#but not enough brain energy to make artistic choices
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1 hr b/w study 🖤
#artists on tumblr#digital painting#painting#small artist#queer artist#studies#procreate#been feeling a bit art blocked#and chronic fatigue and pain has been kicking my ass#studies are relaxing tho yknow#like i have art energy that needs to get out#but not enough brain energy to make artistic choices
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maybe it's not a writers-block; maybe you just need a break
creativity is a muscle, right?
you need to exercise it to keep it in good shape, to have it ready when you need it and don't we all love those hyperfocused sprints of writing where the words just spill out of our fingertips...
but muscles get sore when you overuse them, will strain when you force them past their limits, they need nourishment to stay healthy and in shape
fandom today has a competitive atmosphere. many wouldn't admit that; it's supposed to be fun after all. just vibing with our mutuals, playing with the blorbos having a fun time online to scratch a few itches.
but the truth is that it can become a lot of pressure rather fast.
putting out several k of (edited) writing a month, setting up painstakingly formatted posts with the right tags and a fun header we spent hours on to look effortlessly cool and eye-catching just to hit post and then feel... nervous. excited too, sure...
but damn, when will the next chapter be finished? or the next one shot? will there be enough time to put a few blubs in between so that the few people who actually seem to care won't forget about us and move on?
writing for writing's sake is a nice notion. the myth of the self-sustaining artist who needs nothing more than a passion and their tools of choice.
but shit isn't just created out of nothing.
what has that all to do with the title of this post do you ask?
very few people can just keep going and going making art like that without needing any breaks and a good portion of those people very likely have very different conditions than most of us have with full-time jobs, families, school and so on.
For many of us writing is a main outlet, an important hobby and a safe space but that still doesn't change that it is a creative hobby, an outlet that demands energy: emotional, mental and physical (typing for hours is hard work if you want to believe it or not) and that sometimes makes it impossible to accept that we just need a fucking break.
"writers-block", in my own experience, is my brain telling me that something is off and that it's on strike until I fucking fix that.
and sometimes it's just that I need a break.
that I need to recharge my creative batteries, take in things that inspire me, that make me happy and get me excited without having to make anything myself. to just be. take some walks amongst trees, watch a new series, read a new book, go into a deep dive of some random topic on wikipedia until I don't know where the fuck I started from.
sometimes I just need to log out, cut the overstimulation of a never ending dashboard, turn off what everybody else on tumblr is doing, how much everbody is putting out, get away from my frustration about "my flopped fic" or the latest fandom drama and reconnect with the real reason I am doing this.
the love for stories and the source material.
for some people those breaks can be as short as two days, for other is might be weeks or months and that is not only okay but totally normal.
sometimes you might realize that the reason you are not writing is that you actually don't want to. sometimes you just want to daydream without the extra work sometimes you're just not in a writing mood and it's not much deeper than that.
that doesn't have to mean you're done with your blorbos. it just means that there are more valid and fun ways to play with them.
don't worry, the fandom will still be there when you decide to pick up the keyboard again. maybe with less people, maybe with many different people but you will always find someone who cares. those who have moved on to different things not come back wouldn't likely have stayed if you had powered through.
fandom shouldn't be a you're in or you're out thing but a place you come to when you want to.
contentification of fandom has had a lot of negative effects on the way we create and so many people fade from their hobby because they simply burn themselves out to a point where it leaves a scar.
so. find something that makes you happy that does not require you to invest too much creational energy. rest those muscles as long as it takes.
nothing you can get on tumblr or ao3 is worth the sore brain, the frustration with yourself and the stress you add onto your mental health ontop of everything else in your life.
recharge, reevaluate, reconnect
have fun
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𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 @glamourscat
Your ideal match is���Bachira Meguru!
♡ Since you're more quiet and reserved around strangers, it's likely that he was the one to approach you. He's a bold extrovert and isn't shy to talk to people who catch his eye, so him approaching you didn't take long. He just had a good feeling about you! He's the type to follow his instincts, so a good feeling about you was all he needed.
♡ Bachira is a ray of sunshine. He states his strength as being optimistic and being able to have fun in any situation, so he would never drain your energy by being negative. He's more likely to drain your energy by being so energetic that you start to get tired after being around him for hours at a time.💀 He likes that you're emotionally intelligent and sensitive to the feelings of others, and that you're a little weird! His background of being ostracized for being a strange kid has made him appreciate and get along with fellow weird people looking for people they can be themselves around. He doesn't do any kind of art as a hobby, but his mom is a painter, so he picked up her world view and appreciation for the world in an artistic way.
♡ In case the paragraph above didn't convince you, Bachira is your ideal type. He is unconventional and not afraid to stand out, has a big heart and is always his truest self unapologetically. Though him being gentle can be debatable, he wouldn't do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. He can be a bit rough with others by grabbing them or surprising them with a head chop like he does with Isagi, but he only does that with people he's sure wouldn't mind or will get back at him later. So if he gets the feeling that you wouldn't enjoy such roughhousing, he'll steer clear of doing such things to you. He's also not harsh in a relationship at all! No nagging or making demands. He stated that his weakness is not worrying about things enough, so his positivity and go with the flow type personality would allow for a fun relationship where you can feel relaxed around him.
♡ He doesn't know anything about divination, but that doesn't stop him from getting excited when you tell him about it, simply because you're into it. He's more than happy to listen to you tell him about your knowledge on spirituality and tarot cards. He'll be interested in asking you to do a tarot reading for him at least once. He also finds your frequent premonition dreams fascinating, and will take any advice you give him when your dream involves him in some way.
♡ He can't afford to miss out on much sleep given his choice of career. And it's unhealthy to stay up late. Of course. But when he has a few days off, he'd be willing to stay up late just to reply to your texts when you feel like sending him random facts at 3 am. Most of his reactions are just "woahhh really??", emoji spamming and him praising you for being so smart and knowledgeable. He doesn't know many random facts to send to you, but he can send memes and funny videos!
♡ Bachira isn't one for reading much, but he finds your passion for reading admirable! The number of books you can finish in a year is impressive and almost scary to him. It definitely explains how you're so wise and have so many random facts stored in that brain of yours. He's always happy to listen to you talk about what you're currently reading, even if he doesn't really get it sometimes. He also developed an interest in DC comic books after seeing you read them, so he often borrows a few comic books from you every two weeks or so.
♡ He finds it impressive that you can speak so many languages! Compared to him, he can only speak one and is currently learning English. Speaking of learning English, he'll definitely rope you into helping him with it since he doesn't have much motivation to learn it unless it's through a fun activity (like watching a movie in English) or when he's learning it with his fellow blue lockers. Rin has long since gotten tired of his antics and refuses to even humor him anymore, so you're his next best option! In return, he'll help you with learning Japanese. This language learning exchange also helps the both of you to communicate with each other more easily.
#you have such a clear idea of what kind of person you like that the result was obvious#my works#bllk matchup#bachira meguru x reader
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I am absolutely HAUNTED by this post I saw where this entitled-ass rando was seriously complaining that none of the girls they want to bang are well-read enough for them. Like, the post went something like "UUUUHHHHHHHGGGGG its sooooooo FRUSTRATING when I meet a girl who says 'I love to read!!!' and I get SO EXCITED but like, it turns all she 'reads' is BOOKTOK TRASH like barely-concealed-fanfic rewrite TRASH like its soooooo DISAPPOINTING where are the ACTUAL READERS lol" and like
I'm dyslexic! I'm SEVERELY dyslexic! And my school wouldn't accommodate me. They told my parents that the combination of ADHD + Autism + Dyslexia was too severe and they should "lower their expectations" for me, aka "your six year old is too stupid, give up on them ever being able to read". It took MULTIPLE YEARS of VERY EXPENSIVE private tutoring and its still HARD. Its still so FUCKING HARD, and the ADHD makes it even HARDER, and BTW, I was reading graduate school level material by the time I was 12 because I worked my brain into MUSH and I FOUGHT and I TRIED and it was EXHAUSTING.
But I fucking did it, and I'm bringing that up so you ~* book lovers *~ can't dismiss me as another slack-jawed yokel drooling in front of reality TV or whatever other imagine you are choosing to use to dehumanize others. I can READ and I read VERY WELL when I have the TIME AND ENERGY. FOR MANY YEARS I HAD NO TIME AND NO ENERGY AND YOU ASSHOLES COLLECTIVELY SHAMED ME FOR IT.
"Booktok romance trash readers thinking its impressive to read eight books a year lol I read like eighty during a BAD YEAR oh my god I can't believe how dire the sitch is fam!!!"
Fuck you fuck you fuck you.
Eight books a year is so fucking impressive for THE MAJORITY OF THE COUNTRY. How do you read eighty books a year, huh? HOW? Do you work a white collar job that requires zero emotional labor from you? Do you spend 40 hours a week in an air conditioned cubicle and then have a 30 minute subway ride home so you're nice and rested when you get home at precisely 7pm every night and your weekends and vacay are guaranteed? Do you make $85k a year and have a nice secure Xanax prescription to take the edge off your anxiety?
Did your parents read to you? Did your school teachers make reading fun? Did your hometown have a safe, clean, well-stocked library you could regularly access????
Or did you grow up in fucking Detroit? Or did you grow up in fucking Flint? Or did you grow up in fucking East LA? Or did you grow up in fucking Jacksonville Missouri? Or did you grow up in fucking Bucksnort Tennessee?
Maybe that girl you suddenly found less hot because of her reading choices was raised by parents who were also undereducated. Maybe she's fucking dyslexic. Maybe her school shoved her through year after year despite how hard she was struggling. Maybe the shitheads running her county budget slashed anything allotted for library maintenance. Maybe it was only open four days a week and her parents worked full time and granny couldn't drive so good anymore so she didn't have any books to read to begin with.
Or maybe she read two books a week when she was a kid, but then she grew the fuck up and had to get a job where she's on her feet eight to ten hours a day and the schedule changes every other week and its fucking LOUD and HARD and STRESSFUL and she's always getting yelled at. Maybe after all of that she's doesn't want to waste an hour and a half of her precious, vital free time trying to scrape and struggle and cry through 10 pages of whatever ~* important artistic triumph *~ you privileged brats are using as a litmus test for personhood this fucking week.
So she reads something FUN something she ENJOYS something she can ACTUALLY FINISH because AGAIN reading is HARD its EFFORT and sometimes you are too FUCKING TIRED TO READ especially when you did not have EXTRA BONUS SHIT TO HELP YOU GET INSANELY GOOD AT IT.
Disliking TV is not now, nor will it ever be a virtue, and your leftism doesn't mean shit if you can't stop being a smug, classist, ableist, dipshit. If adult literacy makes you THAT DEPRESSED, go volunteer to teach adult learners! Or bother to vote in your schoolboard elections! Or donate your old books to a book gifting program! Fucking DO SOMETHING instead of posting on tumblr about how 'booktok people' kill your boner.
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i headcannon that benny and reader blast rihanna while closing the gym. it becomes a tradition that they blast music and dance around while closing. it gets to the point that the boys start wondering why benny keeps being late to their hangouts after his work. at some point they catch benny blowing his back out and reader recording and laughing at benny
Benny, Better Have My Money
Chapter Five | Drabble for the Through the Scope series | Chapter Six
*best read in between chapter 5 & 6*
Rating: IDK ?? everyone ??
Word Count: 1029
TW: tooth rotting friend fluff w/ Benny & some ass throwing ?!?!
Notes: anon, i wish i could kiss that beautiful brain of yours for thinking of this absolutely fucking hilarious scene thats now 100% canon in the through the scope series to me HAHAHA !! i hope i did some justice to your brilliant idea & thank u so so much for submitting it ((: this one is for u ! happy reading <3
*i wrote this w/o looking over it because the idea was just to good so if you see any grammatical errors.. no you dont*
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Closing up after a long shift was never fun. Well, it was never fun until you started working for Benny. After the last guests were ushered out and the doors were locked, you were put in charge of the gyms music. It was only fair since Benny had free reign during operating hours after all. Plus, your taste in music wasn’t exactly family friendly.
“Alright, what are we feeling this evening? Lady Gaga? Megan Thee Stallion? Doja Cat? Maybe some Rico Nasty? What artist really says ‘I want to clean this whole gym and look hot while doing it’ to you?”
“The evening song choices are all yours. I’m way too tired to even think about makin’ another decision right now.”
“Well,” You say as you start scrolling through artists on his phone to find one that will bring the energy that both of you need to get this done. “If you’re so tired, why are you going out with the guys after this?”
“You know that doesn’t count.” He’s currently working his way through cloroxing all the workout benches and weights. “The only decision I have to make when I’m there is if I want another drink or not and that's easy. Of course I want another fuckin’ drink!”
“Touché,” You laugh as you find the perfect playlist for the evening. “Let’s get this cleaning party started!”
Rhianna’s Bitch Better Have My Money starts blasting at full volume from the gym's speakers as you make your way over to the basket full of used towels.
Bitch, better have my money
Y’all should know me well enough
Bitch, better have my money
Please don’t call me on my bluff
Pay me what you owe me
“Oh fuck yeah! I love Rhianna!” He yells as he turns to you.
You pull out a towel, point to him from across the gym, and start swinging it over your head as you lip sync to the song playing.
Kamikaze if you think that you gon’ knock me of the top
Shit, your wife in the back seat of my brand new foreign car
Don’t act like you forgot
I call the shot, shot, shots.
Benny makes finger guns and pretends to fire them at you on each beat. “Sing it, girl!”
The two of you run dramatically to each other in the middle of the gym and start dancing like crazed animals. Each of your tasks having been long forgotten as soon as the music started. You both know by now that neither one of you will be leaving anytime soon.
***
“Where the fuck is your brother, Will?” Pope huffs.
Frankie, Pope, and Will have all been waiting at their table for Benny to show up for 45 minutes now. They turned the waitress away three times before they caved and ordered a round for themselves. Hoping that a light buzz would satiate them.
“I’ve been texting him, but he’s not answerin’!” Will explains. “His location says that he’s still at the gym.” He turns his phone screen over to show the others.
“This is the third time this week that he’s been late. He’s never taken this long to close up before.” Frankie adds.
Pope tips his almost empty beer bottle in his direction and nods. “Fuck this. Finish y’alls drinks and let's go pay him a visit.”
They all do as Pope orders and make their way out of the bar. As they cross the street and enter the gym’s parking lot they see both yours and Benny’s cars in the same spots that they were in this morning. All of the lights in the building are still on as well.
“Do y’all hear that?” Frankie asks the men walking next to him. “It sounds like -”
“Rhianna?” Pope says curiously.
All three of them walk up to the gym doors and the sight that greets them will be burned into each and every one of their minds for all eternity.
***
You’re currently holding onto one of the corner poles from the boxing ring with both hands and trying to explain to Benny how to shake his ass.
“Move your hips to the right, then the left, then shimmy down, and use your knees to help you bring your ass up and down!” You’re winded from both teaching your lesson and singing with Benny for almost an hour straight. It also doesn’t help that you’re trying to yell instructions over Rhianna’s S&M song.
“I think I got it now! Let me try!”
He helps you down so he can climb up and get into position. You pick up your towel and phone off a nearby workout bench. There is no way that you aren’t going to document this moment.
‘Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it
Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it
Stick and stone may break my bones
“But chains and whips excite me!” You and Benny sing together.
You are struggling to hold your phone still as you record because you can’t stop laughing. Benny is throwing everything, and you mean everything, into his one man performance on the edge of the boxing ring. He definitely paid attention to what you showed him. Even put his own little twist on it by bringing his right hand back to slap his ass. You can’t help but get swept away in it all and you start hitting him in the ass with your towel as well.
“Let’s go, Benny! Shake that shit for me!” Your lungs threaten to burst from over exhaustion.
S-S-S&M-M-M
S-S-S&M-M-M
Oh, I love the feeling you bring to me
Oh, you turn me on
***
“Should we tell them we are here?” Will ask hesitantly, still not entirely sure what he’s watching.
“I’m not even sure what we would say if we told them.” Frankie quips as he wishes you would get back up and dance again. “Pope?”
He looks to his left and sees him pulling up your contact information. “Let’s tell them that their audience wants an encore.” Pope presses ‘call’ and puts the phone to his ear with a devious grin.
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{tag list: @cutesyscreenname @rsquared31 @smol-beb @bitchwitch1981 @avastrasposts @hoeslingz @saltybutteredtoast @javicstories @c-justhere @pimosworld @modernperplexity @beboldbebravethings @modernperplexity @mxtokko @moonliqhtszn @tanzthompson @megcads @myloveistoolittle @casa-boiardi @jitterbugs927 @partyofone3413 @pedrit0-pascalit0 }
#francisco morales#frankie morales#catfish#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#triple frontier#triple frontier fic#benny miller#william miller#ironhead#santiago garcia#pope#through the scope#through the scope drabble#through the scope headcanon#benny x reader as friends#benny the bestie
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⚠︎𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎⚠︎
☎︎001-001
Yandere!housekeeper x Artist!reader
⚠︎Warnings: Yandere content, drug usage(for sleep), non-consensual touches, reader is a famous artist
Word count: 1.8k
Still getting the hang of writing shorter stuff👉👈
“I can’t believe you got me a housekeeper!” You yell into the phone at your agent.
“Oh come on! When’s the last time you cleaned your room?” They replied.
“I just removed distractions from my life to keep a clear head! Steve Jobs wears the same-“
“-I’ve heard the same thing enough times already, yes, he removed choices from his life to focus on greater things with that brilliant brain of his, and I’m sure he has a housekeeper to clean out that pigsty of his.”
They say with a sigh, then before you can say anything, they continue.
“I saw how you work before, and you are distracted by your stuff all the time. He’s coming at 3 o’clock.” You check the clock, that bastard, it’s three minutes from now!
You hear the locked door click open.
As you glance at the doorway, you find yourself surprised to see a young male, who looks boyish, as if he’s fresh out of college. His pearly whites are almost glowing as a bright smile can be seen.
Your eyes trail to the bag of cleaning supplies in his bag.
“Great, he’s here……he looks so young, you sure he’s the right guy?” you mutter into the phone.
“Glad that those spare keys work! Now be polite, being a famous artist doesn’t mean you get a pass to be mean to others.” You turn away from the young man and stick your tongue out towards the phone secretly.
“That means no blowing raspberries, see you tomorrow.” And like that, they hung up.
You turn towards the young man, who looks energetic, excited, even, about working here.
“Pleased to meet you! My name’s Kyle!” with a peppy voice, his bright red hair bouncing along with his vivid movements. His pretty green eyes remind you of the shade of sunflower leaves. He reaches a hand out for you to hold.
You did not budge.
All he could do was awkwardly retract his hand.
“I’m looking forward to working in this lovely place!” He still says, with a bit less energy than before, making you almost feel pitying him. Almost.
“My room,” you point at it. His eyes trailed down your arm and to your pointer finger, then to the closed wooden door.
“It’s off limits.” That’s all you said before you sat down in front of your easel and continued working on your piece.
“Make yourself at home.”
You say absentmindedly and insincerely as a yellow stroke of paint spreads on the canvas. You lean back and a frustrated sigh leaves your lips. The phone call gave enough time for your acrylics to dry, thus making it hard to work with to get the result you wanted.
You’ve only laid the base color down, but it’s already clear that you’re drawing a field of sunflowers under a bright blue sky. Fluffy clouds and an ocean of gorgeous yellows simply waiting to be refined and brought to life.
Completely opposite from what you’re feeling.
“Okie dokie!” He said with a little salute, then his eyes scanned the room.
“Well, where should I start?” He asks you.
“Do whatever you want,” you answer. “If you don’t feel like cleaning you can go get a drink to have or something.” You say. You are actually hoping he’d listen and slack off so you’d have a quiet working space, and a reason to fire him, he doesn’t look like someone who’d really do his work anyways.
“Got it!” And then as soon as he said that, he left your house.
You hum now that it’s silent and continue working, thank goodness that went smoothly.
What you didn’t know was that twenty minutes later, you’d have a cup of ice cold coffee pressed to your cheek.
You squeal, as you didn’t expect him to come back, Kyle laughs softly and places the drink in your palms, you wrap your fingers around it out of instinct and look up at him, silently questioning.
“You said to get a drink,” he chuckled as he wiped the sweat on his forehead off with his sleeve, his chest heaving up and down as he puffed out those words. He seems to have run to and from the coffee shop.
“Sorry I was late, had to call your agent to ask what to get.”
You just stare at him, as if he’d grown two heads, then you look back at the coffee, and then to his bare hands.
“Where’s yours?”
Now it’s his turn to be confused, his lips form into a confused little smile.
“Mine……? I thought you wanted the drink.”
All you can do is blink, and look into his eyes, they’re filled with admiration, and an eagerness to please you. Almost like one of your fans you’d meet once in a while. Those fans who want to pry you open and see everything inside. Your frown deepens, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he watches you sip on your drink, with that cheery smile.
You only shrug and ignore him completely as he got to work, touring the house himself because you didn’t bother to.
Through time, you learned to tolerate him, you can’t fire him, not with your agent under his spell and him doing more than he’s paid for, but you begin to spend more time in your own room than outside of it, working nonstop, and by the time the three month monument hits, you finally start to open up just a little bit, mostly because he makes good food.
“Dinner time!” You hear Kyle shout from out of the room, breaking you out of your focus, you did not answer, only washed your brush and headed to your dining room. You always preferred sitting at the bar while you eat your food, the feeling of solidarity is nice. But Kyle tends to take his seat next to you, you don’t know if it’s appropriate, since you’ve never had a housekeeper before, but you’d just listen to him talk and talk and talk as you eat.
You know what your food is going to be, since he came to you this morning about the menu, apparently it’s a rich people thing, to have your personal chef decide the menu depending on your mood. He made you something light, a simple sandwich with freshly made juice on the side as you requested. It’s nutritious, as he says.
You take a bite of the sandwich as you listen to him rambling on about little things he has to say in life, sometimes about his life outside of your house, sometimes about his life inside of your house, but what he says the most is about you, how he’d ask you little questions and tell you some things you might’ve not noticed about yourself.
You usually listen to his ramble absentmindedly, creepy as it is, that’s probably how he became such a good housekeeper anyways. He has the eye of an artist, at least that’s how you write it off as.
The sandwich is on the drier side, so you have to mix it with your juice. It's mixed fruits, tastes like mango and apples, but the color is a bit more on the red side. You wonder what paints to mix to create this lovely shade, almost fitting to draw a sunset.
You feel his gaze on you as the liquid inside your cup decreases, as the drink is finished, you yawn.
Perhaps it’s because your body is getting used to this new balanced and healthy eating habit, you get terribly tired after dinner.
“You can go home for today, I have to—“ you pause for a yawn, “—get some more work done……”
He only chuckles.
“Oh, but you look tired.” He says, holding your arm as you stand up from the chair rather wobbly. You notice a little cut on his wrist, and you mindlessly trace your finger down it. He jolts a bit, but doesn’t pull away.
“This should’ve healed long ago……” you mumble.
“I have a bad habit of picking it.” He laughed it off and places his other palm on your back, it feels unnecessarily intimate, but is what you need when your legs feel so wobbly. What did you do to feel so tired all of a sudden?
“What was in that drink……?” You say, words dragging on.
“Well—“
He wasn’t able to finish, as you fell in his embrace, eyes closed and your breathing even.
“Love, and a special ingredient, might’ve put too much in there this time.” He whispers as he wraps his arms around you and picks you up gently, holding you tightly in his arms and burying his nose in the crook of your neck. He’s in ecstasy as he realized that you are using the shampoo and body wash he got for you. Now the two of you share the same scent.
Slowly, he carries you to your bedroom, this is an emergency, surely it’s good enough of a reason to break your rule?
And he walks into your room with caution, watching his feet as he tries to keep you in a comfortable position in his arms. He loves it when you need him, even though you’re sleeping. As he puts you on your bed, he observes your sleeping face, everything else in the world seemed to have just melted away.
“It’s so worth it, that secret ingredient. I get to see your face so close every night!” He almost squeals, carefully climbing on top of you and brushing his fingers along your jawline. There isn’t any light, only the light from outside of your room, illuminating the rim of the both of you. His breath grows heavy as he feels his cheeks turn hot. Leaning down, Kyle faces you, the distance between is so small to the point he can count your eyelashes, he would if he doesn’t have something else important to do.
“Now you may kiss the bride……” he can hear his own heart pounding in his ears, even if he knows it’s not possible, he imagines you to open your eyes and jump, he’s sure that your budding feelings towards him would perish as soon as you see him straddling you.
Slowly, shakily, he closes his eyes and places a kiss on the lid of your eyes, then on your cheeks, your nose, the corner of your mouth, then finally, your lips. His tongue enters easily, toying with your unresponsive one, the pink muscle almost skillfully maneuvering around in your mouth, something only experience can bring. His grip on your jaw tightens by a fraction as he tugs your jaw down a bit more for better access.
After what felt like forever, he pulls away, desperately gasping for breath. He wishes he doesn’t need to breathe at all, so that he can simply kiss you for the rest of eternity, or at least until you wake up.
He stole a few more kisses, then, he leaves your room, secretly taking note to add less of the special medicine and a bit more of the other special ingredient.
“See you tomorrow.” he says with the biggest smile as he closes the door, leaving you completely in the dark.
#yandere#yandere x reader#Yandere housekeeper#yandere writing#yandere stories#yandere oneshot#soft yandere#yandere headcanons#yandere fic#yandere oneshots#yandere oc#OCKyle#he’s a creep#but he cooks good stuff#Smiley writes
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Hey Nicole, I really hope you do not take offense to this because you are the writer; you write whatever and however you want to write. Just like I, as the reader, can read whatever I’d like. I really really want to keep reading your fics, however I keep stopping when I see that you begin to rhyme. My brain just starts focusing on the rhymes, try to skip over them, and then I lose interest. Which truly sucks because I really like the story lines of your Jax and Ray works! I also don’t really like the over use of “bitch”, but again, completely your writing and your preferences. In my humble (and of course unsolicited) opinion, if you could perhaps rhyme less and use “bitch” less.
With all this being said, I completely understand that you write because you really want to and none of us are paying you to write so what readers say to you shouldn’t matter much. I just wanted to throw this out there as a sort of constructive criticism that I honestly hope you do not take rudely, because that is not my intention at all.
Hi anon.
Firstly, thank you for framing this politely as not all anons do — I appreciate it a ton. I will try to reply with the same courtesy, but I apologize in advance if any salty energy comes through, because to be honest receiving this ask has upset and hurt me.
I wish this ask hadn’t been sent anonymously, as I would’ve preferred to answer it privately, but on anon that’s not an option unfortunately. I have *issues* with tumblr’s perception of me, which is why I’m so vocal about craving praise publicly; throughout most of my tumblr experience, for lots of complicated reasons, I’ve felt as if I look pathetic and lame. Now people are going to see this unsolicited criticism I’ve received and it adds to that feeling and makes me ashamed.
I wish you had taken the time to get more familiar with my blog before deciding that it would be appropriate for you to criticize my writing style. If you had checked the dates on my old posts, maybe read some of my author’s notes, you would’ve noticed that I actually haven’t been writing fics for a very long while. This ask assumes that I’m still writing at this time, and that it makes sense for you to advise me to write differently because you don’t like the way I rhyme. But I stopped writing long ago. That’s something most of my readers and followers know. When I recently became active again, it was with the intention of making new connections, and hopefully getting more love and praise on my old stuff, because I never felt I got enough.
I wish you hadn’t referred to my “over use” of ‘bitch’, as if there’s some objective standard as to how often writers are supposed to use ‘bitch’, and I just transgressed over it. Yes I use it a lot, but it’s no secret that this blog is 99% filthy smut, a big part of the point of which is to scratch my own kinky itch. Of course I understand that I use ‘bitch’ more often than you’d like to see, but that’s just a matter of personal preference; while I appreciate that most of this ask was presented politely, I really don’t think “over use” was the appropriate reference.
I wish you hadn’t described it as seeing that I “begin to rhyme” as if it’s something that I start doing mid-fic at random times. Pretty much every fic I’ve posted here starts rhyming in the very first few lines. It’s a consistently intentional artistic choice — I like the way it gives my writing a distinctive voice. Sort of like lyrics set to music. Lyrics rhyme ‘cause there’s a cadence and a vibe that only rhyming can provide and I love diving into that magical world whenever writing or rereading my own fics. It’s also really fucking hard to write this way; I’ve been writing since I was four, and never rhymed back in the day (like, years ago when I wrote an original series that very nearly got a book deal and TV show deal I obviously didn’t rhyme because of course that’s not what publishers are looking for). I’m capable of writing in a way that’s more conventional for sure. But I’ve always loved the poetic side of prose, the way it flows, so in these past few years of writing fanfics, just for kicks, this rhyming style has organically become a kind of fun exciting challenge that I wanted to explore. At the risk of sounding like a snobby stuck-up whore, I think it takes a special talent and I’ve wished people would recognize it more. I’m well aware that this writing style isn’t for everybody, and I totally understand that it’s not your cup of tea! But I’ve had plenty of wonderfully supportive readers who don’t mind it, many of whom have told me that they like it, thankfully. So if and when I ever decide to write again, it’ll be for myself most importantly, as well as for the readers who admire and enjoy the unique way that I write my stories; I have to decline your suggestion, respectfully.
I wish you hadn’t said “constructive criticism” as if there’s some kind of error or flaw in my fics, that you’re in a position to advise me on how to fix. I realize that you also said it’s just your own humble opinion which I respect, but there’s something that still just rubs me the wrong way about use of the phrase “constructive criticism” in this context, especially since it’s not even constructive really, given that I’m not currently writing as I’ve explained previously. Criticism tends to have an effect. Even if it’s constructively intended, it can get destructively stuck in our heads, and make us feel discouraged and upset. Especially on tumblr where most writers are just trying to fuck around and connect, I think it’s generally best not to give it, when it’s unsolicited. Of course there are writers on tumblr who are open to receive it, or even seek it, and that is absolutely great! But I’m not one of them; there’s a reason why the little notes at the end of all of my fics urge my readers to let me know if they enjoyed them… I’m only here for good vibes and fun times and positive feedback on the stuff that I create.
