.

He showed up a little smaller than her, with wary blue eyes and uncombed blond hair. He didn't carry anything with him.

The idea of having a forever playmate intrigued her, but after a few weeks it became clear he had no interest in playing, only fighting.

During those times when she managed to get away, she laid down on her bedroom floor curled around a picture book, and thought deeply about magical forests and open meadows. Away from stupid boys and their stupid ways.

And then suddenly he wanted to get rid of Neji. He thought she wanted to be rid of Neji, too. He was going to tattle on Neji really bad and that would be that.

Who taught him that the only way to fix things was to destroy them?

She told him she didn't mind Neji bossing her around. Maybe it's like what she's heard the adults say, that all she needs is structure. Plus, he was the only blood she had. Neji was part of her old normal and she wasn't going to give that up.

She didn't think he would listen. He seemed pretty sure about what he was talking about. But then he didn't tattle after all, and yet the fights seemed even more vigorous.

She found a volume inside herself that she didn't know she had, and it had scared her into her room. Her own ears had boomed. It reminded her of all the yellings she used to receive before Kurenai, and her instincts to hide kicked in.

It wasn't Neji who came after her, but Naruto.

He felt bad about his behavior. But he wanted something in exchange. He couldn't just have nothing after this.

She wasn't sure what 'bugging her' was going to be like, but she's been wanting to get along with him since day one. All because he didn't like Neji, she thought that would never happen.

'Sure,' she told him, and the following afternoon he pinched her arm.

_______________________________

Hinata laid down curled on her bedroom floor just like she used to when she was little.

She shouldn't be here, listening to the sounds coming through the half-inch diameter hole in the wall, his guttural teenage lust spilling over into her sanctum, the exaggerated moans of the other girl stabbing her heart.

He thinks she isn't home right now.

She wants to keep it that way.

Because no matter what he means to her, no matter how much she wants him, it can never happen.

She closes her eyes and pictures herself in the other girl's place. Girl no. 49 she calls her.

She doesn't have the courage to watch, but some twisted part of her wants the torture.

She wants to see a part of Naruto that she'll never have.

_______________________________

After the first girl, some drama had started up at school for Naruto.

She had seen Hinata's shoes in the genkan when she left, but had no idea who they belonged to.

She accused Naruto of sneaking away to invite a different girl to come over.

Now half of the female student body hated him, while the other half wanted to get some for themselves.

Hinata was disappointed to find that he relished in his new reputation as a player, that he would take whatever infamy he got if it gave him what he wanted in this world.

Some timid part of her that remained said, Good for him. After all, he deserved to be happy and enjoy his life.

And yet some shadowy part of her felt she was as good a stranger to him than a sister, seeing as how there could be no room for her as either a sister, a friend or love interest.

She thought to both test him and sabotage him after the fourth girl. Two terribly petty things she thought she would never do.

He knows when she leaves something of hers in his room, it means she wants him to come over.

So she left a pair of panties atop his bed in hopes Girl no. 5 would realize his promiscuity and go home.

It didn't work. Instead it excited Girl no. 5. Her expectations of his skill has risen with the proof that he had a revolving door of hot girls coming in and out of here and they went at it louder and rougher than the first four.

Hinata made sure to disappear before they found out she'd been home. When the coast seemed clear and Hinata feigned nonchalance as she came home, with a weak 'Tadaima' to the only other person home, she did not get the usual greeting.

She crept towards her bedroom, somehow not expecting Naruto to answer her invitation.

He sat at her low table in the middle of her room, the pair she had left behind now sitting atop her comforter.

He couldn't look her in the eyes.

He didn't seem mad, rather dumbfounded.

What a thing to give him when wanting to chat, is probably what was going through his head. Like, maybe she had an ulterior motive she was trying to express to him.

Well, she did, perhaps. This wasn't her ideal way to flirt with him, nor was it how she'd choose to shoot her shot.

She doubted her panties excited him, in the first place.

With a soft sigh, Hinata nodded to herself. She crossed her room without a word, hanging her school bag on the back of her desk chair. Then she approached her bed and picked up her underwear, telling him "Thank you for finding them," before placing them back inside her underwear drawer.

She was rooted to that spot, her hands gripping the trim of her double dresser.

From the corner of her eye, she could see him scratch at his cheek, the way he does when a reply feels too weird to say.

He stood up, and just before reaching the door he mumbled, "Just don't lose them again, okay?"

The door closed behind him, and Hinata's shoulders lowered along the length of her exhale, her stress leaving her like dropping water levels.

Then on a Sunday, when Hinata was invited to a dessert buffet with Sakura and Ino, she found out her favorite linen top with the frilly button trim had shrunk in the dryer.

While uncomfortably snug, she could still button every one but the two across her chest.

Ino loved keyhole cuts, but this would not pass social decency.

She tugged and tugged but still the buttons wouldn't reach their homes. Her eyes burned as a flurry of despair hit her in quick succession.

She was getting older. She was growing up. She was getting bigger. Like, inelegantly bigger. She loved this top. She didn't want to say goodbye to it. She didn't want to say goodbye to a lot of things.

Like choosing where to go for High School.

Something possessed her to walk out of her room and find him. She would play up her little sister role in utter defiance.

"Hinata?" Naruto shot up from the sofa and ran to her side.

"Did you dry my clothes?" More accusation than question, her voice was keened wetly with every consonant. "I can't wear this anymore."

Naruto stood there, sputtering, hands uselessly gesticulating at her ample cleavage.

She's never seen his face so red.

Did he look like this when he was thrusting into his rotation of harem girls?

"U-Uh, maybe it's still okay?" He reached out and gripped the fabric of her shirt, his rough fingers ghosting across her skin. A tingle ran up her spine. His eyes became wild for a second. As if to cover up his embarrassment, he became even more determined to prove he didn't ruin her clothes, but doing so made it worse for the both of them.

The forceful tugging made her breasts bounce in a way he was all too familiar with, but none had ever been as big as hers.

As if catching his dirty thoughts, Naruto released her and ran out of the living room, shouting spastically "I'msorryI'llreplaceit!"

Hinata had placed a hand over her exposed skin, right where he had touched her, and she couldn't fight down a smile, however pained and wistful.

This was probably all she was ever going to get.

She decided to play up the risks today, and forwent a bra, using a velvet cropped jacket to hide her nipples.

She received a lot of compliments that Sunday.

Things like this had happened between her and the object of her adoration and frustration, but nothing ever really changed.

He still brought girls over when he thought she wasn't home.

And she still snuck in to try and be a part of it, to learn more about him, to indulge is some form of masochism she didn't know she had.

It wasn't good for her heart.

And when she and Naruto decided individually that they'd stay with everyone else and go to Konoha Normal High, Hinata decided it was time to get serious about her life.

Her renewed late night phone calls with Neji gave her back her structure.

She started her own club. Called it the Volunteers Association. Basically all they did every Sunday was clean up trash in a pre-chosen location from the crack of dawn until lunch time. Beautifying their hometown was a lesson in gratitude and pride.

She also joined the Public Morals Committee, because it would look good on her resume, not because she’d developed an interest in policing others. It also helped her overcome her fear response to raised voices.

But when she did police others, she learned more and more about other people in a way she never thought she would.

For example, the majority of the porn magazines they confiscated were of G-cup models, with M-cup and C-cup ranking in second and A-cup ranking in last. This told her the preferences of the male student body. How important that information was to her? Well, it kind of helped know which boys to be leery of. She had grown to be a little more realistic about herself: She had curves.

Another example was how many students came to school in a hurry and for what reasons. Most of it was due to oversleeping, which were the result of late-night gaming (like someone else she knows), or excessive studying, or part-time jobs. Few others showed up looking like they had taken a detour to the baseball supply closet to fool around (also like the same someone else she knows).

Running in the halls ensued due to prankish behavior.

Failure to advertise for upcoming club events due to limp commitment or a loss of interest.

When the time came for bag checks, where a teacher would confiscate candy and make-up, that’s where Hinata drew the line. She knew her classmates needed sugar to make it through the day. She advised the pretty girls, the gyaru, even the ones she knew had been in Naruto’s bed, that they could still cheat the system if they were clear lip gloss and neutral colors. That really turned their impression of her around on its head.

To sum it up, everyone was going with the flow, chasing one promise of excitement after another, the future too intangible for them to grasp. Their Springtime of Youth was not over.

The amount of blank career sheets cemented her point.

_______________________________

Hinata collapsed onto a bench as the physical and mental exertion caught up to her.

The school was bustling with a multitude of craft projects as they prepared for their annual School Festival.

As a committee member and Volunteer Associate, she was running herself ragged from classroom to classroom, club to club, helping to ensure that everyone's efforts were going smoothly.

A smooth chill touched her cheek. She opened her eyes. Ino held out a cold water bottle against her heated skin, and Hinata smiled.

"Thank you," Hinata accepted the bottle and held it to her neck. Ino sat down next to her. A series of violent thumps met their ears as an irritated Kiba chased down a gloating Naruto, with Kiba's club materials in his hands. Hinata's voice cracked once she opened her mouth, but Ino's voice rang out in her stead.

"NO RUNNING IN THE HALLS!"

Hinata thanked her again as she sank against the wall and relished in the soothing sensation of her water bottle. She didn't realize she had overworked her voice already, too.

"That one's going nowhere," Ino tsked quietly.

"Who?"

"Naruto-baka. He thinks he can live this way forever. Life'll stop being so funny when he's working behind a convenience store register."

"Cashiers serve an important purpose."

"So you agree he's going to end up a cashier," Ino smirked with a wink.

Hinata opened her mouth to complain, but her will instantly deflated inside of her. Ino laughed at the sequence of emotions that played out across Hinata's face, and the latter simply resumed being exhausted human jello that needed more time to restore her shape.

"A cashier baby daddy with five children, each from a different mom," Ino added.

Hinata tried to blink away the haze steadily overtaking her. "No."

Her chest twisted at the thought.

If that really came to pass, he would take responsibility. He would never leave his own children behind, even if he had to go it alone.

Hinata pressed her free palm against her eyes, her lips trembled even as they tightly pressed into a thin line.

"Hinata?" Came Ino's panicked voice.

"It's just a headache," she lied.

"When was the last time you ate?" Ino barely waited for a response. "I'll go grab some food from the cafeteria and be right back with pain relievers. Just stay right there. And no more shouting. You're done for the day!"

Ino ran off to complete her mission and Hinata couldn't be sure if she was grateful for her absence or even more afraid of it.

Just thinking about Naruto...

She doesn't understand how she still feels about him.

His entire existence hurts her, and she can't name all the ways that he does.

She wants to go back to work.

_______________________________

Hinata never thought her world could turn upside a third time. She never thought her structures could be kicked out from under her.

But then on the opening day of the School Festival, when the school gates are only open for family members, an elementary-aged girl with long, dark brown hair and sharp, lavender eyes came along by herself. A single strand dangled between those discerning eyes as they swept around her surroundings.

Hinata was managing the line outside the maid café, greeting customers in a lilac outfit, when the girl showed up.

Their eyes met.

Hers widened. With surprise. With recognition. With curiosity.

Hinata's eyes were only horrified.

The little girl bounced up to meet her.

Hinata's heart hammered in her ears, it swell to the point of choking. Her vision doubled and smeared. She tried to catch her breath, but nothing, nothing was going in. She tried to breathe faster. They call this air hunger. Her body was cold, prickly.

No. She didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to know.

The little girl eyed her from head to toe, then smirked.

"You really do like mom. But you're a little chubbier than I expected."

AN: Apologies if the third scene's timeline is written in an unclear way. It's supposed to be stuff that happened in sequence prior to the second scene.

Hm! I totally forgot how good it feels to write fanfiction. I literally had a head high the whole time. 😂

I hope you like this chapter! And let me know if I'm doing better at hooks and/or cliffhangers! I haven't looked at any of my activity since the last chapter, so I'm going to respond now if there is anything to respond to, that is.

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 6

Hi guys! I'm back <3 (also, I'm currently looking for alpha/beta readers for Phantom Children, so if you're interested, feel free to shoot me a message!)

In Which: Danny Attempts to get Answers, Bruce Learns, and Dick Finally Learns What's Inside the Door that Doesn't Exist

AO3 | Prologue | 5 | [ 6 ] | 7

DANNY IS KNOCKED DOWN three, four, eight times on the ice. Each time made his back ache, his bones bruised and tired, and his mind burning with embarrassment and a drive to lash out. But each time he gets back up. Each time he lasts a little bit longer against Talia.

The ice still shifts, cracks and rumbles with every wrong move. Danny learned to roll with it. Move on light feet but attack with a firm stance, gauge which parts of the ice are stable and which should be avoided. Multi-tasking has never been Danny’s strong suit, but he’s good at learning and learning quickly.

Talia corrected his form as much as she beat him down. Exploited every one of his openings until he learned to defend them and praised him whenever he managed to pull one over her. The League’s martial arts was the holy amalgamation between almost every single fighting style there is, mashed and refined to perfection to become almost unpredictable to the untrained. A vast improvement to Danny’s previous ‘fuck around and see what works’ brawling and had the added benefit of meshing together with his spontaneity.

“You are doing well, Daniel,” Talia said as she sheathed her sword, hand resting just above her hip. “You have improved greatly in such a short time, as I have expected.”

It takes every ounce of Danny’s superhuman energy to not collapse to his knees, his every breath a ragged shudder as he tries to get his breathing under control. “Still can’t beat you, though.”

“Very few can boast that feat.”

“I’m not exactly sure if that’s supposed to make me feel any better or not. Do I get my prize at least?”

Tahlia tossed her braid over one shoulder with a laugh. “Come, then, let us rest in the caves. The sun is to set soon and we must make camp before we freeze to death.”

“Hypothermia is so last season. I’m way too cool for that.”

He didn’t know whether to be disappointed that Tahlia didn’t react to his pun. It was pretty clever, in his opinion.

('Puns are the lowest form of comedy,' said mind-Jazz.

Says the one who named the Box Ghost the ‘Crate Creep.’

'That’s alliteration, not a pun.')

It was kind of pathetic that even his mind-version of Jazz was smarter than him.

“What would you like to know first?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sarcasm dripped from Danny’s voice. He sheathed his sword and let it hang loose at his side. “Maybe how old this mysterious brother of mine is?” Ancients, his life was weird enough already, it wasn’t supposed to sound like the B-plot to a bad soap opera.

“Damian is younger than you by a little over four years. He will turn eleven this year.”

“Huh. Never been an older brother before.”

“Perhaps you might have been, if circumstances had been different.”

Cryptic. Great. Danny stepped over a particularly large crack in the ice and scampered over to solid ground. “You gotta give me more than that. What’s he like?”

“Prideful,” she said. “But skilled enough to warrant it. He was raised like a prince—as how you should have been.”

“And he lives with…our dad?”

“Yes. In America.” The cave was deep enough to shield them from the worst of the eventual mountain winds. Tahlia had already started building a campfire with equipment from her knapsack, embers eating away and growing into a steady flame. He sat down, legs crossed, beside the fire, hands tucked beneath his armpits.

He bit his lip, a question forming in his mind. “Do…do we have the same dad?”

Tahlia looked up at him. “Of course. Only your father has had the privilege of being called my beloved, and only he is worthy enough to have sired my children.”

Once night fell, it fell quickly. Blanketing as far as Danny could see from the mouth of the cave in a thick darkness. Snow fell from the skies in thick tufts and covered their footsteps.

“Does he—do they know about me?”

“No, they do not.”

“And you probably aren’t going to tell them anything about me, if you could help it.”

“That is very perceptive of you, habeebi.”

“You won’t tell me anything more about them, will you?”

“In due time, I will.”

Danny blew part of his fringe away from his face. Figures.

Despite the ever-present niggling at the back of his mind, Bruce had yet to see what was in the flash drive. The weeks since his strange meeting with Vlad Masters suddenly exploded with criminal activity with the recent breakout in Arkham and the brewings of another gang war in the shadows of Gotham’s paved streets. It was all hands-on deck. And Bruce, whether as Batman or Wayne, had always prioritized Gotham and its citizens over anything else.

The flash drive remained on his person despite the crisis, tucked away in one of the sturdier compartments of his utility belt to prevent the data inside from becoming damaged. Sometimes he found his hands gravitating towards it, fingers brushing against the button that would release the mystery from its confines before he realized what he was doing and steeled himself. Hands fisted to his side and attention forcibly directed elsewhere.

Eventually, the rogues were placed back into Arkham, and Gotham let out a shuddered breath of relief as it remained standing for another day.

Most of the family were out on a light patrol, cleaning up the remains of the breakout and helping where they can. Jason and Dick bickering over the comms whilst Barbara laughed in her clocktower.

(“It’s not that bad.”

"‘It’s not that bad’—shut the fuck up.” Jason spat. Bruce could hear him revving his bike. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that? Certified Grade A idiot. B’s gonna kill you.”

He could hear Dick roll his eyes. “Sure, pile it all on, Jaybird. Blame the victim.”

"It was your fault.”

“It’s not my fault I didn’t see it there!”

"You tripped and got a concussion. From a stick. A. Stick.”

“Can we please just leave that out of the report?” Dick groaned. Barbara laughed. “Oh god.”

“Richard motherfucking John Grayson. I swear if you vomit on me then—”

“I’m not gonna vomit on you! You just turned the corner a little too fast. It’s nice to see you care though.”

"Fuck no, I just don’t wanna smell like regurgitated cereal.”)

Damian was benched from a patrol. Their last conflict with Poison Ivy ended with Damian sticking a bad landing and twisting his ankle. He dealt with it with as much grace as can be expected. Meaning that he spent the last few days sulking as he caught up on his missed schoolwork and shooting daggers at everyone else who came back from patrol.

Bruce flicked the flash drive open and plugged it into the computer. The flash drive contained only a single folder dated six months ago.

He clicked it, and a news headline popped up.

LOCAL TEEN DIES AFTER DRIVING OFF CLIFF

Beneath it, a picture. Blue eyes. Black hair. A familiar face.

Blood pounded in Bruce’s ears. He could hear nothing except a sharp gasp from Damian behind him.

When Dick and Jason arrived at the batcave, it was to an eerie silence. Not that it was usually loud, only that Bruce spent most of his free time down in the cave and Dick had come to expect hearing some signs of him around. Typing on keys, the clicking of a mouse, the heavy thuds of a fist meeting a punching bag or a training dummy, etcetera, etcetera. Or maybe even Alfred cleaning up around the cave, feeding the bats, or restocking their med bay.

(Dick, it turned out, didn’t have a concussion. Probably. Not a severe one anyway. What mattered most was that he managed to convince Jason to have dinner at the Manor. Alfred was making a tarte tatin for dessert tonight and those were absolutely to die for. )

One of Tim’s cases took him to the other side of Gotham. The only person in the cave was Damian, who was staring agape at the batcomputer.

“Why the hell is the demon spawn looking at old pictures of Bruce? We get it. They look alike.

“Uh, Dami? What’s up?”

Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I believe it might be best if you asked father that, Grayson.” Despite his clipped tone, there seemed to be little anger in his voice. His proud shoulders were hunched over on the chair, eyes trained on his lap.

He looked so small.

Damian clucked his tongue. “He’s upstairs, if you need him. So is Pennyworth.”

Dick shot a glance at Jason who raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re up golden boy. Whatever the fuck the old man’s problem is this time, I’m not dealing with it.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

There was a door in Wayne Manor that didn’t exist.

When Dick was a child and recently adopted by Bruce Wayne, one of the first things he did was explore the manor. It’s the prerogative of every child that somehow found themselves in a large mansion—even more so given the castle-like exteriors of Wayne Manor. All castles have secret passages, and if the Batcave lay in the subterranean depths below, then surely the manor proper must have its own secrets.

Dick would tumble and cartwheel along the hallways, opening any and every single door he came across. A lot of them were just empty bedrooms or unused parlors and sitting rooms; the furniture covered by white sheets to keep the dust away. Alfred was probably magic, but even he can’t keep the entirety of the manor dust free.

The majority of the unused rooms were unlocked.

Except for one.

It was a room in the west wing, on the second floor. A couple doors down from where Bruce’s and Dick’s were. Why it was locked, Dick never found out. But he was curious since it was the only room on that floor that remained shut.

When he asked Alfred about it, the old butler only said that it was an unused storage room they preferred to keep locked just in case. When he asked Bruce about it, he’d be quick to change the subject. Usually something Batman related. Which, well, always worked, because it was Batman related. And Dick, young and spry and itching to fly under Batman’s wings, would quickly forget about that curious little mystery in favor of punching bad guys in the face and flipping over rooftops.

At some point that locked door quietly disappeared, leaving a blank expanse of wallpaper and a decorative vase where it once stood. It was never brought up again. And Dick slowly forgot that it was ever there in the first place.

Until now.

The wooden table and vase were shoved off to the side. Wallpaper sliced away to reveal the lines of a doorway. The door, covered in its faint damask wallpaper, was kicked open, the wood around the bolt splintered and cracked. He could hear voices—Alfred’s and Bruce’s—speaking softly on the other side.

He pressed his back against the wall and kept his breathing quiet.

“Three times, Alfred.” Bruce’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Three times she’s done this to me.”

“Master Bruce…”

“I don’t—I don’t understand why—” Bruce choked, swallowing a shuddered breath. “Damian, I can understand. Jason, I can too. But…This? I—” Bruce suddenly quieted. Dick knew the jig was up.

He unlatched himself from the wall and slowly slid through the once-hidden-door, a hand kept on the frame. “Um. Hi, Bruce? Alfred?” The words fell flat, stilted. Dick winced as he said them. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but, uh…” He trailed off the second he registered what was in the room.

It was large, as so many rooms in the manor were. The room was covered in peeling green wallpaper with faded pictures of baby deer and owls and other woodland creatures prancing about. There was a dresser on one wall. A shelf filled with little picture books and stuffed animals on the other. A brown teddy bear had fallen on its face on one of the shelves.

In the middle—where Bruce was hunched over—was a crib. The wood streaked and aged with time, the beddings within pristine and untouched, if not dusty. Hanging overhead was a mobile with little animals dangling on a string.

“Worry not Master Dick. It is good that you are here since it will inevitably involve the rest of the family at some point.”

Dick nodded absentmindedly, trying to lock eyes with his guardian. “B? What’s—what’s going on?” Dick took one step deeper into the room. “The pictures in the cave. I thought they were you since they were too old to be Damian—” Bruce’s hands on the crib’s railing flinched.

Dick’s breath hitched.

“They’re…not your photos, are they.”

Bruce took a deep breath in, the lines of his shoulders tense. “No. They’re not.”

In their line of work, the answer could have been anything. Clones, magical doppelgangers, alternate universe counterparts, hell, even just someone’s genetic code being coincidentally similar to another person. But…this room, this nursery, pointed towards only one conclusion.

“Who is he, Bruce?”

Bruce angled his head towards Dick, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. “He’s my son, Dick.

“He’s my son.”

[everlarkficexchange]

Magic as Always

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 71: Magic of Ordinary Days AU: 1940s, Katniss is a single pregnant girl. Desperate for her daughter not to have a child out of wedlock, Mrs Everdeen contacts a priest who in turn knows a young man who just may be willing to help. Sweet, kind and shy Peeta stayed home to take care of the family farm when his beloved brother went to war to never come back. He’s always wanted a family but rural small town life gives little chance to court. He hears of Katniss’ plight and graciously offers to marry her and raise the child as his own. He does everything he can think of to make a home for Katniss and the baby. How does Katniss take it? How does their relationship develop? Will they fall in love? [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: this chapter is rated Teens and Up  

Tags: Historical!AU; WWII; 1940’s Era views on marriage, sexism, pregnancy, etc; Katniss/Marvel relationship; Non-graphic Unprotected Sex; Unplanned Pregnancy; Arrange Marriage; Miscellaneous Religious views; Grief/Mourning; Canon Characters Death; OOC!Mrs.Everdeen; Somewhat OOC!Katniss; Everlark is Endgame; Other tags to be added.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this prompt. I must confess, I’ve never seen the movie ‘The Magic of Ordinary Days’ or read the book the movie is based on. I did a quick skimming on the plot of the movie and then dug up all kinds of reviews on the book, most of my plot points come from a combination of movie and book (which apparently differ only in a few parts), besides what the prompter asked for. I just really loved this prompt, and see the potential of this story, which will be a few chapters long, cross posted to AO3 and I already have a good chunk written ;) The rating will be adjusted too, because there will be explicit Everlark smut in the following chapters. Anon, I hope I don’t disappoint you, this story will be only loosely based on the source material, and adapted to fit THG characters in the narrative, I will try to stick to the main plot points as much as I can, but I’m also taking several liberties with the story. I hope you still like it though. 

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Prim died on a Tuesday, after a very long, strenuous battle with poliomyelitis. My sweet little sister’s face looked as fresh as a dew drop even in death. 

  “Come now, Katniss,” my mother calls from the open door of the mortuary hall, where visitation took place an hour ago. 

  The mortician has arranged for the coffin to be taken to the cemetery and put in the ground this afternoon. There will be no graveside mourning. It’s all we could pay for, but then again the war has left everyone penniless nowadays.

  A big, rotund man comes to close the coffin, and offers a curt nod. 

  That’s it then. The very last time I’ll ever set eyes on Primrose’s sweet face. 

  “Katniss,” Mother whispers, insistently. It’s probably all she can muster before breaking down in tears.

  I look on at the box my sister’s body lies in, numb and heartsick. I bring my 3 middle fingers to my lips and then rise them in the air. My last salute to my beloved Little Duck. I step away from the coffin and shuffle towards mother. 

  Up close, I can see the deep, dark bruises under my mother’s eyes. She used to be beautiful in her youth— according to friends and old photographs— but now she just looks tired and defeated. I guess having to bury first her husband and then her 15 year old daughter, in less than a year, would have that effect on anyone.

  Prim would’ve looked like our mother, with their soft blonde locks, almond shaped blue eyes and alabaster skin. She had a softer spirit though, she enjoyed music and loved animals. She always said that if she was older, she would’ve joined the Red Cross and signed up to serve as a nurse to our boys in the Pacific, like Father did… Father wasn’t a nurse though, he was a chaplain. 

  It’s funny to think that I inherited so much of my father, like my dark hair, gray eyes and olive skin. We both also share the same aversion to human pain and blood that moves my mother and Prim to action; but unlike Prim, my father’s calling to help the soldiers in their worst situations, passed me and went directly to my baby sister. 

  I sigh… Prim would’ve made a terrific army nurse, if only she hadn’t wasted in bed with that odious disease! If she had been given the chance to live, I’m sure Prim would’ve had so many boys trailing after her. She would marry at some point and have a beautiful full life. 

  I don’t plan on marrying and having a family. If the acute pain in my own chest wasn’t enough warning,  watching my mother walk silently from the funeral home to our apartment, with her head bowed and listening to her quiet sobs at night would be enough evidence that there’s too much sorrow in losing one’s husband and children. 

  I think my efforts will be better spent in cultivating my mind, and getting my degree in botany, like my father always dreamed, anyway… plus, I’m not much of a looker… not like Prim at any rate. 

  We finally arrived at our modest home. Mother drifts ghost-like into the door, and then we both shuffle quietly into our separate bedrooms. There won’t be a meal at the table tonight, but I make sure Prim’s old tomcat gets fed and watered, and after he meows in distress at my sister’s door, I open mine, and let him strut inside my bedroom and hop into my bed. The hideous fur ball and I distrust each other, but he understands his mistress is never coming back, and he’s the last thing I have from her… so he lets me pet him and he cuddles close to my chest as I fall asleep, crying. 

——————————-

Mother and I walk slowly through the busy streets of town, mostly ignoring the bustle and disarray around us. People shout, cars honk horns, a baby cries in the distance, and the few young men rush back and forth in the busy sidewalks, like they’re being lashed by invisible whips.

  “We should stop by the grocer and see if we can pick up some eggs.” Says my mother, pulling her “Sugar Book” out of her handbag. 

  Because of the war, everything is being rationed, from sugar to shoes.

  I could care less about food and clothing, though. But I still go into the shop, dutifully. 

  I’m so immersed in my own thoughts, I don’t see the lanky man walking towards me with his arms full of vittles. 

  We collide. The man’s groceries fly up in every direction, raining over me, as I sit on my rump on the floor. 

  My mother is nowhere to be seen. Typical.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Says the man, pulling a packet of oatmeal from the floor, while extending his other hand to help me up. 

  “No… it’s alright, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Well, let’s agree that we’re both klutzes, and leave it at that?” The man offers.

  I’m on my feet, dusting my skirt off and righting my blouse, “Sure, let’s do that.” I scowl at the skew state of my clothes and finally look up at the man. 

  He’s smiling down at me, and I must admit, his smile is dazzling. He’s got short brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles over his nose. He also towers above me. 

  “My stars! If it isn’t Katniss Everdeen!” The young man says, unexpectedly excited.

  I blink owlishly at him, and try to place his face, but I’m horrible at remembering people. Or their names. 

  “Marvel Quaid,” he offers genially, unfazed by my lack of response, “we went to grade school together?” He prompts, “My pa used to sell luxury goods in District One?”

  “Oh, I think it’s coming back now,” I say smiling for the first time in what feels like months. “You used to throw sticks, pretending they were spears or something,” I tell him, showing that indeed, I do remember him.

  Marvel scrunches his nose, “Javelins, actually. I was pretending I threw javelins. I saw a fellow doing it for the Olympics in a film, and then he won a medal for it. I thought to myself that making a victory lap with the good old American flag flapping after oneself looked like fun; well, I wanted to be a victor too!” He chuckles, then deflates. “But as everything, those dreams are gone now, crushed to dust under the weight of the war.”

  As is the norm, once the war gets brought up, gloominess settles on, dampening the cheeriest of spirits.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m all too familiar with the sentiment.”

  Marvel nods, grimly. 

  “We lost Father in France.” I’m not sure why I said it. “We put my sister in the ground last week, too.” I avert my eyes. 

  “Aww, geez, Kit… that’s truly awful. I’m so sorry for your loss,”

  I’m mildly surprised I don’t immediately recoil at his little pet name. I guess the fact that he doesn’t sound condescending while delivering his condolences, helps. 

  “Oh, well, as my father would’ve said, at least their toils in this world are over. They can finally rest in peace.”

  After a moment of heavy silence, Marvel shares, “I’m being shipped out tomorrow morning.”

  I scowl, “Oh,” I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how he’d manage to evade the draft for this long? Marvel is my age, 19 going on 20… boys get sent to the front lines at 18. “I… I could write to you… if you wanted?” I offer shyly. 

  Isn’t that what young women are being told to do, in order to keep our boys’ morale from plummeting?  

  Marvel grins, showing slightly crooked teeth, “That would be swell, Kit!” He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, “I should go back to my shopping, before they miss me at home. Lord knows when will I have the chance of doing something as mundane as picking up my mother’s weekly grocery allowance.”