Anyway. I’m not sure what you actually like about my fics for Jax and Ray — “I really like the story lines” is rather vague — but there are tons of writers here who’ve written Jax/Ray fics with awesome storylines, just as good as or better than mine! And the cool news is that most of them probably use ‘bitch’ fewer times, and *none of them* will bother you with rhymes! (I’m pretty sure I am the only Charlie fic writer who does this clownass rhyming thing, but I’d be intrigued and surprised to know if there is anyone else with a similar style of writing…)
So I hope you find fics that align better with your preference! Your preferences are of course completely valid and I’m sure you’re not the only one who finds my writing style unpleasant. I really do appreciate the polite tone that you’ve taken with this ask and hope that my response makes sense. I know I have rambled way more than I should have, so if you don’t bother to read every paragraph, I won’t take offense!
Sending you good vibes and wishing you the best ✨
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Stay Stitch (pinky promise)
Pairing: Jeongin/Jisung (and a brief Chan cameo)
Word count: 1,125
Summary: Jeongin runs off to cry in peace. Jisung finds him.
Additional info: canon compliant, emotional hurt/comfort, slice of life, one (1) kiss, soft Stray Kids ensemble, protective Han Jisung, Han Jisung is a ray of sunshine, everyone loves Yang Jeongin
Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60819817
Or read below the cut:
Jeongin is hiding.
It’s not that he wants to. His brain gave him no other choice. Cry in private, or face people. Shudder. He’s not going to be this vulnerable around someone, and especially not around cameras, if he can help it. It was hard enough to find a spot away from staff.
Tucked in a ball of self pity and misery underneath an old maintenance stairwell is where he’s found himself. It’s dusty and gross and he hates it. Not enough to do anything about it, though the makeup artist and stylist will definitely have words for him when he comes back. That’s for half-an-hour-from-now Jeongin to deal with, not sobbing-his-eyes-out-on-the-floor Jeongin.
He’s felt so stitched up lately. Don’t get him wrong, he loves being busy. He loves recording and learning new songs, he loves performing, he loves the silly activities they do for Stay. It’s all, always, worth it for Stay. But he can’t remember the last day he had off. He can’t remember the last time he came home to the dorms and didn’t immediately crash.
He had tried to push aside the feeling and take their schedules a minute at a time, which initially had helped, but as the day stretched on he felt himself wearing thin. By a stroke of luck he made it through everything except the last hurdle.
They just finished a recording for a variety show, now all that’s left is dinner with the rest of the Kids. And he can’t do it. He has no more to give. He’s trying to convince himself that in half an hour he’ll get up, dust himself off, go change and meet them at whatever restaurant it is and pretend nothing happened. But it’s a big fat fucking lie.
Chan’s probably already looking for him. Oh… just the thought of Chan looking at him with that look in his eyes makes him feel worse. Jeongin is weighed down by guilt, exhaustion, and the stream of tears running down his face to pool in his heart.
And seeing Chan is inevitable. If not at dinner, then at their dorm. How is he going to explain himself? No excuse is going to get past Chan, and he can’t hide forever, though in this moment he’d prefer to think he can. It’d be more comforting to have as long as he wanted to avoid his responsibilities.
Speaking of, he can hear footsteps coming down the staircase.
“Iyen-ah? Are you down here?” Jisung’s voice echoes in the stairwell.
Jeongin holds his breath and prays Jisung leaves. But of course, it’s no use. His footsteps get louder as he gets closer.
“Iyen-ah, please say something if you’re here. We’re really worried about you,” Jisung’s voice gets quieter, more gentle, and Jeongin can’t keep in a sob any longer.
Fine. He’ll admit defeat. He’s been found fair and square; as if this is hide and seek, not please-leave-me-alone-while-I-tear-myself-apart-thank-you. Working title. He’ll refine it later.
Jisung’s footsteps quicken, hurrying down to him. He rounds the corner and crouches, concern knitting his eyebrows together. Jeongin can’t look him in the eyes. It hurts.
“Oh Jeongin…” Jisung whispers, crawling in next to him. Jisung wraps an arm around his shoulders and uses his other hand to brush the dust off Jeongin’s hair. He brings his palm down to Jeongin’s cheek, guiding him gently to look at him. “You had us worried sick. Why’d you run off? Did one of us do something wrong?”
Jeongin shakes his head, trying to muster the energy to explain. Fresh tears well in his eyes when he can’t find the words.
Jisung tucks Jeongin into his chest, moving his hand to stroke his hair instead. He holds him close and murmurs reassurances against the crown of his head.
Jeongin holds onto Jisung’s shirt, letting his sobs get caught in the fabric instead of in his throat. Jisung soothes the wracks through his body with soft rhythmic strokes down his back, easing and pulling out the tension held there like untying knotted strings.
Jeongin rests his forehead against Jisung’s chest when he stops crying. He takes a couple breaths, slow and deep.
“That’s it, baby, just like that,” Jisung says, rubbing small circles into his back. “Can I text the others to tell them I found you? I don’t wanna keep them worrying.”
Jeongin nods, and Jisung pulls out his phone from his pocket. Jeongin closes his eyes wearily, and he can just make out the sound of Jisung’s heartbeat under the tapping of his fingers against his screen.
Jisung puts his phone away and hugs Jeongin when he’s done. “Alright, I told them I found you, but I didn’t tell them where we are. We’ll go back when you’re ready. They can wait.”
“Thank you,” Jeongin says, voice breaking.
“I would offer a kiss to make you feel better, but this really isn’t a romantic spot,” Jisung jokes, tone lighthearted. Jeongin manages a small chuckle. “Tell me, why are you pretending to be Harry Potter? Hiding under the stairs?”
Jeongin relents to his prying, sitting up. “I got overwhelmed. I’m sorry I ran.”
Jisung holds Jeongin’s face in his hands, wiping away his tears with his thumbs. “It’s okay, you don’t need to apologize. But please tell us next time that you need a break, so we can help you. Can you promise me that?”
Jeongin nods, taking Jisung’s hands from his face to link their pinkies. “I promise.”
Jisung smiles softly and intertwines the rest of their fingers. “Do you want to stay here a little longer?”
Jeongin sighs, looking at the loose zigzag way their hands are stitched together. “I think I’m ready to go back.”
Jisung nods and crawls his way back out, standing and dusting himself off. He offers a hand to help Jeongin out, which Jeongin takes. Jisung helps dust Jeongin off, but before they make their way up the stairs, Jeongin stops him.
He links their pinkies again, leans in, and presses a peck to Jisung’s lips.
“You don’t get to brag about that one. You just promised,” Jeongin says, gesturing to their linked pinkies.
Jisung huffs out a surprised laugh. “That’s not how that works, but just this once, I’ll let it slide.”
They head back to the rest of the Kids hand in hand. Jeongin gets swarmed in hugs when they see him, and though it’s a lot, it’s comforting. The weight of appreciation replaces the weight of guilt in his chest.
Chan lets him pick where they go to dinner, and later, in their dorm when he’s telling Chan what happened and why, Chan promises he’ll get him the weekend off. Jeongin says he’ll only agree to it if Chan takes the weekend off too.
#stray kids fic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids hurt/comfort#jeongsung#han jisung#yang jeongin#bang chan#fanfiction#ao3#ao3 fanfic#rarepair#my writing#writing
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11 and 50 for the ask game?
(fic ask game!)
11. Are you partial to a certain character/pairing or are you more equal-opportunity? If you are partial to any character/pairing, why do you think that is?
I definitely play favourites! In silmfic Maglor and Maedhros are my two preferred characters – in almost any piece of media I enjoy I will latch on to the tragic codependent siblings, they make my brain go fuzzy. “I don’t see why everyone is so obsessed with romance,” eleven-year-old-me used to think disgustedly, “that’s BORING and OVERDONE, my favourite person in the world is the small sibling anyway, I am going to be COOL and DIFFERENT and invest all my creative energy into writing about angsty sibling relationships!” To my lasting mortification, eleven-year-old-me was right. (And the small sibling is still my favourite person in the world.) Anyway. M&M are both fascinating characters separately, but it’s their doomed and guilt-ridden relationship that gets me, which is not a surprise to me.
50. Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!
I… think I’m just going to ramble about tfs here because when do I not do that (and you’re now the fic’s official artist so ❤️). Hmm what are today’s thoughts. Let’s talk about Maglor because his storyline so far has been quite important to me actually! Maglor was badly injured at the end of Part 1 and has been basically bedridden since; nonetheless, with the exception of Parts 2 and 3 when he was unconscious, he’s taken a pretty significant role throughout. This is quite deliberate. As I’ve groused on tumblr recently, I have a chronic pain condition myself (not the sort that leaves me bedridden thankfully but it still isn’t fun) and I like the idea of a character being able to make important, plot-changing decisions while being confined to a sickbed; I like exploring how there are so many more ways than physical action to affect the narrative. Maglor can’t fight at present – he can barely walk, in fact – but he’s still achieved a lot! Winning Lúthien’s friendship (and her pity), trying to get the Silmaril back from Thingol, although admittedly that didn’t work, resisting the Oath long enough to get through the Girdle again; most of these moments have been relatively undramatic but they’re all there and Significant. And Maglor seemed like a good character to give this arc to because his greatest weapon has always been his voice, his charm and persuasiveness and, when that fails, his sincerity.
I jokingly called him a pincushion because I do feel bad about that whole lil stabbing incident – but in a way his whole story in tfs has been about being a pincushion, and doing interesting and important things anyway!
#asks#kat-bat-thegreatandterrible#ask game#the fairest stars#thank you for the ask!!#this came out very rambly
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hahahaha, remember when I thought 2021 was bad??
So if you're reading this, kudos!! You are an incredibly kind, patient, awesome human being who somehow put up with my bullshit 2+ year radio silence and decided to tough it out in the hope I came back. Well!! I'm back and I'm hoping I stay back for awhile -- at least long enough to finish my fics, please @ the universe.
Idk how many of you care about why I disappeared, but for all 3 of you who do, it's bc I've been kind of dead inside??
So I started writing all these fics while I was still in medical school. Hence why Nitric Oxide has so much weird medical jargon in it that non-medical people are like ?? why tho ?? Bc writing the fic was in part a way for me to study while still engaging in an activity I love. Going back and reading through those earlier chapters has parts that make me laugh and some parts that make me cringe, bc now I'm 2 years out of medical school and I've grown a LOT as a medical provider ( and some of the things I wrote are not correct for how I or Obi would practice ). At some point I'm going to have to go do an edit/rewrite of some of those parts. Bc oof
But anyways, yeah I was kinda dead inside for a long time there. See, I really, really, really had my heart set on going into psychiatry, but I didn't match into a psychiatry residency program. So I took a position in a transitional year program, which is basically a way of working as a resident while you still apply for programs in the specialty you want to get into (or for some people, it's a year of medicine they have to do before they can start their specialty training like people going into radiology or anesthesia). And just...
If you're in the medical field: DO NOT WORK AT AN HCA HOSPITAL IF YOU CAN AVOID IT. Holy FUCK, that organization is so fucking toxic and soul-sucking and awful. Like. That whole year I spent there was so miserable it took me all of last year to finally recover and get back to a place where I could even think of writing again bc I barely had the energy to take care of myself, let alone to engage in artistic pursuits or passion projects.
Anyways, I won't get into details about why it sucked, but it did. I was in such a dark place while I was there. It didn't help that I applied for psychiatry residencies again and still didn't match, so I was faced with the choice of giving up my dream or doing another year in Hell.
Well... I'm an emergency medicine resident now. To be fair, I worked as a scribe in the ED before medical school and it's ALWAYS been a close second choice for me. And now that I'm here, I gotta admit I kind of LOVE it. More than I thought I would. But it still stings, and I won't lie and pretend there's a small part of me that aches over my lost dream.
But anyways. Fuck capitalistic, for-profit medicine. A lot of us doctors hate it just as much as all the rest of you do.
Hopefully this current hyperfixation lasts awhile and I can crank out a lot of chapters for yall and maybe even finish (gasp, I know right??) a fic or two here.
Thank you for reading, if you did. I truly do appreciate each and every one of you and all the kind words and compliments you pay me and my brain children.
I hope y'all have a wonderful day/night.
-Sam
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Kitchen Sink Urbana: Magic (Part 2)
Part 1: https://jimothy-g-brooks.tumblr.com/post/736391012903223296/
Sometimes derisively called "Mild Magic", Magecraft is the umbrella term covering the wide array of sorcerous ethnicities and wizard schools that have arisen spontaneously or been created in the past 20,000-ish years of human(oid) history. How these magic systems are invented or discovered is only less unclear than which of the former descriptors, made or found, applies.
The originator of a magical system produces a series of patterns from the force of magic itself that consigns itself to a set of limitations, origins and triggers. The actual process is not well documented but largely seems to happen intuitively or even spontaneously. Many attempts to uncover the secrets of system creation and/or creating a system according to someone's specification are well recorded in their failure.
Wild Magic is all about constructing a wish and making just about anything you want happen, and the price you pay is dealing with the narrative twist the vague "Will Of Magic" spins on it. The primary purpose of Magecraft, such as there is a purpose, is to create a method to tap into the power of magic while insulating one's self from the narrative blowback. The more limited a magical system is, more a given definition of "limited", the less "interesting twists" its practitioners may end up subjected to.
Each magic system has its own ideas about where magic comes from, extraplanar energy, the shed life force of all living things, the power of the collective unconscious, the cosmic lava spewed out from natural forces grinding against each other like tectonics plates, the stars and planets. Magic is stories, it might be the left over energies from when the universe was narrated into existence. Therefore, each of these stories is true or at least true enough for their practitioners.
Now Magecraft Systems can be separated into two broad categories, Wizardry School and Sorcerous Ethnicities. Mind, these aren't binary choices and more exist on a spectrum. You opt-in to wizardry, you choose to learn magic and make it a part of your world. At the far end of the wizarding spectrum, anyone can learn to use this magic system and become a wizard, but often you have to have some innate gift for it first. For sorcery, you just are, and you don't have much of a choice in the matter. The most sorcerous of sorcery is the sort where basic competence is naturally intuitive and only mastery is something that needs to be worked towards. More often, a sorcerer must work to become adept with their powers at all.
Schools and Ethnicities of the same kind can and have developed independently across the globe, almost always simultaneously, unmooring them from any one location or particular racial ethnicity. Some magic systems have examples of either wizards or sorcerers, with those who worked hard and those who hardly worked for it at all. In either case, they are still bound to the same magic system and the same drama that follows.
The two dramatic flaws that all systems of Magecraft seem to share in one form or another is Brain Poisoning and the Dark Lords. The first is for the tendency of mages to passively forget that other magic systems exist. The older and/or more powerful the mage, the worse this tends to be. They'll easily remember when reminded but shortly afterwards slip back into the mindset of forgetting to take them into account, as if theirs was the only magic system in the world. It's also worse for wizards than it is for sorcerers.
This means mages that haven't forgotten, that have resisted or fought off the Brain Poisoning, can easily become Outside Context Problems for others. At its worst, the Brain Poisoning can cause a mage to stop taking into account the Other M's, psychics, enhanced martials artists, gene-supers and warpcraftsmen. A common sign that ostensibly different Magecrafts are actually a part of one larger super magic system is when the Brain Poisoning doesn't cause powerful practitioners to forget about those others. Where Witchcraft is categorized in all this, and at what vague stage even it becomes discounted, seems to differ from system to system.
The seconds is what is called the Dark Lord Problem. It is in reference to a strong, almost guaranteed, tendency for some anti-social maniac of a practitioner to gain a lot of magic power and maybe more besides. They then proceed to make it everyone's problem, starting with their fellow practitioners of the Magecraft and moving out from there. It's not always a different individual rising up each generation, gathering minions about himself, it can be a lot of things, some drama, some complications, but it's the most common form it takes. Fortunately, these entities tend to be the most Brain Poisoned of all, focused entirely on the little world of their magic system and anyone adjacent to it, to the nigh the exclusion of all else. The ones who aren't like that become the real nightmares.
The result is a bunch of insular subcultures that resist or are resisted by larger global society from having their powerful resource integrated into modern living. With a bunch of mutually exclusive systems, a global standard is even harder to set than it is with technology. Some areas of the world have a local favorite, becoming loose centers of that Magecraft, if the local authorities believe they can handle the attention of that drama's Dark Lords. Largely, this remains a world of machines and technology since the Industrial Revolution centuries back, and the world of spells and rituals is left further and further behind- or so some people would hope. Others aren't so sure, and some aren't so enthused.
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she hadn’t realized who was by the jukebox until he started barking at her: leo fowler. swell. anne-louise’s face scrunched up, one brow raising higher than the other. she didn’t know why she thought he’d just slink away after she told them to stay away from her precious jukebox, and regretted even wavering to offer up the next song as their choice. “i am, actually.” anne-louise felt more possessive than normal, hands gripping at the wood of the bar top. their energy was much too kinetic for the soft-hearted anne-louise. and if that wasn’t enough to disturb her? he had to insult carly rae jepsen—pretty much the only artist worth listening to that was born after 1985. “weren’t you just dancing to her?” anne-louise countered incredulously. she wished she wasn’t the only bartender working that night. as much as she annoyed leon with her defiance, even he wouldn’t let a customer behave in such a way in his bar. (though, truthfully, it felt more like annie-lou’s bar than leon’s.) of course the dumbo had to make himself scarce any time she was scheduled to work! so she was left to deal with leo’s antics alone. was he so sure he didn’t have hornets in his brain? “a linda ronstadt song.” it was a guess, since she didn’t actually know. with anne-louise having control over the jukebox, that was very likely. “why? what song would you prefer?”
Placing a cigarette behind his ear, Leo had been dancing with the idea of stepping out for a smoke for the last three songs. Whoever was in charge of the jukebox knew what they were doing, but he was starting to get genuinely itchy - nicotine called his name, but he’d already been kicked out before for vaping inside the pub. Granted, he didn’t try to hide it, had even offered a hit to security with an insistent It’s mint watermelon, it’s a good flavour! Surprisingly, that hadn’t worked in his favour. Mumbling to himself under his breath, Leo putzed his way over to the jukebox - all to stare for a mere few seconds, before a spotlight had practically been pointed on him by the blonde behind the bar. Feeling rather called out, Leo could only think to respond by suddenly snarling and barking in her direction, a routine that made him resemble Kujo more than a living man. “Got the message. Down boy!” He said, wiping the froth from his chin like nothing had even transpired a second ago. “You controlling this thing?” He asked, jerking his thumb in the jukebox’s direction while simultaneously moving closer towards Anne-Louise. “You’ve got some gnarly taste - that Carly Rae’s got some dumb dingers. Do y’know what’s comin’ up next? Feels like I got hornets in my brain - don’t smoke kids!” Leo shouted to absolutely no one, suddenly leaning across the bartop as if he was the one working, making himself comfortable in her space with a lax grin.
#* narrative / thread.#* narrative / leo.#* leo / thread.#sorry she did not React Well 🤧#I assumed they'd probably know each other at least on a first name basis since she's a lifelong local!
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Grapejuice
→ Why must you make me laugh so much? It's bad enough we get along so well, just say goodnight and go
pairing: jungkook x reader (ft. taehyung x reader)
genre: strangers to lovers (?), art student jungkook, art apprentice reader, angst, smut, fluff, art university au, oc is older than jungkook (only by 1 year), kind of inspired by titanic(?? idk just bear with me lol) *also i went to normal college, no idea how art universities work*
warnings: swearing, feelings of being lost, thoughts of infidelity… infidelity, descriptive smut (oral fem. receiving, fingering, protected sex, multiple orgasms, jk is big y'all!), smoking (cigarettes & 🍃), themes of being lost, sad, nepotism, everyone is lowkey a villain lmao
summary: At 24, your life was lined up to be perfect; talented, nice apartment, amazing boyfriend, and a dream job. Working as an art apprentice for Kim Seokjin was the exact opportunity you needed to kickstart your art career. However, after you’ve hit a creative wall at full speed, you feel more lost than ever. It’s not until one person shows up with no brakes on in your life that not only changes your entire perspective, but takes your breath away in the process.
word count: around 36k (i was in a silly goofy mood💀🤓)
all feedback is very much appreciated! i hope y'all enjoy!
⏤
Jungkook’s hand that’s on the railing begins to tighten around it, his knuckles turning white as frustration pulses through his veins. You notice his tight grip and you place your own hand over his to relax him some. There’s mere inches between you two now, but it’s comforting and it feels like only you two are left in the world—the party raging down below and throughout the house drowning out. While your head is spinning from the two glasses of alcohol that you had sipped on earlier, you know that most of it comes from his intoxicating scent. He’s everywhere at all times and you think this is some sick joke manifesting itself into reality as you feel yourself leaning into him. When he says your name slow and calculated, you know that you’re a puddle in his hands, ready for all the consequences that may come with your decision. You just don’t know exactly how it could have reached this point.
1 Month Earlier
If there was one thing about being an artist—it’s that it can absolute torture. You hated to admit how right-brained you actually were. You felt as if your mind moved much faster and more chaotic than most people. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t function with—you had dealt with it your whole life, finding different outlets for your energy and itchiness. You couldn’t remember the exact age that you picked up a crayon, but you knew it was younger than most.
A lot of your childhood seems to be a blur, only a few memories sticking out like a bookmark at times. One of the most prominent being at age 5 when you took a few Sharpies and marked all over the dining room wall, drawing what you thought to be a field of flowers. Turns out, it was just a black scribbled mess that ended up with you hiding in your room, terrified of how angry your mother had gotten at you. You had learned your lesson that day that the wall should not be your canvas of choice.
Crayons turned to colored pencils turned to watercolor turned to oils turned to whatever you could grab and extend your talent further. You hadn’t taken the original school route—your dad putting you in a special junior school for artists, all the way up until you graduated high school. Naturally, this lead you to going to university to major in the fine arts. As you sit here in your studio now, you’re unsure if that was the smartest decision.
The funny thing about artists is that you’re sure they are the type of people who crave and desperately need the most validation of any profession. You valued positive reinforcement to the point it could be crippling. You’re sure that it stems from some type of child-like validation you never received from really either of your parents. They were always hard on you but your dad was the more lenient one of the two; your mom too selfish in her own abilities to look your way.
You glance up to the clock hanging on the wall. It’s nearing 3 in the afternoon which means you only have one class left for today. You were by no means a professor, however as part of your apprenticeship—it was required by your senior, Kim Seokjin, to assist some of his lectures. Like you, Kim Seokjin was a tortured soul with such talent that it was hard to comprehend as an onlooker. You were nearing 25, Seokjin was over 30 and he had built much more of a name for himself than you probably ever would. Despite the hundreds of artists just in the area surrounding the neighborhood and university, he was one of the best. He taught only the uppermost level classes at the university, handpicking the students himself to teach. You were lucky enough to have kissed his ass enough as an undergrad for him to accept you into his apprenticeship program. It didn’t pay much—starving artists was an absolutely true trope—but it paid the bills and at least you weren’t in a crippling, life-draining office job.
You give one last glance to the large canvas in front of you before throwing in your colorfully stained apron over an easel in the corner.
You check off the mental note to bring Seokjin the rest of the paint he wanted for today’s last class. You hurry into his own smaller studio/office that’s right near yours and pick up the tray of paints he’s set out. Afraid that you’ll be late for class—which was Seokjin’s biggest pet peeve, you hurry out of his office and back down to the main classroom. As you turn down the main corridor, you don’t even recognize what’s happened when you crash into a body, slipping backwards and letting go of the tray of paints, halfway falling backwards with a yelp until something—someone—manages to catch your fall just in time.
Your eyes are completely ignoring whatever stranger is holding you in a such a strong embrace that it’s taking your breath away and looking over at the colors which now paint the hallway.
“Fuck,” is the first thought that crosses your mind and when you finally look up at who’s got you—the second thing to cross your mind? Shit—who is this?
“Are you okay? Fuck I’m so sorry, I-I have to run these papers to advising before my class,” the stranger rambles on, his grip still tight around your body. He’s got you pressed against his chest, one of his hands around your waist tightly, the other holding your other arm out awkwardly, giving away that’s what he originally caught you with.
Your mouth slightly gapes open, confused and getting angrier at the second. Seokjin was going to murder you. That or just take the paints out of your next paycheck—which you honestly would rather take the former. With all of your might, you push yourself away from the man who you crashed into, feeling his grip on your arm even after he’s let go.
“I’m fine,” you spit out, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You bend down and start to pick up the paint that indeed survived the fall, placing them back on the tray one by one. To your surprise, the stranger bends down too, helping you place everything back into the tray neatly.
“I’m sure there are some towels—“
“The janitors will get it, it’s fine,” you interrupt the boy who keeps a mild expression on his features. It’s true though, spilled paint is nothing out of the ordinary for the cleanup crew. It was a school of arts after all.
You leave without saying another word to the stranger. You march towards the classroom, ready to hear it in front of Seokjin and all of his students. The thought mortified you, but it happened to his apprentices more often than you would think. Seokjin’s tactics are scary and intimidating but they are like that on purpose. He wants his students to be the best and he wants his apprentices to be even better. And your work as of recent and now this incident? You were surely not that.
Seokjin doesn’t acknowledge when you let him know about the spilled paints, giving you a dismissing—clearly annoyed—glance before he begins his last abstract painting class. The classroom space is large and bright filled with 11 students exactly. Six working spaces down each side of the rectangle, a lone working space in the back corner of the room. You remembered taking this class vividly, finding the abstract work natural to you and your paint brushes. While you enjoyed abstract, your speciality lied in realism—whether it be through pencils or oils or paints.
In many ways your role in the classroom acted similarly as a graduate student would at a normal university. You were there to provide help to the other students when needed, but the basis of your apprenticeship under Soekjin was to gain experience and build up your portfolio. Lecturing in art school is obviously quite different than regular university. Instead of an hour and a half of note taking, it was a simple debrief at the beginning of classes and then the remainder time was for working.
During Seokjin’s brief monologue, the back door of the classroom opens in a rush, the same stranger from earlier entering in, demanding attention away from the teacher.
“Sorry I’m late—I had to drop off some papers in the administrative office,” the stranger explains as he walks up towards Seokjin. They shake hands quickly, Seokjin introducing him to the class.
“Everyone, this is Jeon Jungkook—he’s just transferred in from another department, please welcome him in kindly.”
Jeon Jungkook. A few of the student’s eyes light up as he gives a small wave to everyone. You’re leaning against the wall a few feet behind Jungkook and Seokjin but suddenly Jungkook must have noticed your small movement of crossing your arms over your chest. He nearly does a double take as you make brief eye contact. He’s handsome, you can tell that much as you hadn’t paid much attention when he bumped into you earlier. Jungkook is giving you another apologetic look until you’re the first one to look away, gazing back over the entire class.
Once class presumes, Jungkook takes the empty workstation towards the back of the classroom, beside of Kim Jisoo and across from Kim Yugyeom.
“Y/N?” Seokjin says from where he stands, motioning you to come to him. You push yourself off the wall, sauntering over to your boss.
“Yes?”
“Meet me in my office after this class is over. I don’t really need you in here today so just continue working on what you need to,” he says only giving you a short glance. Your stomach drops. 99% of the time, if Seokjin wanted to meet in his office, it never really meant good news. Noticing some of his students who are sitting up front are listening, you only give him a short smile with a nod. The last thing you needed was his students talking about how shitty his chosen apprentice truly was.
You push yourself off the wall, your feet carrying you quickly out of the classroom. Little to your knowledge, the stranger from earlier only had his eyes on you as you disappeared from the classroom.
⏤
It’s only less than a couple hours later you find yourself standing in front of Seokjin’s office. You are gripping your tote bag tightly against your side, the rattling of your materials the only thing your mind can solely focus on. Sending a quick prayer up to whoever, you knock gently on the door and a hear a subtle noise for you to come in.
You force a small smile on your face as you enter the office, making eye contact with Seokjin immediately. He makes you so intensely nervous that it can be hard to stomach being around him—but the validation and credibility he gives your portfolio—it will be worth it in the end.
“Hi,” you say as he motions you to take a seat at his desk. He’s sat across from you, finishing typing away at his computer before he gives you any attention. His office is quite the opposite of what you would expect an artist’s office to be. It was all monochromatic and cream with touches of mahogany brown in the furniture and cabinets. There was barely any art on the walls, just a few small canvases that you recognized as his own pieces. You have to hold in a laugh at his narcissism.
“Thanks for coming by, I don’t want to keep you too late,” he says emotionless.
“No worries,” you shake your head, “Is everything okay?”
He hesitates before he responds, leaning back into his giant office chair that looks divinely comfortable.
“I actually wanted to present you with that question Y/N,” he speaks slowly, as if he’s studying you and your reaction.
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Me?”
When he doesn’t say anything, you continue yourself.
“I-I don’t think I understand,” you stutter anxiously, feeling yourself getting hot in the tiny office. This is it—this is where you die. Over spilled fucking paint.
“Y/N,” he pauses to lean forward on his forearms, “You were one of my most exemplary students in undergrad which is why out of all the candidates, I choose you to be one of my apprentices. I just can’t help but feel you’ve been… well, lacking in the work you’re putting out..”
His words are slow and calculated, as if he has rehearsed them many times over before spelling it out for you. Your shoulders begin to slump and you now wish you were being reprimanded over spilled fucking paint. You don’t even know what to say, so you don’t. Seokjin takes your silence with respect, continuing for you.
“I just want you to be your best artistic self. I know what a slump feels like and if you need any help—“
“No,” you interject quickly, “It’s just—“ you pause, wanting to think about what you’re saying before you speak, “It’s just I’ve just been a little uninspired lately, but no I definitely don’t need help.”