  These days it is not only uncommon seeing men doing grocery runs, but simply seeing young, able-body men around, period. All of our boys are either in Europe or the Pacific, fighting to keep the devastation of the World war from reaching our shores.

  “Well, for what is worth, I hope you get to return home safely… you know, so you can do all the boring tasks your mother tells you to do. And when I say safe, I mean, I hope you don’t run anymore into spaced out girls, like me,” I smirk. 

  “Oh, Kit, if only you knew how much I’ve enjoyed our accidental skirmish. It’s like a gift from above, seeing you after all these years. Your smile and the color of your eyes will forever be branded in my mind, to give me a reason to fight. To have a dream,”

  I’m momentarily floored by Marvel’s florid little speech. Nobody has ever said anything nearly as sweet and gallant as that to me, and for a moment, I forget all about my dead sister and father, the war, and my own sorrow. 

  I avert my eyes, bashfully, as he finishes picking up his vittles off the floor.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I lean over to pick up a can of milk, and put it on top of his pile. 

  “I only speak the truth,” he smiles brightly. 

  My mother chooses to interrupt at the exact moment I bat my lashes at him, “Katniss, there you are! I’ve been waiting for you by the counter.” She shakes her head. 

  Marvel wobbles on his feet, rearranging his load, and then greets my mother, warmly, “Mrs. Everdeen, how nice to see you again,” 

  My mother eyes him, unimpressed. “Good afternoon, young man,” she answers. 

  “Ma’am… pardon my forwardness, but, would it be too troublesome to ask Miss Katniss to accompany a soldier about to be shipped out, to supper in the town?” 

  My mother narrows her eyes, distrust dripping from her voice as she speaks, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. My daughter and I are in mourning, you see,”

  “Oh, this won’t be an untoward celebration of any kind, ma’am. With the war raging on, we’re all in mourning. All I ask for is one last night of normalcy, a chance to reconnect with an old grade-school mate,” he smiles, hopefully, “For old times sake?” 

  I’m watching my mother’s face closely, with bated breath.

  “Very well,” Mother sighs, “You may ask Katniss out to dinner. But have her home by 9 sharp!”  

  I don’t hesitate to step up and give him directions to my apartment building in District 12. 

  I spend the rest of my day giddy and nervous, pressing my best Sunday suit, the gray one with the matching jacket, and polishing my only pair of leather shoes. There isn’t much I can do about my hair… the thing can’t be fashioned into the favored waves, not even putting it in curlers overnight, so I let it be. 

  I briefly wonder if this was all Prim’s doing? Meeting Marvel and mother’s somewhat easy aquiciscent. Prim hated seeing me sad, and constantly talked about how she’d love to help me get ready for dates with a beau. She couldn’t wait to be of courting age and date a strapping, young man herself… but of course, that would never happen for her, but she would probably still want to see me have those things. 

  Maybe Marvel is right, and our serendipitous encounter is a gift from above, to heal our wounds… at least for the night. 

  ————————-

  Marvel arrives at my house in his father’s car at 5:45. Riding is now such a luxury, with gasoline being rationed and all. He takes me to a quaint little dinner in the middle of town. We share malts, a greasy burger, and a small portion of fries and onion rings. 

  We talk about baseball:

  “You’d look good in a baseball uniform, Kit! Can you still run as fast as you did in school?” 

  I laugh. “I’m not much for sports,” I demure, “but I’ve heard playing in one of the new teams pays alright. Anyway, I’m gonna be starting my second year of college soon. I put my studies on hold while Prim was at her worst, but now that it’s only just me and mother… I’m anxious to go back to study.”

  “Wow, beautiful and smart!”

  We talk about cars:

  “I loved driving… but Mother sold our car when my sister took a turn for the worse. She didn’t want to at first, saying that Father saved up to buy it, and it held sentimental value to her, but I had to push to sell it. We needed the money and gas was a nightmare to come by, anyway,”

  “The only reason we still have ours,” says Marvel, “is because Pa is too stubborn to let go of the things that still made him feel wealthy.” He scowls, “He’s trying to get into the ice business now, since it’s pretty much the only thing one where the raw material is plenty and relatively cheap, and there’s guarantee that people will buy the product… everyone still needs ice for their ice boxes, right?” 

  No one can afford luxuries anymore with every penny going out to support our boys in the battlefields.

  We talk about many other subjects: his sister’s wedding; my father’s unit getting pinned and killed by Germans… We didn’t get a body to bury, but I got a medal on his behalf as his eldest child. 

  Marvel lets me sniffle against his chest, and then kisses my lips slowly. 

  I’ve never been kissed on the lips, and I feel my face heat up. 

  “Would you… like to take a drive with me, Kit?”

  We drive all the way to the city limit. It’s exhilarating to be in a car again, and sitting at the overlook, at twilight,  alone with a handsome boy, feels positively forbidden! 

  I’ve never done anything remotely injudicious all my life, and this whole moment feels… magical… exciting! 

  Tentatively, I initiated our next kiss, but he takes over in a rush of caresses and flitting touches. 

  “Beautiful, graceful, Kit. You have no match!”

  “Marvel…” I kiss him again, not knowing how to answer his sentiments with words.

  His hands are restless, groping my shoulders and elbows. “I wished he had more time! I would’ve loved to marry you before departing. I would’ve show you so much passion and love!”

  “You still can show me, Marvel… you absolutely can!” 

  It’s all the permission he needs to dive into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop until the deed is done, and we’re a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs in the back seat of the car, only partially clothed. 

  A deep feeling of lethargy pours over me. My muscles are sore and heavy, and wished I could fall asleep in here. 

  “I intend on coming back to marry you, Katniss,” Marvel says, stretching his lanky, long legs to zip up his pants. 

  I sit up and start finger-combing my ruined hair, hoping my mother won’t notice the strands are extra frizzy. “Um… I guess we should after this,” I say shyly, gesturing between us. 

  “You could still go to college while I’m away,” he offers with magnanimity.

  “You… wouldn’t mind that?” I ask incredulous, college women are so rare, unless they’re trying to become nurses or teachers. Most girls start courting right after high school and get married in the span of one to two years, and their husbands don’t normally encourage an education beyond what their wives came into the marriage with; so to hear Marvel say that wouldn’t mi d me stay in college is just about the greatest thing possible!

  “My darling, Kit, I don’t want you to be one of those girls pining and wasting away for her beau. I’ll be busy at war, it’ll be unfair to keep you from occupying your own time while you wait fir my return. Go to college, my clever girl!”

  I smile indulgently at him, leaning closer to slip his necktie around the collar of his shirt, “You are truly a generous, loving man,” I say.

  Marvel beams, circling my waist with his arms pulling me against his body. “It’s all inspired by you, sugar plum!”

  I giggle, kissing his cheek, “I’ll write to you every day!” I promise. 

  “That’s nice… but just so you know, I might not be able to write back right away. It’ll be a while before I get settled enough to write. But you’ll be in my thoughts every minute of every day, and that’s the honest truth! I’m serious about marrying you when I return, Kit,” he kisses me again. And then, he looks at his watch, sighing. “It’s 8:32. We should get on going, gotta keep in my future mother-in-law’s good graces!” 

  We share a carefree laugh, and finish tidying ourselves up to drive back to my house. 

  He walks me to the door, takes me in his arms, and kisses me passionately before promising he’d be back to officially ask for my hand in marriage, and for my part, I swear I’ll write to him every day until he returns home safe and sound. 

  But neither of us keeps our promises in the end, although I tried. 

  ————————-

  Three weeks go by and I keep my word of writing daily letters. I receive no word in return from Marvel, but think nothing of it… Europe is far and traveling by sea is tedious and time consuming; Marvel will get in touch once he’s settled down. 

  Another week goes by, still without news from my would-be fiancé. I still don’t worry. I’ve been busy with university, and the few other girls attending school with me keep me busy, but my heavier workload is starting to get to me.

  I’m usually so tired and moody after school that socializing with my classmates becomes a chore. I barely eat supper before I’m passing out in bed, and my letters to Marvel start to get shorter and simpler with every passing day.

  I skip writing one afternoon altogether, and take a long nap. Buttercup— Prim’s ugly cat— perches on my bed like a sentinel to watch me sleep. I believe he’s worried about me… stupid, clingy cat thinks I’m sick.

  But the feline’s intuition proves right, because just two days later, I shoot out of bed and run into the washroom to spill every last ounce of last night supper into the toilet. I must’ve caught a bug or something! 

  I feel queasy and lightheaded every morning after. My appetite wanes and it seems my delicate stomach can only tolerate pears, and broth. 

  I visit the post office to place out my letters to Marvel almost everyday; Every time I come, the nice old mailman comments on how sweet it is to see all the young-uns holding romance strong. Marvel has yet to respond to one of my letters, so I just smile tightly and demure. 

  I’ve been thinking though; the longer I go without news of my supposed future husband, and despite the whirlwind night of romance with him, I start questioning my actions, my promises. I never wanted to marry before, and suddenly I was okay getting a hasty, unofficial engagement with a virtual stranger, I barely remember from grade school… maybe it’s better if Marvel never writes. 

  My plans on earning a college degree and finding a well paying job will go unencumbered— I’m aware women in prominent working professions are as rare as snow in July, but women’s presence in the working forces keep growing as industries need laborers to keep up producing while the men fight in the war. Educated women are almost becoming less rare. 

  At the two month mark since I last saw Marvel, I become weepier than usual… is to be expected in my opinion; Prim’s been gone for a little over two months and she was the only person I knew I loved. But now I’m worrying about my health on top of everything.

  One morning, while I’m kneeling on the cold, hard floor in front of the toilet, feeling miserable and tired, my mother calls my name from the open door.

  “Katniss, I think it’s time to get a test.” She states evenly, and then enters the room to fetch a damp washcloth to wipe my face clean. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid you may be with child,” she sighs. 

  I squirm. “No,” I gasp. “I— I can’t be with child. I just can’t!” But the thought has crossed my mind a few times already. “It’s not supposed to be this way!”

  “I know, child,” My mother pats my head, “there’s only one way to know. Get dressed for the day, I will call the most discreet physician I know, and have him pay us a visit.” 

  ————————-

  Doctor Aurelius— a physician my mother has helped deliver babies and treat maladies with— confirms the pregnancy with a grim face. 

  I sit at my kitchen table numb and despondent. My mother writes a check to the doctor for his services, while talking in no so hush tones in the other room. I listen to their whole conversation, as if submerged in water.

  “I blame myself for this, doctor. I should have kept a closer eye on her,” 

  “Don’t blame yourself Ms. Everdeen, it’s that war business bringing out all sorts of evil into the world! It’s unfortunate the rise of these cases in our community. Young ladies— from good families!— engaging in acts ought to be saved for marriage. Youth do things without thinking, guided by fear. Our boys fear they may not return from that senseless, awful war, and settle down properly, and I don’t blame them one little bit.”

  “The only solace I have right now, is that my poor husband is not here to see the shame that’s fallen over our family,”

  “I understand the sentiment, ma’am. There’s no telling how Preacher Everdeen would’ve taken this blow. But I’m sure things will work out as soon as young Katniss hears from the father…” 

  I dissolve into silent tears then. My mother escorts the doctor to the door and then there’s silence. 

  My pinky finger curls into the soft fabric of the table cloth, and I try to ignore the urge to vomit boiling in my stomach. There’s one thought circling mi mind: my college days are over.

  ——————————-

“Ah! Miss Everdeen, I have something for you.” Says the mailman as soon as I reach the desk. He smiles, but rather sadly, like he’s about to give me bad news. 

  I’ve come to the post office with urgent letters every day for 6 days, and he’s never looked at me this way. 

  The old man digs around for a moment and almost reluctantly, passes a parcel tied up in twine. An envelope is attached to the top of the parcel, and with a sinking feeling, I realized it’s a stack of my own letters. 

  “It came in today, miss.” Says the man, voice laced with pity. “Sorry for your loss.” He says. 

  At first I don’t understand what he could possibly mean by that; he’s offered his sympathies fir my dead father and sister already; it makes absolutely no sense to repeat himself randomly after so long. 

  Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. 

  I gasp, and press the parcel to my chest. “Oh no! Marvel!” I whisper. I give the man a hasty wave, thanking him, and rush out of the post office like mad. 

  Tears run down my cheeks, while I dash home, imagining the worst. “Poor, Marvel!” Is all I can think.

  “Katniss, what’s wrong?” My mother calls, alarmed, when I rush to my bedroom, sobbing. She follows me in, and watches me tear into the envelope at the top of the stack. 

  I frown in confusion when I’m met with handwritten, chicken-scratch scrawl, instead of a formal missive typed in official US military stationary. 

  My scowl deepens as my eyes rove over the flowery vocabulary, and then I screech, “What?!” 

  “Katniss, what’s going on?” 

  I ignore my mother when she approaches to read over my shoulder; I step around her, shaking the piece of paper in my hands and stand by the window, as if sunlight will make the words change their meaning.

  I smooth the creases and folds on the page over, and read out loud, “Dearest Kit, sorry it took so long to write, it’s been a wild time since we arrived and finding time to correspond with everyone back home it’s been hard.

  “At times, your letters have been the sole source of light and hope in the darkness of this conflict. Is for that reason, and with a heavy heart, that I must come clean to you now. I truly meant it when I swore to come back and make you my wife, but as the Good Book says, the Lord works in mysterious ways, and love has sprouted out the most unlikely place! Kit, I’ve fallen in love and married a lovely gal here in England…”

  I stop reading. He goes on talking about the why and how, but I sincerely don’t care. 

  “That good for nothing, virtue dasher, future crushing… liar!” My mother bleats to the ceiling, raising her palms over her head, dramatically. 

  I’m angry too, of course. I feel used and disposed of like a dirty rag, but my mother’s reaction is borderline hilarious. Except, it isn’t. 

  I’m pregnant, unmarried, and soon— once my still flat stomach starts rounding— I’ll be socially ostracized for my condition. My only saving grace was the promise of marriage that bastard Marvel had given me. But that’s gone now. 

  “I knew that boy was bad news the second I laid eyes on him! He never even introduced himself to me, the little weasel! This is my fault. My fault! I should’ve never allowed you to run amok with the likes of him…”

  “Mother, will you please?” I nearly growl, gesturing at the open bedroom door.

  She stares at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, before pursing her lips in disapproval, and stalking out of the room muttering her aggravation under her breath. 

  I sink into my bed with Marvel’s stupid letter crumpling in my fist. A single, hot, angry tear rolls down my face, and for the first time since finding out of its existence, I hug my midsection and address my child, “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess. I know you didn’t ask for a mother like me, but I’m all you got now, little one. I promise we will be alright… I’ll try not to let you down.”

  ———————-

  My mother has been unbearable for the last two days. She cries in her room worse than when Prim died, and when she sees me, she starts lamenting my poor choice, like I’m not even standing there… as if I don’t feel discouraged enough. 

  I keep myself busy with my education. I will need to earn this diploma now more than ever before, and I need to do as much as I can before the baby arrives and my studies get put on hold. 

  In the meantime, I scout the newspapers for possible work options to sustain me and my mother. Our savings keep diminishing and the small stipend my mother got from the Army since my father passed away is becoming more insufficient by the day. 

  There’s a knock on the front door, and I push out my chair unhappy by the interruption. 

  “Afternoon Miss Katniss! Would you let your mother know she’s got a telephone call down in the lobby?” Says the building’s doorkeeper. 

  “Of course, thank you. She’ll be right down!”

  Telephones are yet another luxury we had to give up when moved to this small place after losing my father. 

  I go back to my job hunt, and my mother descends to the lobby, quickly. 