The last thing you needed was for Seokjin to think you couldn’t handle your own. The world of professional art was ruthless. You figured this out by your early teens when your mother had a gallery that was quote “a crashing bore of monotone, desperately wanting to be something it’s not.” After that, she locked herself in her bedroom for 3 days. You needed to prove to yourself you could handle piece after piece by yourself. If you couldn’t prove it to you, who on the outside would believe you could?
Seokjin narrows his eyes at you and you’re sure he definitely doesn’t believe you. “The final exhibit is coming up, I just don’t want you to lose sight of it.”
Knowing today’s date, the final exhibit is coming faster than you would like. Nearly 2 months away, but Seokjin is right. Art takes time, patience, and inspiration. Three things that you’re running out of.
“I appreciate the concern,” you say as genuine as you can, gritting through your annoyed smile, “But I promise you, I’m fine. I’m sure you know how it is to be in a funk.”
He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. If he wasn’t such an intimidating asshole, you would find him attractive. He seems to be content with your answer as he begins to nod slowly.
“Alright,” he responds, “If you eventually need help though, you have an abundance of students who would be willing to work with you. Great art doesn’t have to be born out of loneliness.”
You nearly snicker. The funny thing about artists is that we are so narcissistic, we can’t even see what we’re saying is just a crock of horse shit. You decide to leave the conversation at that, bidding Seokjin a simple goodbye and a wishful weekend. You pick your bag up off the ground, fishing your phone out of it quickly, leaving Seokjin’s office in a rush. You had dinner plans and you weren’t sure how much time you now had to get ready.
You’re scrolling through your messages to recall the exact time you were supposed to be there when suddenly you’re bumping—no crashing—into someone—again! You’ve let out a yelp and a curse word you shouldn’t repeat when you hear your poor phone collide with the floor. Luckily you managed to catch yourself against the wall as your heart beats with fight or flight adrenaline.
“Shit,” someone mutters and when you finally regain your orientation, you instantly recognize the voice. You realize it’s Jeon Jungkook—that new student who bumped into you earlier. He’s sitting on the ground as if he’s just been hit by a bus. It makes you narrow your eyes—you’re not that dense you knocked this man to the ground. How dramatic can he be?
“Can we stop meeting like this?” You say as you reach down for your phone. You hope and pray there aren’t any cracks. When you turn it over, you let out a relieved sigh when the screen is unharmed.
“That was totally your fault that time,” Jungkook pushes himself off the ground, fluffing up his dark hair some. Once he stands fully in front of you, you are now getting an essence of how big he is. He’s average height at most, but from your stature, you’re having to still look up at him.
“How was that my fault?” You press, taking a step away from him to give you space.
“Maybe you shouldn’t walk around with your head in that thing?” He motions to your phone with his eyebrows. His eyes are wide and doe like, his lips a little thin with a piercing on the right side, and a nose on the bigger side. You’ve always liked big noses. You normally wouldn't describe men this way, but he’s genuinely pretty. If he wasn’t standing right here, you’d blush a little.
“Maybe you shouldn’t sprint around this place like you’re being chased by a serial killer,” you argue back, your phone now buzzing in your hand.
This Jungkook guy laughs a bit, a soft smile growing on his face, “I’m Jungkook,” he says matter-of-factly.
“And I’m running late,” you point to your continually buzzing phone. You can tell it’s not the answer he wants, but you walk away before he can get that answer. You don’t dare look over your shoulder as you walk away to answer the phone. You can feel his eyes still on you and his scent fulfilling your nose. It smells clean, musky, and like amber. It smells dangerous.
⏤
Carbone was easily one of the best spots in the city. The Italian cuisine was to-die for and with the way your stomach was growling—the thought of their vodka sauce penne was literally making you horny. In record time, you managed to rush home and throw yourself together a little more decently. Your hair was pretty greasy so you ended up throwing it up into a clip hoping that no one would notice. You’re playing with your so-called slut strands aimlessly as you stand outside of the restaurant waiting on your company. It isn’t much longer until you hear your named being called a little ways away. You look up from your phone, a smile beginning to grow on your face.
“Hey babe,” your smile only grows as your boyfriend approaches you. He himself begins to smile as he fully approaches you, engulfing you into a large bear hug.
“I missed you,” he breathes heavily into your neck before he pulls away, “You look nice,” he holds both of your hands and looks down your frame. You glance down at your simple tank and loose-navy trousers. The navy somewhat clashes with his black suit, but it didn’t bother you none.
“Thank you, missed you too,” you respond, “Shall we?”
He nods once, giving you a look of longing before pulling you inside behind him.
“Reservations for Kim Taehyung,” he smiles charmingly to the hostess. She seems awestricken by him as she fumbles around with the menus behind the podium. Once she realizes—or chooses to notice—you standing close with Taehyung, hand in his, her gaze immediately drops to her feet as she walks the two of you to the table. It’s a smaller two-seated table outside on their exquisite patio, twinkle lights tastefully lighting up around you and a small candle lit between you two. It’s still not quite spring so they have some outdoor space heaters which is nice on your exposed arms. The slight chill doesn’t bother you though. Your only focus is on Taehyung.
Kim Taehyung. How could you even describe Kim Taehyung?
As the two of you sit here now, him 27, you 24, you can’t believe how long it’s already been. You were naive and 20 when you first crossed paths with Taehyung. A mutual friend introduced the two of you at another friend’s birthday at the time. It was at some swanky bar in the fanciest part of the city and to your broke, aspiring starving artist kind; it seemed magical.
There was an immediate attraction to each other that both of you seemed to recognize. His strong features and sexy smirk had you pulled in the moment he opened his mouth. His looks were one thing, but once you got to know him for him, you were sure you had found your soulmate. He was charming, funny, smart, and a hell of a lot different than you. But you liked that. You had been around the mismatched artist-type your entire life—you craved something different. And he gave you that every time, even now 4 years later.
“How was your day?” You’re the one to ask first as the waitress ends up pouring out glasses of Chardonnay for the both of you. Taehyung always orders a bottle, citing glasses were the cheap way out.
He takes a sip before he speaks, “Pretty good. I think we’re finally getting close to a deal on my biggest client which will leave me a lot less stressful once that sorts itself out.”
Taehyung works in finance—specifically in private equity. When the two of you first met, he was a first-year hustling investment banker who worked long hours with high compensation for a 23 year old. Now, he works a little less hours with even higher compensation. One way that you two are similar is that you both like chaos—chaos that just manifests itself into different ways. Chaos for you comes in forms of paint, sketches, and a messy workspace. Chaos for Taehyung is working long, demanding hours, numbers, and making 50 year olds seem less experienced than him.
“You made it out of the office before seven tonight, that’s always a good thing,” you take a sip of your wine, hiding the scrunch on your face as best as you can. This Chardonnay was particularly dry and not quite what you thought you needed. A martini sounds real good about now.
“How was your Friday babe?” He asks with genuine curiosity. If there was one flaw about you is that whenever Taehyung would go off the deep end in explaining his private equity and venture capital deals, you somewhat zoned out. Him on the other hand, always seemed intrigued about your endeavors as a struggling artists. Perhaps you should work on your listening skills now that you think about it.
You’re about to answer until the waitress comes back to take your orders. You settle on the vodka penne, Taehyung gets cacio-e-pepe, and you two get a Caesar to split. Before you realize it, you’re adding in a martini to the bill. Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you as the waitress leaves.
“Bad day?” He asks.
You have to laugh, leaning back into your seat some. “It was fine, it’s just,” you pause somewhat frustrated now that you’ve had a couple hours to marinate Seokjin’s words.
“Seokjin has just been hard on me lately and it’s kind of exhausting,” you breathe out heavily.
“Isn’t he always an asshole?” He raises a brow, leaning back in his seat to match your stance. His eyes don’t leave you as you command his full attention.
You half-laugh again, “It’s like he thinks I can just shit out new pieces every week. It’s not like every morning I wake up with a new idea that's riveting enough to turn into something.”
“I’m sure you’ve produced good things recently—you’re too hard on yourself Y/N,” he says, you assume trying to comfort or validate you in someway. It doesn’t work.
“What you think is good, isn’t what I, or Seokjin, or art critics may think is good,” you say stubbornly.
“Babe you really shouldn’t care about what those people think,” he says just as your martini arrives. You take quite a big gulp, a chill running down your spine. But it’s good, and needed.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
You don’t expect Taehyung to understand your perception of what you’ve always thought you career would be. Taehyung’s career was set for him the moment he walked across the graduation stage. There need be no inspiration or motivation for the work he does. He shows up, gets tasks and deals to negotiate, plugs and chugs numbers, and does it all over again. There’s no downtime in his field.
When it comes to art—there’s too much downtime. Too much time to overthink and drown into your thoughts. It’s easy to become miserable and wallow in self-pity as an artist. You don’t know why or where this rut came from, but you hoped that something would inspire you fast. Seokjin was right—you really didn’t have much time to begin putting together your exhibition pieces.
“I deal with people all the time who hate me and my colleagues—that doesn’t mean I don’t show up for the meetings. You’re going to deal with people who don’t like you but you still gotta get your shit done either way,” he shrugs and it’s like he caught what he said just in time before you could snap back at him—“Baby you know that’s not what I mean,” he suddenly leans forward and grabs one of your hands on the table.
You try to get past his last comment—as if he was implying you weren’t doing your job—relaxing as soon as his warm touch gets to you.
Perhaps one of the bigger flaws in your relationship with Taehyung is that sometimes he just doesn't get it. He can get very wrapped up into his world, unable to find a place of empathy for you and your craft. Sometimes, it feels like you're standing in a crowded room screaming yet no one turns around to see where the ruckus is coming from.
“I know,” you answer simply and luckily, your dinner arrives cutting the conversation at that.
As you two eat together, catching up on other mindless topics, and enjoying each other’s company, it makes your heart yearn for so much more with him. You’ve only had one serious boyfriend before Taehyung in high school which probably doesn’t even count at this point and only dating a couple guys casually before you ended up meeting the man across the table. He was edging 30, you nearing 25. You glance down at your ring finger, wanting nothing more than truly make that next step in your relationship. You two had talked about it many times and you were sure he wanted to marry you—you just didn’t know what he was waiting on.
Thankfully, you’re feeling a little less anxious now that you’ve ate a good meal and had some alcohol—not enough to where you’re drunk—but enough to feel a little buzz. After Taehyung’s paid (you’ve run your time trying to pay—also given Taehyung’s salary versus yours, it was sort of a given who would pay at fancy restaurants).
The two of you are walking around the semi-hustling streets, hand in hand as you’re making way back to his apartment. Friday’s were routine the two of you. Given his hectic schedule, the weekends are where you two found solace. There was the occasional mid-week lunch if he was on your side of the city where the university was, but Friday’s had been particular your days for years now. You loved your little routine together.
Taehyung has managed to pull you towards the city’s main river to a popular tourist watch site. On the weekends, there were the occasional events and water shows. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights, but there are a couple street vendors set up around the area. From the corner of your eye, you spot a vendor selling cotton candy and before Taehyung can stop you, you’re pulling him to the sweet treat. You settle on sharing a stick of the pink and cottony sugar as you take a sit down on the side of the river, trying to keep some distance from others.
You sit on the step below Taehyung, settling between his legs as you eat the candy in a comfortable silence. He offers you the last little piece but you shake your head, leaning back into his chest more. He glad eats it and then wraps his arms around your front, instantly warming you from the outside in.
“You chilly babe?” He asks and you shrug a little. You were a little chilly now, but he was keeping you warm enough. Given how he just knows you though, he ends up shrugging off his perfectly tailored suit jacket and draping it over your front. You give him a small kiss beneath his chin as a thank you.
“This is nice,” you say lowly, the sound of the running river and carb-loaded tummy making you a little sleepy.
“Mhm,” he agrees, settling his chin on top of your head, “You know I’ve been thinking recently..”
Thought he can’t see your face from this angle, your eyes slightly widen and your heart rate picks up significantly. Unsure of what to say, you make a noise that resembles a “hm?” Could it be?
“I know that both of our leases are ending soon,” he pauses, leaning back some. You take it to turn your body some to face him, a soft expression crossing your features. “I was thinking we should move in together.”
While your heart semi-strains painfully given it’s not what you thought he was going to say. But hey—he wants to live together! That’s the second biggest step before getting engaged, right?
“You want to live together?” You repeat his statement to make sure you heard it clearly.
He gives you a small smirk, “Isn’t that what I just said?” He giggles, “I’d just figured we already stay at each others places on the weekends… and if we lived together we would definitely see each other more often.”
He’s right. You think about waking up and going to bed with Taehyung everyday. You think about making coffee for each other and eating dinner together every night. You think about lazy morning-before-work sex and heavy, steamy sex in a shared bathroom. It seems perfect. You’re nodding before you even say yes.
“Yes, yes, of course!” You say enthusiastically, throwing your arms around him awkwardly. He laughs in content, holding you close as you both continue to watch the river. While it’s not what you were expecting, perhaps it was the final stepping stone until the relationship was to be taken further.
⏤
“I feel like tangerine is the superior shade of orange, right?”
You laugh a little as you take a step back from the canvas, looking over your shoulder to meet Sana’s gaze. She’s got a serious expression crossing her brows as she inspects your canvas and the orange color you’ve just slapped onto it.
“I prefer marmalade,” you respond sarcastically with a half-smile, justifying your color choice on the canvas. She tilts her head slightly, sitting back in the barstool type chair she’s in. She was much more the charming artist type than you. Perhaps it’s one of the reasons you two got along so well—you couldn’t be anything more than polar opposites. You were laid back and didn’t think about your work too much, whereas your best friend from undergrad went through every detail imaginable before her brush hit a canvas.
“I actually don’t give a shit about the orange,” she then says with a short laugh, “Y/N, what are you doing?”
You furrow your eyebrows, setting down your palette on the work table beside you. “What do you mean?”
She looks around your studio, the sun shining brightly thanks to the large windows on the back wall. You can tell she’s quickly inspecting every piece that you have finished up against the far wall opposite of you two. It’s only 3 pieces, but you can tell she’s about to rip them apart.
“It’s just,” she pauses to meet your gaze again, "I feel like there's no emotion in these pieces, it's all just the same in different fonts...”
You have a sudden open pit in your stomach, getting flashbacks from being in Seokjin’s office last week. You knew that she meant well—but like you said, she was the much more serious art type. She could read art better than anyone else you knew and to hear those words from her? It stung.
“Because there isn't," you chuckle, "I’m just in a funk,” you say, not even attempting to try to argue with her. For the past couple months, every stroke of your brushes have felt like a chore. Every sketch of a pencil felt like someone had a gun to your head, threatening you to draw or otherwise the trigger would be pulled.
“Isn’t your exhibition soon?,” she asks it like a warning but you’ve already heard that siren. “Is everything good with you?”
“I’m fine,” you say straight-lipped, “Just uninspired.”
She raises an eyebrow at you, “Taehyung not dicking you down right?”
You roll your eyes, a small laugh emitting from you, “Trust me, that’s not the problem.”
Taehyung was great in bed—a gentle lover with rough hands. It would probably surprise people to know that you were the more dominant one in the bedroom.
She looks as if she doesn’t believe you, but she lets it slide knowing your sex life is none of her business.
“And he still hasn’t put a ring on it?” She glances down at your hands, which you shyly shove into the pockets of your jeans.
“You'd be the first to know Sana," you tell her pointedly, "Also what's the rush?” you say, a half lie on your part. Maybe no rush on his part, but you were feening for that commitment from Taehyung. “He actually wants us to find a place together.” You make sure to add, given it makes your heart feel a little better.
“Hm,” she pauses and you give her an odd look.
"What's that for?" you ask her, crossing your arms over your chest.
She shakes her head, "I just want you to be happy Y/N... I'm sure moving in together will be exciting," you can tell there's something else she's not saying. You can probably guess as to what she wants to say but you push it from your mind. God forbid she’s been the one on the other end of your drunken-crying nights, saying how much you wanted to spend more time with him and marry him. “Are you excited?”
You nod before you speak, “Of course,” you say, “I’ll just be happy to spend more time with him.”
“I can’t believe he’s still in his soulless finance grind after all these years,” she exhales heavily with a shake of her head. You honestly couldn’t believe it either—but he loved his work. Sometimes you’d argue more than he loved anything else—including you.
“Whatever makes him happy, makes me happy,” is what you leave it at. You didn’t want to have the same conversation with her again.
“Well,” she pauses, “I gotta run, but enjoy your lunch,” she motions to the bag of food she so graciously brought you on her own lunch break. Given she works at an art studio in the city as an art preserver, her hours are much more flexible than yours.
“Thank you,” you give her a quick hug, inhaling her sweet, floral scent. She’s always had that sort of nostalgic smell to her. One of those smells that you can’t pinpoint where you’ve smelt it before, but it makes you smile. Perhaps it just reminds me of sleepless nights in the dorm you two shared freshman year, watching endless drama's and Magic Mike nights.
“Are you gonna come to dinner with everyone tomorrow?”
“I’ll try to make it,” you answer, “Depends how long I’m stuck here,” you speak with your arms in reference to your working studio.
“You better be there,” she warns, “You haven’t seen Jimin and everyone in forever.”
“I’ll try,” you repeat with a genuine smile, “Thanks for lunch again.”
She gives you a kiss on the cheek, “Of course. Text me if you need anything,”
You watch her frame as she walks out of your studio, your shoulders sinking in relief. You loved Sana, you really did, but the last thing you need is another person down your throat about your art. You were in a stupid, uninspired, funk but it will eventually go away. Even if you have to claw your way to finishing pieces for the exhibit—they will get done. You weren’t the type to just give up and throw in the towel.
You haven’t even realized you’ve completely zoned out until you hear footsteps coming into your studio. When you fixate on who is hesitantly standing toward the door, a confused expression crosses your face.
“Jungkook?”
“I’m late?” He jokes, retorting your smart ass comment from the other day. You can’t help but laugh some as he approaches you. He’s curiously looking around your working space with wide doe eyes. “The lighting is great in here,” he comments.
“I held Seokijn at gunpoint for this room,” you attempt to make a joke. He giggles so you’re satisfied. You’ve only been in class with him once since his first day last week. From what you’ve distantly observed about this Jungkook guy, it’s that he’s quiet and reserved, but quite talented. Seokjin must be feeling very sorry for you given he hasn’t needed you in class the past few days. That, or he’s just pissed that you haven’t done shit and it’s him telling you to get the hint.
“Everything good?” You ask him to break the silence, trying to be a “teacherly” as you could. Perhaps he had a question that Seokjin wasn’t available to answer. Or needed to know where certain pigments were. Or just needed a second opinion on a piece he’s started. Jungkook has made his way over to you, leaning at the table where Sana was just sat.
“Seokjin needs you to work the afternoon class by yourself,” he explains and you’re a little confused.
“Okay…?” You trail off, looking at him curiously. He’s dressed in a large short sleeve shirt, baggy jeans, and a slick pair of Nike’s. As he crosses his arms over his chest, you take quick notice of an array of tattoos covering his right forearm. It makes something deep within you stir.
“Is he busy? Did he send you to tell me or something?” You ask.
He’s staring at you intently with purpose. You’re suddenly insecure under his gaze, knowing you cannot possibly look put together with your hair thrown up and smudged glasses.
“I volunteered,” he shrugged, his eyes looking over to the current painting you’re working on. It’s not too large of a canvas, so it sits on your large easel with ease. His words make you stir again. “This is a nice color,” he compliments.
You laugh out of your nose, “It’s shit.”
You can feel his eyes on your profile as you look at the painting. The orange you’ve laid down is only the base color and you don’t even know what you’re going to turn it into.
“Do you specialize in realism?” He asks you, again with a burning curiosity in his tone. This is the most you’ve heard him speak since he’s showed up. His voice is soft and smooth like honey, unlike Taehyung’s where—
“Yes,” you cut your thoughts off.
“Me too,” he responds as your gaze meets his. You give him a small smile in unity. You’ve nearly forgotten lunch that Sana has brought you until a grumble goes through your stomach. You cross your arms over your stomach, feeling embarrassed under his gaze.
“See you this afternoon?” He says, getting the signal for him to let you have your lunch break.
“Will do,” you nod, “Thanks for letting me know.”
He pushes off the table, “Of course.”
His gaze breaks from yours as he walks away from you and your workspace. Just as he is about to walk out, you stop him.
“It’s Y/N by the way,” you call out formally. He stops in his tracks, halfway turning to you again with a subtle smirk on his face.
“I know.” And like that, he’s left. Something even deeper inside you not only stirs, but intensely electrifies you. You’re devouring your salad before you can let any other thoughts consume your brain.
⏤
“Cheers!” Jimin is smiling eagerly as you all hold your shot glasses up in the center of the table. You all down, up, down the shots of soju before you quickly tip them back. It burns going down your throat, but it felt too good. Sana was right—it had been way too long since you’ve been able to catch up with everyone. Sana sits to your left, Jimin across from you, Hoseok to your right, Jennie beside Jimin, and Namjoon at the head of the table.
“Never gets easier,” Hoseok makes a face as he quickly takes a sip of his soda for a chaser. You tease him by bumping his side, going back to eating the meat in front of you. Jimin was at the helm of cooking the meats and as always, did a fabulous job.
The Korean BBQ place wasn’t too far from your studio apartment and the university. It was yummy, cheap, and some of your friend’s favorite. It was a no brainer for all of you to meet up here after a long day. Thankfully you were able to finish your work early today, but only because once again, nothing of substance was spawning on your canvas.
“Namjoon,” Sana says, “When are you leaving for New York?”
“Next week,” he says as he sips on his light colored beer.
“Oh! Taehyung’s going this weekend,” you add into the conversation.
“Work trip?” He asks you, nodding in confirmation. It wasn’t anything new—Taehyung made bi-monthly trips to Wall Street. “If he’s staying long enough we’ll have to get a beer together,” he says.
“I’ll ask him for you,” you smile, though it fades away quickly. You felt that twang in your chest when you thought about Taehyung leaving for work trips. Not because you didn’t trust him—you just missed him. Then again, he’s building a life of security for the two of you, so you couldn’t blame him too much.
“How’s the apprenticeship going Y/N?” Jennie asks you as the others talk amongst themselves.
“It’s going,” you try to sound light-hearted and that it’s actually not killing you. “I’m done after this semester,” you add.
She nods—Jennie worked in social media for a fashion company. She was creative for sure—but not to the level of you and Sana. The three of you had known each other the longest, the other three boys tagging along as the college years went by.
“Are you going to free-lance after?” She asks. As much as you know she doesn’t mean harm—any question about the future makes you anxious. You had no idea what you were planning on doing after your apprenticeship was up. You were just hoping working under Kim Seokjin would stick out enough on your resume that something would fall into your lap. With your parents consistently down your throat, something had to fall into your lap. Hell, you would even pull the nepotism card if you had to.
“We’ll see,” you shrug as you continue to eat your food. You were feeling a little bit of a buzz at this point and you knew that you should probably slow down on the drinks.
The six of you all continue talking amongst yourselves aimlessly. You find yourself zoning in and out as you continue to think about Seokjin, your art, Taehyung, moving in together—your brain was cloudy and you felt stuffy. Something’s gotta give soon or you were sure you were going to explode. You didn’t understand—you have a good life, a good boyfriend, a talent not many people possess, fun friends—you didn’t know what was wrong with you.
You end up excusing yourself, the alcohol inside you making you need some some fresh air. You try to ignore everyone’s concerned glances coming your way as you stand. You take your phone and head towards the front door. As you push the door open, the chilly spring air feels divine on your skin.
Deciding to get out of sight of your friends given the large glass windows, you make your way to the side of the restaurant, where an alley separates it from another small business. Luckily the area was safe, with no alley being too dimly lit to make you uncomfortable.
As you round the corner, the smell of cigarettes fill your nostrils and you’re stopping dead in your tracks. Leaned up against the side of the restaurant, scrolling through a phone, and a cigarette hanging from their lips—is Jeon Jungkook.
“Jungkook?” His name slips from your lips before you can stop it. He quickly responds by looking up from his device, looking somewhat startled. He looks panicked as he quickly removes the cigarette from his mouth, about to let it drop to the ground before he drops it.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” you shake your head as you slowly step towards him, “My mom smokes when she paints.”
He raises his eyebrows at you slowly putting the cigarette back between his lips, “Is she an artist too?”
He’s wearing slim-fitted jeans and a multiple colored pullover, with a prominent shade of orange through the middle. It reminds you of the conversation you had with Sana yesterday. His hair is tousled a little, but still fairly straight and dark. He plays with his lip ring until you answer him.
“Both my parents are,” you respond, settling against the building opposite of him. He’s already got a few inches on you, but with his fancy tennis shoes, it gives him even more height.
“That’s gotta be rough,” he laughs while blowing out smoke away from your direction.
You laugh with him, settling for a short nod, “What about your parents?”
He hesitates before taking another drag, “My dad is in banking, my mom stays at home.” While he’s answered your question, he doesn’t seem enthusiastic about it. You wonder what type of banking his father is into, so you ask him.
“Investment and private banking,” is what he says. Your boyfriend’s face flashes into your head, but for whatever reason, you don’t mention him to Jungkook. He’s practically your student—he doesn’t have to know every detail about your life.
“Does he enjoy it?”
He quickly shakes his head, “He’s been miserable for as long as I can remember, my mom even more so,” he says it like it’s a joke, but it makes something in your chest squeezes tightly, your mouth dries up, and your hands go clammy. Though he doesn’t voice it, he senses a demeanor change so he offers you a drag from his cigarette.
You don’t hesitate to say yes as he passes you the little nicotine stick. Your fingers brush against his when he passes it off to you. Again, you have to ignore whatever is stirring deep within you. As you inhale the smoke, your head buzzes even further, settling your worries the tiniest bit. There’s no way that would become you and Taehyung. No way.
“What are you doing here?” You ask.
“Meeting some friends for drinks,” he explains, “But everyone’s late, as usual,” he laughs.
“I hate when people are late,” you mutter, taking another drag of the cigarette. Jungkook agrees with you, asking what you’re doing here. “I’m with a few friends, we haven’t all been able to see each other much recently.”
You reach out to give him back his cigarette but he shakes his head, “It’s yours,” his eyes have a glimmer in them that’s innocent but provocative all at the same time.
“Thanks,” you say and nearly rolling your eyes at how much you probably look like your mother right now. You wouldn’t really take that as a compliment.
“You did well teaching yesterday,” he completely does a 180 on the subject, but the praise makes you smile at him. Positive reinforcement—works every time.
You thank him again, “I was actually pretty nervous.”
“I don’t think any of us would have thought that,” he pauses, examining your face closely, “Have you thought about teaching when you’re done under Seokjin?”
You shake your head, “Not really,” the cigarette is down to the butt so you throw it out, stepping on it with your white tennis shoe.
“Maybe you should,” he says it with a genuine tone it almost makes you think it’s something you should consider.
“I feel like this is you trying to take my job,” you raise your eyebrow at him and he only smirks through his laugh. Under the dim lighting, it really does excentuate how attractive he is.
“Is it that obvious?” He cocks his head to the side quickly, glancing down your front in the process. You know absolutely nothing about this man except his dad is an investment banker and he’s Seokjin’s student. Despite that, you feel too comfortable with him and you know you shouldn’t. Goddamn; you were sure you were losing it at this point.
You’re about to say something else before your phone vibrates continuously in your back pocket. You pull it out of your trousers, cursing under your breath when you see Sana’s name pull up on the screen.
“Hey! Are you still here?” You can tell she’s still inside the restaurant given the commotion in the back. She also sounds even more drunk than when you left her. As much as you love your friends, you knew that going back inside was not what you needed. Jungkook watches you intensely, but you can’t keep his gaze continuously.
“I uh,” you pause trying to think on your feet, “I actually wasn’t feeling too well so I ended up leaving.. would you kill me if I just sent you a Venmo for my food?”
“Oh! Are you okay?! Of course I don’t care! Did you get a ride home?”
You answer all of her questions in order quickly, wanting to get off the phone before she actually realized you were still there, just standing outside in the alley with your “student.”
“Text me when you make it home!” Is the last thing she says.
After you hang up, Jungkook is still looking at you curiously.
“Ditching you friends?”
“My social meter has about run out… I need to head home anyways,” you trail off, leaning back against the wall behind you.
“Do you live around here?” He mirrors your actions, leaning back and watching you. His gaze follows you like the Mona Lisa. You settle with the fact you don’t mind. His eyes look like they hold stars and you’ve always liked stargazing.
“Yeah, not too far from here,” you say.
“I’ll walk you home then.”
You furrow your eyebrows, protesting heavily, “No, no it’s all good I promise! Your friends are waiting for you.”
He’s suddenly giving you a smile where one side of his lips tug upwards before he’s biting his lip ring again. You don’t know why but you like that too.
“Lucky for you, my social meter has run out too.”
⏤
You know that having Jungkook walk you home would probably look extremely bad to someone if they knew the situation. Jeon Jungkook, senior art student for Kim Seokjin, and you, apprentice for Kim Seokjin, walking you home alone on a Thursday evening. It wasn’t that you thought he was attractive that it would look bad—that could be kept secret—more so just the power dynamic may look bad. The two of you have been talking aimlessly about random things, nothing too deep, until he says—
“How’d you get into art?” He asks as he walks beside you, about 6 inches separating you two. “I know you said your parents were artists, but why’d you follow the same path?”
It’s a question you’ve pondered yourself many times as of recent. You wonder if Jeon Jungkook can read your mind.
“I guess it’s just that,” you half-laugh, “It’s just something I naturally picked up so young and as I got older I just wanted to learn more mediums, create more, perfect the craft…” you trail off, still unsure if you’ve answered his question. He looks at you as you walk, but you’re looking forward so you don’t notice.
“What did you start with?” You know exactly what he means.