  She returns after only 10 minutes, almost running through the door, excitedly calling my name. Tears wet her face, but her smile is so blinding, even without knowing what sort of news she’s heard to cause her such joy, I stand from the table with nervous anticipation. 

  “Oh, Katniss! Katniss my dear daughter, you’re saved!” She exclaims, hugging me tightly. 

  I’m confused. I step away from her embrace, “What do you mean?” 

  “It’s the best thing possible ever, I tell you! The Lord has answered all of my prayers!”

  “This is all so exciting and all, mother, but… could you please share this great news already?” 

  My mother cups my face in her hands, and beams at me, “You need to pack your things, darling! Your father’s good friend, Reverend Undersee, has found a husband, and you are to wed, in three days time!”

  —————————

Reverend Undersee and his daughter, Madge, meet me and my mother at the rinky dink bus station, in the equally tiny town my mother has banished me to.

  “Katniss! How long has it been?” Says Madge, hugging me enthusiastically.

  I bite my tongue to keep the acidic retort of “not long enough!” to leave my mouth. 

  “Welcome to Panem,” says the reverend, soberly, shaking my mother’s hand in greeting.

  “Thank you, revered. We appreciate your hospitality and your understanding,” my mother responds, then gives me a pointed look and a wordless command. 

  I nod and mutter, “Thank you, sir. Madge,” 

  I scowl at a crack in the pavement, not feeling an iota of gratefulness for this charade! 

  Any man agreeing to this questionable union has to either be desperate, or be hiding terrible, ulterior motives to go along with all of this. Nobody in their right mind would willingly marry a girl pregnant with another man’s baby, and be happy about it… unless that’s the reason! 

  I shudder at the thought. 

  But it is a very real possibility that my intended is a simpleton, who can’t find a wife otherwise… or worse! It could be a man very advanced in age, looking for a supple, young body to leech off. Gross!

  My mother had been too excited about the news that a man offered to marry me (as if I asked for, or even wanted a husband!) to bother to ask his name. 

  Reverend Undersee coughs daintily, clears his throat, and starts, like he’s giving a lecture at the university. “It is our Christian duty to lend a helping hand to widows and orphans in their time of needs. Same way it’s our duty to keep the memory and honor of an old friend from being dragged into the mud.”

  I wince at the harsh words, and let my face fall lower, if that’s even possible. 

  “Well, it’s a good thing that we are all recipients of the abundant grace of the Lord, which covers multitude of faults, and it’s never hard to reach,” a deep, velvety, masculine voice cuts into my embarrassment. 

  I lift my eyes from the ground, to find a man striding confidently in our direction. He smiles kindly at me, his eyes fixed on my own, like I’m the only person still standing in the station.

  He finally cedes our staring contest, to take in the rest of the group.

  A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, because I recognize him from years past when my family used to visit this town, and I’m afraid I know exactly why he’s here. 

  “Good afternoon, all. I apologize for my tardiness, I had a last second detail to take care of before leaving the house,” he nods in our general direction, taking his hat off; a riot of ashy blonde curls falls onto his forehead, before bending forward to shake my mother’s hand, “I’m Peeta Mellark, at your service, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

  “Likewise, mister Mellark,” says my mother, her lips twitch tersely, “Widow Everdeen, and this here is my daughter Katniss… your bride.” 

  Peeta Mellark’s baby blue eyes slip back to mine, and the left side corner of lips curls into a shy, earnest smile. “Welcome to Panem, Katniss, I’ll sure do my best, so you’d like it here.”

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

¤°~Ghost Marriage: Lovely Bride To Be?! Part 3°~¤

Previously... 

"STOP YOUR STEP!!"

At the end of the hall, Senior Vanrouge and Sebek were conversing with the ghosts knights. "They became angery just because of a mere joke I made about them. Such a bunch of narrow minded ghosts." Lilia jests with ignorance in his tone.

"Ugh, the guys from Diasomnia! Why did you bring these ghosts here?!" Ace yells out in fear. "You naive ghosts who dare to snarl at Lilia. I'll get rid of you guys!" Sebek said with very little amusement.

Present Time..

After the fight with the ghosts. The student's and Headmaster go to the field so ghosts won't bother them. Students who were also kicked out the school stayed at the field. "Ha...haaa. Ugh the sides of my stomach hurt so much." Ace tries to say as he and Deuce groan and grumble in pain.

"Ace, Deuce." A familiar voice spoke. "Ah, Prefect Roseheart!" The two huff out as they nod. Azul and Kalim stood next to Riddle, but Azul looks at the two with confusion. "Where is Prefect (Y/N)? Shouldn't you two be with her?" The prefect of Octavinelle points out.

The A-Deuce combo only shrug. "I think she got mixed up the crowed." Deuce says as he looks at the growing crowd of students. "How did you guys get put here?" Ace asks the three dorm leaders.

"We had gotten chased out by some ghosts that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Even though it was valuable time for the three of us to study together." Kalim responded, while Azul shot him tired glance. "Kalim. Shouldn't it be "valuable time where we teach you about studying."?" Riddle could only sigh and cross his arms. "We almost got Kalim to understand the question..!"

"When we stayed in class, a bunch of ghosts appeared. They chased us out while saying, "this will be the brides fitting room!"" Grim watched as more students came up to them. Telling the same tale. "Everyone who was kicked out from campus has already gathered around..!"

"It seems like the whole campus has been taken away by those ghosts." Deuce said rather calmly. Ace on the other hand was more shocked than calm. "Oi! Principal, what's going on!?"

Before Mr. Crowley could respond, Ortho decided to explain. "I'll be the one to explain. You see, yesterday..." Once the young Shroud told everyone of the events that occurred. Everyone went silent. The only person who spoke after Ortho, was Riddle.

"The ghost groom has been searching for his ideal princess. Then had chosen (Y/N) as his ideal bride... That's the idea, correct?" Riddle revised as his expression was oddly calm. "WHAT!!!!" The group of NRC boys all screamed in anger and fear, a lot of other expression as well.

"We need to save her!!" Ace says immediately after the video was shown. "What will happen to (Y/N) if she does marry the Ghost Groom?!" Deuce asks the principal with fret. Mr. Crowley casted his eyes downward, with a somber voice he said.

"If (Y/N) marries the ghost prince, that is the same meaning of signing a contract. Which will mean, once the wedding is over.. SHE WILL FOLLOW HER SOON-TO-BE-HUSBAND TO THE UNDERWORLD!!!" "EEEEHHH!!!" Everyone yelled out in shock.

Mr. Crowley continues: "I put my guard down because I never would of expected someone who meets the conditions of the prince and his ideal Princess would exist in this world." Headmaster Crowley said with dread in every word he spoke.

"(Y/N)... Is going to be a ghost..!?" Epel gasps out with fear. "We can't let that happen!" Jack gruffs out as he bared his fangs. Many others agreed at helping the female student from her impending doom.

"We need to come up with a plan then!" Ortho tells the group of fired-up teens. "How about we start talking with them? We can throw a party! I bet that the ghosts will definitely let (Y/N) go if we just explain the situation."

The young Al-Asim heir suggested to his fellow peers. Rook nods, agreeing with his classmates. "A truly splendid idea, Roi d'or." A slim smile crepts on Rooks lips, "though..." The huntsman drawls out, his eyes turn a bit narrow.

"Do you think you'll be able to persuade a groom who has been searching for his bride for so long?" Rook crossed his arms over his chest as he continues on. His voice hinting with amusement. "If I was in his place, I'd never let my beloved go."

Leona growls, "so our only option is to just beat those ghost into submission." Vil scoffed at Leona and his idea. "Have you forgotten that we all ran all the way out here because we couldn't do just that." The male model said sassily with a frown gracing his painted lips. "No matter what we did, we couldn't defeat all those ghosts."

The headmaster starts to speak, "they are truly a infuriating opponent to take on. We should avoid confrontation as much as possible." Lilia starts to ponder as Crowley squawked about. "Lord Sam is well versed in the ways of ghosts and things of a spiritual nature. Shall we go see what he has to say on the matter?"

"Lord Sam... Do you mean Sam from the student store?" Deuce questioned the old fae. Lilia hums, "I was acquainted with his great grandfather." Cater starts to laugh dryly. "I still can't tell when you're joking or when your being serious... Lilia."

"Then we must make haste to the student store!" The headmaster yells as he and the others rush to Sam's shop. As soon as the shop door closed, Sam greets them. "Yo, headmaster and little demons. Whay could you be looking for that brought you all here?"

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. "Kidding! I know you're looking for something to deal with that ghost groom, right?" Sam told the group of teens and headmaster. Riddle is perplexed by Sam and his words. "This speeds things up but it sounds like you knew we would end up here."

Sam starts to laugh once more. "My friends on the other side bring me all kinds of info." Soon Sam's voice quickly turns less cheerful. "But things are getting really dicey. Ghost are tied to this world by a really powerful "lingering attachment".

Sam explained more in depth on what he meant. How they still come back because of the "attachment". "And as long is it remains, they'll keep comin' back." Grim felt realization struck him like lightning. "That's why the ghost of Ramshackle keep coming back!"

"Bingo! Precisely. That's why ghosts are so hard to handle." Ortho asked how they can save (Y/N), saying there was no such item like that to get rid of the ghost permanently. Sam grins and says, "IN STOCK NOW!" Azul looks at Sam selection while Leona tsks.

"Groom and brides are especially quick to meet tragedy. So they turn into ghosts all the time." Sam then holds up a item, "to get rid of a ghost groom. You need the "ring of severance." Slide this ring onto the host's left finger while saying "I shall love you till death do us part." And it will forcibly send him to the other side."

"How could (Y/N) give this to him? She's not even here!" Vil said as he picks up the small ring. Crowley gasped as he remembers something about the ghost groom. "Hold on a moment, the ghost groom was a boy who loved a challenge."

"So if one of you asked for (Y/N)'s hand. He'll see it as a duel for her hand in marriage, you don't have to win. But you must be able to give her the ring and tell her what to say." Lilia giggles at the crows plan. "It'll be fun to watch the drama unfold by stealing someone's bride."

"We shall call this plan... "Operation, Lovely Bride To Never Be!"" The headmaster said confidently, "it's a bit long for a name." Ace mutters under his breath. "Now I must decide on who the grooms will be for his plan." Crowley exclaimed as the male students to crowd and shout. "I'll do it!" "Let me do it!" "As if!"

The headmaster started to sweat with nervousness stirring in him. The gleaming eyes of the students were scaring him! It was almost as if each student was ready to take a role as a groom by ANY means necessary. Which it seemed like the students were readying themselves for.

"Alright alright! Will do a vote! I will write down all of your names and put them in my hat. I'll choose four grooms for this operation. So that means four names will be drawn." Mr. Crowley says with a exasperated look on his face.

_________________________________________________________

(Y/N) sat in the far corner of the "fitting room." She held a blank expression as she looks at herself. She wore a beautiful wedding (gown/suit/ect) as her hair was spruced up and was placed into a (loose/ponytail/ect). A (white/gold/silver) tiara with a veil attached to it was on her head. (Y/N) wanted to rip the thing off her, but then the ghost would force the item back onto her head again.

Sighing and cursing under her breath. (Y/N) felt queasy, or maybe it was because she hadn't ate anything yet. This was all happening so fast! (Y/N) did not want to be married to this ghost groom. She hoped that her friends would find a way to get too her before the wedding started.

"Bleh..." The female utters as she looks at her bare feet. A knock was heard on the door as a soft "coming in" was heard. A slim ghost that wore a white suite appears in front of her. He was the nanny of the ghost groom.

"Come, my dear lady. Your fiance is waiting, he needs your help with decorations and would like your words on it." (Y/N) felt herself become stiff, but agrees. Playing along was her better chance of escaping her "wedding". "Of course," (Y/N) said politely as she walks with nanny ghost.

The two reach the cafeteria, now transformed with pretty decorations and tombstones. Along with dark blue flowers and white sheets cover each table. The nanny smiles at his prince with nostalgia. "It seems like only yesterday you were a small child. Trying to find follow your dream and find your dear princess. A dream you lost long ago with your life as well. What a cruel twist of fate." The nanny said as his voice started to crack.

"If only I had arrived at your room faster, I could of helped you escape..." The sweet prince smiles at his caretaker. "It is alright now, know need to bring up the past. Don't let all that stuff bring you down."

The young princes smile never faltered. "Besides, going through all that pain and sadness is what allowed me to meet (Y/N)!" His caretaker could feel his spirits lift at the princes words. "Oh prince Elias, you are always so courageous and strong."

(Y/N) could feel her heart cry at what she heard. She didn't know that... Breathing in a gulp of air, she slowly walks closer to the two. 'It's gonna be okay..' "You did a great job Elias." (Y/N) said as she gives him a small smile.

The ghost groom returns her smile tenfold as he looks at his bride. "My goodness, (Y/N)! You look just as beautiful as a.. Well beautiful than an' undead flower!" Elias said happily, (Y/N) giggles at his childish wording.

"Thanks." The caretaker gives the two a tender look. "You both are just perfect for one another. Prince Elias, we must get you ready before nightfall. You have to look your best for your princess."

The caretaker jests as he pushes the prince out of the cafeteria. "Wha- but I wanted to-!" "No sir, you must get ready. *Sigh* your still a stubborn little boy too." Elias waves at (Y/N), "I shall see you soon, my love!"

Once the two were gone, the ghost soldiers take (Y/N) back to the dressing room. Before the door closed, (Y/N) asks them something. "Can I please have something to eat? I haven't ate in a few hours."

To be continued...

(Okay, part three was supposed to be the end of the series. But that didn't happen, so I'll do my best to make sure part four is the last installment. I really wanna get to work for the Halloween event for Twst and a bunch of other stories I wanna put on this account! But I have to wait until I finish part four. Thanks for reading!)