“Well like most kids I started with crayons and watercolor,” you pause and he nods in agreement, “Everything really changed for me though when I started doing realism through pencil and charcoal work when I was like twelve, which eventually moved on to painting.”
He hums like he finds this information fascinating. Even if he doesn’t, it makes you feel like you’re being heard. It’s hard for non-art friends to understand the process of moving from one thing to the next, your brain constantly trying to find something new to work with.
“Funny, you and I must have been on parallel paths,” he says it like its a joke and you end up smiling.
“Where are you from?” You turn your head up to ask him. You find his eyes already looking at you.
“Busan, just by the sea.”
“And that’s where our paths are different,” you’re nudging his arm with your elbow before you realize it and you immediately regret it, pulling away quickly. It’s a habit you have when you’re talking to someone you’re comfortable with, specifically Taehyung.
"Did you move here just for school then?" you ask him curiously.
He shakes his head, "No my family and I moved here when I was quite young, due to my dad's job," he explains.
"What do your parents think about you being an artist?"
The older you got, the less of a choice you felt like you had in terms of your career and path with your parents consistently down your throat. You'd love to know what it was like to actually choose this path of constant praise and validation.
"My mom is very easy going... she doesn't have much of an opinion about it," he pauses, moving closer to you slightly to dodge a pothole, "It's definitely not what my father would have chosen for me, but since my older brother went to school for business, I think it's lessened the blow for me," he laughs.
You decide right here that you think Jungkook's smile is probably the most beautiful you've ever seen. You don't even realize how long you've been staring at him in silence until his eyes meet yours again.
You clear your throat, “You really didn’t have to walk me home.”
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pullover, “It’s no big deal, I don’t live too far from here either.”
“Do you live alone?” You don’t know why you’re asking such personal questions.
“Yeah, just got my own place actually..” He says it with a faint smile. “Do you?”
“Yeah,” not for long. But again, you don’t mention it.
“I’ll have to come see it one day,” you’re positive he’s not even sure what he’s said. Given how he said it so nonchalantly and natural though, tells you differently. You’re stunned to speak for a moment, until you finally find your voice that comes through like a weakened child.
“I’m not sure that’s appropriate given my relationship to you,” you try to make your answer seem cool and collected. You think it comes across this way and you hope he thinks it came across that way.
“Aren’t we friends?” He muses, something hidden behind his tone.
“Are we?” You retort. What do you mean, is his next question. “We’ve just met as of last week and I don’t know much about you…”
Again, he looks at you cheekily as you turn left down the street that leads to your apartment complex.
“That can be easily changed.”
At this point, you’re sure he’s flirting with you. Flirting with his goddamn teaching apprentice assistant. You have to shoot it down—fast. You don’t like how the idea of another man flirting with you makes you feel—mainly because it’s not a negative feeling.
“I’m just up here,” you motion toward the large complex you live in. It’s a nice, private community that luckily you can afford on your apprenticeship salary. Your parents will help you from time to time which is something you can’t complain about, but for the most part, it’s just you and your gray tabby—Sushi.
“Thanks for walking me home again,” is what you say as he leads you up to the main entrance.
“No problem,” he responds as he stops walking as you continue forward up the short set of stairs. You turn around, looking down at him two steps up from him. The wind is blowing some, his hair looking soft and touchable. Tuggable, even.
“Sorry if I took you from your friends,” you don’t know why but you can’t find it in yourself to walk away from him just yet. You’re unsure the last time a stranger was this nice to you. Despite your first two crashing meetings, Jeon Jungkook seems like a genuine soul.
“Back at you,” he nods before his chest rises slowly, his gaze not leaving yours, “I enjoyed this more.”
A faint smile spreads across your lips, unable to hide it. You don’t even want to hide it. He’s been so nice to you that it makes you feel giddy on the inside. It’s reminiscent of when you had your first date with Taehyung. The single thought of him, drains all emotion from your face when you realize what you’ve just thought.
You need to leave.
“I’ll see you around,” you finally murk up the courage to dissolve this evening, “Thank you again, Jungkook.”
He holds your gaze, a glimmer in his eyes as they reflect in the street light. Definitely looks like stars.
“Anytime.”
⏤
Unlike most Fridays, this one had your mood shifted in the dumps. Straying from your normal routine, Taehyung’s flight for New York was leaving this evening. You hadn’t even seen him since last weekend, but you tried your well not to dwell too much. This was just another part of your routine together. He would be back before you knew it.
You are currently sat with a few of the students outside on a coffee break of your own, them on lunch break. There was a large section of the rooftop that was flat with tables and extravagant plants along the sides of the roof. It was probably the most peaceful and serene part of this entire side of the university.
You’re sat with Jisoo, Lisa, Yugyeom, and Jungkook around a circular table. The weather is getting so nice and the sun’s vitamin D feels too good against your skin. You’re sat sideways in the chair, your legs hanging off one side of armrests, an iced coffee balancing in your lap. Despite you being older than all the students here, a one year difference truly isn’t anything. Sometimes you still felt like you were in university when hanging out with all of them.
“How’s your exhibition pieces going Y/N?” Yugyeom is the one who asks the question. You’ve taken notice him and Jungkook have become good buddies in a short amount of time. You can feel the latter’s eyes on you, but you intentionally ignore him.
“Awful,” you don’t even attempt to sugar coat it. You know that they’ve probably heard Seokjin’s scoldings recently.
“Really? But your winter exhibition pieces were so good,” Lisa pipes in. Your stomach sinks and you wish you could curl into yourself even more.
“I thought so too,” Jungkook’s voice suddenly appears and you turn your gaze to him. He’s sat to your left, but Jisoo is in between you two.
“How’d you see them?” You don’t mean it to come off harsh, but given he’s transferred here in the middle of the semester, there’s no way he could have seen them.
“I was in Park Kihyun’s department before I switched to Seokjin’s,” he says, leaning back into his chair as he sips on what looks to be banana milk. Today he’s wearing an all black ensemble of a black t-shirt and baggy black sweatpants.
You make a noise of understanding. That makes much more sense. Park Kihyun was another highly respected artist and professor at the university. Probably even more than Kim Seokjin. He was head of the honors department of the university which is a cult of its own. You were talented as hell, but not even Kihyun would consider you for the honors program, let alone an apprenticeship. He was by far the hardest professor you ever, ever had which is why you only took one class from him. You learned your lesson fast. Though it’s quite impressive to hear Jungkook was in his department. You wonder why he switched, but you probably already know too much about Jungkook, so you leave it.
“I’m sure everything will work out Y/N,” Lisa gives you a reassuring smile from across the table.
“It’s just a funk, I’ll break out of it,” you shrug your shoulders. At this point, you’re hoping if you say it out loud enough, that the funk will indeed be broken.
More talk occurs between everyone, though Jungkook doesn’t say much. When he does speak, he contributes a funny joke here and there. He’s deliberate with what he says and you understand that. One of your better traits is that you don’t act out of pure emotion. You want what you say to matter and no get lost in translation. Perhaps another parallel between you and Jungkook.
“Y/N!” Someone bellows from behind you, “You’ve got a visitor!”
Your eyebrows furrow as you swing your legs down, to turn around to see who is your so-called visitor. You put a hand up above your brows, to close out the sun. When your vision focuses, your heart swells at the sight. It also lurches with anxiety.
“Taehyung?” You ask him as he’s approaching you with a bag of food from what looks to be your favorite sushi restaurant down the street, “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
You stand to meet him once he approaches the table. You can feel everyone’s eyes burning holes in you. Everyone here knows you have a boyfriend, having seen Taehyung many times. All except one.
“I wanted to surprise you before I left,” he sets your food down on the table before waving to everyone, “Hey guys.”
Everyone doesn’t miss a beat in greeting Taehyung before he turns back to you, pulling you in for a hug. He places a kiss on your temple gently just as you meet Jungkook’s eyes from your stance. He watches you curiously before they flick to Taehyung, his tongue playing with his lip ring.
“My coworkers and I decided to get lunch on this side of town and I wanted to bring you some,” he says while looking down at you. Of course he’s dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit and shined shoes, his hair a little slicked back today. You would love nothing more than to hop onto a plane with him to NYC, but unfortunately investment bankers don’t get plus ones on business trips.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you’re speaking in a lower register, hoping that your lunch group’s own conversations drown out yours.
“I wanted to,” he smiles, one hand squeezing your waist in reassurance, “Listen um, my trip may be a little longer than I expected,” his voice is low and deep, hesitant even.
Your heart feels like it clenches in your chest and you’re sure whatever color was in your face is gone. So this is why he wanted to come see you.
“How much longer?” You whisper, trying to keep your composure. You’re sure you can feel a certain someone’s eyes on you, but you can’t look at anyone but Taehyung.
“Maybe two weeks, max,” he says quickly and trying to remove any doubts from you. You look down at your feet for a split second before you glance back up.
“That’s okay,” you grimace, knowing you can’t control it so why is there reason to be upset? “Namjoon’s gonna be there… you guys should meet up.”
He nods with a small smile, his eyes searching yours deeply. He knows you and he knows that you’re not happy right now, but Taehyung had no choice. Work calls and work calls hard and fast. You both knew that. He gives you another temple kiss, this one a little longing.
“I love you,” he says, giving you a hug. You don’t even care to be embarrassed of PDA in front of the others. This was your boyfriend of years—you could hug him in public if you wanted.
“I love you too,” you pause, “Have a safe flight.”
Taehyung speaks to the rest of the gang for a couple moments. He’s only asking how everyone is since he recognizes everyone, even if he can’t remember everyone’s names exactly.
“I don’t think we’ve met?” Taehyung questions the dark haired boy a couple feet from him.
“I’m Jungkook,” he says, his voice slightly cold, “I just transferred into this department.”
You watch the interaction carefully, your palms sweaty and your heart rate up. You can’t pinpoint why you feel nervous like this in front of Jungkook. More specifically, in front of Jungkook with Taehyung right here. You were sure if Taehyung knew Jungkook walked you home last night he would have been thankful, but another part of you thinks it would have made him pissed, given you weren’t with him at the restaurant to begin with.
“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung smiles before glancing at his watch, “Alright, I gotta run babe. I’ll text you when I get to the airport.”
You tell him okay before he pecks you on the lips, leaving swiftly after. Jungkook looks away, a hand of his finding its way to the back of his head to scratch it awkwardly. You seem to be stuck in place, unable to sit back down until Lisa grabs your attention. As much as you appreciated the sushi, the last thing you felt like doing was eating.
As you sit down, Lisa asks if everything’s okay. You don’t miss a beat when you say yes, shrugging off your apparent sadness. Your eyes meet Jungkook’s briefly and you can tell he doesn’t see through your bullshit. You can’t tell if it makes you uncomfortable or if you’re grateful for it.
⏤
Your phone dings, prompting you to set down your pencil. You open the a text from Taehyung, smiling down at your phone. When you expand the photo, it’s a picture of Namjoon with Taehyung holding a beer out in front of him. It’s clearly from last night, given it is early morning in New York now, but still charms you. Namjoon worked as a writer for an art magazine—hence why he traveled the most of all of your friends. From Paris to NYC to Amsterdam—Namjoon has been there, done that.
You respond with a simple Miss you❤️
It’s been a few days since he left now and thankfully, he’s been pretty responsive and active on his phone. In the past, some of his work trips have been so busy there were days in which the two of you wouldn’t talk at all.
You stretch your legs out on the small sofa you have in your workspace. You grab your sketch book from your lap, tending back to what you were drawing. You liked doing pencil work in between the major pieces that would actually be submitted for galleries and exhibitions.
“You’re still here?”
A voice startles you, jumping slightly in your position. You crane your neck to the door where you find Jungkook has made his way into your space. Given you had the door open and Jungkook has become a good acquaintance to you, you don’t mind—but a knock would have been nice.
You glance down at your watch. It’s almost 8 PM, the light outside barely poking through the darkness now. You honestly hadn’t even noticed. You stayed cooped up in your work space pretty much all day.
“And you’re still here?” You retort, watching as Jungkook saunters over towards you. He looks tired, his bag looking a hundred pounds on his shoulder. You scrunch up your legs to give him a signal he can sit if he wants. You notice he has on black converse, matching the ones on your feet. You’ve always liked when guys wear converse, though you know Taehyung wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them.
He lets out a deep sigh as he plops down on the small couch. He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a yawn. You have to fight your own as you watch him.
“Long day?” You ask him.
He nods slowly, “I was nearly finished with the piece I’ve been working on but I wasn’t paying attention and ended up streaking my canvas.” he explains.
"Aren't those just happy little accidents?" you quirk an eyebrow and he lets out a deep laugh.
“Seokjin made me start over, so no," when his eyes meet yours, you catch your breath.
You scrunch your nose up, “Sounds like Seokjin,” you give him half a laugh.
“Why are you still here?”
You look around the now dimly lit room, with a shrug. You picked up a paint brush for 10 minutes four hours ago. You had no idea why you were still here.
“Lost track of time,” you shut your sketch book, stretching your arms slightly. “Is anyone else here?”
Jungkook shakes his head, “Not that I’ve seen,” he pauses, “This feels like the start to a horror movie.”
You laugh with a sputtering of your lips. Jungkook made a good point. A late Wednesday evening, two people alone in a huge university hall, pretty much all lights killed, and quiet enough to hear a pin drop. It was the perfect storm.
“As long as we’re both virgins, we should be safe right?” You raise an eyebrow at him, a joking tone to your voice. Luckily, he understands your reference as he laughs with a side smirk.
“Totally,” he licks his lips which you watch shamelessly, but quickly looking away not wanting him to see you stare. “Need a walking buddy home?” Is his next question.
As much as you should refuse, given the time and proximity of your and Jungkook’s apartment from the school, it only makes sense. It’s not long after you’ve gathered your things that you and Jungkook are locking up your studio, headed towards the direction of your apartment.
The entire walk is peaceful and comfortable. You walk with your hands shoved into your sweatpants pockets, Jungkook mirroring you, keeping a good distance between you two. You talk about random things, with each conversation flowing easier than others. You feel as if Jungkook is quickly moving from student acquaintance to actual friend. You were friends with most of the people in the classes you assisted, but you had never interacted with them as much as you had Jungkook. He just always seemed to be there—though you didn’t mind his company at all.
You’re currently laughing at something he’s said about a childhood story about him and his brother. You now know the reason for the faint scar on the left side of cheek. You would have never taken Jungkook as a competitive person, but getting to know him a little more day by day, he most definitely is.
The two of you have almost made it to your apartment complex when sudden, heavy raindrops begin to fall from the sky.
“Shit,” you mutter as you two have taken brief cover under a business awning.
“C’mon,” Jungkook encourages with a short laugh, grabbing your forearm to pull you behind him. It’s hard to keep up with his quick steps, but you manage.
While you two ended up at your complex entrance faster than you would have at your previous pace—you both are still soaked. The rain has also chilled the air, sending a shiver down your spine. Jungkook is muttering something about how Busan has always had much better weather when you get a full look at him. His hair is wet and flat to his head, but he’s pushing his fringe back to expose his forehead. His white t-shirt sticks to his chest, his silver chain grabbing the light. You gulp, a familiar stir in your tummy.
“Do you want to come up and dry your things? Or a least grab an Uber or something to get to your place?” You’re mouth is offering the words before you can think about them. Fuck—that was stupid.
As Jungkook looks down at your frame, he’s contemplating your offer, but then says—“No, no it’s okay, I’ll be fine.”
You counter, “No please, I definitely have sweatshirts big enough for you.”
He looks back out at the rain that has only seemingly got worse. He lets out an exhale before nodding, thanking you in the process.
Once you cross the threshold of your apartment, you instantly feel warmer but also more claustrophobic. This had to have been a horrible mistake. Your apartment was your safe haven—with very few people ever getting the chance to see your space. Taehyung and Sana were the only regulars in your home. You’re hyper aware glancing around the kitchen room and living room area, thanking yourself for cleaning up last night. Jungkook has already witnessed how much of a mess your art is, the last thing you need is for him to think your home is a mess too.
You excuse yourself to retrieve a sweatshirt for him and a new t-shirt for you to throw on. After you change, you nearly stop in your tracks when Jungkook is pulling the wet t-shirt off his frame. His back is to you, but god—it’s a hot back. His frame isn’t that big, but he’s got defined muscles well, everywhere.
You approach him slowly, alerting him that you have a sweatshirt for him. The two of you trade items of clothing, gaze holding anywhere but him. Luckily for him, you pretty much only bought sweatshirts double your size, so the Nirvana sweatshirt fit over his frame nicely.
“Your place is nice,” he comments as you throw his t-shirt into your dryer.
“Thanks,” you give him a smile when you walk back into your kitchen. He’s sat at one of your barstools, watching your frame intently as you rummage through a cabinet above your microwave. Your eyes widen at the sight, stomach grumbling the process. You hadn’t ate in hours and you were sure you could eat a horse at this point.
“Do you want one?” You look over your shoulder as you stand on your tip-toes to pull down an instant ramen cup.
“Was my hunger that obvious?” He laughs and you roll your eyes, grabbing him a cup too. You whip up both of your instant ramens in less than 5 minutes, handing him a pair of chopsticks when you’re finished.
As you’re about to rip open the flavor packet and squeeze it in like your normally would, Jungkook’s method has you stopping in your tracks. He’s got the flavor packet carefully tucked between his teeth, a chopstick on either side of the packet pushing out every drop of the sauce you could possibly get.
“That’s fucking genius,” you marvel at him, mouth still slightly agape. “Did you come up with that?”
He laughs, his nose scrunching up in the process, “Probably not, but I’ll pretend I did just for that reaction.”
You ask him to help you, knowing that you will now be using this ramen hack till the day you die. He carefully tears a small rip the packet for you, telling you to take the corner between your teeth. You follow suit with the chopsticks and you’re simply amazed again as you watch the flavoring all dump into the noodles—none of it wasted.
He laughs at you as you continue to rave about the genius of this ramen hack, questioning whether or not Namjoon knows about it given he’s the smartest person you know—even though he has no idea who Namjoon is. Then suddenly, Jungkook jumps slightly in the barstool, looking down at his legs.
“You okay?” You ask with concern as you put your chopsticks down.
At Jungkook’s feet is a little grey tabby cat—a little chubby, but cute as hell—staring up at him as it rubs its head against his ankle.
“I see you have a cat,” he comments, looking down at it with an endearing expression.
“Oh! Yeah,” you pause, taking a couple steps around the kitchen island to see him, “His name is Sushi…” you trail off, not believing the sight in front of you, “And he seems to like you?”
“Hi Sushi,” he says with a mouthful of noodles before he swallows. It's cute. “Does he not like people?”
“He usually just doesn’t like men,” you watch in awe as Sushi then lays down right at Jungkook’s feet, continuing to stare up at him. “He’s just gotten to where he can stand Taehyung, and I’ve had him for two years.”
You don’t know why you tense up when you mention your boyfriend. Maybe it’s because you know Jungkook probably shouldn’t be in your apartment. Maybe it’s where Jungkook’s presence makes you feel nervous, yet a little too comfortable. He doesn’t know you as a friend who’s been in a serious relationship her entire 20’s. He knows you as the friend who happens to be his teacher’s apprentice.
Jungkook though, uses this as a window of opportunity.
“How long have you two been together?” He chooses his words carefully, not wanting to come off too strong or curious—though he absolutely was. After your boyfriend had come visit you last week, he had an array of questions.
You take a deep breath in and out, leaning against the counter, “Almost five years.”
“Damn,” is what he says after a moment of silence, “That’s half a decade.”
You laugh at his comment, “Sounds longer when you put it like that.”
He finishes his ramen, “Thanks again,” he says as you take his chopsticks and stick them in the dishwasher. You then turn your back to throw away the cup. “How’d you meet him?”
You pause momentarily as you open the cabinet where your trash can resides, clearing your throat, “Through mutual friends.”
You turn around and Jungkook nods knowingly, taking another glance around your apartment. Your apartment is decorated simply, but he can read the flares of a scatter brained artist easily. You have olive green cabinets, a cream sectional sofa with mismatched colored pillows, a funky shaped coffee table that’s a pink marble, and a corner of your living room that’s a bit of a clutter with art supplies. It makes him smile inwardly, as he has a similar clutter up in his own living room.
You watch him as he studies your apartment carefully. Deep down, you hope that he likes it. After all, it wouldn’t be much longer that this space wouldn’t be yours anymore. As his eyes come back to the kitchen, something in particular catches his eye. You can pick up on it, giving the widening of his pupils and straightening of his posture.
“You got tickets Yayoi Kusama’s exhibit?” His says almost stunned. You follow his eyes over to the small bulletin board you have hung up in your kitchen. You stick important reminders and other tasks for you on it, but what Jungkook is looking at are two tickets tacked the board.
“Yeah, Taehyung got them for my birthday.”
Your heart sinks as the words leave your mouth. You couldn’t’ even imaged what Taehyung paid for the tickets, but he knew once he realized the exhibit was coming to the city, he had to get them for you. The two of you were going to go together, making an entire planned Saturday around the exhibit. Now, those plans were shot out the window given he was going to be in New York until next week.
“Shit, I can’t imagine what he paid for them,” he seems to be speaking his thoughts, which coincidentally match your own. “You’ll have to take pictures, I’ve always wanted to see it.”
As your shoulders fall, eyes looking down at your ring finger again—an awful habit you need to break.
“I’m not going anymore.”
“Wait, why not?” His voice is rushed and confused. It’s just then when your dryer dings, signaling his shirt is now done. You give him a small smile as you leave to retrieve it, hurrying back the kitchen.
“Taehyung’s still on a business trip, he won’t be back until next week,” you explain as you fold his shirt with crisp, clean lines. You slide the fabric over to him, his hand brushing yours as he grabs it hesitantly.
“You should still go,” he says, leaning on his elbows. His gaze his heavy, but he’s mesmerizing so you can’t look away.
You start to shake your head, “It’s alright,” you say with a half laugh, trying to make it seem as if it doesn’t bother you.
Jungkook perhaps regrets his next words and how fast he says them but—“I’ll go with you.”
Your mouth slightly parts, unsure of what to say. If you acted on emotions all the time, you would have jumped to say yes, of course! But as your boyfriend’s face flashes across your eyelids every time you blink, you hesitate to answer.
“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have,” he laughs, breaking the awkward tension in the room, but as you glance at the tickets again—you know you can’t say no to him.
“No, no, you’re fine,” you smile at him softly; the kind of smile that girls give Jungkook that drives him crazy. “You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Jungkook is good a reading people—which scares you. Jungkook can sense every change in people’s breath, demeanor, and language. You’re sure he could read how you fell sad thinking about not going to the exhibit, but you also didn’t want him to tag along out of pity for you.
“If you want to go, I want to,” he pauses, leaning towards you from across where you stand. “If you don’t, then I don’t,” it’s almost a challenge coming from his lips. He chews on his lips ring as he waits for your answer.
After a few moments of debating internally, “I’ll let you know,” is what you leave it at. Jungkook seems satisfied with your answer, not pressuring you any further to give in to his proposition. Jungkook goes in an Uber soon after since the rain has not given up. Sushi meows as he leaves, even allowing Jungkook to hold him for some quick cuddles. Once he’s gone, the only traces of him left are his faded scent in your sweatshirt and his number in your phone.
⏤
It’s now Saturday, you and Jungkook standing in line for Kusama’s exhibit. He met you here about thirty minutes ago and luckily both of you didn’t arrive any later. The line was moving fast, but the amount of people that’s accumulated behind you goes on for what seems like a mile.
It was quite warm today, opting to wear a white, polka dotted midi-dress and a pair of high top converse. Your hair was down and a bit messy, curls from the other day having fallen slightly. A compliment was the first thing that left Jungkook’s mouth when he saw you. You absolutely hate the bubbly feeling his gaze and words leave in your stomach. It’s reminiscent of how Taehyung left you when you first met. You know you should ignore it, but it’s so hard when he’s standing there looking like that—seemingly always saying the right things.
Today, he’s dressed casually in a pair of baggy jeans that you’ve seen him wear before, a yellow t-shirt, and a black bucket hat. You can’t help but glance down at his tattooed arm every once in a while. You think about how you’d love to hear the stories behind them all. You also think about how is pain tolerance must be insanely high, given his shirtless escapade at your place, you noticed how the tattoos traveled all the way up to his right shoulder
After both of your tickets are scanned and a map of the exhibit is given to him, he opens it, his eyes scanning over the paper quickly.
“Where should we go first?” He asks as he lean over to peak at what’s to see. Unlike most art galleries which are quiet, this one has softer music accompanying each room, making it less awkward to talk if need be.
“This one,” you point to the biggest, most famous room that you’ve heard all about. It’s a dark room, with intricate lights throughout. You hoped that pictures you’ve seen of it we’re only doing it half-justice.
He laughs a deep rumble from his chest, “Shouldn’t we do that one last?” He looks down at you with a small smirk on his face.
You furrow your eyebrows, “No, it’s the most famous one, don’t you want to see it?”
His smirk spreads to a smile, “I know that,” he pauses, “Let’s do that one last so we have something to look forward to, and maybe there won’t be as many people in there by the time we get to it.”
Okay, you think, fair point.
The two of you settle on starting at the All the Eternal l Love I Have for the Pumpkins. As soon as you walk into the room, you are completely in awe at the magnificent work. Despite it being mid spring, the “pumpkins” on display along with fall-oriented music in the background, makes you desperately wish for the cooler weather of October. Jungkook is fascinated too as his eyes only get bigger as he takes in each and every detail.
The two of you make your way around the exhibit slowly, having to wait for some of the rooms to open since the gallery is quite crowded. The next room you go into is called Dots Obsession—Love Transformed into Dots. It’s got a pink hue to it, large white balls with black dots on them.
“I think you stole her idea,” Jungkook comments as you take pictures, his eyes scanning down your dress. You flip him off, which he responds with a laugh.
Phalli’s Field is the next room. Unlike the previous rooms, this one is bright with what looks like a field of while, red-dot phallic shaped objects. Jungkook ends up taking a mirror selfie of you two in this room and you make a mental note to ask him to send it to you later.
The next one is called Love Forever, another dark room with a changing light color pattern that’s abstract in nature. This one makes you think of Taehyung and rightfully so. You know that he would have enjoyed this, given that he likes art that’s stimulating and not “boring”—his words, not yours. You snap a picture of this one for him, hoping that he’ll like it and the name.
The second to last one is called Aftermath of Obliteration of Eternity.
“Jesus,” you say after you read the name of it, “Realist much?”
Jungkook laughs as he follows you into the room. It’s dark again, with twinkling yellow colored lights filling the space. It reminds you of a fire. The yellow flickers to a slight orange shade every millisecond, giving off a summery feel. It makes you think of your childhood, when your parents would take you to the beach and roast marshmallows over an open fire. The thought makes you a little sad, knowing that those times would never come back. That was before you knew about loss of innocence and the high standards of your parents that would come.
Finally after a couple hours of diving into each room, along with reading each story behind the pieces, you reach the room that you’ve been itching to get to all day. You’re welcomed into the room and an immediate gasp leaves your lips.
“Wow,” you whisper as you take a big glance around.
“Holy shit,” Jungkook says behind you just as the door is closed. You realize that it’s just the two of you here in. He definitely made the right call about waiting.
The Souls of Million Of Light Years Away is simply breathtaking. It’s dark again, but this time with what looks like actually a million lights twinkling in all different forms of colors and shapes. Each light bounces off the mirrors and you imagine this is what being in space is like. A dark void with a million galaxies around you. It’s oddly peaceful even though you can barely see your hands in front of you or Jungkook behind you. You don’t notice, but Jungkook quickly snaps a photo of you in the light, your silhouette showing up with the millions of lights behind you. He’s smiling at his phone when you turn around, and you ask him what’s up.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head, “This is just amazing.”
You hum in agreement, not wanting to leave the room. As you find Jungkook’s eyes, another tiny gasp leaves your lips. If you weren’t confident enough before, you’re sure that his eyes are made of stars now. The light bounces off his brown, doe eyes, blending into the gallery seamlessly. He licks his lips before he asks if you’re ready to go. Hesitantly, you slowly nod, your feet heavy as you leave the room and follow him out.
When you make it back outside, it’s still light outside which makes both of your eyes sensitive since you’ve just spent a little over two hours in the dark. Since the exhibit was on the opposite side of the city, both of you opt to take the subway back towards your respectable apartments. Both of you are sat together at the back of the car, looking through your pictures again, marveling at the exhibit.
“Thanks for coming with me,” you say with a smile. You’re sitting at the window seat, your body turned to Jungkook. He’s slightly turned towards you too, one of his legs curled under his body.
“I kind of invited myself,” he chuckles, leaning onto his hand that’s support his head.
“And I accepted your invitation,” you retort, “Taehyung would have loved it,” you add, a little bit of sadness to your tone.
Jungkook watches you intently as you break away your gaze, to stare at the rumbling floor of the subway car. He’s chewing on his lip ring again, a habit he can’t break ever since he got it pierced months ago. He doesn’t know anything about your relationship with this Taehyung guy, but he senses that something is off. Anytime you’ve spoken about him, your eyes drift off and your attitude shifts. He can’t help but be more curious.
“What does Taehyung do?”
“He works in finance,” you say, “Private equity.”
Jungkook nods slowly as he receives this information, knowing exactly what you’re saying. His own parents relationship flashes in his mind and it suddenly clicks for him. Long hours in the office, holding out for the weekends—which even then aren’t guaranteed, high stress levels. That type of financial work is no joke—it takes a toll not only on the person doing it, but everyone around them. His heart suddenly feels for you and for a brief moment he feels as if he is talking to his mother.
He suddenly wonders why a person like you, would be with a guy like that. You have so much light and fireworks within you, he doesn’t know why you would subject yourself to a relationship that’s seemingly all black and white. People like his father and Taehyung see the world in black and white. You and Jungkook see the world in vibrant color.
“I’m assuming he stays quite busy then,” Jungkook’s words are calm; understanding even.