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

Lost And Found

Characters: Law, Lammy, Heart Pirates Rating: Teen Warnings: Language, PTSD, Depression, and Anxiety mention Notes: I know this has probably been done a million times but it’s my turn (: AO3 Link

~~~~~

“Where are you going today, Cap?” Shachi grinned at Law. Law shrugged. “Wandering?”

Law grunted. He watched his crew walk off the Polar Tang. Not at the actual port, of course. Submarines were suspicious enough, let alone one sailing with a black flag. They found a quiet little beach to disembark safely. Law looked back at Shachi. “You know what they say about assuming things.”

“Pawn shops for coins, then.” Law rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m going to find some good grub.” Shachi rubbed his stomach for emphasis. “Want to come with? Or have you decided this is going to be a day where you ignore your own advice and not eat?”

“You’re being rather annoying this morning,” Law quipped.

“Just worried about my cute junior,” Shachi cooed at him. Law rolled his eyes again. Shachi patted his back with one hard pat. “I’ll see you later, Captain. Enjoy your day.”

Law muttered his thanks before adjusting Kikoku. He watched Shachi walk off of the Tang for a moment before sighing and moving to leave the submarine himself.

Shachi was not wrong. Law planned on wandering the island and then probably going to look at coins. Simple pleasures, Law supposed. After a life of whatever in the hell his life has been,  it’s nice to have some form of hobby that doesn't involve violence or medical procedures…or both.

Law walked off the Tang and along the beach, watching the sea hit the shore. He watched a tiny crab scurry from the sand to the sea in some hurry that only crabs could be in. As he walked further down the beach he noticed that people were starting to appear. It looks like he made it to the public beach. Law made a disgusted face. He supposed it was time to look in the town, lest he be surrounded by a bunch of fun-goers.

Law made his way to the port town. Nothing special about it. He wondered if his trip would be fruitless. He might have gone to an island with no new books, no island-specific coffee, or worse, no new coins. He huffed. He wouldn’t know until he actually looked.

His shoes made a tapping noise as he walked on the stone ground. People walked past him, completely unaware of who he was. Or maybe they just really, really didn’t want to acknowledge who he was. Either way, Law didn’t care. He was on a mission. Buy stuff.

He walked past food stands and restaurants, not paying them any mind. He wasn’t in the mood for food, and no one seemed to be selling any quality coffee. He continued walking, looking for anything interesting. He caught sight of a bookstore. Finally. Maybe this place would hold his interest.

He adjusted Kikoku and walked towards the shop. He was almost smacked with the door when someone decided to exit at the time he tried to open it.

“Oh! Sorry!” The woman apologized.

“Whatever. It’s fine,” he grumbled.

He looked at the woman. Her light brown hair was in a braid. Her gold eyes met his and they stared at each other silently.

Of all the things that Law expected to find on this island, this was not one of them.

He stared at the ghost in front of him, not sure what to do. He swallowed bile in his throat, everything coming back to him at once. She looked like her. She looked like his mother. He took a deep breath and looked her over again. No, too much of his father. She looked like Lammy would have, had she had the chance to grow up.

“Law?” The woman spoke up and Law’s ears started to ring. It couldn’t be. “Law?” Her voice grew more anxious. “Is that you?” She knew him? Is that really her? He let out a shaky breath and felt himself reach towards her.

Law snapped back to reality and withdrew his hand. Of course she knew him. He was Trafalgar fucking Law, the Surgeon of Death. He looked at the woman’s face and noticed the tears running down her face.

“Law, it’s you isn’t it?”

“That’s not exactly a hard thing to figure out. I’m sure my bounty poster is everywhere.” He tried to sound calm but his voice was shaking.

“That’s not how I know you. That’s…” she trailed off. “You’re alive! You’re-”

“In the way,” a flat tone said from inside the building.

“Oh!” The woman said. “I’m so sorry. We’ll get out of the way.” The woman took Law’s arm and started to drag him away. Law was so stunned by the action that he didn’t fight back at first.

Once he realized what was happening he pulled his arm back swiftly. “I don’t know who you think you are but-”

She turned to look at him, tears still flowing down her cheeks. “You remember me don’t you? I’m Lammy. You’re my brother.”

Law felt nauseous again. “Lammy died,” he snapped. “She died in that fire.”

“I didn’t. Almost did, but I didn’t. I was saved.” Law eyed her, not believing a word she said, but as he did he noticed the all too familiar white splotches on her tan skin, just like him. Just like his splotches. But still - there’s no way she was saved. It was genocide. They set the hospital on fire on purpose. It was to kill everyone inside.

His chest tightened and it was hard to breathe. He felt a cold sweat run down his face. Anxiety. PTSD. His vision was blurry for a moment until he felt a hand on his forehead.

“You’re hot,” she said. “Come on. I’ll take you to my flat.”

She started to drag him off again and this time he couldn’t find the strength to fight back. Before he knew it he was laying on a couch in a small apartment with a cold washcloth on his forehead.

He stared at the ceiling and then over to “Lammy,” who was reading a book in a chair across from him. He narrowed his eyes at her and felt himself become nauseous again. He felt hot, like a fire was lit under his feet. He smelled smoke and corpses. He swallowed down bile again. He needed to get out of here.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, not looking up from her book. “I know that look. That’s the “I’m going to run” look patients get.”

“What, are you a doctor?”

“Yep. It’s natural, isn’t it? I mean, Mom and Dad were.” Law sat up, the washcloth falling into his lap. He looked around the apartment. Not much to it, honestly. It looked very bare. “And you became a pirate captain, interestingly enough.”

“I’m still a doctor,” he said automatically, not thinking about it.

They stared at each other for a moment, scrutinizing and analyzing each other. Law realized how much this woman looked like his mother. It made him want to cry. An old buried ache in his heart that was long repressed.

“I can’t believe you still have the hat,” Lammy spoke up.

“My sister got it for me.”

Lammy smiled brightly. “Ah, I suppose that makes sense. I don’t have anything from that time.” She sighed and closed her book. “What’s with all the tattoos?”

“You did just state that I’m a pirate captain,” he said flatly.

Lammy chuckled. “Yeah. How exactly did that happen?”

Law narrowed his eyes and his skin prickled. “Why would I tell you that?”

“Ah, you still don’t believe that I am who I say I am.”

“You think I’m just going to believe anyone who says they’re my dead sister?”

“How many people know you have a dead sister?” She questioned.

Doflamingo, he thought to himself, very aware of the fact that this could easily be a trap and he was already shit out of luck. What an idiot he was! He was so easily taken away by some random woman because he had a little PTSD. He should be better than this. When was the last time he made a fool of himself like this?

“How about I tell you what happened?” Law didn’t answer so she took that as permission. “The hospital was set on fire and I was dying. Well, dying faster. I passed out from the smoke, knowing that I was about to die alone,” she frowned and rubbed her arms. “The next thing I knew I woke up in a bed by a window with a curtain blowing in the breeze. It smelled like honeysuckle. A nurse walked in the room and started taking care of me. I asked all the normal questions. “Where am I? Where was my family? What happened?” And the like. She didn’t answer any, she told me to wait for the doctor.” She went silent.

“And?” Law prompted.

Lammy blinked. “The doctor came to see me eventually. He told me someone had pulled me out of the hospital and took me to another town near the shore. The doctor had heard about Amber Lead and was trying to work with anyone who could help cure the poison. Turns out he was too late,” she said bitterly. “Everyone died.” Law didn’t say anything. “I was sick and dying. I couldn’t get out of bed and I barely had a voice due to all the smoke I inhaled. I felt like whatever had happened was just a bandaid on a bullethole. I was going to die. Amber Lead was going to kill me. And I was miserable. I endured too many surgeries when I was so young.” She sighed. “The doctor performed one last surgery and I was okay. I wasn’t dying anymore. Something about it being in my liver.” She shrugged

Law swallowed. “And after that?”

“I helped the doctor in whatever way I could for saving me, but over the course of the months I was there the Navy ran raids, looking for people from Flevance who may have escaped, and as you are well aware, the scars never faded.” Law looked at his hands and the white splotches on his skin. “So, I found my way off the island. I stowed away on a cargo ship, eating scraps and sharing space with rats. I hid pretty well for a recovering, sickly eight year old girl. I would stop at an island, stow away on another ship, and then do it all over again a few times until I found an island where I finally decided to stay. Found an orphanage. Stayed there. Went to school and got the best grades so I could do everything on scholarship. Became a doctor and found myself on this island. Uh, that’s it, I guess.” She sighed. “I suppose it’s not believable and sounds like any story book tragedy. I mean, why would anyone save me when they were killing everyone else and…”

Law tuned out her anxious rambling and stared at her quietly. He let out a breath, starting to become far too emotional for the cool and calm captain of the Heart Pirates. What if this wasn’t a trap? What if she was who she said she was? What if she really was Lammy? What if what if what if…

“If,” he spoke up and interrupted her. “If you’re really Lammy,” he continued slowly. “Tell me something I would only know.”

Lammy frowned. “Well, let me think that far back. It’s been years since we saw each other and I barely remember anything it was so long ago.” She tapped her fingers together. “Do you still collect coins? Do you collect the Sora comics? I remember us reading them together.” Law frowned and his bottom lip quivered a bit. “Uh, let’s see, you once got in trouble at school for bringing a frog to your class photo.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. He breathed in through his nose. “Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

He wanted to. He so badly wanted to. “If I did, what would you do?”

“Uh, hug you, I guess.” She cleared her throat. “I heard about a Trafalgar Law becoming a pirate captain, but I thought “no way, that’s not my brother.” However…it is you and-”

“What’s my middle name?” He interrupted her.

“What?”

“What’s…our middle name?”

Lammy blinked. “Duh, I suppose that would’ve been the easiest way to figure it out. It’s “D.””

Law didn’t mean to make a tiny pained noise that came from deep within his throat, but he did. It was Lammy. Who else knew that secret information?

Lammy smiled softly. “Want that hug?”

“Shut the hell up,” he said, holding every emotion back and failing spectacularly at it.

Lammy walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Law immediately held onto her. Lammy was here. His baby sister was here and alive.

He blinked away tears to the best of his ability. He heard Lammy sniffle and his heart ached. He dreamed of this. He had prayed for this knowing that it would never be answered. Life was cruel and painful and yet she was here, crying with him.

They held onto each other crying, letting their pain out. Their hearts were bare for one another. Law had never felt this much joy and hurt at the same time. His head and heart were racing. He felt light headed and nauseous. Of all the things he ever counted on happening, this was one he knew was never going to happen.

After long minutes of crying like he hasn’t cried in years, they pulled out the wine. Lammy asked him what happened and he told her. He told her cautiously, but he told her. Of a twisted fate marked with pain and suffering. He told her how he escaped and of The Family. He told her about Cora-san. He told her about how he survived with his three companions for so long.

Lammy nodded. “A lot has happened to you,” she giggled after a moment. “And you became a criminal.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

She shrugged causally. “It’s your life, you did what you wanted so that’s what mattered. You’re happy now, yeah?”

Law took a sip from his wine. “Ish.”

“Ah, yeah.”

“What about you?”

“Eh.” She shrugged. “Could be worse. Could be better.”  She paused. “Tell me about your adventures.”

Law raised a brow. “Why?”

“What do you mean “why?” Because I wanted to hear what’s out there!”

Law chuckled. “Okay, I’ll tell you some.”

Law told her about the many islands and adventures he had been on, leaving out the more…violent parts. He didn’t need his sister to know everything about being a pirate. She listened eagerly, her eyes wide like a child being told an exciting bedtime story. They finished the wine together and were laughing by the end of the bottle.

“That all sounds amazing!” She exclaimed. “I wish I could see the world like that.”

Law hesitated for a moment before swallowing. “You could come with me.”

“Huh?”

“You could come with me.”

“To be a pirate?” She squeaked. Lammy looked at him with wide eyes. “I-I don’t know. I mean, we’re together again after so long but…to become a pirate…”

Law frowned. “You’re right. Never mind. I don’t want to put you in harm's way. If you stay here, I know where you are and that you’ll be safe.”

Lammy sighed slowly and nodded. “Yeah.”

They went silent. Law looked out the tiny window. It was getting dark. It wouldn’t be out of the question for someone to spend the night somewhere and off the sub, but it didn’t feel right staying over. Yes, they were reunited, but they were still strangers. It had been over a decade since they saw each other, they had no idea who each other were anymore. In fact, Law was sure that if Lammy really got to know him, she’d turn him away.

Law placed his wine glass on the coffee table and stood up. “I should probably head back to my ship.”

“Already?” Lammy frowned sadly. “We just…” she trailed off. “I’ll walk you to your ship.”

“You want me to let my sister walk alone at night?”

“I’ve got tiny safety weapons,” she pouted. “Besides, this island is safe, there’s never any issues here.”

That she knew of. Law thought to himself. Who knows what the government and Navy could be covering up.

“No, Lammy. I want you to be safe at home.” He reached out and ruffled her hair. “I will write to you.”

He watched tears fall down her face. She stood up and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and frowned. He didn’t want to let her go again, but their lives were so different that he had to. He needed to let her live her own life and let himself live his own life.

Eventually they said their goodbyes and Law walked home alone. He was a mix of emotions that would certainly keep him up all night. He barely acknowledged anyone on the sub, stating he was tired and wanted to go to bed. He slinked into his room, placing Kikoku against the wall and throwing off his clothes. He laid in bed and stared at the ceiling, no longer willing to let his brain function for the rest of the night.

~~~~~~

“Where did you go yesterday? You disappeared.” Penguin asked Law early the next morning while they stood on deck.

“Nowhere,” Law grunted and sipped coffee.

“Okay. Why are we leaving so early?”

“Because I want to.”

“Okaaaay.” Penguin eyed him suspiciously.

Truth be told, he wasn’t wanting to stick around anymore. He didn’t want to leave Lammy, but he knew if he didn’t it would be harder to let her go. There was only so much heartbreak he could handle, and he’s had enough in his lifetime.

The crew was either coming back from a long night and/or getting ready to shove off. Law sipped his coffee and stared at the island. This was best. This was what was best for him and his heart.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He turned and leaned his back against the railing.

“Captain,” Bepo came up to him. “We’re ready.”

“Okay, let’s go and get ready to sub-”

“Waaaaaaiiiiiitttttttt!!!!” He heard a faint voice from behind him.

He and Bepo looked at each other confused before looking behind him.

A tiny figure was running towards the sub with a suitcase trailing behind them.

“Law!! Wait for me!!” They waved at him.

Law blinked. “Lammy?! What the hell are you doing?!” He called to her and ignored the various “Lammy?’s”  and other such things the nearby crew members muttered to each other.

Lammy didn’t answer, she kept running and dragging her suitcase behind her. She heaved and puffed when she made it to the side of the Tang.

“I’m,” she took a deep breath. “Wow, I am so out of shape. I’m coming with you.”

“…” Law stared at her wide eyed. “What?”

Lammy took a deep breath and walked up the ramp to the deck. She looked around the deck and then to him. “I’m coming with you, brother.”

“Uh, Captain?” Bepo said anxiously.

“Why?” Law asked. “Didn’t you say-”

“I know what I said but…but screw it! I want to be with my brother! It’s not fair that we went through everything we did but can’t actually be around each other because of silly rules like “pirates are criminals!” If I have to become a criminal to not be alone anymore, then I will!”

Law stared at her while everyone else stared at him. Law looked around and then back at Lammy. He snorted. “You know this means I’m your captain, right? You have to do what you’re told.”

“Oh…well, whatever! Who cares!” She grinned and rushed over to hug him.

Law wrapped his arms around her with a soft smile. There was various confused voices that surrounded him but he’ll answer them later. For right now…he’ll just let himself be happy with his sister.

[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. v

→ one | two | three | four

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part five / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 3,127

☾v.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾v. part v: the mafia(2/2)

Sayomi made her way to the elevators once again, dispatching the control room through her walkie talkie that she needed to get to her shift.

It was currently a quarter to 1, the last minutes before her shift would start. With a hand resting on her katana, Sayomi now exited the elevator having arrived at the 48th floor.

As she approached the VIP’s room, the two bodyguards on duty sighed in relief. 

“Thank god, it’s finally rotation time”, the woman exhaled lazily.

Sayomi tried her luck at a friendly interaction, casually asking the pair a question. “I’m guessing there wasn’t any action?”

The man laughed a genuine, but tired laugh. “Absolutely nothing. We haven’t moved an inch since the start of our shift.”

Sayomi laughed at the pair’s lack of enthusiasm, her violet eyes crinkling at the edges. Her expression of joy seemed infectious, as the older members in front of her laughed along with her in their despair.

She was starting to feel like a true member of the team already.

This is nice, I didn’t expect the others to be as unmotivated as me. 

Closing in on the time designated for the shift change, Sayomi’s partner arrived as well. Seeing no purpose in waiting around when everyone was present, the pairs switched early, starting Sayomi on her very first stretch as a bodyguard.

☾v.

The first 30 minutes into her shift, Sayomi had learned that her partner was a rather quiet person by nature.

Upon starting their shift, the two had exchanged a brief greeting, nodding to acknowledge the other.

It was only after an hour of standing and staring at the wall that Sayomi decided she couldn’t stand the silence while they waited out their shift.

She initiated a conversation with the older man, coming out bold as to establish her character.

“So, how did such an average man like you get stuck working for the mafia?”

The man was unmoving, replying to her question in a soft voice. “My family’s debt… Why did a young girl like you get caught up with the mafia?”

She wasn’t expecting such an honest response from the man. It threw her off, making her unprepared to answer the question shot her way.

“Um… I guess you could say family circumstances?” She hadn’t lied, given that it was her family’s actions that left her at Meteor City.

The man nodded in understanding at her vague answer. 

Another wave of awkward silence fell over the two, Sayomi’s initial attempt at socializing having failed miserably. 

She decided not to reattempt a conversation with the man, sensing that he didn’t care for idle chatter.

Family circumstances, huh. That’s the best thing I could think of. 

Sayomi had fallen deep in thought, her brows furrowing as she reflected back on her life.

I wonder if… father ever came looking for me? Or Illumi… did Illumi want me gone too? Ah, I shouldn’t be so dramatic about this. Either way I won’t return home, because that would mean mother winning. 

She exhaled audibly, tired from the splurge of thoughts that had taken over her mind once again. 

The man glanced over at the teen stationed next to him. She was obviously just as bored as he was to be stuck with this job.

Moving his eyes back forward to the wall in front of him, he attempted to kickstart a conversation once again. “You seem a bit too young to be on your own, don’t you miss your family?”

Sayomi blinked at the man in surprise, both at the question and the fact that he had initiated a conversation.

She contemplated whether she should tell the truth or cover it up with a lie. Deciding that a lie would take more effort, she settled for the truth. “I’ve been in the assassin business for 6 years now, so I wouldn’t say too young… I do miss my little brother though. Do you miss your family?”

As the man appeared to be deep in thought, Sayomi mulled over her words. My little brother… Killua, are they treating you alright?

“My apologies for assuming. And, yes, I do indeed miss my family. But, why haven’t you escaped yet, then? With no leverage against you, you could easily run away at any time.” The man spoke while looking at her this time. 

She thought about his question. “I guess… well, I don’t really have anywhere else to go. It’s my first time in Yorknew City, and I wouldn’t want to go back home to the people that left me in the first place.”

He let out a hmm at her response, obviously putting the pieces of her situation together. “If I told you of a way you could live here in Yorknew without being trapped under the mafia… would you oblige?” 

His eyes were soft and earnest. He knew what it was like to remain helpless at the hands of the Mafia, and saw no reason she should as well, especially at such a young age.

Sayomi’s expression formed one of shock and surprise, obviously taken aback by the man’s sincerity to help.

“I suppose I would… but if you know of a way out, why haven’t you left yet?” The two were now holding eye contact as if to read the other’s intentions. 

“I’m afraid I’ve already received too much from the Mafia. I owe my life as well as my family’s safety to them.” He responded somberly.

Sayomi nodded silently, understanding the man’s situation. She decided to at least take a listen to the plan he had to offer. “So, you know of a way I can live in Yorknew without the Mafia breathing over my shoulder?”

There was a mischievous glint in her eyes, and the man could sense it as something between the recklessness of a teenager and the confidence of a powerful assassin. She has no fears. I wonder how much she’s experienced to be this strong at such a young age.

“Ah, yes. Sticking with the Mafia will never do you any good. There’s a way of living here in Yorknew City if you’re especially confident in your fighting abilities. It’s called Heaven’s Arena.”

Sayomi raised her eyebrows at the man’s words, curious. Heaven’s Arena? Sounds like some shoddy place where people bet on fights.

“Alright, you’ve got my attention. So, what does one do at Heaven’s Arena?” Sayomi asked.

The man cracked a ghost of a smile at her interest. “You fight. From what I’ve heard, it’s set up in multiple floors, and each time you win they let you advance to higher floors. I’m pretty sure the pay goes up with each floor as well.”

Sayomi was impressed. A place where they pay you to fight? Count me in.

“I wonder what the catch is though… if it’s as easy as you say, wouldn’t everyone be taking their chances at Heaven’s Arena?”

The man hummed in agreement with her words. “You’re right. The most I’ve heard is that once you reach a certain point, the matches become a fight to the death, and through any means possible. I’m guessing that’s where most people falter- it’s either life or death matches that’ll provide you with a stable income, or small fights once in a while that pay very little. Only the strongest find what they’re looking for at Heaven’s Arena.”

Gambling with your life in order to pay the bills… 

“And you think I could make it at Heaven’s Arena?”

The man looked down at Sayomi with a fatherly gaze. “I don’t think you’re the type of person to need someone else’s approval. But to answer your question, yes, I think with the right amount of training you could find a new life with Heaven’s Arena.”

Sayomi smiled at his judgement of her character. “Well, then that does it. I just need to find my way out of the Mafia’s grasp, and then I can get to training.”

☾v.

Sayomi’s shift was over before she knew it. Just as the pair before them had said, their VIP client had no one after him. 

Her partner had told her all he knew about Heaven’s Arena and the Mafia from his many years working in Yorknew City. 

She had learned that there were members of the Mafia hidden within the assassin recruits, keeping anyone from sneaking away. Her escape would have to be well planned out to avoid getting caught along with any consequences.

Tagging out with the next pair of bodyguards, Sayomi head back to her room once again.

2 days later

VIP Adachi Yuto’s stay came to an end, with it marking the end of Sayomi’s first job. The team was dissolved as a result, and Sayomi was dispatched by her section leader to meet with him down at the lobby.

The section leader turned out to be the man who had first brought her to Yorknew City, a familiar face that relaxed Sayomi’s nerves a great amount.

Upon meeting, he was immediately down to business, letting Sayomi know of her next assignment. 

It was an assassin’s job.

She had originally planned to find a way out of the Mafia’s scope soon, but with the mention of her finally getting some action, the plan was postponed. 

Her target was a man in his 30s. No other information was given to her besides a photo and his location. 

Not much to her surprise, an ankle monitor was situated around her right leg, keeping her from straying from the job.

Damn you, bloodlust. No matter how hard I try I can’t seem to ditch the cold blood and murder mother and father drilled into my head.

Sayomi was falling victim to her old habits. She knew it was wrong to stick around any longer, but the consequences of the offer to satisfy her thirst for blood didn’t sink in until the cool metal of her ankle monitor pressed into her skin.

The man seemed to read Sayomi’s thoughts as she realized her mistake. “The ankle monitor is programmed to shock the user upon our command. It’s enough power to deal sufficient damage to even the largest of animals, so I insist you remain focused on the missions we give you. We never enjoy having to resort to using it, but keep in mind that we will not hesitate to, given a reason.”

She looked down at her ankle in defeat. It seemed Heaven’s Arena would have to wait.

☾v.

Later that night

Sayomi paced anxiously about in her hotel room. It was a mix of long-overdue bloodlust and hatred towards herself as a result of her assassin’s instinct to kill.

Deep inside her head, a war of conflicting feelings raged on.

Calm down, Sayomi. Every time you do this it’s only proving that mother succeeded in sculpting you into her little assassin. 

She had completely thrown away a perfect chance to escape just because she couldn’t control her impulses to kill in cold blood. 

But is it that wrong to want to kill? Being an assassin doesn’t mean I’ll be exactly like mother. I can control my own future now, I am my own person.

Setting her katana down against the wall, she opted for her needles instead. It had been a while since she’d used the smaller weapons because they reminded her of the past.

Now putting the past behind her, Sayomi walked with a new air of confidence. It was her greatest skill and job to kill, she’d decided. And this was a decision she had come to on her own, a new mindset for a new beginning.

A static-ridden dispatch over her walkie talkie marked the beginning of her assignment, and Sayomi headed down to the lobby. 

Since she was still underage, a driver was provided to her, stationed in front of the hotel with her designated license plate.

The brisk night air greeted Sayomi as she exited the hotel. It was currently a few minutes past 12, the streets being mostly empty except for the young city goers enjoying the nightlife in Yorknew City.

Exhaling out an envious sigh at the stunning city lights surrounding her, Sayomi watched her breath disappear into the night as she walked briskly to the car.

The drive to her target’s location was silent. Sayomi sat alone in the back seat, watching with empty eyes as friends, lovers, and complete strangers came together in harmony within the lively city.  

She started to wonder what it would be like to live a normal life like them. What would she be doing right now? Staying up and texting friends? Going to bed before midnight? 

As the teen sat in the back of a luxurious car going towards her next target to assassinate, she couldn’t help but wish she had a normal life, with friends who cared about her feelings or guy problems instead of waiting for orders on which guy she would kill next.

These are useless thoughts. There’s no turning back now.

The car came to a stop at an intimidatingly tall company building, around the same height as the hotel.

Stretching her limbs as she exited the car, the driver notified Sayomi he would wait for her return in the same spot. 

Thanking the driver for his services, she took quick steps towards the entrance of the building. With her persistently developed speed and underground techniques, sneaking in and out of the building would be no problem.

Taking notice of the lack of security, she rolled her eyes as she let out a breath in annoyance. This is amateur work. 

Activating her zetsu, Sayomi’s menacing purple aura dissipated into thin air as she dashed past the sorry line of security, making her way to a deserted hallway.

There was a lone guard doing rounds with a bright flashlight in hand, failing to notice the slight breeze that Sayomi had left in her path.

Positioning a needle between her fingers, Sayomi flicked her wrist out at lightning speed, sending the needle flying towards the guard. 

It hit home in the guard’s neck, knocking him out instantly. Taking nimble steps towards the fallen guard, Sayomi made quick work of grabbing his access badge before heading to the elevators. 

Seeing as no one else was around, she tabbed an elevator, rocking back and her toes as she waited.

Just as she had expected, the elevator required an access badge, which she tapped against the scanner while pressing on the button for the 38th floor.

In a bored attempt to keep herself preoccupied on the way up, Sayomi spread her band of needles out in her hands. Closing her eyes, she ran a pale hand over the band. 

Her hand came down on a single needle, the needle she would use to finish off her target. Putting the band back into her pocket, she held the single needle between her knuckles, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

The elevators chime signified Sayomi’s arrival at the 38th floor. The floor was empty, being past working hours and in between shifts for the security guards.

A single desk lamp shone in her target's office, and Sayomi strolled casually to the partially open door.

She could see from where she approached that her target was busy at work, having stayed overtime. 

Knocking twice on the inside of the open door, Sayomi just barely caught the attention of the man before moving her wrist in a single, fluid motion.

The man had no chance to react, slumping face down onto his desk with a muffled thump.

She had hit the jugular clean and precise, leaving no trail behind of her job besides the now motionless man.

Satisfied with her work, Sayomi returned to the elevators with a skip in her step. A few months without my needles and I’ve still got it!

Greeting her driver with a smile this time around, she didn’t blame him for being utterly confused. 

The job had taken her just under 5 minutes, the majority of the time belonging to the elevator rides up and down from the 38th floor.

Dispatching her section leader of the completed job, Sayomi returned back to the hotel, looking as if she had gone out for an evening stroll.

Her section leader greeted her in the lobby, letting her know she had the remainder of the night off. She frowned slightly at the news, her adrenaline still rushing from the short job. 

An easy target like today always left her wanting more, unsatisfied with the lack of fighting that came with it.

I’m getting all caught up in this again.

Shaking away her thoughts of possibly finding more action, Sayomi returned to her room with slumped shoulders. She forced herself to set her needles back down on her nightstand, finding it hard to keep herself from fiddling with them.

It was late. And though the 51st floor around her seemed to be deep in sleep, Sayomi was restless. 

She decided to wash up and take a quick shower to relax her nerves, changing out of the uniform and into one of the other outfits they had provided her with.

Wrapping her silvery-white hair in a towel, she opted to sit on the floor, gazing out of the floor length window in front of her.

Yorknew City was quieting down, the street vendors having cleaned up for the night, stores being long closed, and clubs starting to die down. The last of the neon signs flickered in the darkness, looking like tiny specks of color from where Sayomi sat, high above most of the buildings bordering the one she was in.

The 16 year old girl sat cross-legged in a trance, no longer focused on the city in front of her, but something within her mind.

What am I gonna do now… I ruined my chances of escaping anytime soon. All because I couldn’t control myself, my old habits. Does this mean mother was successful with her plans?

No. I don’t have to give in to defeat. I’ll find a way out, just like how I got out of Meteor City. Maybe if I gain their trust they’ll take this ankle monitor off. 

I just have to become one of their obedient assassins, quiet and reliable. 

Sayomi fell asleep slouched on the rough carpeted floor that night, lost in her own thoughts and emotions.

But despite the uncomfortable position, her face proved differently. She was only ever at peace when she was fast asleep, because that’s when she could see her loved ones within dreams.

Illumi, Killua… Are you two taking good care of each other? Are you doing better than I am? 

Do you guys even miss me? 

I miss you two so much I feel like I could die. 

☾v.

to be continued.

a/n: taglist open!

[redrobin-detective]

Just one single glimpse of relief

TW: OC death, death themes

“Hey,” Sydnee looked up at the sound of the voice. It was familiar, safe, and it stopped her tears for a moment. She can’t remember where she was or what she’d been doing. All she knew was that she was scared and upset and didn’t know what to do. It felt like she’d been crying forever when the voice appeared. “Hey there, it’s Phantom. Can I come closer?”

Sydnee gasped as the town hero, Phantom, approached her slowly. Syd was a bit of a nerd and she couldn’t get enough of those superhero movies. She always tuned in to Phantom’s fights on TV; he was as close as she’d get to a real life Superman or Captain Marvel. She’d never seen him up close before though. He was younger than he appeared on TV, not more than his early teens. Sydnee, almost 24, was hit by a wave of mortification over how they’d described the hunky, we-thought-he-was-older kid on Margarita Night. This day just got better and better, not that she remembered it.

“How are you doing?” Phantom asked quietly, floating near her but not getting too close. He was watching her warily but not unkindly. She saw how some folks treated him, he was probably worried she’d throw a shoe at him. “What’s your name?”

“Sydnee, with an extra e not a y. Uh Tanner, Sydnee Tanner,” she mumbled. Ugh why were words so hard. Her head felt fuzzy and very far away, she thinks she was going to start panicking again. What was she even so upset about? “I don’t know what’s going on. Where are we and what happened. I don’t- I don’t remember anything.”

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, floating a little closer. The soft glow he emitted brightened up the dark place they were in. Was she in a collapsed tunnel? What had she been doing here? She’d never been claustrophobic but the debris and rubble of the place seemed to close in on her. “Hey, hey, just look at me.” She turned and met his kind eyes, soft and easy. “We’ll walk through it together. What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was late to work,” Syd said, the memory popping up before her. “I um work at the Donut Delights bakery in that strip mall next to the middle school. My cats had knocked over some of my houseplants in the night so I had to clean them up and was running behind. I open the store on Wednesdays - oh it’s Wednesday! - so I knew I’d be in trouble. But I made it, just barely. I was starting up the ovens when.” Syd furrowed her brow and took in the hero before her. The one who was almost never seen outside a fight. “There was a ghost attack, wasn’t there?”

“Welcome to Amity Park,” Phantom said grimly. “I’ve been here a couple times; the jalapeno bacon topped donuts are my favorite. My mom and sister buy them sometimes if they want to bribe me into doing something.”

“You weirdo, only crazy people eat that weird flavor,” Sydnee chuckled. “You have a family?”

“Of course, we all have a family out there somewhere. What about you?” He asked gently. There was something about the soft way he was talking to her, the way his eyes flickered around the dark like he was looking for something. He had news he didn’t want to tell her and she wasn’t ready to hear it. Not yet. Just a few more minutes of denial before she faced the revelation she couldn’t bear to touch yet.

“Yeah, mom and dad and two younger sibs. Folks divorced forever ago, I barely remember them actually being together. Mom is is living it up in Dubai working as a pastry chef in one of their fancy hotels. Dad’s an auto-mechanic down on Maple street, Duke’s Car Services. Pretty sure you got tossed through the window a year ago.”