You give him a tight lipped smile before you nod, “I’m sure you know.”
His eyes study your face closely, “As long as he makes time though, it’s all that matters,” he pauses briefly, “That’s just always been the issue with my parents.”
He doesn’t know why he’s saying what he’s saying. Internally maybe he sympathizes with you? Wants to make you feel less alone? Whatever it is, he doesn’t like how your demeanor completely changes when your boyfriend is mentioned. It’s like you’re the flame of a candle and when Taehyung is mentioned, you’re blown out.
Though Jungkook’s words are sweet and genuine, you can't help but still feel bitterness towards Taehyung right now.
“Clearly makes time,” you chuckle sarcastically with an eye roll, before you realize what you’re actually saying. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be ranting to you about my boyfriend,” quickly covering your tracks with another laugh, this one lighthearted.
“Isn’t that what friends do?” He nudges your leg with his own, covering any of his own transgressions towards your boyfriend smoothly, “Listen to other friends rant about their boyfriends?”
You smile at him before looking up at the subway to car to see how much longer you have until your stop. You’ve still got 10 minutes.
“Are you telling me there’s a boyfriend I haven’t heard you rant about?” You raise a brow at him attempting to make a joke with him.
He chuckles, “I don’t discriminate,” he says pointedly, “But no, no one to complain about at the moment.”
“That’s a little surprising to me,” you tell him honestly. He makes a humming noise in question, “I mean you’re funny, talented, attractive—“ you stop yourself, your heart twisting embarrassingly at your words.
A playful smile crosses his lips, “Don’t inflate my ego too much Y/N.”
You immediately shove him playfully telling him to shut up underneath your breath, “You know what I mean though.”
His eyes look away from you as he looks to the front of the subway car. An exhale leaves his lips, shrugging his shoulders, “I dated a girl for a couple years but we broke up last semester,” he explains.
You’re friends with Jungkook, so you don’t mind asking your question. “What happened?”
He purses his lips in contemplation, his lip ring catches the reflection of the moving train, “I think I was more serious about the relationship than she was,” he clears his throat and you shuffle a little awkwardly in your seat, “I think we just wanted different things at the end of the day. It’s hard to make something like that work long term, you know?”
His words send your heart rate skyrocketing and you can’t help but ask yourself if that’s the situation you and Taehyung are in. Though you and Taehyung have voiced a life together—actions speak louder than words. You look up again. Five minutes.
You nod in response, unable to form any words.
“It’s fine though,” he says, “Everything happens for a reason.”
“Yeah, including meeting a guy who knocked me on my ass the first two times I met him,” you say jokingly, though you mean every word. You’re sure Jungkook was placed in your life for a reason; like a blossoming star in the galaxy burning bright to light up a universe.
“You actually knocked me on my ass one of those times.”
“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “That was all dramatics Jeon Jungkook, I can see right through you.”
He smirks with playful eyes, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t know… is it?” Subconsciously, you bite your lip under his gaze. It drives Jungkook nuts.
He quirks an eyebrow at you with soft eyes, “You tell me.”
His gaze his heavy and there’s palpable tension between you two as the train comes to a slow. Thank god.
“This is my stop,” you announce.
“I can walk with you if you want?” He offers, not wanting to leave you alone if you really don’t want to be alone.
You shake your head softly since it’s still light outside, “I’m alright, thank you though.”
He nods, not pushing you any farther. After the train stills fully, he stands up to let you through. Your chest brushes against his as you shimmy between him and the seats behind you. Unable to look away from him as you maneuver, you feel the tension increase with no space between you two. God, why does he have to look at you that way?
“Let me know when you get home,” he says as you get by him. You nod, waving him a final goodbye, a familiar heaviness in the bottom of your stomach.
It takes about seven minutes to reach your complex from the subway station and as you’re walking into the main lobby, your phone pings.
[Jeon Jungkook 5:23 PM] image.png
The image takes a moment to load, but a smile spreads across your face when you open it. The mirror selfie is cute as hell and it almost looks couple-ly. Jungkook is standing behind you, his arm thrown around your shoulder as you lean into him. You’re soft smiling into the camera, a peace sign in your left hand. You save the image to your camera roll immediately.
[You 5:25 PM] Thank you :) I just got home btw!
He sends a thumbs up, before another picture is sent through. This one loads faster since you’ve just walked into your apartment and his words leave you feeling like something is clogging your windpipe.
It’s a picture that you had no idea he took of you—though you can’t really see any details of yourself, it’s stunning picture. Your silhouette in the dark with the surrounding lights is simply beautiful.
[Jungkook 5:27 PM] I think you’re beautiful enough to fit into that exhibit
[You 5:27 PM] You too
Yeah, you’re fucked.
⏤
For anyone else it was just another Monday, but for you—there had been a new page turned. You have no idea what conspired in your brain from Saturday to now, nevertheless something changed. Well, there had been a couple changes since then, however you’re trying to not focus on that.
You woke up early this Monday with an itchiness to your body. You ended up going to a spin class at 6 AM, before hurrying to shower and getting to the university by 7:30. Before you could rethink your decision, you were throwing out every piece of artwork that you had finished in the last two months. A part of you was already regretting trashing the canvases as you hauled them overhead into the large dumpster bins. The major part of you felt relief and a sense of newness—for the first time in months, you felt inspired.
The only way you knew you could take advantage of this newfound creative impulse, was to rid yourself of anything holding you back. That meant getting rid of the shit pieces you thought you would submit for the exhibition.
You manically texted Sana a picture of your now empty studio and she responded immediately.
[Sana 8:17 AM] what the actual fuck did you just do
[Sana 8:17 AM] Y/N it’s literally 8 AM are you okay
You can’t help but laugh at her words as you sit in the floor of your workspace, typing a response quickly.
[You 8:18 AM] A new me has awakened… that or I’m just very sleep deprived and acting out
[Sana 8:20 AM] i think it could be the latter
[Sana 8:20 AM] where has this new me come from?
You purse your lips, trying to block out the scene from your brain.
[You 8:21 AM] My therapist lol
You know that’s not it, at least not all the way. Sure talking to her was always a highlight of your week when you did, finding a new perspective on your childhood and need for outside validation—but that was another story for a different day. A new wave of emotions—confusing, chest-tightening emotions have crawled through your veins in the last two days. Even if you know it’s so wrong—you’re holding onto them for the sake of the exhibit and your own sanity.
It’s not long after when you pick out a new, clean fresh canvas for you to work on. You set it up on one of your larger easels, facing it towards the sunlight as best as you can. You decide to take a page from Sana’s book by creating a rough sketch of what you want to eventually put on the canvas. The ideas in your head are so particular, and so—heart wrenching—you wanted to ensure you translated it well.
It takes about an hour to sketch the rough outline for the painting. You knew that painting this first piece would probably take a few days if you were consistent with it, wanting to add as much detail as possible. Realism was your speciality, but it never gets any easier. The slightest mistake can make a face, or hands, go from looking like a photograph to a cartoon character. You didn’t know what you wanted to call the piece yet, though you had a few ideas rummaging through your brain.
Seokjin is calling you in for his 11 AM sketch class which you help with regularly. As you leave the serenity of your workspace, sudden anxiety fills your body. Your hands are clammy, your throat feels as if it’s constricting on itself, and your tummy is doing flips. Seeing him is the last thing you need, but you know his schedule very well at this point.
A week ago, you wouldn’t have cared. Now, you feel as if an invisible line as been crossed.
As you step into the classroom, your mouth goes dry. Jungkook is sat in the middle of the classroom beside Lisa, both of them looking a little tired and chatting randomly.
Seokjin looks at you with a small smile, “You were here early this morning,” he comments.
You give him a smile back, hoping he doesn’t murder you after you say your next words, “I threw out my pieces.”
His face drops, all color leaving it, “You did what?” He looks stunned as you grimace at him with an apologetic look on your face. He glances down at his watch which says it’s now exactly 11 before he says under his breath, “We’ll talk about this later.”
It sounds threatening, but you know if you explain yourself well enough—he’ll let it slide. After all, he clearly wasn’t a fan of what you presented to him recently. You’ll prove to him that you’re new stuff will be ready for the exhibition, and more importantly—present a much better side of your art.
“I hope everyone had a good weekend,” Seokjin greets everyone, with a few tired responses back. “Just a reminder for all of you participating in the exhibition, your pieces will be due at the end of this month, so make sure you’re staying on top of your deadlines.”
You zone out of Seokjin’s housekeeping information for the class, letting your eyes wander around the classroom. Sketching was one of his larger classes, with students in other departments also taking the class as an elective. It was personally one of your favorite classes in undergrad. You were happy to help this class, given you felt you could actually help the students if they needed it.
A breath hitches in the back of your throat when your gaze meets Jungkook’s from the front of the classroom. He’s staring at you with purpose, though his gaze soft and curious. You hadn’t spoken to him since your last text after the art exhibition. That wasn’t the plan, but given your mind wandering to places it shouldn’t have, you felt if you did talk to him—he would see right through you.
You quickly break his eyes, unable to hold it without feeling too hot.
A fucking sex dream.
A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook.
A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate.
A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate in which you woke up in a panic, then having to use your vibrator to release the tension in your tummy.
A fucking sex dream about Jeon Jungkook who happens to be your subordinate in which you woke up in a panic, then having to use your vibrator to release the tension in your tummy—all while you have a boyfriend who’s away on a work trip.
You’re unsure if you have ever had a dream so realistic and so blissful—even with Taehyung. Every time you closed your eyes since Saturday, all you could see was Jungkook’s face buried in between your thighs, your back arching off whatever surface you resided.
You force yourself to stop thinking about it—you’re in the classroom for fucksakes. The last thing you need is for people to notice you squeezing your thighs together under the desk you’re sat.
“Y/N, are you good with that?”
“Hm?” You mumble, realizing you’ve daydreamed through whatever Seokjin just explained.
He looks annoyed as he lets out a deep breath, “Being the hand model today?”
Your eyes widen, your mouth parting as you look down at your hands. Thankfully you got a manicure last week, though the almond acrylics have already grown out some. Even though Seokjin was posing everything as a question, you knew you had no choice. Especially if you didn’t want him on your ass about throwing out your paintings, you really had no choice.
You nod slowly, Seokjin soon setting up the projector and camera for you to place your hands under.
“Take as long as you need, turn in your sketches here,” Seokjin taps the corner of the large desk you’re sat at.
You’re given free rein on how you position your hands, so you settle on something feminine and simple. You lay your left hand over your right delicately, your right palm flat against the wood. You feel a little insecure with your hands being projected as 10x the size above your head, but you relax knowing it’s just what you artists do. If you were in the students position, you would have much rather sketched your hands than the one time Seokjin made you all sketch someone’s feet one time in undergrad.
The classroom stays pretty much silent, pencils and erasers against paper the only sound radiating. Time goes by slowly as they all continue to sketch, your eyes having not really left anything in close proximity to you.
That changes when you hear a throat clearing, a tone you could pick out in a crowd.
“Do you care to move your left hand a little forward, Y/N?”
Jungkook’s voice is smooth through the silence. Instinctively, your eyes meet his again. You give him a nod as you reposition your hands slightly. It takes him a moment to get back to drawing, his gaze heavy on your eyes. You have to break away, your thighs itching for more relief. You look down at your hands, wondering how they would look around his cock. You imagine he’s thick, veiny—stop it, you idiot!
Whatever was going on in your head, it needed to be stopped and fast. You just didn’t know if you actually wanted it to.
⏤
Taehyung comes back Friday morning, giving you a call as soon as he lands. You’re finishing up the piece you started on Monday when your phone rings.
“Hi baby,” Taehyung greets you and you can hear a smile in his tone. It makes you smile in return. “Happy Friday,” he says knowingly.
“Happy Friday to you,” you respond, taking solace on your small couch for a small break. “You just land?”
“About an hour ago, just got into my ride, heading to the office,” he explains.
“You just got back from a two week trip and they’re making you go in office?” You ask him with confusion lacing your tone. You had no idea how he kept up with the demands of his job—if anything, the older you two get, you feel sorry for him. You knew he loved his job, but goddamn—it has to be too much sometimes?
“Only working a half day today,” he pauses, “When do you finish today?” He asks eagerly.
“Hmm,” you look at your watch, a nice gold piece of jewelry Taehyung actually got you a couple years ago for Christmas, “I’ll probably leave around three today.”
“I’ll come to your place then,” he says, a particularly suggestive tone to his voice. You find yourself smiling as you relax into the couch some, letting out a deep sigh. “Roses and a bottle of champagne included,” he adds.
“No need for all that,” you bite your lip in anticipation, “Unless we’re celebrating something?”
“Lots to celebrate baby,” he says, “You and I have a fancy date tomorrow.”
“Do we?” You press, chewing on some skin around your thumb nail but quickly stop, not wanting to ruin your cuticles. You then bring your left hand up, staring at your ring finger.
“Oh yes,” he says hurriedly, “Listen I’m about to go into the office, but I’ll give you more details when I come over okay? Love you.”
“I love you too,” you say before he’s ending the call. While your heart swells at the thought of “celebrating,” something, you can’t help but be a little skeptical. The rush in Taehyung’s tone shows there’s something he’s nervous about, but you take it as a good thing. Nervous about proposing? You could only hope.
The rest of the afternoon you finish up your painting, a relieved sigh coming from your lips as you sign the bottom right corner with your initials. It’s just how you imagined it—the bubbles leaving the girl’s mouth and nose as she screams under the water, her hands clawing for the surface, but the weight of a cinderblock tied to her ankle sinking her down in an abyss of dark water.
You settle on calling it Drowning for the Sake of Drowning.
⏤
As you’re gathering up your belongings to get ready to leave, you exhale in relief. You’ve kept the door to your workspace closed all week unlike usual, indicating for no one to bother you. Sana brought you lunch a couple days ago but aside from that, little to no interaction has occurred with anyone.
You’ve managed to fully avoid Jungkook this entire week after the sketching class on Monday—which is exactly what you’ve needed. The boy with the lip piercing has taken up too much space in your brain recently. You like having Jungkook as a friend, but that’s all he can ever be and until your brain can separate that and whatever feelings you’ve garnered for him over the last few weeks, avoiding him like the plague is your only solution.
Of course, nothing in your life ever goes to plan which is why you nearly knock yourself over when you run right into him as you leave your office.
“Shit, you okay? We really have to stop doing this,” He asks you with a slight laugh. It takes you a moment to nod in response as you stare up at him with parted lips. Any progress you’ve made of pushing him out of your mind, crumbling entirely. He’s in your brain again, his face in your thighs, hands gripping your hips—
“You’re leaving already?” He asks as he observes your tote bag held tight to you, the door to your space closed.
You clear your throat while simultaneously clearing your head, “Y-yeah, I finished my piece early,” you pause, debating if you should say your next sentence, but you know morally you should, “Taehyung came back today.”
Jungkook stiffens, scratching the back of his head, “Can we talk?” His voice is timid, but stern in what he wants.
If you hadn’t thought about your answer, you probably would have gladly invited him back into your workspace and god knows what would have happened.
“I can’t right now,” you say, “I’m meeting Taehyung around three,” you explain, your feet picking yourself up to brush past him. It’s close to 2:45, which means you don’t have much time to get home.
Jungkook startles you when he grabs your forearm to stop you, “Y/N, wait,” his voice is rushed and desperate as he turns his body to face you, you pressed flush against his chest. You jerk out of his grip, taking steps backwards.
“Jungkook,” you say warningly, “I can’t do this right now,” your voice is weak and unconvincing as you turn around, rushing away from him.
Jungkook decides on letting you go giving a frustrated tug on his hair as he watches your frame disappear down the hallway.
“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, kicking the closest wall to him, ignoring any pain that shoots up from his foot.
⏤
You’re standing in front of your large mirror, examining your dress to ensure it’s smooth in all the right places. It’s a silk midi-dress that’s a light sage green color complimenting your skin tone beautifully. There’s small, tasteful cutouts on the side that leads it to an open back.
“Wow baby,” Taehyung gives you a pretty smile as he enters your bedroom, “You look great.”
You’re in the process of lacing up your heels around your ankle, throwing him a small smile.
“Thank you, you look handsome.”
He’s wearing another one of his immaculately tailored suits, though he’s ditched a tie and vest, opting for a more casual look—well casual for him being that it’s a work-sponsored party.
Turns out, the big fancy date Taehyung referred to yesterday was an invite only company party at Taehyung’s boss’s, boss’s, boss’s estate. While it wasn’t a typical Saturday night for you two, with a chance to dress up with free food and booze, it was something you couldn’t say no to. (Even if you wanted to say no—you really had no choice—you were there to support Taehyung.)
“Will you help me with this?” You ask him as you hold up a necklace. He obliges, stepping towards you, he gently grabs the necklace ensuring any stray hair pieces were out of the way as he encircles to clasp it around your neck. Once he’s finished, he wraps two strong arms around your front, pulling you flesh against his front.
“You smell good,” he inhales your scent as he nuzzles into your neck, pressing his hips into your backside.
“Taehyung,” you laugh, fighting away from his grip, “Our ride is almost here,” you turn around giving him a pointed look. He pouts with a groan, but you give him a quick peck to wipe the sour look off his face.
The estate is about thirty minutes outside the city and being in such a fancy car with a driver, you already feel slightly uncomfortable. One of the reasons you were attracted to Taehyung was because of how different he was from you and your upbringing. You felt as if you desperately craved something different from what your parents had. You liked the idea of simplicity—black and white. No chaotic artsy types. However, as the car continues its drive to the fanciest suburb of the city, you can’t help but feel the differences swallowing you whole.
Taehyung’s busy on his phone seeming to be answering emails—yes, at 8 PM on a Saturday night. Your foot is tapping nervously against the floor, an uneasy feeling settling again in your tummy. Ever since Taehyung showed up at your apartment yesterday—a man of his words—with roses and champagne, something deep within you felt off. Flashes of another set of brown eyes strike across your lids each time you close them.
You obviously hadn’t had sex since Taehyung had been gone, almost a three week dry spell, and it was just… okay. You found it hard to relax the minute Taehyung initiated it, your muscles tense as he undressed you slowly wanting to make love to you after one glass of champagne. Maybe it’s where Taehyung is still keeping secret on whatever you two are supposed to be celebrating or it’s Jeon Jungkook himself—your body physically wouldn’t let you come in Taehyung’s presence. Two rounds of sex ended with you having to use your vibrator to finally get off and the third round this morning, you ending up faking an orgasm—something you haven’t done in years.
The driver is in queue for drop off service, letting you and Taehyung out as soon as he could. You eyes are marveling at the sheer size of the home. It almost makes you sick when you think about people having this much money. There’s not one, not two—but three fountains just at the front of the house. Two are positioned beside the large entrance and the third is in the middle of the circled driveway.
From what you can tell, there are a good amount of people inside already, the large windows indicating that.
“Whose house this again?” You say in awe as Taehyung grabs your hand.
“The President of our company,” he says, keeping his voice low as other people are walking in around you.
“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself when you cross the threshold, immediately greeted with flutes of champagne.
Taehyung smiles down at you as he takes a sip, “Get used to it baby,” he comments with a light-hearted tone, but you know he’s being serious. You don’t like it.
The inside of the home is just as lavish as it looks from the outside. It’s modern, with clean lines and sharp contrasts of whites, creams, browns, and blacks. The large foyer is an open concept, the house opening up in multiple ways. There’s two staircases that lead to the upstairs, corridors that lead elsewhere to the left and right, and if you continue straight, that’s where the main party seems to be. The living room is large and open, warm ambient lighting filling the space. There’s a 70’s inspired conversational pit with a large plush couch that’s the center of the room. It’s absolutely stunning.
You two haven’t been in the house for two minutes until his coworkers and others are coming up to greet Taehyung. He introduces you with a big smile, holding you by the waist as he does so. You sense you’re one of the younger ones of the groups you go around to, sometimes forgetting that Taehyung has almost four years on you. His words come naturally to him and you try your best to converse with people and their plus ones—but you find it hard, unable to find any common ground with anyone.
Taehyung is talking to one of his closet coworkers that you’ve met many times—Jaebum—before the latter’s eyes widen.
“Shit Tae, there he is,” he speaks lowly, his head directing what he’s referring to.
“Who?” You ask curiously, looking around to find someone special but everyone seems to look the same. Clean cut, nice suits, hot women and men as their dates, a few children even running around freely.
“The President,” Taehyung explains, “Shit and he’s coming over here with Minwoo,” he sounds nervous, Jaebum visibly shifting his weight in his shoes. Minwoo was Taehyung’s boss—luckily you remember that from previous work tangents.
As Minwoo and the president approaches the small group of you three, you suddenly feel a little insecure when Taehyung takes a step away from you. A large smile spreads across his face as they approach and your feet hurt a little more now that he’s not letting you lean on him. Is he ashamed of you? Why did he step away?
“Kim Taehyung, Lim Jaebum, the two greatest assets to my team,” Minwoo smiles widely as he enters your circle.
“Minwoo, how are you?” Taehyung reaches out to give him a handshake, then bowing to the President.
“Can’t complain about anything,” Minwoo has a great smile, “Who is this beautiful lady?” His eyes have gravitated to you.
“This is Y/N,” Taehyung introduces you with a nervousness to his tone, “She’s my girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet both of you,” you smile with a small bow of respect.
“These are the two I’ve heard so much about, eh?” The President speaks with a cadence that sounds familiar but you can’t place your tongue on it.
“Like I said, the very best in the Seoul office,” he smiles, “Have either of you met President Jeon?”
It’s as if your entire world shuts down instantaneously. It can’t be—there’s no way.
“I can’t say we’ve ever had the pleasure sir,” Jaebum nudges Taehyung and suddenly you have never felt more uncomfortable, more out of place, than ever.
They all speak briefly before suddenly, President Jeon’s attention is set on you. As you study his face, you feel your nightmare coming true. Finance, the eye shape, the nose—
“So what do you do Miss Y/N? Are you involved in business too?” He asks with a smile, though you’re unsure if it’s just a facade.
You’re nervous to answer, but you finally muster to shake your head, “No sir,” you start, “I’m an artist, I’m under apprenticeship with someone right now.”
His eyes suddenly light up, “Really? Which artist do you work with?” He sounds fascinated and you hate where you think this may be going.
“Kim Seokjin, I’m not sure if you know of him,” suddenly in need of a glass of something stronger than champagne.
“Do I know Kim Seokjin?” He nearly laughs, “If you walk the halls of the house I’m sure you’ll recognize some of his pieces on the walls,” he says boastfully, your nightmare coming true, “One of my sons actually goes to university where he teaches, you may know him… Jeon Jungkook?”
For whatever reason, the mention of this name catches Taehyung’s attention who is caught up in conversation with Minwoo and Jaebum. He’s listening to the original conversation in one ear, the other trained in on yours with the President.
“I don’t think I do actually,” you lie smoothly trying to hide the shakiness in your voice.
“Ah, that’s a shame, though he can be a pain in the ass sometimes so that might be a good thing,” he jokes with a laugh before turning his attention back to Taehyung and Jaebum.
When you look back up at Taehyung, he’s staring at you with an intense glare, his jaw slightly clenched. You furrow your eyebrows, asking him a silent, “what’s wrong?” He ignores it, his face relaxing back to normal when he looks at his superiors.
“Well, I truly hope that after the move you two only continue to move up in the company as quickly as you already have,” Minwoo says a you zone back into their conversation. Wait, what?
“Ah yes,” President Jeon says, “The office in Chicago is nearly finished and to be able to fill it with analysts of your caliber, it will only continue to grow this great company.”
Chicago?! Your face falls, your eyebrows furrowing as you look over at Taehyung. His body is tense, but he’s refusing to look at you. You suddenly feel dizzy and sick to your stomach, your hands clammy as if you’re going to throw up. Before Taehyung can stop you while his attention is elsewhere, you excuse yourself, attempting to find the nearest bathroom.
The house is gigantic and it doesn’t take long to find a one as you’re sure there are probably 20 on the entire property. You balance yourself on the sink, turning on the cold water water quickly. You grab a towel to wet it, carefully applying it to your chest to cool off.
Taehyung’s being moved? Is Taehyung choosing to move? When was he going to tell you this?! Is this the sole reason he asked to move in together?! But meaning in Chicago, not here?!
You needed a fucking drink. You throw the towel in a waste basket, exiting the bathroom quickly. You hold onto the wall as you walk down the hallway, looking for the nearest open bar. You manage to find one set up just outside, which overlooks a large entertainment area and pool. If you squint, in the distance you can see the lights of the city. God—you wanted to go home.
You settle for a glass of a dark red wine, sniffing it before you take a large sip. It instantly relaxes you, the alcohol moving past your tongue easily. If anything—it tastes like grape juice.
Wanting to avoid Taehyung at all costs, you mosey around the party, finding a staircase outside that leads back into the house. You slowly take the stairs, your mind racing a million miles per hour. You’re sure Taehyung has tried to call you at this point, but your phone is buried deep in your shoulder bag on purpose. You don’t think you can face him at all right now. After this glass of wine, you’ve decided you’re going to call an Uber and get the hell out of here.
As you reach the top of the stairs, you stop dead in your tracks. Right in front of you stands Jeon Jungkook. He’s bent at the waist, leaning over the railing with a wine glass in hand. His gaze was looking out into nothing but since he’s heard heels coming up stairs to his right, his head turns to find you.
He nearly drops his wine glass—which would have definitely injured someone below—or at least severely stained a shirt or two.
“Y/N?” He asks, standing up tall. Goddamnit, you think. He’s dress immaculately in a thickly-striped suit with a white button up that’s slightly undone at the top. His hair is slightly parted back off his forehead and you feel yourself spiraling.
“What are you doing here?” He asks after you’re unable to speak. After meeting Jungkook’s father, you’re definitely not surprised to see him here—but if anything, you feel as if you could break down in tears at any moment.
You realize that you’ve seemingly walked up to a balcony that enters into a large bedroom. You wonder if it’s Jungkook’s bedroom, or just a random guest balcony he’s found solace in.
“I—“ you cut yourself off, trying to keep your composure, “I’m with Taehyung,” you manage to croak out. You can see the puzzle pieces clicking together for Jungkook in his head despite the darkness surrounding you two. However, it’s not that he cares about—
“Y/N… are you okay?” He asks with genuine concern, stepping towards you slightly.
He notices the way your wine glass subtly shakes in your hand, your breathing uneven, your lips tucked away as you begin to shake your head no. He makes no time in rushing over to you steadying yourself against him.
“What happened?” He asks as his brows lace with confusion as he settles you some against the railing, feeling a worry creep into him like he’s never felt before.
You’re more even with Jungkook’s height in your heels now, your eyes bearing deep into his. His presence is calming you down and you feel safe right here. You open your mouth to speak, though nothing comes out. He’s patient and gentle with you, waiting for whenever you’re ready.
You take another sip of your wine before speaking, “I think Taehyung’s been lying to me.”
Jungkook’s face falls, “What do you mean?” He asks in a rush.
“It’s not important,” is what you settle on. You don’t know if you’re in the mood to explain anything to Jungkook—let alone if you want to explain anything.
His face goes straight, letting out a deep breath, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he pauses, stepping away from you some to lean against the rail whilst facing you. “But I’m here if you want to talk… I want you to be okay.”
His words feel like a warm hug wrapping around your heart. You lean back on your elbows, staring up at the stars. Deep breathes, you tell yourself. When you look back to him, his gaze hasn’t left you at all.
“How can I be okay in a world like this?” Your voice breaks off as you bat tears away in your eyes. “All of this,” you motion with your hands, referencing all the luxury and extravagance, wine dangerously swishing around, “Wasn’t supposed to be the plan… why does my partner of almost five years feel the need to not tell me about him moving six-thousand miles away for his fucking job,” your voice now bitter and angry as you break his eye contact.
Shit, Jungkook thinks. He bites his lip ring, contemplating his words and emotions. He hates to compare you to his mother—you’re much more of a strong-headed person than her—but it’s so reminiscent of his childhood and listening to her on the phone with her girlfriends and the arguments with his father.
“It’s only ever about work with him,” you continue, a fire burning deep within you, “Why should I have to be the one to drop everything in my life to cater to him? Have the past five years of my life been a fucking waste?” again, you have to be conscious of your center of gravity as you feel tears wanting to brim over.
“Don’t say that,” he quickly interjects, his tone soft and calm.
“Well it sure fucking feels like it Jungkook,” you spit back at him, though he remains calm and collected. “He won’t even fucking marry me yet he’ll drop everything for this job and all the fucking fake extravagance of it all.”
When you mention marriage, Jungkook is slightly taken aback. Obviously he’s picked up that your relationship has been long and serious, but there’s been no indication of thoughts of marriage. Hell, Jungkook didn’t even hear you mention Taehyung until weeks after you first met.
Your voice trembles as you speak, unable to fight your emotions anymore, "I want friendship in my love for Taehyung but I don't want just a friend," you sip on the wine slowly as Jungkook watches you closely.
"I want to be cared for, and protected, and indulged⎯⎯" you pause again, trying to make sense of your words, "I want to be chosen everyday... is that too much of me to ask?"
Jungkook shifts in his position to fully face you. He shakes his head, one of his hands brushing a piece of hair behind your ear gently.
"It's never too much to ask," he says, his words careful yet understanding. He's felt these emotions all too well himself. He chose his ex-girlfriend everyday, yet she seemingly never chose him. It's an excruciating pain when you love someone more than they love you.
“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this,” you mutter, downing the rest of your wine glass to avoid a spill.
“Y/N, you know I care about you,” he says with a careful tone. You meet his gaze again, which now is a little more harsh as if something is stirring inside him, “Can I be honest with you?” He raises a brow.
“Always,” you whisper, slightly afraid of what he’s about to say. Mirroring you, he downs the rest of his wine too for some confidence.
“I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong and out of place. I mean this is where I fucking grew up,” he lifts a hand, a laugh emitting from him, “I think you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. Y/N, you posses a talent that people can only dream of. You’re smart, and kind, and funny, and so fucking beautiful,” he pauses as he clenches his jaw, “You walk into a room and all I see is you. You radiate a spark that I can’t even begin to describe how special you are and if—“
He cuts himself off, afraid he may take it too far, but when you’re still fully attentive, he says it anyways.
“And if you marry someone like him, I’m afraid that spark will go away,” he pauses, “I know it will go away… because it happened to my mother,” his voice is barely a whisper as he finishes, him being the one to break eye contact with you. “So no, it's not too much to ask. You deserve someone who chooses you, puts you above everything—“ he cuts himself off before he can continue on, sighing deeply as he glances away from you.
You’re simply speechless as his words sink into your bones. Your breath is shaky and you can tell Jungkook thinks he’s overstepped his boundaries. You don’t think he has, but his words do feel like someone has cauterized your insides. It hurts to hear a harsh truth, but as his words sink in, you can’t help but wonder if he’s right.
“Sorry I just—“
“It’s okay,” you speak softly when you interrupt him, “I want you to know that… I think you’re special too, Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s hand that’s on the railing begins to tighten around it, his knuckles turning white as frustration pulses through his veins. You notice his tight grip and you place your own hand over his to relax him some. There’s mere inches between you two now, but it’s comforting and it feels like only you two are left in the world—the party raging down below and throughout the house drowning out. While your head is spinning from the two glasses of alcohol that you had sipped on earlier, you know that most of it comes from his intoxicating scent. He’s everywhere at all times and you think this is some sick joke manifesting itself into reality as you feel yourself leaning into him. When he says your name slow and calculated, you know that you’re a puddle in his hands, ready for all the consequences that may come with your decision. You just don’t know exactly how it could have reached this point.
“Y/N,” he says again as he’s now got you trapped between his body and the railing, your nose is brushing against his and you’ve never experienced a want so badly in your life, “We shouldn’t do this.”
Your breathing is rugged and nervous as you look into his eyes.
“I know,” you whisper back, your throat feeling like it could close up any second.
You have no idea who leans in first, but when your lips touch his—it’s a spark that might as well be made of lightening. It’s terrifying the way it took only three seconds to melt into him and get a groove. He feels like he’s been dipped in honey and you’re eating him sweet and slowly. He inhales deeply through his nose as he deepens the kiss by opening your mouth with his tongue, his lip ring slightly cold against your skin. He tastes like red wine, furthering intoxicating you against the railing. Your hands slide up his chest, tangling into his hair as you pull him flush against you.
He breaks the kiss for a moment, looking you in the eyes again for another silent question of consent. You nod quickly, missing the feeling of him on you. This time, he kisses you a bit rougher as one hand digs into your waist, the other halfway choking you. God—this is so wrong, so morally wrong—but every bone in your body is screaming yes.
You don’t think you’ve experienced anything of this magnitude in years. You feel him growing hard in front of you, which only further escalates your feelings towards him. When you drag your hand down and over his growing bulge, he breaks away quickly.
“Shit Y/N,” he breathes away grabbing your hand away from his most sensitive area, “We need to stop.”
You shake your head, never wanting this moment to end. He continues to kiss you feverishly, unable to get enough of you.
“I wanna make you feel good,” you breathe out heavily as his forehead rests against yours.
“I know baby, I do too,” his use of the word baby sends a jolt down your spine, “But we can’t.”
His voice is strained and it’s painful for him to stop whatever was about to happen. He wants nothing more than to bury his mouth in between your legs and then stuff you full of his cock thereafter—but it has to stop. Not only is your boyfriend at this party, probably looking through hell and high water to find you—but Jungkook’s father is your boyfriend’s boss. This can’t happen.
A small whine from rejection leaves your throat, but you know he’s right. Not only did you just cheat on your boyfriend of nearly five years—said boyfriend was still at the party you were his date at.
Fuck.
“Are you going to go home with him?” He asks suddenly. You honestly hadn’t thought about it since being away from Taehyung. You were still angry and frustrated with him, unsure if you even wanted to see him again tonight.
You push Jungkook away from you a little bit to shrug off your shoulder bag to retrieve your phone. To your surprise, you only have two texts and one call from Taehyung, which honestly make your heart drop. You were expecting more, but you assume that work calls and he was too busy to try and actually find you.
[Taehyung 9:02 PM] Are you okay?? Where did you go?
[Taehyung 9:37 PM] We should talk when we go home. Call me when you see this.
Jungkook watches you bite your lip nervously, feeling a bits of shame fall over your body. You meet his eye contact before saying that you should go.
“I’ll walk you out,” he offers, which you don’t refuse. You’re not sure you could find your way out of here. There’s an awkward silence between you and Jungkook as he floats through the halls of his childhood home easily. You end up recognizing two of Seokjin’s pieces on the walls and you have to roll your eyes—there’s no escaping him in your world.
You still can’t believe Jungkook grew up to be who is he when he was raised like this. Beautiful, creative, and free—all from this stuffy background when he could have easily turned out to be a nepotistic douchebag. It makes your feelings towards him only grow even deeper.
At this point, there's no trying to fight it. You've fallen for Jungkook, your kiss with him the final seal of the deal.
The two of you have reached the foyer where you first entered and you instantly spot Taehyung up near the front door talking to another one of his colleagues. You feel like you could throw up and you almost change your mind—wanting to turn around and hide with Jungkook somewhere in this mansion. But, both of you have created a mess at this point and you’re going to have to clean it up.
Taehyung’s eyes have traveled all over—looking worried—until they land on you. He looks relieved but as soon as he spots who you are walking with, he visibly tenses up.
“You should go,” you turn to Jungkook, stopping in your tracks briefly. He looks down at you with an expression you can’t read, giving you one nod before he’s turning on his heel away from you.
You don’t waste anytime looking at him not wanting Taehyung to be suspicious of anything, continuing your march to him.
“Hey—where have you been?” Taehyung’s voice is calm, a sweet smile spreading across his face when you reach him. He doesn’t bother introducing you to the other guy and his date, ending the conversation and practically dragging you outside by the hand in a tight, rough squeeze and pull.
“Taehyung you’re hurting me,” you manage to get out, Taehyung immediately dropping your hand.
“Shit,” he runs a stressed hand through his hair, “I’m sorry babe,” he grabs it kissing it gently as the driver pulls up the car, “I’ve just been worried about you—“
“Only two texts and one call worried?” You retort, an offended look crossing his face. “Or are you too worried about your impression at this fucking party to worry about me? Too worried about your move to Chicago to worry about me?” Your words are fiery hot, not caring if anyone around hears you.
His eyes narrow at you, a visible gulp in his throat.
“We’ll talk about this at home,” his own voice is seething and you’re unsure if you’ve ever heard him this angry. As the car pulls up, his eyes flicker back over to the front entrance of the house. You promptly follow them, your heart stopping when you realize Jungkook is leaning against a column at the front of his house, lighting a cigarette in the process.
As you get into the car, the last thing you see is Jungkook’s eyes in the dark and the glow of his cigarette. Taehyung gets in after you and you know for sure that you’ve made a wrong decision.
⏤
“How could you hide this from me?!” You’re voice is shaky as you watch as Taehyung stands in the kitchen of his apartment, leaning on his palms, unable to keep eye contact with you. You two hadn’t spoken once in the car on the way back to his place, but as soon as you crossed the threshold—you’d been at his throat. Rightfully so.
“Y/N I was going tell to you—“ he pauses as he looks up at you, but you interject before he can say anything else.
“When Taehyung?!” You’re fighting tears at this point, “When you got on the fucking plane to leave me here alone?!”
He makes his way over to you and the only thing you can do is step away from him—you could barely look at him right now, let alone want him to touch you. He opens his mouth to say something back, but closes it quickly, trying to think more about his words.
“I didn’t know how to Y/N,” is what he settles for, “I swear I was going to tell you soon—I-I wanted to let you know and for us to get excited and start looking at places to live!”
You feel a tear fall from your left eye and you know that you’re done for, your jaw shaking as you try to take deep breaths in and out. You begin to shake your head, unable to form sentences.
“Y-you should have t-talked to me about it first Taehyung, do you not understand that?” More tears fall down your cheeks and you brush them away roughly. He opens his mouth again but you stop him—“No Taehyung! Just shut up for two seconds!” Your outburst startles him, letting you continue, “We’ve been together for almost five years—five years Taehyung, you’ve continuously put your career over everything. Your family, friends, me—“
“I’m doing this for us Y/N!” He interrupts you which only makes you even more pissed off.
“What if I don’t want it Taehyung?!” You push back, “All I’ve ever wanted was just… you. I don’t need the fancy parties, tailored suits—all the money and status, it’s all bullshit! All I needed was you and now you’re leaving your life here, expecting me to just drop everything I’ve worked for, just for you! Do you not realize how fucking selfish that is Taehyung?!”
You can tell he’s about to cry now—a rare sight. His jaw clenches as he looks away from you, hands on his hips in frustration. When he doesn’t say anything, you take a step towards him, putting a finger to his chest.
“You’ll go halfway across the globe, that committed to your job and you won’t even fucking commit to me—after five years—you don’t want to fully commit to me, and that’s what’s fucking killing me right now Tae…” your voice trails off, a full on sob escaping your lips now.
“Baby you know that’s not true,” he rushes out, grabbing your wrist in desperation, “I love you so much, so fucking much. There’s never been anyone so perfect for me,” he chokes out.
His touch is comforting, but it feels strange. You feel like you don’t know the person standing in front of you.
You’re shaking your head slowly, “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” you pause, looking at him through watery eyes, “And this is one of those times.”
“Y/N, baby please don’t cry,” he leans down, his forehead touching yours, “We can work through this, we’ll build a good life together I promise… I just have to make this move for me, our life will be so good…”
Selfish, selfish, selfish.
Your heart feels like it’s being ripped to shreds in your chest. It’s like you’re drowning, unable to come up for air. Your eyes close firmly as you lean into him.
“Taehyung I love you so much,” you whisper, “But I’m not leaving my life here,” you pause, opening your eyes again, “I can’t do it.”
Your words feel like gunshots to your own chest, choking on your mild sobs. Taehyung is shaking his head in denial, his own emotions becoming too overwhelming.
“No, no, no baby please,” he’s begging you, pleading with you, “Don’t say that to me please,” his deep voice is so shaky you can barely understand him, “You’re breaking my heart right now.”
“So are you,” you can’t talk louder even if you wanted to. You felt your entire body being broken in half, as if a piece of you is being ripped out from under you, “I should go,” you wiped your face as you try to pull yourself away from him.
He pulls you back, “No, Y/N, please don’t do this right now.”
You fight against him, pushing yourself off of him, “I need to go home Tae.”
He doesn’t fight you anymore, watching as you gather your purse and phone off his kitchen counter. He whispers your name again as you open his front door to leave. You turn over your shoulder, tears still streaming down your cheeks.
“I love you,” his voice is weak and tired.
You nod, “I love you too.”
You find yourself sitting on the steps outside of Taehyung’s apartment building, knees to your chest as you continue to sob to yourself. Taehyung lived in one of the nicest parts of the city in one of the nicest apartment complexes, so you weren’t wary of anyone sketchy finding you on the steps. The only thing you could think about was getting out of this dress and heels—a hot shower to cry in—and curling into a warm blanket for sleep, ignoring everything that just happened.
Was this a breakup?
Should you go back upstairs?
Would you really not move with Taehyung?
So many questions are spinning in your head that you need to be distracted from. You pull out your phone, calling the one person you'd want to see right now.
⏤
You walk into the threshold of Jungkook’s apartment a little after midnight. Lucky for you, he answered on the second ring, on the way back from leaving his parents home. He’s been worried sick the entire drive back to his apartment. You’ve barely spoken a word, tears and choked sobs emitting from your lips. He made the effort to hold your hand the entire drive, which you gladly accepted. He sets down your heels at the door with his own shoes, following in behind you.
Thankfully, you’ve calmed down significantly on the drive over. You take in your environment, inhaling the familiar scent on Jungkook. His apartment is a studio and its spotless, abate a corner filled with art supplies in his living room. The entire right side of his apartment is exposed brick, his bed situated closer to the large floor to ceiling window, a large couch a few feet over, partitioned by a desk and plant. His apartment is much more modern than yours, grey and cream being the prominent color he’s chosen to utilize.
“Thank you,” you turn around to meet his eyes which have the same concerned look in them since he’s picked you up.
He nods, not wanting to press any hard questions to you just yet, “Do you want some water? Anything else?”
You nod, “Sure, water is good.”
He quickly grabs you a glass, filling it with his Brita in the fridge, handing it over to you as fast as can. It feels good as you drink it, your throat raw from all the crying and voice raising.
“Do you want me to take you home in a bit?” He asks hesitantly as he shrugs off his jacket.
“I—I was hoping I could stay…” you trail off, “I’ll take the couch,” you add quickly, “I just don’t really want to be alone right now.”
He gives you a soft smile, a small dimple forming on his cheek, “Of course, I’ll take the couch, don’t worry about it.”
Jungkook makes you feel right at home, offering you a shower and clothes. You happily take them both, turning on his shower as hot as it can go. His bathroom impresses you even more with how clean it is and you finally feel like you’re able to relax after this hellish evening. You don’t wash your hair, only scrubbing your body and makeup off, but it’s still a good shower. Jungkook’s products smell good and you like the idea of smelling like him.
Once you’re out, you quickly change into the large long sleeve t-shirt he’s giving you. The sleeves go way past your hands and it hits you around mid-thigh. It’s soft and comfy, reminding you of many nightgowns you have back at your place. He even has some body lotion in the cabinet and you run some over your legs just so you don’t wake up ashy.
You hang up your towel on the rack before heading back out into the studio space. You find Jungkook sitting on his couch, manspread slightly with his phone in one hand, a glass of wine in another. He must have just opened a bottle, given the cork and bottle are on the coffee table.
He notices you when you get close, sitting down beside him with a heavy sigh. Your mind and body are exhausted. His couch is comfy and you could fall asleep right now with him by your side. He offers you a sip of his wine, which you gladly take.
“Red or white?” You ask him curiously.
He purses his lips in contemplation before answering red, “It reminds me of grape juice,” he adds.
You give him a small smile, the universe continuing to give parallels of your and Jungkook’s lives.
After a few moments of silence and finishing the glass of wine together, Jungkook finally asks, “What happened Y/N?”
Your breath is shaky and you quickly ask him to pour another glass of wine for you two.
“I think Taehyung and I may have broken up,” you don’t believe the words as you say them yourself. Your eyes are fixated on the floor, your leg bouncing up and down to keep your composure.
“You think?” He questions further, confusion lacing his tone.
“H-he,” you pause, holding in any further tears, “He’s really moving,” you confirm from the conversation earlier, “He’s moving six-thousand miles away from here and just thought I would be okay with it,” you regain your consciousness, looking to your right into Jungkook’s eyes, “I don’t have to be okay with that, do I?”
Jungkook rests his head against the back of his couch as his eyes soften for you, “No, you don’t,” he shakes his head.
“Fuck, I’m sorry I called you, I shouldn’t—“
“Hey,” his hand finds the side of your face and you lean into his touch, “You’re my friend, you could call me anytime and I’d answer.”
You don’t know who put Jungkook into your life or why, but the timing was immaculate. He was put in your life when you seemingly needed a breath of fresh air and a new ray from the sun. You’re thankful for it.
“I’m sorry about earlier too,” you say, referring to the kiss you two shared on the small balcony.
Suddenly a playful smirk spreads on his face, “I’m not,” he says biting his lip ring. You can’t help but let out a laugh, him matching you as you both down the second glass of wine. Jungkook opens up an arm for you and you cuddle up next to him, leaning into his body and scent. You’ve done a complete 180 in the last hour, all thanks to the man to your right.
The two of you continue to talk about random things, him trying his best to make you feel better through lighthearted jokes and other things. Neither one of you mention Taehyung again which you’re grateful for. It’s not long until you find your eyes drifting to sleep, unable to keep them open any longer, you fall asleep curled into Jungkook, his head leaning on yours, wishing that he could stitch up every single wound in your heart.
⏤
You wake up the next morning pretty early, your head slightly hurting. Did you really drink that much last night? You’re warm and comfortable, the bed under you molding to your frame perfectly. When your vision finally focuses, a panicked thump of your heart occurs. Wait—you lean up on your elbows sightly looking around the apartment. Everything from last night comes rushing back into your head and you look over to your left to find Jungkook sleeping peacefully on his tummy, his face halfway buried in his pillow.
The sight makes you smile as you maneuver underneath the covers to reach over and grab a sip of water from his small nightstand. You wonder why Jungkook is in bed with you, but then as you go through every scene in your head, you briefly remember Jungkook carrying you over to his bed, eyes barely open. You then remember telling him to stay with you, that he was warm and you were cold. Of course, he couldn’t say no.
“Mm,” a noise comes from Jungkook garnering your attention. When you look over at him, he’s got one eye open looking at you, a small smile playing on his face, “Come back to bed,” he mutters.
And it’s exactly what you do. You finish the small amount of water left before you situate yourself back into his sheets. Jungkook moves onto his side, opening his arms for your frame. You press your back to his chest as he pulls you close, spooning you from behind comfortably. His scent was everywhere, he was everywhere, and before you know it, you’re falling back to sleep together.
It’s a couple hours later when you wake up again, feeling much more rested and your head not pounding anymore. Jungkook’s arm is still around your front resting just below your belly button as he holds you close. The shirt that you wear has bunched up around your hips, your bare legs touching his covered in sweatpants.
You consider yourself to be very hyper-aware of your surroundings. You always have been—taking in every detail of every moment carefully and calculated. Sometimes you use it to your advantage, sometimes you don’t. This is one of those times where you’re feeling every detail, a breath hitching in your throat.
Jungkook is half-hard behind you. Whether it’s that, or how dangerously close his hand is to your pelvic bone, there’s a jolt of lighting that pulses through your veins. You bite your lip in contemplation weighing through options in your head.
Taehyung and you may have broken up—a grey area still there and growing. Despite how you’re possessing guilt about last night, you’re not sure if the relationship can be salvaged—whether the kiss with Jungkook happened or not. You love him, have loved him for so long—but he’s leaving and you’re not going with him.
You definitely know you need to speak with him again, sooner rather than later. If you do nothing, you still have to speak with him.
Jungkook has been a ray of light in your life the past month. Ever since the friendly date at the art gallery, there’s been a tension between you two that was briefly explored last night with a simple kiss. You’ve been very self-aware of your feelings for Jungkook. You know he makes you feel inspired, seen, heard—but still, if you do nothing, you still have to talk to Taehyung.
If you do something, you’ll still have to talk to Taehyung.
But right here, right now, it’s something that you push to the back of your mind, deciding on the latter.
Feeling a little nervous, you push your hips back into Jungkook, though slightly moving in his grip to not make it too obvious. He doesn’t budge, so you try again. This time, Jungkook stirs behind you slightly, cortisol levels increasing with anxiousness.
You wait a few moments before you carefully press back against him for a third time, a heavy intake of breath right near your ear. You slightly freeze when you think he may awake now, but a bundle of excitement runs through your nerves.
When you push your ass backwards again, you feel him push himself forward—yup, most definitely awake. Jungkook’s hand that’s resting just below your belly button suddenly trails down the side of your thigh to rest just above your knee, his fingers facing inwards, gently rubbing at your exposed skin.
“Jungkook,” you breathe out heavily, desire coating his name as you say it. You look back over your shoulder to find him with his eyes still closed, but he’s biting down on his lip harshly.
“Mhm,” he mumbles, his hand now making its way back up to the inside of your thigh as you press your ass into him fully. Before he reaches where you feel yourself pooling for him, his eyes open giving you an intense stare.
He’s asking for consent, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows heavily. Instinctively, you open your legs slightly before saying, “Touch me, please.”
He hesitates before he sits up a little behind you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder gently. Finally, his hand meets your center, your nipples hardening as you let out a sigh. Two of his fingers rub in circles delicately over the fabric of your panties, blood already rushing down to your clit as he does so.
You spread your legs a little more, your left hand supporting the back of your thigh as he continues to work against you. Your panties are a flimsy thong, barely covering your lips anyways but the moment he finally moves the fabric out of the way, a shutter leaves your lips.
“Fuck,” he says, his fingers feeling at the wetness, “You’re soaked baby,” experimentally, he dips one finger in quickly and back out to run your slick over your swelling clit.
“Mhmm,” you mumble, “Fuck I need you Jungkook,” you say honestly, your breath slightly unhinged. He moves himself a little, to get a better look over his shoulder.
“Move the sheets baby,” he says with a groan from the back of his throat. You do as you're told, both of you now fully able to see when he sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt.
“Oh—“ you breathe out heavily as he slowly begins to move in and out of you.
He rubs your g-spot inside of you a few times before he begins to curl his fingers inside you. Jungkook continues to only grow harder as he fingers you—your hot slick inside making him too excited. A familiar yet naughty sound of your slick against his fingers begin to fill the room. It’s visceral and hot, leaving your body wanting more.
With your free hand, you grab one of your breasts, stimulating your nipple through the material of his shirt.
“Shit,” he says, “Let’s take this off,” he says and you quickly oblige as he pulls out his fingers to let your rid yourself of the fabric. Your tits bounce free and Jungkook swears he could come right then and there.
His fingers descend back into your cunt, this time a faster pace as he rolls you on your back some. His mouth latches over your left nipple, a content exhale coming through his nose. A hand twists into his hair as your moans continue to get louder once he begins a steady pace against your clit with his thumb. Your breathing is picking up rapidly, your back arching off the mattress as he works his way to making you come.
“Jungkook—fuck I’m gonna come,” you tell him through bated breath as his mouth works against your breast, your neck and earlobe, and finally meets your mouth hungrily.
“Come on baby,” he says into your mouth and as if on cue, your orgasm is tipped off the cliff, your face contorting as it shudders through your body.
“Ah, ah!” Your body twitches against his as he works you through your orgasm, telling you just how good you’re doing and how pretty you look. When you finally feel like your body has given everything it’s got, you lean up to crash your lips onto Jungkook’s, whose body is still behind of you as he leans over to kiss you.
With your thighs now closed, you two have no space between each other, his cock straining against his sweatpants to be free. You reach behind you, pushing his pants down, unable to wait any longer.
“Wait, wait,” he breathes heavily, his hand grabbing yours before you can fully push his sweatpants down, “Are you sure?”
A strained whine leaves your lips as you nod quickly, “I need you so bad Jungkook,” you say which is all he needs to finish taking off his pants, underwear-less, his beautiful cock springing out against his tummy. He’s bigger and thicker than you could have imagined, veiny and a pink tip the color of his lips just waiting to be sucked into you.
“I have condoms in the nightstand,” he says. You quickly reach over since it’s on your side, digging one out quickly. You tear the packet open with your teeth before you hand it over to him. With the little space you’re giving him, he’s rolling down the condom, a sharp intake of breath as he touches himself.
You’re about to roll onto your back before he stops you, “Stay on your side baby,” he instructs as he presses himself against your back again. His left hand lifts up your leg, your cunt now fully exposed to the colder air, a shiver sent down your entire body. He rubs his tip against your slit, an explicative falling from his mouth when he finally begins to push inside you.
He so big—the stretch slightly burning as he works into you. There definitely could have been more foreplay involved, but the desire for this man was too strong to wait anymore. You don’t even realize that you’re holding your breath until he’s pushed at the hilt, his pelvis against your backside fully.
“It’s okay baby, I got you,” he manages to say as he relished in your slick warmth, “God I’ve dreamed out this so much,” he says as he pulls out slowly before even slower pushing back in.
“Me too,” you breathe out truthfully as you hold his head close to your own; shit it burns, “Is it living up to your expectation?”
He licks his lips with a slight chuckle, relishing in a heavy moan you’ve just let escape.
“Turns out my imagination isn’t as good as I thought,” it’s the last thing he says before he picks up his pace inside you.
He hooks his arm under your leg to open you up even further, looking down the front of your body to watch himself go in and out of your pussy. He fills you up to the point where it’s dizzying. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm earlier, your mouth slack as he pumps himself with a good stroke.
“Fuck,” he groans heavily, “You’re so perfect baby,” his breath is hot over your neck, unable to form words yourself—whiney moans emitting from your lips.
You crane your head to look back at him, your noses brushing together before you reach up to meet your lips together. It’s a messy kiss—wet and hot as you breathe into each other’s mouths, his tongue working against yours. With your free hand, you bring it to stimulate yourself from the outside against your clit, a shudder going through your breath.
“That’s it baby, touch yourself for me,” he watches as you circle your clit, your pussy squeezing around him tightly. You already feel another orgasm approaching you, but Jungkook suddenly pulls completely out of you, leaving you breathless.
“Jungkook?” You ask as he turns you flat on your back, his lips trailing down to your pussy, his tongue meeting your center.
“Didn’t want to come yet,” he explains as he begins to eat you out as if its his last meal. His lip ring is cold against your sensitive skin. He open mouth licks, kisses, and sucks all on you and your clit. Your hips arches off the mattress, explicative falling out of your mouth. You taste sweet and Jungkook’s sure its the best he’s ever had.
As Jungkook focuses on your clit, sucking in with harsh lips you tell him you’re going to come again. Your mouth falls open when you feel yourself reach the peak of your climax again, quickly falling as you moan shamelessly loud. You’re seeing white behind your eyelids as you grip onto the pillow at your head, biting on your lip to quiet yourself. It’s no use given it’s one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. He continues to let your ride out your orgasm and it’s becoming too much. The over stimulation bringing on a familiar uncomfortable sensation as you tell him to quit. He obliges but is then lining himself up with your entrance again, entering in you flush all at once.
This time, Jungkook’s pace is fast and rough as one of his hands grip where your hip meets your torso, the other around your neck as he fights to not kiss you. As much as he loves your lips, he loves the noises coming out of them and wants you to be as loud as you can be.
“Jungkook I can’t,” everything is sensitive, a pleasurable pain pulsing through you as he slams against you relentlessly.
“Yes you can baby, come on,” he’s whining too as this point, “Fuck I’m gonna cum,” he says it like a warning, but you want nothing more for him to do just that.
“Yes, yes, yes,” whispered chants leave your lips, Jungkook’s own moans mixing with yours loudly before he releases the pressure off your neck, lips crashing down on your own. Someway, somehow, you come a third time as his pelvic bone grinds into you, a muffled scream into his mouth as you do so.
This is what sends Jungkook over the edge, his hips slamming into yours harshly as he comes into the condom, a strangled groan emitting from the back of his throat.
“Fffuck Y/N,” he stills inside of you, both of your hearts racing and sweaty in the sheets. He collapses on top of you, your arms wrapping around him protectively as he places intimate kisses along your collarbone and chest.
Your whole body is aflame and as he looks up to you, his eyes full of stars. You brush his fringe from his face slowly as the two of you kiss gently in the haze of the morning. You’re sure that Jeon Jungkook is a disguised angel fallen from heaven.
⏤
“Sit still,” Jungkook laughs as he looks up from his sketch book briefly, a lazy smile playing at his lips.
You laugh while biting your lip, “I am still!” You fight back as you rest your head in your hand, looking right at him longingly. He sets down his pencil for a moment, inhaling a small amount from the joint you two were currently sharing. You hadn’t smoked in a long time, but when Jungkook offered after having sex, you couldn’t refuse.
Both of you are a little high not just on the flower, but each other too. You don’t know what time it is or how long both of you have been laying around at his apartment since you’ve been awake. On his bed, he’s sitting criss-crossed apple sauce across from you as you lay on your side as his model. He begged to sketch you for nearly 20 minutes before you finally agreed.
You take another hit from the joint, “How’s it going?” You muse and he smirks slightly, chewing on his thumb nail as he continues to draw.
“Do you ever shut up?” He says and you flip him off deservedly so.
It’s only another 10 minutes until Jungkook proclaims he’s finished—at least for now. He says he’d add more details later when his brain was a little more clear. Though when he hands the sketch pad over to you, your eyes widen.
“Oh wow,” you marvel, “More details?” You ask in disbelief. Though the sketch was tad a messy, not perfect, it still looked exactly like you. Almost frighteningly so. You were wearing his shirt again, your hair fallen and messy after the sexcapades earlier. Even the details of your hands are immaculate despite how minuscule they are in the drawing.
“You like it?” He asks, his eyes a little wide, tone seeking validation. You give him a hazy-eyed smile, giving him a nod of approval.
“I’ll sketch you one day, to return the favor,” you say with a peaked brow as you hand him back the sketch book.
“A favor eh?” He bite his lip ring, “I had to beg you for this.”
“Exactly—I always repay for charity work,” you laugh when he rolls his eyes, moving over to your frame.
He lays on his side mirroring you as he props his head up on one of his hands. He inhales the joint once more with his tattooed hand, offering it to you once more. You shake your head, already feeling a good enough high to enjoy yourself and not go into full panic mode.
“You have so many tattoos,” you comment as your eyes trail from his hand, up his forearm into his elbow, bicep, and finally, the top of his shoulder.
“Mhm,” he mumbles, clearing the ashtray from his bed, setting it on the floor for now.
“Which one was your first?” You ask him; your curiosity cute to him.
“Hmm,” he thinks about it as he brings out his arm a little to look over each one, “I think this one,” he says, referencing to the Chinese characters on the back of his elbow, “Or maybe the ones on my hand, I don’t really remember,” he laughs, his memory falling short in this moment.
“Do they all mean something to you?”
He nods immediately, his eyes finding yours again. You ask him which one is his favorite.
“Probably this one,” he points to the orange tiger lily on the inside of his forearm, “It’s one of the ones I drew myself.” It’s detailed immaculately, with words blended in behind it, “It’s my birth flower,” he explains. You think he told you once his birthday was in September. Him being a Virgo makes sense to you.