“I’ve been tossed through many windows but I know the place you’re talking about. So a big family, any friends? Boyfriends? Girlfriends?”

“I have a boyfriend,” she continued on hastily, taking the distraction for what it was. “I like him, a lot and we’ve been dating since high school. Everyone says I should marry him and we’ve talked about it, casually, but I’ve never dated anyone else and wonder if I should see other people first. You know, test the waters before I settle down with my high school sweetheart like my folks did and look how they turned out.”

“Mhmm,” Phantom hummed nodding, encouraging her to continue.

“DeShawn is great though, he’s very supportive and sweet in his own kind of absentminded way. He’s got epilepsy real bad though, I have to drive him everywhere since he’s always at risk of a seizure. Annoying sometimes but its nice, you can learn a lot about a person from a conversation while you’re alone together.”

“Very true, I’m learning a lot now,” Phantom smiled. “What about your siblings?”

“I have a brother and a sister, Kennedy is finishing his sophomore year of college and Janelle will be a senior in high school. She was a surprise baby, one last attempt of my parents to reconcile before the big D. It didn’t help but I got a great sister out of it, she’s a real firecracker.”

“Janelle,” Phantom’s eyes lit up. “She’s the one always dying her hair. I see her in the hallways of Casper, she’s hard to miss. I think she draws too, she won an art award I think.”

“Yeah!” Sydnee said enthusiastically, she reached out and grabbed ahold of Phantom’s arm. It was cold but solid. It reminded her that she really couldn’t feel anything, nothing but him. “Yeah, I swear her hair is a new color every time I see her. It’s a dark purple now, it looks pretty good on her. She was a peachy orange for picture day last year. Mom called her up screaming when she saw the photos.”

“I thought it looked cool,” Phantom grinned, “not that I was there for picture day. Ghost attack, you know. My mom was upset with me too.” They laughed lightly for a minute before it gently petered off leaving them alone in the dark. Sydnee didn’t have any feeling in her toes, in any part of her. She felt light and disconnected and all over out of sorts. She was pretty sure she knew what had happened but she couldn’t face it yet. But talking to Phantom, it seemed a little easier.

“I remember the attack now,” Sydnee stated quietly. “It was a big ghost bear only it was the size of a pickup truck. It rammed into the store there was chaos and screaming. It was so loud, the screaming of the customers, the bear, building coming down on top of us...” her lips wobbled. “We’re still in the store, aren’t we? I haven’t wanted to turn around because... because I know my body is buried underneath the concrete back there.”

“Yeah,” Phantom breathed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get here in time. Most everyone in the area got out but you and a few others in the store got trapped under the rubble. Mrs. McDaniels who lived on Eustis street and was the first woman in her family to go to college plus Eddie Drake who came down from Chicago to check out the ghost stuff with their boyfriend and was a tattoo artist.”

“Did you talk to them too?” She questioned in surprise.

“Briefly, Mrs. McDaniels didn’t stay long, just long enough to tell me, and I quote, “stop wasting time on her dead ass and get to the others.” She already passed on. Eddie, they didn’t take it well. We talked for a while and I think they need a little more time to accept it, see their loved ones first. I warned them that the longer they delay death, the harder it is and the more you lose yourself. You’re the last, all the way in the back of the store. When you’re ready, I’m going to bring your body out.”

“Thank you,” she whispered before breaking out into hysterical laughter. “God I bet I’m a wreck, I think I put my shirt on inside out I was in such a rush this morning,” she sniffled. “What do I do now, as a ghost? I don’t have to, like, attack people, do I?”

“No,” Phantom sighed. “Most ghosts are just normal people, no one else but other ghosts will see you and you’re not going to be strong enough to interact with the real world for a long, long time. You can stick around a bit if you want, watch over your family but it’s like I told Eddie, you forget things pretty quick. Or you can move on, that part I can’t help you with but I’ve helped a lot of others go that route and I’m told it’s easy.”

“Easy, then why haven’t you?” She questioned angrily, the full weight of the situation crashing over her. She shoved him and he floated back passively. “I’m a freaking ghost and you’re here talking to me like you’re my therapist or something. Who’s gonna take DeShawn to his appointments? Or praise my sister’s creative messes? Or badger Ken into picking major? My life is over and you think you can float there and lecture me about it being easy to move on!”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Phantom soothed, scratching at the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry Sydnee, I wish I could turn back the clock an hour, two hours, and prevent this from happening but I can’t. I’ve tried to mess with time and it doesn’t end well for anyone. I just want, I just want what’s best for you now. You can stay or you can go but I want you to make the decision that you feel most comfortable with. That’s all I can do for you.”

“I think I’d be sad,” she said, crying again, “being able to see everyone but not talk to them, to watch them cry over me. I don’t want to forget them either.” Phantom watched her, easily and earnestly. “What made you choose to stay? Why didn’t you go?”

“I’m a little complicated but I can tell you, when I’ve done all I need to here, I’m not hanging around a second longer than I have to. Being a ghost has it’s perks but it’s also, it’s being stuck in a place you longer fit, watching the world go on without you.”

“Okay,” Syd hiccupped. “Okay, yeah okay.”

“Okay,” Phantom nodded. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, please don’t,” she grabbed his hands again. “Please I don’t, I know I died alone but I don’t want to do... this alone. Please stay, ugh, calling you Phantom is weird sorry.”

“I don’t know if it’s any less weird but you can call me Danny,” Phantom, Danny, laughed. It was an ordinary name for a superhero but it fit. There was a special thrill in knowing the ghost boy’s name but it’s not like she was going to be around to tell anyone. It was scary, to think of not existing but also sort of comforting, like a long nap with nothing pressing to get up for.

“Can you tell them that I love them, in my place? I know it’s a lot and I’m sure you’re super busy saving the town and everything-”

"It’s not a problem. I’m sure they know but I’ll be happy to pass on the message,” he smiled and it made him look so young. For a second she was struck by how sad it was that she was relying on a kid a decade younger than her for support. But he was here and he was kind and he was what she needed right now. Maybe one day, he’d have his own person talking him through this last step. 

“Okay, Danny, thanks really. For talking, for staying. I’m scared but I, I think I’m ready.” She closed her eyes and squeezed his hands tightly. “Do you, will it hurt?”

“No,” he said, his voice warm despite his inherent chill. “No, Sydnee. No, the hurting is all over now. All you have left ahead of you is peace. Thank you for all that did, you’ll be missed.”

“I’ll see you on the other side. Goodbye.” The world faded to a pinprick, consumed by light. The last thing she saw before she went into it was a stranger’s smile. 

XxX

“Here’s the last,” Phantom said solemnly, delicately setting a broken body he’d carried out of the dilapidated building and on the sidewalk next to the others. “This is Sydnee Tanner, she was the only employee in the store at the time. She has cats at home who will need taking care of. Her dad works at Duke’s Car Services along with siblings and a boyfriend.”

“Don’t know how you know all that but thanks for getting these folks out,” Sheriff Newton sighed. “Damn shame. Keep up the good work kid, we’ll save the next ones for sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some rather unhappy news to break to several people.”

“Do you mind if I tag along? I have a few messages I need to pass on.”

[lemonpeter]

STARKER, By Peter B. Parker

Chapter 2: Friends to Lovers & First Time

A/N: ok we may have gotten a little...carried away with this chapter. but writing this fic really is so much fun and we’re excited to hear what you guys think! -bloo and bri

Warnings: Peter is 17, first time, VERY nff (won’t go into detail because I want to show up in the tags, but this is almost completely s*x)

Chapter 1 💕 ao3

————

Tony was back. And it almost felt like he’d never been gone at all.

Peter was beyond grateful that his plan had worked. Sure, it might've been a bit desperate and hair-brained, even for him, but he was pretty sure that the end justified the means.

He had spent the past nine months in a sort of fog, going through the motions because that's what he was supposed to do. It was what was expected of him.

He knew that he had never properly grieved Tony, not really. He hadn't been able to handle it. And now he didn't have to.

Peter felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time. Having Tony back was...indescribable.

The older man had always felt like home. The two of them were able to connect on so many levels. They both understood the pressures of being a hero, of having such great responsibility. Both knew what it felt like to suffer great losses. There were hours spent in the lab, poring over suit designs and updates, their intellectual and innovative capacities always meshing seamlessly, never clashing. They got each other, plain and simple.

But then he wavered between being content with his and Tony’s comfortable mentor/mentee relationship and doing what he really wanted to do: push things along so that he and Tony would finally be together, as two people that loved each other. Because he knew that deep down, Tony did love him, had always loved him in some capacity.

Peter had done a lot of thinking in the months after- Well, after. He’d always cared for Tony, and everyone knew about his crush and the hero-worship could be seen from the moon, but it wasn’t until the man was gone that he’d realized just how much he had truly come to love him. It had eaten away at his insides, the knowledge that he’d found the person he was meant to be with and then immediately lost him.

But Tony was back now. It was surreal.

And to be completely honest, Peter hadn’t even expected it to work, this whole thing; but he really shouldn’t have been surprised. Tony was a certified genius, of course EDITH was capable of creating such a complex illusion. And the teen thanked the universe that he was smart enough to understand the mechanics enough to alter them to fit his needs.

He thought back to Happy’s words on the quinjet in the Netherlands. He had said that Tony only ended up doing...what he did...because he knew that Peter would be here.

And here Peter was, doing...this.

Thankfully, this Tony had no reason to question the situation or his behavior. So, because he’d made it this far, and because he was so fucking sick of having everything good taken away from him, Peter decided to run with it.

For starters, in order to set the right tone, he decided that he wasn’t going to ever say the words “Mr. Stark” ever again. If he wanted to convince Tony that they were lovers, he needed to act like it himself. (And the title, though it was said with affection, always brought him back to feeling numb on that dusty planet, his arms wrapped around Tony’s neck before they disintegrated into nothing. Before he disintegrated into nothing.)

That also meant there was no need to hold himself back when it came to physical touch and affection. Tony had always been rather touchy-feely with him, and Peter now had the opportunity to initiate the contact himself. No over-thinking, no more being worried his advances would be met with rejection.

Tony’s voice startled him, pulling him out of his thoughts. "What'cha thinkin’ about, kid? Lost you for a minute there." The man was leaning against the counter of the bar, looking relaxed as ever, glass of scotch in hand. An easy smile curved his lips upwards and the shimmer in his eye was one Peter had seen a million times before.

The young man took a breath and looked down at his bare feet on the soft carpet of the living room, steeling himself where he sat on the couch. "Us." He cut his eyes upwards, making eye contact with the billionaire.

Tony simply raised a questioning eyebrow in response and Peter felt his heart lurch in his chest at the familiarity of that expression.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Peter decided to be brave and pushed himself up off the plush sofa. "I want there to be an us," he clarified, taking the two small stairs in stride and then making his way towards the older man. "I want us to be...together. I love you so much, Tony. And I- I think you love me, too." He stopped walking once he was about a foot away, biting his bottom lip. His hands were clasped in front of him.

“Say something,” was his soft mumble when all Tony did was cock his head to the side slightly, eyes searching his face for something. Peter felt his face get hot after a moment and he suddenly felt completely foolish. God, was this not even realistic in an illusion created by his own brain-

“Hey,” Tony said, gently. “Look at me.” He sat his glass down and took a step away from the bar and into the boy’s personal space. “Why do you look so panicked?” One of his hands moved to cup Peter’s face, thumb caressing his cheekbone. “It’s just me.” His voice was soft and warm, and that combined with the fact that he was touching Peter made the young man let out a quiet whimper.

“There’s no such thing as ‘just you’, Tony,” Peter replied, his own hand coming up to clutch at Tony’s wrist. It was warm under his fingertips. “You’re everything. You always have been.”

Tony tilted his head down a bit, forcing Peter to tilt his up to maintain their eye contact. “And you’ve always been everything to me. You’ve gotta know that, kid. Pete. Tell me you know that.” When Peter just continued to blink up at him owlishly, he chuckled lightly. “I invented time travel for you, baby. I couldn’t handle living in a world without you in it.” His voice had trailed off to barely a whisper by the time he finished.

There was something deep and warm in Tony’s eyes. Pride, adoration, vulnerability. And it made Peter feel like he could do absolutely anything.

He knew he was rushing things but- He was in charge here, he really could do whatever he wanted. So he opened his mouth again.

“Take me to bed, Tony,” Peter whispered, breath ghosting across against the older man’s lips. God, they hadn’t even kissed yet and here he was begging to sleep with Tony.

Whose eyes were searching his face again, but Peter still didn’t know for what, exactly. “Pete...Are you sure you-”

He cut the other off, the words coming out without his permission. “I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want this, as much as I want you.” Peter bit his lip after his interruption, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He hadn't really meant to be that honest. “I love you, Tony,” he said, opening his eyes and making eye contact with the billionaire. “I want you.”

Something smoldered between them for a few seconds before-

“Then c’mere,” Tony rasped, pulling him close once more. He pressed a chaste kiss to the shorter man’s lips, followed by another soft peck, sighing as he pulled away. “I love you, Peter,” he mumbled before he licked his way into Peter's mouth.

Shivers shot up the younger man's spine at the sensation. He’d been kissed before, but it had never felt anything like this. Like fireworks, like everything was falling into place. A soft whine escaped him as one of Tony’s hands moved to hold the back of his neck, the other grabbing at his ass. “Tony,” he mewled. His own hands clutched the fabric of Tony’s t-shirt in an attempt to ground himself.

A soft hum left Tony’s mouth, his lips brushing against Peter’s. “I’ve got you,” he said, closing the distance between them once more.

Their tongues caressed each other languidly, the filthy, wet sounds almost deafening in the large room. Peter felt himself growing hard in his pants and he pressed his hips forward at the feeling, the lust twisting deep in his belly. It felt too good for the embarrassment of being so needy to take hold. He brushed up against Tony’s own burgeoning erection, which prompted them both to let out simultaneous groans.

“So good for me,” Tony breathed. “Let’s go, baby. C’mon, come to bed with me.” He jerked his shoulders up, encouraging Peter to wrap his arms around his neck, and grabbed at the smaller man’s thighs and behind in order to lift him up.

Peter closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of Tony’s neck. When he opened them again, he was being placed on the soft, carpeted floor of the bedroom.

Tony stalked forward slowly, entwining his fingers with Peter’s and forcing him to shuffle backwards until he fell down onto the plush bed. “Hey.”

Peter’s eyes were wide, pupil’s blown as he stared up at the man of his dreams who was crawling up over his body until they were face to face with each other. He drew in a shaky breath, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Hi.”

Tony pressed a kiss to the tip of Peter’s nose. “You doin’ okay? Still wanna do this?”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Peter nodded. He wished that Tony would stop asking, but at the same time, it felt nice. It made him feel important, valued. “I’m great, I want this. I promise.” He shifted a bit in order to wrap his arms around Tony’s neck as kisses were pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

A grin overtook Tony’s face as he pulled back. “Then we’re wearing far too many clothes, huh?” He sat up so that he was straddling Peter’s waist, an arm raising to pull at the collar of his shirt and yank it over his head before throwing it somewhere across the room. Then he climbed off the brunette’s slight frame in order to shuck his jeans, leaving him clad in only a pair of black boxer briefs. He stood at the foot of the bed, one knee on the mattress. The fingers of his right hand brushed against the inside of Peter’s ankle. “Your turn, baby.”