“What does it say behind it?” You ask as your free hand grabs his arm to bring closer to your eyes so you can see the details better.
“Please love me,” he answers after a moment of watching you slowly turn his arm to marvel at all the ink. His words make you freeze though, your heart strings tugging towards him.
You smile at him shyly, “Is Jeon Jungkook a romantic?”
He smiles back at you fondly, “Only when I want to be.”
“Mhm, sure,” you mumble, your hand finding his. His is much larger than yours, covering yours protectively.
“You don’t have any tattoos?” He asks. He’s just seen you naked but his attention was exactly looking at certain places on your skin for ink.
You shake your head, “I’ve always been too scared,” you tell him honestly with a laugh.
He laughs clearly amused, “It’s not as bad as you think it is.”
You roll your eyes, “Says the person with an arm covered in them. I’d trust someone who has like one or two… they’re more likely to be truthful about the pain.”
“Well if you ever want one, I’ll go with you just so I can say I told you so,” he suddenly moves closer to your frame. He throws an arm over your waist, pulling you to him.
“Never gonna happen,” there’s a lame attempt to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. It doesn’t stay, still too short.
“I like you in my clothes,” he comments, brushing his nose against yours. He slowly closes the gap between you two. His lips are still so soft and each time he kisses you—it feels like the first.
“It’s comfy,” you say once you break away from him, your nails scratching the back of his head gently. He relishes in it like a puppy, a relax smiled on his face.
“You look better out of them though,” is his next comment which garners a giggle deep within you. One thing leads to the next and you’re having sex again. This time you’re on top of him, on your tummy, legs over his shoulders—and he makes you come each and every time. You’ve had many blissful moments in your life, but this has to be up with one of your most.
⏤
Reality hits you when Jungkook drops you off at home that evening. Whatever bliss you experienced this morning and afternoon, it all feels like a dream that didn’t happen. You make sure to feed Sushi his wet food as soon you get home, as well as clean his litter box for him. Your phone is what makes you the most anxious. You’ve got missed texts and calls from a few people. Taehyung obviously, Sana, Seokjin, and even your father.
[Taehyung Yesterday 11:13 PM] Please let me know when you get home. I love you.
[Taehyung 12:09 PM] Did you get home okay?
[Taehyung 7:21 AM] Y/N please call me, you’re worrying me.
[Taehyung 10:32 AM] Please text me when you see this. I haven’t slept all night. I love you so much.
4 Missed Calls
Your throat constricts, feeling guilty that you didn’t even have the minds to look at your phone after Jungkook picked you up. You feel sick to your stomach as you continue through your messages.
[Sana 8:23 AM] hey is everything okay?? taehyung texted me this morning and asked if I’ve heard from you
[Sana 8:26 AM] did you two get into a fight? are you home?
[Sana 1:15 PM] hello… are you alive????????
6 Missed Calls
You opt to deal with the others later, giving Sana a call back immediately. Also, just unsure of how to deal with Taehyung right now. She answers on the first ring.
“What the actual FUCK have you been up to?!” She’s screaming and you have to hold the phone away from you as she continues, “You have me worried fucking sick! Why haven’t you answered me or Taehyung! Are you out of your fucking mind!?”
“Sana please, I’m fine,” you say after she’s cooled off some, “I need you to come over as soon as you can.”
She hesitates, “Is everything okay?” She sounds worried, all malice gone in her tone.
“I don’t know,” you whisper over the phone. Now that you’re going to have to face whatever mess has been created, your heart thumps and your chest is tight. She agrees, dropping whatever she’s doing hanging up just as fast.
You decide to text Taehyung, knowing you’ve worked him up sick.
[You 4:23 PM] I’m fine. Slept a lot last night and today, ringer was off.
[You 4:24 PM] love you too
You add the second text without hesitation, despite a bubbling substance of guilt in your tummy. You know your relationship with Taehyung can’t continue. Whatever hurt he’s caused you and what you’ve done with Jungkook—it’s all down the drain. And it’s this reality that makes you break down, sliding to the floor in choked sobs.
Sana finds you this way, nearly hyperventilating as she hurries over to you.
“Y/N!” She exclaims, “Oh my god, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she kneels beside you, her arms throwing themselves around you tightly. You lean into her touch, trying to make sentences but nothing comes out. Just incoherent jumble as you choke out tear after tear.
Sana is literally the best of friends you could ever ask for. As you lay curled up on your couch, she’s fixed you a cup of hot tea and a bowl of ramen for you two with the works—pork belly, an egg, and green onions.
As she serves up your food, she’s got the most worried look on her face and you can’t blame her. You probably look horrifying—horrifying with an after sex glow.
“Babe,” she says after you begin to eat your food, “What’s going on? You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
You slurp a noodle, “Sana,” you groan, “I think I fucked up, but also Taehyung fucked up, fucked up, and I think we broke up but th—“
“Whoa whoa,” she stops you, “Broke up? W-what do you mean?” She’s utterly stunned as you relay this information.
So it’s when you tell her. Tell her everything your life has succumbed to in the last month. From meeting Jungkook—no inspiration—Taehyung putting work before you—the date with Jungkook—the fucking sex dream—to the real reason Taehyung asked to move in with you—the kiss with Jungkook, feelings for him—Jungkook’s dad being Taehyung’s main boss—everything up until after the party.
“How long has he known about the move?” Sana is angry as you tell her all this information.
“I don’t know,” you shrug, “We kind of blew up at each other last night and then I just left…”
“Shit,” she mutters, “Well that’s really fucking shitty of him to do that to you Y/N. You’ve been together too long for him not to give you a heads up about that.”
You nod as you set down your bowl of food on the coffee table, “I know and like I said I think we broke up but I’m not exactly sure and now—“ you cut yourself off, your stomach churning at the thought. She looks at your curiously as if she knows what you’re about to say will make her disappointed in you.
“What did you do?” She says slowly to brace herself.
“I wasn’t answering my phone last night because I wasn’t here.”
You can’t even look at her as you continue.
“I was with Jungkook.”
Sana doesn’t say anything as she lets your words process, all the puzzle pieces coming together in her head slowly but surely. She doesn’t look angry or confused, but her face is emotionless which is honestly scarier to you.
“You had sex with him, didn’t you?” She already knows, but she wants to hear you confirm it yourself. You nod slowly, adding in not just once—but three separate times. She runs a hand over her temple, her brain clearly working overtime.
There’s a heavy moment of silence that falls between the two of you. You don’t regret hooking up with Jungkook at all—if anything, him and his company has been the light of your life the past few weeks. You just can’t help but feel whatever grey area that Taehyung created, you separated it into black and white without him. Was that fair to him?
“So you had sex with Jungkook, kind of broken up with Taehyung after a fight, but not for sure… and you haven’t talked to Taehyung since last night?”
“Yeah…” you sigh heavily, putting your head in your hands.
“God Y/N,” she mumbles, her hand running up and down your back, “Well you for sure have to talk to Taehyung sooner than later… you have to tell him—“
“Sana—“
“Y/N you’ve dated and loved this man for five years—he deserves to know, even if you two truly were broken up,” she’s harsh with her words, but you know she’s right. “So what do you truly feel for Jungkook?”
“What do you mean?” You ask. Truthfully, you hadn’t put any thought into it since you’ve been home.
“You clearly have developed feelings for him over the last few weeks, faster than even Taehyung,” she pauses, “Do you want something out of him? Or do you think he was just there to comfort you when you needed it?”
You look up from your hands, looking at her in your peripheral, “Fuck Sana, I don’t know,” you feel tears threatening to spill over again, “I think being with Taehyung for so long, I never thought there would be another person I could actually develop feelings for, but he’s kind and gentle, he listens to me, makes me feel heard, and he’s so much like me but that also fucking terrifies me.”
“Why is that scary?”
You lean back into your couch, meeting her gaze, “I always thought I wanted someone so different from me, different than my parents relationship—and I found that and I love him so much,” your voice is strained, “But I’m not sure if different is what I actually needed.”
She puts a hand on your knee for comfort, “Can I be as honest as I can with you?” She’s a little unsure of your reaction, but as soon as you nod she gives you a reassuring squeeze, “I know that you love Taehyung and I know that it’s been hard with his job… I don’t think you should have slept with Jungkook so soon but…” she pauses, “I’m not going to try to make excuses for you but, I get it,” her words aren’t expected and your shoulders relax.
“I think someone like Jungkook was going to come into your life eventually, it just happened to be when you were with someone else… I think you’ve always been scared to be like your parents, but you’re not trapped in a box, you have free will and you’re allowed to do as you please. I don’t think you needed different either, I think you’ve always just wanted someone to give you the same amount of love you give them,” her words are so true that you feel your chest constricting again.
“I’m not going to sit here and say you crossed a boundary because I don’t know if you did, only you know that yourself… but Taehyung deserves the respect from you to let him know and you deserve someone who works in the relationship equally. I feel like this may have been unfair to Taehyung but he's also been unfair to you, for a long time now,” she adds in a breath, “I don’t think you and Taehyung can be together anymore, but I also don’t know if you should be with Jungkook right now either.”
Sana’s words cut through you like a freshly sharpened knife. She’s your best friend for a reason. She’s supposed to support and love you, but she’s also supposed to hold you accountable. You don’t even say anything else as you crawl over to her, both of you embracing in a tight hug.
“I love you,” you mumble to her, honestly coating every word.
“I love you more,” she responds. And you know she does.
⏤
It’s been almost two weeks since your shitshow of last weekend. You’ve barely interacted with anyone aside from Sana and an occasional text from your parents, asking about your final exhibition dates. You told Seokjin that you needed to work from home this week, citing a change in scenery would be stimulating. Obviously, he didn’t know it really was a ploy to keep you away from Jungkook.
You hadn’t spoken to him since sleeping with him. He reached out to you once over text, though you ignored it, needing your head clear of your demons before you faced him. As time has passed, you still don’t regret hooking up with him. The only thing you feel is shame; afraid that your advances came off in bad taste, only using him as a distraction. Luckily as you’ve come to learn, Jungkook is extremely good at reading people and when you didn’t respond to him—he never texted again. You obviously wanted space and he was going to respect that.
What you couldn’t keep running away from was Taehyung. It’s why you’re meeting him now at a park that’s not too far from your apartment. It’s middle of the day on a Thursday, which is surprising that Taehyung agreed to meet now when you reached out. You assumed that he would have been at work but it's when he shows up in casual jeans and a t-shirt, that he must not be.
You’re sitting on a park bench, dressed casually in a sweatshirt and sweat-shorts anxiously waiting for him to show face. When he comes around to sit down, he startles you slightly, but his presence brings a comfortable warmth.
“H-hi,” you say nervously, turning your frame to him. He didn’t look good—his eyes baggy and dry, lips a little chapped, and his hair a little messy.
“Hey,” is what he chooses, his own tone sounded a little off. There’s an awkward space between you two on the bench.
“How have you been?” You ask, your eyes kind of darting any and everywhere, unable to hold his gaze for too long.
His lip trembles as he sighs heavily, “Not the best,” he says honestly. You nod slowly, agreeing with him.
Somedays you’re fine. You go through your day and normal routine of spin classes and painting, cuddling Sushi, and going to bed early. Other days have been horrible—up late unable to sleep due to stress and crying, no productivity in sight. While you and Taehyung have texted over these last couple weeks checking in on each other, being in front of him right now feels like there’s a spotlight on you and you’re scared to fuck up. You haven’t been ready to talk until now, but now you’re here and going mute.
“Listen Y/N—“
“Tae—“
You speak at the same time to which you both smile at each other.
“You go first,” you offer, still feeling like you may chicken out of what you actually need to say to him.
He nods once, biting on his lip nervously, “Y/N I’ve been thinking the last couple weeks and um,” he pauses taking in a deep breath, “I realize I fucked up so bad. I thought about what you said and you’re right, I should have never assumed that you would have been okay with moving and never talking about it with you first…”
As his voice slightly weakens as he continues to talk, it only breaks your heart even more. You have to tell yourself not to cry.
“I’ve been pretty shitty to you at times and I always thought if I could give you nice things, take you out to nice dinners.. that it would somehow make up for the time we’ve lost over the years, but now I see that’s not what you needed at all.”
You now have tears streaming down your cheeks—god, if only he recognized this sooner, maybe this wouldn’t have fallen apart the way it did.
“I just love you so much and I get it if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” you watch a tear fall from his cheek, “But I just want you to know that I never intended on hiding anything from you and I’m sorry that I did. It was never my intention to hurt you and put you in a hard position, I just—fuck,” he stops, tugging on the roots of his hair. “I’m fucking sorry for everything Y/N, I just can’t move on and make this move if you hate me for the rest of your life.”
Your face falls and you chest feels like it’s cracked open. You quickly close the space between you two, placing a hand gently on his face so he would look you in the eyes.
“Taehyung I could never, ever hate you,” you tell him truthfully, “I have loved you for so long and I don’t think I’ll stop anytime soon…”
He nods in your hands, relishing in your gently grip. He doesn’t say anything else, so you take it as your time.
“I did and still do feel hurt about you keeping this from me,” you pause, dropping your hands, “I know that this had to have been a hard decision but the fact you left me out of it isn’t okay and I’m glad you recognize that… and you’re right, I never cared about the jewelry and the dinners and the flowers and wine, all I ever wanted was just you and me, against the world,” he chokes out a deep sob at your words, breaking your heart all over again.
“I just, I truly can’t leave behind what I’ve worked for and the goals I want to accomplish here,” you shake your head, “It’s just not fair to me, but that doesn’t mean I will ever hate you or stop loving you.”
He nods slowly as he takes in all of your information, his breath shakes as he breathes out.
“Taehyung,” you brace yourself, “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
He looks at you with a panicked expression as he mutters a hm?
“I lied to you too about something,” your cadence is slow as you look down, picking at a loose piece of skin on your thumb, “I didn’t go home when I left your place after our fight.”
His eyebrows deeply furrow and you can see his brain working in overtime. Taehyung’s a smart man and it doesn’t take him long to piece together what you’re saying.
“You went to his place, didn’t you? Jungkook? Seokjin’s student?” His jaw slightly clenches as he says it. You nod to confirm, feeling uncomfortable with how he's framed his words. “Jesus fucking Christ Y/N,” he suddenly stands up from the bench, another stressed pull of his hair, “We get into one fight and you run off to fuck someone who is basically your student?”
“What?” You fight back, “No—no,” you rush out, though your heart sinks given you’re lying at this very second while trying to tell the truth. “Taehyung no, he’s just a friend I swear.”
He turns back to you, eyes narrowing at you, “Can you look me in the eyes and tell me nothing happened with your fucking friend then? Is that why you lied to his father about knowing who he was?”
You stare at him with your lips slightly parted, your heart thumping deep within your chest, “We kissed,” you whisper, wincing at your words internally.
“Is that it?” He asks with a tone that’s a mix of anger and desperation.
There’s a lump in your throat and you realize that you truly are a coward and can’t tell him with words, so you do what a coward would do and shake your head. An entire new wave of shame enters your body now that you’re sat in front of Taehyung. His face falls, the line officially crossed. There’s no going back in this relationship. His jaw is unsteady as he fights whatever emotions are brewing inside him.
“I need to go,” he says looking around the empty park. He loves you, he really does—but right now he can’t look at you. Your fight may have unofficially ended things between you two, but the fact you ran to Jungkook for comfort is what breaks his heart. What did Jungkook have, that Taehyung didn’t?
“Taehyung,” you stand up trying to stop him from walking away, “Please can we—“
“No Y/N,” he says, springing away from your grip that you had on his shirt, “We can’t.”
It’s the last thing he says as he walks away. It’s feels almost a little too poetic. Not only is he leaving this city, but he’s leaving you here in it. Alone and heartbroken. Almost like how it was going to end up the entire time.
⏤
It’s another week until you make it back into the studio in person. You’ve camped away in your apartment with Sushi for long enough—Sana, Seokjin, and others worried about you and your absence. You’ve had a lot of time to reflect as you been alone. You’ve been able to gather your thoughts and understand your rights versus wrongs.
You haven’t seen or spoken to Taehyung since the other week ago in the park. You’ve attempted to call him a couple times to see if any peace can be amended, but to no avail. It’s been a weird transition for you—going from having everything in your life in order to everything blowing up in front of you so fast. Of course you’re sad, angry, frustrated, annoyed, and more. Your emotions were all over the place the last couple weeks. You had yet to feel closure with Taehyung which was killing you on the inside. You just hoped that he would eventually come around before he moved. You had no idea when he was leaving—but you needed to see him one last time before he goes.
You’ve also been reflecting on the common denominator of the blow up of your life in the last two months. Jeon Jungkook.
Jungkook came into your life full speed unafraid to crash into the brick wall in front of him. You know that you let your feelings for him get out of control but you also knew that wasn’t exactly something you could control. Consistently, he was just always there when you seemingly needed company. He says the right things, understands you, hears and listens to you. You’ve never had a connection with someone like that so quickly. However, he’s disappeared from your life almost as fast as he came in it. He checked in on your one more time after the first time, only this time you ended up responding, telling him that you were okay and just working from home. You weren’t fine, but the latter was true.
Which is why you’re shocked when you come in on Tuesday morning to find him sitting on the floor outside your studio. You look around and listen in carefully—Seokjin isn’t even here yet and you came in early on purpose. It’s been your routine to avoid people—mainly Jungkook himself. You come in around 7 AM and leave by 3 PM, sneaking out before anyone would notice you were here.
“J-Jungkook?” You ask, unable to believe that he’s here at this time.
He looks up from his phone looking a little startled. He stands quickly, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants.
“What are you doing here so early?” You ask, keeping a distance between you two. You feel a little insecure in your paint-stained denim shorts and white t-shirt that you actually slept in last night.
He opens his mouth quickly, “I just,” he pauses closing his eyes for a moment, “I just wanted to see to you. I missed you," he admits a little shyly.
Your hands go clammy, heart quickening, but you’re nodding, silently agreeing with him. He steps aside to let you unlock your studio space, the sun already bright shining in. He follows in behind you, closing the door for privacy. You set down your bag on the small couch, watching him intently as he looks around. If there’s been one positive about your absence, it’s been how much work you’ve got done.
You’ve finished approximately seven paintings in three weeks, an eight almost finished, which means you’ll finish just in time for the final exhibition next weekend. As much as you love apprenticeship life, you were more than ready for something new.
“What do you think?” You approach Jungkook from behind as he stares at the finished paintings along the wall you’ve been hanging up to dry completely.
“They’re exquisite,” he says with his mouth slightly agape, “A little sad,” he adds.
He’s staring at Drowning for the Sake of Drowning and Forward—a black and white charcoal piece of a female figure, hunched over with her face away, clearly distressed about something. You named in Forward in hopes that you can soon move past the stage of hiding and crying away alone. You don’t even realize Jungkook’s looking at you as you stare at the piece a little too long.
“I’ve been worried about you.”
You look at him when he breaks the silence, his eyes indeed looking confused, anxious, a little sad.
“I know,” you say weakly. He turns around to face you, opening his mouth to speak but you cut him off in a rush—“I’m so sorry Jungkook.”
He looks taken aback, his brows furrowing in confusion, “F-for what?”
You’re confused as to why he’s confused, “I..” You pause licking your lips since they’re dry from you picking at them nervously, “For one I’m sorry for not being responsive. I'm sorry for dragging you into my mess. I came to you when I needed comfort but I feel like it came across that I was taking advantage of you in those moments—I don’t want you think that I was just trying to sleep with to make me feel better—“
“Is that what you think?” He cuts you off, stepping towards you.
You don’t move, your feet frozen in place, “Well.. yeah?” You pause, “I don’t know I just didn’t know how to talk to you after what happened and with Taehyung I just—“
“Hey, hey,” he steps forward again, his hands grabbing the side of your face. God, his presence and touch were so comforting, “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” his voice is low and steady, “I’ve been so worried that something happened to you and I wanted to help but I knew that you wanted space. And for fucksakes, don’t ever say sorry for something like that Y/N,” he breathes out heavily and you almost feel tears spring in the corner of your eyes. You grab onto his wrists to steady yourself.
“Jungkook I just feel like my whole life has been a shitshow the past couple months and I don’t know how to fix it,” your voice falls off, unsteady and unconfident.
He shakes his head slightly, “Y/N you don’t have to ‘fix’ anything,” he says, “Life isn’t linear, we all have shitty times and we all have good times,” he pauses, “What’s important is how you deal with those things… shutting yourself off isn’t a way to deal with it,” his words almost have a humorous tone and you can’t help but chuckle to yourself. He looks at you confused again before asking what?
“You just always know what to say. It's annoying.”
He laughs to himself, his hands moving away from your face to pull you into a hug. You return it happily, forgetting how nice his body feels against yours.
“Thank you,” you mumble to him.
“Anything for you, Y/N.”
⏤
Your heels clank against the hardwood, feeling like it sounds similar to bricks being thrown into a dumpster as you feel extra sensitive to noises today. You’ve just entered the art exhibition that resides in a large gallery building downtown closer to the city. All the art has been transported over the last few days from all different departments. From Seokjin’s, to Park Kihyun’s, sculptors to oil-based paintings, to everything in between.
You had yet to find where they displayed your artwork, going through the gallery slowly by yourself taking in everyone’s work one at a time. Again, your steps are heavy, anxiety rushing through your veins. This was always one of the worst parts of being an artists—displaying your pieces for everyone to critique and pick apart. Unlike the student’s art that was being displayed, you weren’t getting a grade but you still felt tremendous pressure for people to like your work. Art was all about getting people to like what you put out, which was much easier said than done.
You run into your usual lunch crew; Lisa, Jisoo, and Yugyeom—sans Jungkook. You wondered where he was.
“Y/N,” Lisa gives you a quick hug, “When did you get here?”
“Like, ten minutes ago,” you tell her.
“Have you seen your pieces?” She says quickly, almost too quickly.
“No, why?” You respond in panic, “Did something happen to them?”
Jisoo then laughs, “Nothing happened… they’re amazing. There was some man who was asking around for you, seemed to be important.”
Your shoulders relax at the word of nothing bad happening to your pieces, but more anxiety creeping into your skin about the latter information. You let them know you’ll go check everything out soon, still wishing to look around before you found your own. You had looked at them enough the last few weeks—you needed a change of scenery.
You walk into a smaller room where a particular name catches your eye. Jungkook’s artwork is in display with Yugyeom's. You wonder if they asked for that on purpose, a smile growing on your face as you stare at his work.
Jungkook’s art works similar to yours—clean lines, realistic, the only difference is he utilizes a lot more color than you ever would. It matches him well though—he’s vibrant and commands attention in any room he walks into. One piece in particular catches your eye—Grapejuice Blues.
It’s white sheets—similar to the ones on his bed—and a large, dark rouge staining them as a wine glass lays in the background. It’s almost painfully simple but it could easily be mistaken for a photograph. The familiar stir in your tummy occurs and you have to fight a smile.
When you leave the alcove where Jungkook’s works reside, you decide to make it your mission to find your work. It doesn’t take you much longer, though you stop dead in your tracks when you do. Is this who Jisoo was talking about?
You’d recognize his frame and head of hair through a crowd of hundreds. But there isn’t a crowd of hundreds and it’s definitely him—his tailored pants and dress shirt gives it away. He’s also holding what looks like a bundle of flowers. Your heart swells as you approach him.
“Taehyung?” You ask. He turns around immediately, his warm eyes meeting yours, “What are you doing here?”
He smiles slightly, looking down awkwardly at the flowers in his arms. He hands them over to you, “It’s been in my Google calendar for months, I didn’t want to miss it.”
You heart thumps, but you’re a little confused, “Aren’t you mad at me?”
He laughs, pulling you into a hug. You gladly return it, not caring if the flowers between you are squished a little.
“Thank you for coming,” you tell him genuinely. It feels good to see him.
“Of course,” his voice is deep as you pull away from him, “I was hoping I could run into you so I could give you this,” out of his pant pocket, he pulls out a folded up piece of paper. Your brows furrow as he holds it out for you to grab.
“What’s this?” You ask him, taking it hesitantly. You start to unfold it before he stops you.
“Don’t read it here—that’s my only request,” he laughs, his boxy smile peaking through a little bit. “Listen I have to run into the office this evening so I gotta go, but I’m glad I could see your work. It’s beautiful.”
“Wait Taehyung,” you speak quickly, “I’m confused—when are you moving? We should talk…”
He gives you a straight smile and you can tell he’s holding himself together for public. You are too.
“Everything’s in there. We can talk soon,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek delicately, “I’ll love you forever.”
He gets lost in the crowd as he walks away from you and whatever type of note he’s written you feels a thousand pounds in your hand. Your feet are about to pick you up to leave, giving it feels like you're heart was a glass castle and it was completely shattered. You suddenly felt all too claustrophobic surrounded by the art and people.
You turn on your heel but this time you nearly run smack dab into someone. It’s a man who is dressed nicely but also has a touch of that specific art touch to him.
“Are you Miss Y/N?” He says as you take a step back from him. You’re staring up at this random man, unable to find your voice.
“Uh,” you pause, “Y-yeah, w-who are you?” Your throat is dry. You need to get out of here.
“I’m Min Yoongi,” he speaks confidently, “I’m an art curator at a contemporary gallery in Gangnam, I was hoping to get your information to set up an interview. I was recommended to take a look at your work, but obviously I needed to see before I jumped to any type of deal. But I think your pieces are superb and I think I have some clients who would be interested in your work.”
Your eyes widen, your breath taken away from you. And there it is again—life not being fucking linear. Two seconds again you felt on the verge of a panic attack, paper heavy in your hand and now you’ve forgotten about any of that as you speak to this Min Yoongi.
Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was observing the interaction from a distance, out of sight from either one of you. You look angelic in the white dress on your frame; it’s short, fitted in all the right places with an off the shoulder bodice. While Jungkook necessarily didn’t fit into the mold of his family, he was lucky to be apart of the Jeon family name. His father had connections everywhere. Jungkook wanted to help you as much as he could since he knew that if any apprentice here deserved an art career, it was you.
Jungkook is currently staring at the final piece you had finished last week, a small smile growing on his face as he takes it in. It’s an odd, more abstract piece from you. The use of color was what really struck Jungkook as different for you. It’s a human heart shaped out of orange tiger lilies. Given his dress shirt was rolled up on his forearms, he looks down at his own tiger lily tattoo and he swears his heart leaps from his chest. He couldn’t put a label on what the relationship with you was, but he knew that you were special to him.
When he glances back to where you stood with Min Yoongi, you’re gone. His eyebrows furrow, taking once last glance at your pieces before his feet carry him to find you.
You’ve found solace outside, the warm air comforting on your exposed arms and legs. The flowers he gave you are beside you on the ledge you jumped up on to sit. Your hands shake as you read through Taehyung’s letter; fighting tears, smiling, and laughing through it all.
It takes Jungkook about 10 minutes to find you and when he does, he can tell you’re upset. He hesitates going up to you, but you look like you needed a hug. You don’t even notice Jungkook approach you as you’re sat with your head in your hands, the letter read and laying on the other side of you. You’re not crying—thank god—but you’re feeling an overwhelming amount of emotions running through your veins right now.
You're excited about the prospect of working for a gallery, wondering who exactly recommended Min Yoongi to come to the exhibit and look at your pieces. You're sad at the fact yours and Taehyung's relationship has come to its finality. It's weird having such contrasting emotions going through you, each one fighting for your attention.
When you see a pair of black dress shoes appear in your vision, you slowly look up to find Jungkook looking at you longingly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. He takes your breath away in his black dress shirt and checkered cigarette pants.
“Hey,” he says simply. You don’t even think as you pull him by his arm into a bear hug as he settles between your legs. He laughs as you do so, hugging you back tightly, resting his head on your exposed shoulder, “You okay?”
You shake your head, “Yes,” you say but then, “No—yes, I don’t know,” you groan into him, inhaling his scent. Your hands meet behind him around his waist as you squeeze him tightly.
Taehyung’s not mad at you.
Taehyung loves you. And he always will.
He says he hasn’t reached a place of full forgiveness yet.
But he knows that you have a right to be mad at him.
He’s moving at the end of summer.
He wants you to reach out with anything you need.
He acknowledges that you two have grown into differences over the last five years.
But he will always love you and he’s grateful for you.
You know you’ll always love him too.
You pull away from Jungkook slightly, thankful for his presence right now. He’s the best drug you've ever tried—warm and comforting—addicting and easy to get lost into.
“Your work is beautiful Jungkook,” you tell him honestly, trying to get your mind off of the things bothering you. Today was a happy day.
“Not as beautiful as you,” he responds slyly with a nose scrunch and you pinch his butt, “Quit it,” he laughs, pulling you off the ledge you’re sat on.
“What are you doing?” You whine as he pulls you to him, his hands resting on your waist.
“We're gonna dance,” he says simply as he pulls you flush against him.
“Why?” You laugh as he begins to sway, your hands finding their way around his neck.
“To make you feel better.”
“How do you know I don’t feel good?” You fight back.
“Because I know you,” he pauses, “And I know what you look like when you’re happy and when you’re sad.”
You feel your face get hot, a small smile growing on your face, “Well then what else do you know about me?”
“Hmm,” he muses, “I know what you sound like when you like something,” he raises an eyebrow at you as you two continue to sway with no music or anything. You roll your eyes, a laugh emitting from you. “There it is,” he pinches your side as you swat away his hand with another laugh. He loves your laugh.
“Stop it,” you tell him, stepping away from him some, your hands interlaced with his in between your bodies.
“Feel better?”
You shrug, “A little,” you say, studying his face. His expression doesn’t seem satisfied so you say as he scrunches his nose, “Yes, I do. God you’re so impossible.”
He chuckles back at you, kissing your knuckles sweetly, “What are friends for?”
“You’re really running this ‘friend’ thing into the ground aren’t you?”
He freezes for a moment, chewing on his lip ring, “Only until you’re ready.”
You mirror him as he readjusts your hands in his, “Ready for what?”