Peter took a breath as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and crossed his arms in front of his stomach, gripping at the hem of his sweatshirt. He cut his eyes away, staring at the covers as he fiddled with the fabric somewhat anxiously. He was about to be naked in front of Tony for the first time. Sure, the older man had seen him in various states of undress before in order to fit him for the suit, but this was different.

He looked back up at Tony, the man’s warm, patient gaze bringing a flush to his cheeks. Peter steeled himself and started pulling the shirt up and over his head. He could do this. The garment was discarded over the side of the bed before he layed back down, pressing his heels into the mattress as he pushed his hips up in order to scoot back so that his head was now in the mountain of pillows at the head of the bed. His thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pants and pushed them down below his knees. “Help me,” he said imploringly, blinking up at Tony.

The billionaire reached down slowly, running his hands along the pale expanse of Peter’s thighs. The chocolate of his eyes darkened when one of Peter’s legs twitched at his touch. “You’re beautiful, Peter.” His voice was reverent as he looked down, gazing into Peter’s eyes as he pulled the sweatpants down the rest of the way and dropped them on the floor. “So perfect.” His beard scratched across the boy’s chest when he leaned down to press kisses to each of the freckles scattered on the smooth skin. “So strong.” A hand caressed his lower belly, running over his abs.

And for maybe the first time, under Tony’s eyes and his hands, Peter truly felt that way.

He pulled at Tony’s salt and pepper hair, gasping as the pecks against his flesh turned into wet, open-mouthed kisses, teeth occasionally pinching at his skin. In his boxers, his cock twitched as he got fully hard. “T-Tony,” he whimpered. “I’m- Feels good.”

Tony smirked into his stomach. “That means I’m doing something right then, kid.” He continued making his way south, Peter’s breath picking up as he released his hair to clutch at the covers. Once reaching the plaid boxers, he let his mouth land over the hard member inside. At first he just let Peter bask in the feeling of the warm, moist air before sucking slightly.

A choked cry left Peter’s lips and his hips bucked harshly. “Fuck, fuck, Tony do- Do that again,” he panted. Peering down the bridge of his nose, he watched as Tony, who had his own eyes closed, suckled at the head of his dick again, the fabric growing dark and damp. There was more suction this time. That familiar feeling was starting to tug behind his belly button. God, how was he already so close?

And apparently Tony could tell. “You close, honey? Gonna cum in your boxers from me kissing your cock?” He didn’t seem upset, pulling away to run his tongue from the base back up to the tip and sucking the salty fluid he found there through the plaid material. A groan rumbled deep in his chest. “Taste so good, baby.” He paused for a moment, looking up at Peter from underneath his eyelashes, making the younger man suck in a sharp breath. “Wanna see you, Pete. Can I take these off?” He fingered the waistband with his pointer finger.

“Yes, yes- Please.” Peter shifted his hips again in order to help Tony remove the last of his clothing. Once he was naked, his erection thudded obscenely against his lower belly, smearing saliva and precum over the skin there.

Tony took the hard flesh into his spit-slicked hand, stroking it slowly, teasing his young lover. He greedily drank in the wanton sounds that were escaping Peter, his own cock straining in his underwear as he pressed himself against the edge of the bed. Taking the now uncovered tip into his mouth, he began to bob his head.

Peter keened. One of his hands flew up to grab blindly at Tony’s hair again, eyes closed in pleasure. It was so wet, so warm- “Tony, Tony, please!” He fucked his hips up into Tony’s mouth, crying out again when the older man allowed his cock to slide to the back of his throat, making him gag slightly. “Ahhhh, shit!” The pressure was building up inside him once more and his whole body started to get tense. “I’m so, I’m s-so close, Tony.”

All the other man did was hum around his dick and take it all the way down to the root, his nose pressing up against the chestnut curls at the base. His hands clutched at Peter’s asscheeks, pulling them apart slightly in order to gently press the pad of his index finger against the boy’s quivering hole.

The vibrations, coupled with the unexpected sensation at his opening, had Peter cumming with a broken whine, hips stuttering as he emptied himself in Tony’s mouth.

Not pulling away until Peter was whimpering from overstimulation, Tony kissed the skin over the teen's hipbone. "That was so good, baby." Crawling until he was fully on the bed, he laid beside Peter, pulling him into his arms to bring their mouths together. "You were so good for me."

Peter moaned at the taste of himself on Tony's tongue. "Thank you," he whispered when they pulled away. He shifted, slipping his thigh between Tony's. The older man's erection was still pressing against the material of the tight, dark briefs. Reaching down, he cupped the impressive bulge in his hand. From what he could see and feel, Tony was larger than his own slightly above average length.

"That was amazing. But I want this now," Peter said coyly, tightening his grip before releasing. He looked into Tony's eyes, wanting him to see the truth in them, the trust. The love. "Want you to fuck me, Tony, please."

Tony groaned, flipping them over so he was once again looming over the other man. "Fuck, Pete. How can I say no when you beg so sweetly?" He brought up a hand to cup at Peter's cheek, thumb pulling at his bottom lip. A hiss escaped him when Peter began to lightly suck on the digit. "As good as that feels," he started, "I think we're gonna need some lube."

Peter paused for a moment, releasing the finger with a soft pop, before reaching behind his head and under one of the pillows, then proudly brandishing the small bottle and thrusting it in Tony's direction. "Got it."

“That’s perfect, honey,” the man mused, taking it. He clicked the top open before looking over Peter again. “Just want to do it like this? On your back, me like this?”

“Yes, Tony. I want...I want to see you,” Peter whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. It had been something he’d thought about for years, something he’d dreamed about. Far too many times. And it was finally happening.

Tony nodded, smiling down at him. “Then I can definitely do that,” he assured him, gently pushing his legs apart a little more in order to get between them.

Peter slightly shifted the position he was laying in, angling his hips so that it would be easier for Tony to get to him. There were plenty of pillows on the bed, so he leaned back onto them but stayed sitting up enough to see what was going on.

The clear, slick liquid was poured over Tony’s fingers. It was probably an excessive amount, but he figured they were better safe than sorry. If he was going to be Peter’s first time, they definitely needed to focus on prepping.

The younger man bit his lip gently, watching as Tony’s hand disappeared between his legs. Then he felt the cold, wet fingers up against his hole and a surprised gasp left him.

“Sorry.” Tony chuckled, his fingers prodding gently at the tight muscle as he talked. “Meant to warn you about that. It’s cold.”

“Little too late for that,” Peter mumbled, but he was smiling again as soon as the initial shock wore off. It was really happening. Tony was touching him without a hint of resistance, like it was something they’d done a million times before.

Tony’s eyes studied Peter’s expression as he started pressing forward with the tip of one finger, making sure the young man wasn’t hurting at all. He paused as soon as there was even the slightest hint of pain on his face. “Need me to stop?”

“No, Tony,” the teen breathed. “Don’t stop. It’s just...different.” He tried to relax, that way it would be less uncomfortable and even maybe go faster.

“Right...just let me know if you need me to stop. And I will, immediately,” Tony assured him.

And Peter knew the words true. “I know. Promise, I’ll tell you. But it’s really okay.”

Tony nodded slowly, continuing on with his task. His finger gently pushed in further, trying to relax Peter’s muscles as he went.

Peter’s eyes slipped shut as he instinctively clenched around the intrusion. It was such an odd feeling, but it wasn’t bad. Just odd. Different. New.

He slowly relaxed more as Tony kept working and eventually a second finger was added. His hole began to loosen, letting the older man easily slide his fingers in and out as he continued the prep.

When Tony decided he was satisfied with the results, he pulled his fingers free and pushed his own briefs off.

Peter’s breath caught as he watched the length of Tony’s cock come uncovered, bowing under its own weight once the clothing was completely off. And all of it was going to go in him.

He knew he could take it. He had faith in the prep that Tony had done for him. But that didn’t make him feel any less nervous.

“Maybe we can start in a different position?” Peter suggested, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. He wasn’t sure if he was completely successful or not.

Tony just looked amused, slicking up his cock with a generous amount of lube as he watched the teen. “Whatever you want, baby. What do you have in mind?”

Peter chewed his lip, slowly sitting up more before moving so that he was on his hands and knees. Though he felt terribly exposed in the new position, it was much preferred to the alternative. He glanced over his shoulder at Tony. “Like this?” He asked, almost sounding shy.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Tony told him softly, sliding his hands over the younger man’s ass gently. His bottom lip found its way between his teeth. “Definitely can do that. You’re still sure about this, though?”

“I am. I promise I am.” Peter got more comfortable, moving down so that he was leaning on his elbows. He felt so empty now, without Tony’s fingers inside him, and he couldn’t wait to be filled again. “Take me, Tony. I’m ready for you.”

The older man nodded, stroking himself for a moment before positioning the head of his cock at Peter’s entrance. “I’m ready for you too, honey. I’ve been ready.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Peter asked flirtatiously, grinning back as he watched Tony. Then his grin melted away, replaced by a mixed expression of pleasure and a bit of discomfort as Tony thrust his hips forward slightly.

“Shit, you’re tight,” Tony mumbled, hands holding onto Peter’s hips as he started pressing forward. He watched as the teen’s hole stretched around his cock, easily taking the entire length. “Fuck, Pete.”

Peter buried his face against one of the pillows, mouth open wide around a moan. “And you’re huge,” he breathed, weakly pressing his hips back.

Tony pushed himself in until his hips were flush with Peter’s ass, breathing hard as he bottomed out. “Oh, you are so perfect. So...yes, god.” His hands cupped the young man’s ass, squeezing before he remembered to check in again. “Is it good for you too? Nothing’s hurting?”

“No, not hurting, don’t worry,” Peter assured him with a shaky moan. “Don’t stop. I need you to move, need you to fuck me, Tony.”

The man grinned a little, nodding. “I can do that.” He started with slow thrusts, letting Peter get used to the movement at first.

Peter kept his face against the plush bedding, breathing hard. Before he realized what was going on, he felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye. Why was he crying? He was finally getting what he wanted, there would be no point in tears. It made no sense.

But then he realized that was just it. He was getting what he’d wanted for so long. Tony’s love, his intimacy, his attention. Just...having Tony at all.

The realization brought a whole round of tears, making him bury his face in the pillow so that Tony couldn’t see him cry. If his shoulders shook with his sobs, Tony wouldn’t be able to tell with the way he was moving anyways.

He was enjoying it immensely regardless, whimpering through his tears and moving his hips along with Tony’s as the older man moved behind him. The grip on his waist loosened a little and Peter whined, wiggling a bit. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” He wasn’t even ashamed of how needy he sounded, it felt too good.

“I’m not stopping, Pete. Just...I want to see you, while we do this,” Tony whispered. “Is that okay?”

Peter stilled, sniffling a little. If he turned around, it would be obvious that he had been crying. And Tony couldn’t know. He didn’t want to ruin this.

“Is it okay?” Tony repeated, sounding a bit nervous. It was strange to hear such an inflection in his voice. The man was always so strong, so sure of himself.

It stirred something deep within Peter. “Yes. Yeah, it’s okay. I want to see you too.” He wiped his eyes quickly, trying to dry his tears and make it unnoticeable that he had been crying. But he wasn’t so sure that it worked. He felt Tony’s hands completely release him and he steeled himself before turning over so that he was once again laid out on his back. “Hi,” was his soft mumble as their eyes met.

Tony smiled at him with his eyes as much as his mouth. “Hey, honey,” he replied just as gently, as if they were in a trance that would break if they were any louder. Positioning himself back between the slighter man’s spread legs, he took his erection in hand and slowly breached the ring of muscle. A shuddering breath escaped him as he kept going until he was completely seated in the tight, warm heat. “Peter,” he sighed.

Peter closed his eyes briefly, taking a moment to appreciate how deep Tony was buried inside him at this angle. “So deep.” He breathed the words out, groaning a bit when Tony pulled out only to start thrusting in earnest. “S-so good, Tony.” One of his legs bent at the knee in order to wrap around the man’s thick waist.

“Yeah? Feels good?” Tony’s voice was breathy as he pounded into Peter, holding himself up on his arms. He shifted his weight in order to clutch at the thigh that was pressed against his abdomen. “That’s all I want, baby, just want you to feel good. Wanna make you happy.”

Peter felt like he’d been waiting his whole life to hear those words. Because hadn’t been truly happy in so long, and here he was now, with the man of his dreams, feeling loved and cherished, so happy it was overwhelming.

The soft sob bubbled up from Peter’s lungs before he could stop it, and he immediately slapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound. But they wouldn’t stop, and neither would the tears that were again stinging behind his closed eyelids. God, he had to stop fucking crying. He felt Tony slow down before freezing completely and blinked rapidly before shutting his eyes, not wanting to see the expression on his lover’s face.

But he could imagine it perfectly well.

One of Tony’s hands brushed against his cheek. “You’re crying again. What’s wrong? Peter? Did I-” He cut himself off with an audible swallow, voice unsure. “Did I do something? Does it hurt?” Starting to pull out, he stopped when Peter’s eyes snapped open and a hand clutched at his wrist.

Sniffling, Peter shook his head as he tried desperately to control breathing and his wobbling lower lip. “No no no, you’re perfect. I’m fine. I just- I just love you so much, Tony.” He hoped that the truth in his words could be heard. Because it was true. This was everything he had ever wanted.

The shine of tears appeared in the older man’s eyes, too. He shot a shaky smile down at Peter, reaching his head down to pepper kisses on his face before landing the last one on his lips, their foreheads pressed together. “Oh, baby. I love you too, Peter.” They kissed deeply for a moment, Tony starting up with gentle thrusts again. His hand wrapped around Peter’s cock that was trapped between their bodies, stroking it in time with the movement of his hips. “And I’ll show you just how much, honey. You gonna let me?” While his hand kept the same pace, he began to speed up the rocking of his lower half.

Peter let out a choked cry as the head of Tony’s dick repeatedly nudged against his prostate. “Yes, Tony, fuck, fuck me,” he heaved, breath catching with each thrust, the soft ‘ah- ah- ah’s filling the bedroom. Despite getting emotional, he was still extremely close to the edge, it wouldn’t take much for him to be pushed over. “‘M so close, Tony.” His legs splayed to the side, muscles unable to hold them up any longer.

If the way he began to lose his rhythm was any indication, the dark haired man wasn’t faring any better. “Yeah, baby? Gonna cum again, cum on my cock?” His voice was rough with the exertion of holding himself upright, his core flexed tightly.

Peter gasped, hole twitching wildly as he shallowly pumped his hips up into Tony’s grip. “Mmhmm. Want- want you to fill me up, Tony, please.”

“Shit,” Tony hissed, his balls drawing up as he reached his peak at the young man’s words. “Jesus, Peter, fuck-”

Peter groaned at the feeling of the hard flesh jerking inside him, the heavy warmth that was filling him. It triggered his own orgasm, thick ropes of cum shooting from his tip and covering his stomach and Tony’s fingers. His toes twitched as he curled them, lost in the sensations. “Tony, Tony, love you,” he muttered through the haze clouding his head.

Tony trembled above him, hips still thrusting shallowly as he rode out the aftershocks. He pressed a messy kiss to Peter’s temple. “I love you too, Pete. So much. And I’m never gonna let you forget it.” He let his lips rest there for a moment before pulling away and slowly pulling out of Peter before rolling off to the side. His arms grabbed the smaller man and pulled him in, close to his chest.

Peter sniffled lightly, squeezing Tony’s waist. He stretched a bit, getting comfortable in the man’s hold before pressing his mouth to one of the gently defined pec muscles. “I love you more,” he whispered quietly, eyes slipping shut as they lay there in the afterglow.

He hadn’t been this content in nearly a year. And now, it was all his. This feeling, this man, this love.

And he wasn’t going to let it go.