He studies your face intently, a small smile growing across his features, "You know."
You think you know exactly what he means. You tell him you do and he smiles in content, placing a kiss on your forehead through his smile. If there's one thing you're for sure about, it's that Jeon Jungkook is indeed, very special to you too.
#surpise! posted early👻#i hope you all enjoy💕#jungkook#jjk#jeon jungkook#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook x oc#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook scenario#jungkook oneshot#jungkook au#artist jungkook#bts#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#bts jungkook#jungkook fic recs#kpop#kpop fanfic#btswritingcafe
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["Meth gave me a boundless energy and a feeling that I could do anything. Take a child of parents with their own substance abuse issues, sprinkle that with gender confusion, and you have a recipe for a speed freak. I was unconsciously numbing the pain for which I had no words. Looking back, I believe I was literally androgynizing my body with meth, which is the ultimate appetite killer, stripping my body of fat and thereby taking my breasts along with it. Plus, with each snort or injection my dopamine skyrocketed to twelve hundred times its normal level. To put this in context, cocaine only raises the user's dopamine by 300 percent. What this means is that I got skinny and felt a thousand times more euphoric and my body began to align with my self image. I got thinner and thinner and my breasts disappeared! My jaw and cheekbones emerged, and I couldn't believe the person I saw looking back at me in the mirror. I saw a man, not the boy of my childhood. And everyone else began to see a man too. I started playing with facial hair at Halloween and began packing a sock on occasion.
That was the cool part. But life on meth was completely destructive and unsustainable. I stayed awake for days at a time in a drug-induced psychosis in order to avoid the real discomfort lurking just below the surface. I studied reincarnation in the wee hours of the night as a way to make sense of the jarring truth: that my fantasy life and body identity were solidly fixed on the male side of this gender system I was working with, but my genitals told another story.
(...) Once back home in Texas, I slowed down just enough to realize I felt like shit. It was 1986, the year that HIV was named HIV, and I knew I needed to get checked out. Remarkably I dodged that bullet; instead I was diagnosed with a dangerous case of Non-A, Non-B Hepatitis, which is now called Hepatitis C. Even after this diagnosis, I had some fits and starts towards sobriety. By then I had been using meth for weight control for years. Getting clean off of speed "gifted" me with eight pounds of breasts. I was miserable. Of course the addict brain wants to turn to something at that point to numb the pain. Alcohol would be a bad choice given the liver is compromised with Hep C. But denial had never let me down, so alcohol it was. Since I had eaten only sporadically over the past five years, the pounds began to add up. With every bra size increase, I felt increasingly miserable in my body. I assumed my misery was related to the weight gain. I wore very tight one-piece gymnastic leotards in an attempt to flatten my chest. This only managed to push them down and take the breast shape away, making me look like my belly was ten times bigger. After much begging, my reluctant mother paid for a partial breast reduction. I went to Dr. Wong at the Rosenberg Clinic. Unbeknownst to me, I had ironically walked into the oldest gender clinic in the south, but my visit left me none the wiser about my identity.
I didn't realize that gender dysphoria was a thing until the mid-1990s, when I moved to Austin and met a queer artist named Venae Rodriguez. Venae had made a short film called Male Identified. As we talked about our childhoods and compared notes, I began to feel like parts of myself, formerly buried, were beginning to emerge. We became closer friends, and the next year we took a trip to San Francisco Pride. At the Dyke March, I met my first out trans man in Dolores Park. He talked about how he had always marched, but now he had to stay back during the march itself. I was taken by the physical transformation, and the power of testosterone. I felt excited to meet someone who identified similarly but had taken another path towards physical transition.
It was around this time that I was finishing my master's in social work. The influence of Venae and the chance meeting with the trans man at the march had left me hungry to know more. I began to learn about transgender communities, trans men, and the whole diverse spectrum of gender identities. I read everything I could find on the subject and plunged to the depths of my psychological pain in therapy. I came out as transgender in my classes at school and found this to be very exciting. I had a name for my experience, and I felt the power that comes with language. I looked around and found no therapy resources for transfolks in Austin, so I decided to learn as much as I could and eventually start a private practice that would serve the community. It was life changing to read Leslie Feinberg's Stone Butch Blues, Roxxie's Dagger: On Butch Women, Riki Anne Wilchin's Read My Lips, and Kate Bornstein's Gender Outlaw. As an emerging caregiver, it was helpful to find True Selves: Understanding Transsexualism— For Families, Friends, Coworkers, and Helping Professionals, and Randi Ettner's Gender Loving Care. I also found the crown jewel for trans men at the time: Body Alchemy: Transsexual Portraits by Loren Cameron. Across town at the University of Texas, Sandy Stone herself handed me a copy of the movie Gendernauts so I could show it to my transmasculine support group."]
CK Combs, from What Am I?, from Non-binary: Memoirs of Gender and Identity, edited by Micah Rajunov and Scott Duane, Columbia University Press, 2019
#ck combs#gender stuff#trans literature#lesbian literature#book recs tag#cw medical#cw self harm#wasteland radio
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My Larrikin headcanons because all the cool kids have done it so I'm gonna do it too (long post ahead. Like Really long)
-Vitakinetic, specializes in emergency healing, although I am constantly on the edge of making him a teleporter instead. My friend @theathefool suggested the idea of him being ambidextrous and I honestly think that's a great idea. Actually they deserve like 50% of the credit for these headcanons
-Grew up in a mortal family on a farm and had several siblings. As a teenager he started craving adventure and left on amicable terms to join a circus as a trapeze artist/juggler
-He discovered his magic during his time at the circus. He also learned about the slower aging of sorcerers, which was quite a shock considering he had very few years left to visit his family before they'd start wondering why he wasn't aging
-He kept writing letters though, telling heavily toned down stories of his adventures and the people he'd met. He ended up faking his death in his late 90s, after his siblings and parents had all died
-It didn't take much effort physically, he asked someone with different handwriting to write the letter about him having been lost at sea or fallen into a volcano. It was a very hard day for him mentally though. It was like letting go of the final pieces of his family and mortal life
-When he was about 20 he joined the sanctuary in order to be able to help more people
-Has been with the sanctuary since before the Dead Men were formed, but didn't see much combat before joining them because of how valuable he was as a healer
-Actually one of the oldest of the dead men, like he's the 3rd or 4th oldest
-Undiagnosed ADHD
-Genderfluid, is fine with most pronouns on most days
-Also he's chimeristic, as in the genetic mutation chimera, not the mythological creature chimera. It's an odd hc I know, it stems from me making her catified design a chimera. This isn't really visible in any way other than parts of his hair being brown instead of ginger and small patches of his skin being ever so slightly darker
-About 6'0 and pretty strong too, like not to the same degree as Ghastly or Anton but like strong enough to pick up and carry any of his squadmates if needed. Even Ghastly or Anton
-They're a himbo basically, except they're actually pretty streetsmart, they just choose to participate in shenanigans because it's fun and gets a laugh out of people
-That's one of the reasons he and Dexter get along so well, both of them have a sharp head on their shoulders but commit tomfoolery because it's fun
-He just likes making people laugh
- She works with Kenspeckle Grouse during the war, and surprisingly enough they get along very well!
-Of course Kenspeckle acts grumpy about Larrikin's antics, but the sanctuary medbay simply wouldn't be the same without them to lighten the mood
- Their weapon of choice is a pair of daggers, and he will not hesitate to use them if someone he cares about is in danger
-Very optimistic and friendly, but not naive. They've seen a lot of stuff, and staying positive is very much a deliberate choice for them
-Acts quickly and almost impulsively, especially in high-stakes situations. They often put themselves in harm's way to help others without even completely realizing it until some time later. Basically it takes a while for the self-preservation part of his brain to catch up
-Ghastly thinks he's the bees knees because he'll wear literally anything which gives him room to experiment. He'll be like "can you model this rococo-esque punk rock inspired dress for me? I need to see how it looks on a real person" and Larrikin will be like "oh hell yeah!!" without a fail
-Also Ghastly's the one who always notices when his nd friends are under/overstimulated and suggests something that could make them feel better. For Larrikin it's some sort of physical activity or healing someone
-Actually everyone likes Larrikin
-He and Erskine both have massive levels of theatre kid energy, they get along well but their theatrics are quite the experience for bystanders
-Just to be clear I'm speaking of an "all the dead men go to therapy and the betrayal does not happen" au. If the betrayal happened or even *almost* happened, Larrikin would hate Erskine's guts. As I said, he takes bad things happening to his friends very seriously
-Larrikin and Skulduggery are not allowed to go on missions with just the two of them. It's like tossing a molotov cocktail in a gasoline container.
- Larrikin saved Hopeless's life back in the late 1800's (when they would've otherwise died) and Hopeless saves Larrikin's life during the confrontation with Serpine. Every once in a while during the war Larrikin would also convince Hopeless to help him pull off some sort of good-natured prank with their shapeshifting
-He's also friends with Saracen (spoiler alert: all of the dead men get along :D) and also very thankful for his ability to know things, like he can literally detect most acute injuries on a person. He's also the one that kept dragging Anton to get medical help instead of trying to deal with injuries on his own, and is therefore the reason for how Larrikin and Anton first started talking
-Honestly I could write a whole separate post on Larrikin and Anton. They weren't immediate friends, Larrikin would initiate conversations with him before the Dead Men were formed, and Anton would answer briefly and be polite but still super closed off
-After the DM are formed they start slowly becoming friends, not just because all of the DM end up getting more serious injuries and having to come to the medbay more frequently, but also because Larrikin's the one who volunteers to substitute for any member that can't make it to a mission
-During those missions they end up spending more time together because Larrikin is very adamant about making sure Anton's doing alright whenever he's used his gist and keeping him company whenever he can
-Anton's hesitant about letting anyone be that close to him, especially when he's in a weak state. He likes the company (although he's hesitant to admit it) and not being alone with his thoughts, but he has that mindset of always having to keep his guard up and not showing any sign of 'weakness' and such. After a while he starts warming up to the idea that maybe he can't/shouldn't/doesn't have to deal with everything alone, though
-And that maybe sometimes when you talk about your feelings and weaknesses they won't be used against you
-And of course whenever Larrikin's injured Anton's the one to keep him company and try his best to comfort him. He might be awkward but he's got a comforting presence and, like Larrikin, finds taking care of people very important
-He also helps Larrikin with accepting that they're allowed to be upset about things too and there's nothing wrong with not being able to look at the bright side of things every time
-Actually by the time Larrikin sends the final letter to his family they've already known each other for 30+ years, so Anton might have been the one to write it for him. Either him or Kenspeckle
-Seriously these two bring out the best in each other once they get past the initial awkwardness
-The birthday incident marks the moment where 1. They actually become really close and 2. Larrikin realizes that they actually like Anton romantically
-It's one of those cases where everyone else knew it before they did. Even Corrival knew. Meritorious probably knew. Hell, Serpine was probably aware of it
-The point they actually confess their feelings for each other is after the Corpse Attack in Denmark is well and truly over. It's very heartfelt and they've both just almost died
-After the war ends they end up establishing the Midnight Hotel. They plan it together after hearing of people like Serpine getting off the hook
-Because the hotel travels around he also has the opportunity to help lots of people
-They get to have a happy and relatively normal married couple life with lots of cats
-Oh yeah they get married at some point. They decide who walks down the aisle based on who has a living parental figure. That would be Larrikin, who asks Kenspeckle to do it. He can't even try to act grumpy about it because he is so moved by being asked to do it and probably cries the whole ceremony
-The Dead Men are the best men
-Whenever mortals stumble into the hotel they pretend that it's a ghost hotel by being vague and mysterious but insisting on them leaving within 12 hours
-Larrikin goes all out on it, he coughs fake blood into a handkerchief and then goes 'oh don't worry, it's not contagious. Not anymore, at least'. Anton's more vague about it but has a full backstory for his character made up in his head
-They also get the chance to wear their old clothes and speak in an old fashioned manner. Sometimes guests join in as well. Larrikin gets to release their inner theatre kid
-He also probably hosts some sort of events for the hotel, like ghost story night etc
-Also Larrikin and Val would get along great, Larrikin would remind her to spend as much time with her mortal family and just doing normal teenager stuff
-Oh and Larrikin and Tanith would be besties. I do not take criticism. I mean seriously think about it! They've both got similar chaotic vibes, they both specialize in bladed weapons, and I could keep going and going with similarities
#skulduggery pleasant#larrikin sp#larrikin skulduggery pleasant#larrikin fetter#anton shudder#the dead men#saracen rue#ghastly bespoke#erskine ravel#dexter vex#hopeless skulduggery pleasant#tanith low#valkyrie cain#kenspeckle grouse#shudderkin#i think i got all of the character tags? like for every character mentioned#if i didn't then yes i did <3#text post#not art#headcanon#i don't even want to think about the word count on this monstrosity#also yes I'm projecting my ADHD traits onto him#what about it?#if I ever do an anton hc list i'll project my autistic traits onto him#nobody can stop me
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INVISOBANG - Ectoplasmic Educational Employment (Quirky Danny Fenton The Teacher? More Likely Than You Think!)
And the stellar artists that made art for this little fic o’ mine!:
lanaecomics: ART CHECK IT OUT
AND
Trash Shipper; ART CHECK IT OUT
---
Danny isn’t exactly a fresh graduate with a lot of options after Highschool. College wasn’t happening and where the Hell was going to hire him? Mr. Lancer and CasperHigh apparently. As what? As a teacher. A teacher on the subject of ghosts, because of course everything in Danny’s life will be ghost-related. But maybe ghosts, ghost society at large, and even the goddamn Observants will actually think this is, like, a good? thing. He also, apparently, doesn’t suck at it. He’s still weird, eccentric, partly dead, and goddamn eighteen though
Prologue: Employing The Unemployable
Danny never really expected to graduate, honest to goodness he did not, yet his chronically-tardy-randomly-disappearing-handing-shit-in-late-or-never ass has managed to get that stupid slip of paper that was nearly basic necessity to get any halfway decent job; which was, frankly, a load of horse crap. Half the shit school taught was useless and most of it he wasn’t going to remember in three days none the less a year from now; or however long it took to find a job that actually required said useless knowledge. Though really? that wasn’t something he actually had to worry about, seeing as there was basically a zero percent chance of him having anything close to something even resembling a ‘normal’ job.
He could work for his folks? Financially lucrative and everything regarding the subject of ghosts has been effectively beaten into his brain by this point. Whether it was due to being around it so often or to save his own hide from his folks' inventions. He could also arguably get a shady as shit job, he was definitely skilled at lying, hiding, sneaking around, playing a role, even stealing and fighting. Plus a subordinate who can shoot energy beams and turn invisible would probably be a mob bosses, or whatever’s, wet dream. But, uh, that was probably not the best idea in the world; especially when Amity didn’t even have mobs and drugs and shit really. And why would they? They had freaking ghosts. Also having hallucinogenics would just be fucking overkill at this point. Plus Vlad already filled the quota for ‘dangerous men in dark suits that smoke cigars and drink whiskey while planning peoples demise or manipulating them like chess pieces".
Getting a job at the Nasty Burger would be easy enough but he’d get fired so fast. Ditto for working at the town’s only hotel or the gas stations or the grocery store or literally anywhere else minimum wage. Honestly, how the fuck do any of those fictional movie heroes have non-heroing related jobs? Excluding the super-rich ones with public identities anyways. Unrealistic. Completely unrealistic.
Sighing and flopping down on his bed, at least his friends didn’t have this issue. Manson’s don’t work and Tuck’s dumbass has hacked every single security and tech company in at least their entire state so they were basically all scrambling to hire his hacker ass. Val has the Nasty Burger -not that she’d be staying there once she graduated- and not to mention having Vlad’s very very deep pockets at her disposal. Speaking of Val though... Danny chuckles up at the ceiling, “honestly it’s funny as Hell that Val got held back but I didn’t. I mean really? How the fuck did that happen?”, shaking his head and laughing quietly a little more. The rest of the Defect Quartet got a good laugh out of that. Sam and Tuck were never at risk of not graduating, it was just Val and his ass that was a worry. Eh whatever. At least Dash’s dumbass got held back too; not seeing that jocks blonde mug at graduation was goddamn euphoric. It truly, truly was.
Well for now, all Danny can really do is wait, enjoy not having to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to go to school, and hope his folks don’t start go getting on his ass to get work that’s ‘normal’ so he has the experience. To be fair, him knowing what it’s like to work at a normal job would normally be a damn good idea, if he wasn’t a literal superhero who also just so happens to be kinda dead. Dead people shouldn’t have to work in his opinion, but life and deaths not fair so whatever. At least his poor abused bed was soft as shit though, that was something.
Danny nearly jumps out of his skin when his mom knocks on the door, jerking him out of his thoughts, “sweetie! It’s Mr. Lancer! He wants to talk to you!”. Oh Ancients fuck, why? Hopefully, graduation comes with a no tack backsies rule or something because that would be just his luck. Danny swings up his legs and gets up off his bed, mildly shouting, “coming!”. Popping open his door while his mom gives him a seriously judgemental ‘you better not have done something stupid’ raised eyebrow as she hands him the phone; him smiling sheepishly as he takes the phone and re-closes his bedroom door.
Eyeballing the phone with just a mild amount of apprehension before putting it to his ear, “yeah? What’s up, Lance?”.
“Hello Daniel, how’s life as a graduate treating you?”.
Danny chuckles, “that depends on whether or not you’re about to tell me I didn't actually graduate and some kind of wild and unlikely mistake popped up”.
Lancer actually laughs lightly at that, “no nothing like that, you graduated fairly, Daniel. Though considering your poor attendance I’m not surprised you’d be suspicious”. Danny grins to himself a little at that but fuck, not his fault man. Not his fault... Technically. “I was actually wondering how job searching is treating you. Working for your parents seems... less than safe even if that seems like the obvious choice for you”.
Danny nods to himself and chuckles, too true there. Smirking a little, “oh if anyone knows how dangerous FentonWorks is, it’s me”. Sometimes he’s honestly amazed no one’s ever called CPS on him or anything. FentonWorks was a death trap waiting to happen, literally; him being walking proof and all that. Shrugging to himself, “and you know I’m not exactly suited for a nine to five, Lance”, and he’s not even going to mention the fact that Vlad would hire him in a heartbeat because that is so not happening no matter how ‘good-ish’ the man was nowadays. Working for him would be a dangerous game no matter how Danny looked at it; for both of them.
“I don’t think I could even imagine you working an office job or as a cashier. But if not nine to five, then how about noon to three?”.
Danny blinks at that, huh? “um what?”, shaking his head a little and blinking again, “short shift there but you know me, how often did I ever stay in class for the full forty minutes, or whatever?”.
“Fifty-five, Daniel, And I’m sure you could stay for an hour given the right encouragement and approach”.
Danny sighs and tilts his head back, “I don’t need money that badly, man, geez”, shaking his head, “what are you even suggesting though?”. Is Lancer seriously offering him a job? Where even? Short as shit hours though, which technically worked well-ish for him. He never has a consistent time slot where no ghosts show up though.
“Well I’m sure your parents have heard about the ecto-ology class the school board decided to pass”, Lancer grumbling seemingly to himself, “long time coming if you ask me, too long”, speaking up a bit, “your class should have had it, not that you needed it”.
Danny snorts, fair point there, “yeah I could probably have taught it better than the damn teacher”, blinking, wait a fucking minute, “Lancer what the fuck. Are you asking me to teach it???”. What the actual shit. Sure, he could do it, technically, but still. The fuck, shaking his head, “don’t you, you know, need schooling to be a teacher? And come on, I am the exact opposite of teacher material, or whatever”. Seriously, the Hell. The Ancients are probably actively mocking him right now. That or Danny’s totally wrong and making a complete ass of himself.
“You’re irresponsible and... eccentric, yes, but you’re intelligent and excitable about your interests; and really, a teacher is someone who’s hyper interested and passionate about their field of education”, Danny can almost hear a smirk in Lancer’s voice, “don’t even try to tell me you’re not passionate about ecto-ology, I’ve overheard more than enough conversations between you and your friends to know otherwise. Though yes, the number of times I’ve heard you mention ghost jail was more than a little concerning. Especially when it sounded like it was personal on-the-inside experience”.
Danny blinks, “Lance, you frighten me. Now I’m seriously wondering even more why the school never called on my folks, or whatever”. This just in, apparently a vice principal was perfectly willing to just ignore a student going to jail in an alternate dimension. Repeatedly.
“As if that would actually help. Your parents are good, if crazy and negligent, people. And I have a feeling you’re perfectly capable of getting into trouble without their involvement. So what do you say? It’s completely within my power to hire you on the spot”.
Danny pulls the phone away from his cheek and makes wild hand gestures at it, again what the fuck. Though yeah, his folks aren’t half bad, excluding the whole ectophobia thing. Scrunching up his face at his phone before returning it to his cheek, “uh thanks? You know, for not getting my folks in shit”, shaking his head and smirking a little, “so you know a lot of the trouble is just me being me and you’re inviting me to once again spend five days a week at one of the local ghost hotspots? Do you like suffering, Lance?”.
That actually gets a laugh out of the vice-principal, “the ghosts certainly keep things interesting but no, hiring you instead of your parents would reduce the chaos. Your parents are far bigger trouble makers than you ever have been”.
“That feels like a challenge”. Danny absolutely smirks to himself over the sigh that comment gets him before continuing, “though yeah, my dad plus the school five days a week sounds like you’d be actively begging the universe to blow up the entire place while simultaneously covering it in green goo and maybe accidentally teleporting it to an alternate dimension. To be fair, dad’s only managed that twice on the house so far”. And his mom still won’t let the man live down either event, understandable. Sighing, his parents being walking collateral damage machines was useful in school since it kept nearly every teacher from calling them in, but now it was mildly biting him in the ass. Though now that he’s thinking about... who else could the school call in? Val was still in school and the school didn’t officially know about her ‘extracurricular activities’ -though Danny would bet an entire model rocket that most of the teachers knew or at least had a very very good guess- so she was out. Then there was the G.I.W. which... just no. Fuck no. Super bad idea. So that just left his ass, and fine, arguably it would be a decent enough job and Lancer wasn’t exactly wrong about Danny knowing his shit and being a bit excitable about ghosts. He couldn’t help it alright? He was raised on it and actually excelled at it. Plus, he was a ghost; knowing was survival. Plus plus, having someone who isn’t ectophobic teach the ghost class would probably be a good idea. Val was better but... she tried to use the Box Ghost’s face as a battering ram because her closet door got stuck last week, ‘nough said. Sighing again, “okay fine, I think you’re inviting disaster but all your other options would also do that”.
Lancer laughs lightly and sips something, probably tea knowing the man, “agreed. So you’ve got the summer to come up with a curriculum, nothing too serious for the first semester so I’m sure you can handle it”. Danny scowls audibly, though fine how much harder could making a teaching thingy be than overthrowing corrupt ghost government/royals? Fuck him entirely. “Don’t worry, I’ll send over some useful tips and tricks, a little guide; because you are right, typically teachers go to school to learn how to teach”.
Danny gives one very sarcastic and deadpanned, “you don’t say”, in response to that. Great, now he’s got homework over summer, just really weird homework that’ll technically include creating homework for other people. Weeee. Fun. Ugh. But hey, maybe this’ll actually not suck. Shaking his head and chuckling a little, “you know, I’m starting to think you might actually like me, Lance”.
Lancer simply laughs faintly at that. “How about we meet up sometime next week and I’ll see how far you’ve gotten and your ideas”.
Danny leans his head back, “ugh fine”, grumbling to himself, “oh Ancients I’m ‘hanging out’ with my old teacher, fuck me”, and hangs up though more than a little sure that Lancer probably heard that last bit.
Danny rubs his eyes in circles after a bit, sighing again, and picks up his cellphone.
thealiveone: guess who got a job offer first? Suck it tuck
PDAxpda : bullshit, where????
thealiveone: lets just say that lance decided I needed to see things from my poor teachers persepectives
PDAxpda: oh god XD poor casperhigh
Nightshade: So youre becoming part of the ststem? Really Danny?
Nightshade: but with fhosts
PDAxpda: ha! You’re becoming your parents!
thealiveone: HEY! AM NOT!
thealiveone: ...kinda
thealiveone: but hey, ghost teachin bout ghoss. Love the irony
Nightshade: 🙄
thealiveone: ancients be happy for a guy why dontcha geez
thealiveone: even if it’s stupid
thealiveone: and I’ll totally wind up having to ditch and be late and shit
PDAxpda: typical you
thealiveone: 😢
Nightshade: fine but at least be a quirky ‘teacher’ and not some lame rule follower ass
thealiveone: me? Not be quirky? Fuckin riiiiiiiight
PDAxpda: *snort*
thealiveone: anywhay
thealiveone: think I should do a bit on ghost hunger just to make lance regret his chocoes?
Nightshade: 🤦🏻♀️
PDAxpda: YES!!!
thealiveone: 😏
Danny had ideas now, and he was about to make them EVERYBODY'S PROBLEM. As he should.
Chapter 2: Cursed From Entry Level
Today was the day, yup it certainly was; Danny side-eyes his ghost-shaped alarm clock. The first Monday of a new school year; which normally shouldn’t mean shit to him since he graduated and all that but fuck his dumbass agreed to turn around and come right back as a goddamn teacher. Why did he do that? That was stupid. Well not really but now that it’s a little past eleven and he has to actually get up, get dressed, and go do the thing that he agreed to do. Fuck. Responsibilities suck. And if anyone’s allowed to say that it’s him, superhero responsibilities kinda outclass all others so suck it. Sighing and flopping an arm over his eyes, had he been smart and bought teacher clothes? No. Or prepared an introduction speech thingy? Also no. Or even bothered to tell literally anyone other than his friends and family that he now worked at CasperHigh? Definitely no, let the fuckers be surprised. He had, however, printed out copies of the syllabus; which fine, was largely because Lancer nagged him about it so much that he did it out of spite. Danny bets being manipulative was totally something taught in teacher school; not that Danny really particularly needed to be taught that… especially when he could just go to Vlad for that kind of ‘tutoring’, not that he actually would. Regardless, he now officially had to get up.
Sighing very loudly into his arm before moving to push himself up and walk over to his closet; did any of his shit qualify as ‘professional’? Haha fuck no. But oh well, screw it. Might as well lean into this ghost teacher thing and the ’Fenton’s are eccentric weirdos’ thing. Time for a ‘I Got A Boo Boo On My Funny Bone Isn’t That Very Humerus?’ sweater and some crust punk pants that are more patches than fabric. He is so not wearing a tie or bow tie though, bandana? Shrugging he nabs up a little alien one that had only a couple small ectoplasm stains, “if anyone asks, lab accident”, and smirks to himself while tying the thing around his neck, shrugging, then heading downstairs for breakfast.
His dad looks up and grins, waving a hand while the other’s still tinkering away on some gun, “morning Danno! Heading off to school?”, tilting his head and chuckling heartily, “or to teach, I should say!”.
Danny rolls his eyes but smiles and chuckles, moving to grab out the cereal, “yup, bet it’s gonna be interesting. My poor fellow teachers”, Danny absolutely smirks at that, because damn they’re gonna hate Lancer for a while once they realise they’re stuck with him for who knows how long. Sure he’ll only be actually there for, like, what an hour or two or so? Eh something like that. He honestly hopes Lancer didn’t tell all the teachers because he absolutely wants to see all of them look at him, do a double-take, and sigh in resigned defeat and pain. Danny can’t help snickering a bit to himself as he eats his food and his dad goes back to tinkering; though with a far bigger grin on his face.
Danny actually manages to get out the door just as his mom’s coming up from the lab, her waving at him erratically, “have a good day at work, sweetie!”, she sounds more than just a little excited to be saying ‘work’ in regards to him. Did make some sense, seeing as he didn’t exactly have any kind of real job opportunities. At least neither of them tried to insist on driving him there, letting him get in a good midday fly instead; one of these days they are seriously going to wonder how the heck he gets places so fast without driving.
-
Landing behind the school in his usual spot Danny takes a few steps back and just kinda stares up at the building for a hot minute, “I don’t know whether this feels nostalgic, daunting, or just surreal”, shaking his head, “well I guess I just better get to it, everyone should be in class right now... right?”, tilting his head as he turns invisible and intangible, stepping through the wall, “how the fuck have I already forgotten the schedule? Ancients”. Thankfully there is, in fact, not a single person and/or spirit in the hallway. He even effectively avoids everyone on his way to the teachers' lounge and successfully uses the key Lancer gave him to get in. Of course, it’s not empty inside though, expected honestly.
Danny pokes his head in and immediately spots Mr. CampBell and grins wickedly, “heeeey”; and the teacher damn near jumps out of his skin before snapping his head around to the door. Mr. CampBell visually recoils, “oh god why are you here?”.
Score! Lancer absolutely did not tell the staff. Danny snickering as he waltzes in, “oh don’t you know? Lancer hired me”. Mr. CampBell turns away and sighs very loudly, Danny absolutely hearing the whispered, “why? I thought William actually liked his coworkers”. Danny only snickers meanly as Lancer walks out from around one of the corners, “we needed an ecto-ology teacher, he’s a perfectly reasonable choice, Joseph”. Huh, so that’s CampBell’s first name. Lancer then turning to Danny and handing him off a coffee cup, gesturing to the corner he just walked out around, “there’s more in the kitchen, since I’m well aware you practically live on the stuff”.
Danny blinks, grins, and moans comically, “oh my Ancients, there’s free coffee in here”.
Lancer quirks an eyebrow faintly at that, “I did tell you”.
Danny shrugs, “eh I thought you were just trying to sweeten the deal for me, Lance”, then taking a sip, “pretty weak shit though”. Lancer quirks his eyebrow further, “it’s free, Daniel”. Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah well, I think I’ll bring in some Deathwish”.
Joseph gives him one very concerned look, “is that an official real coffee or something your crazy parents made?”, he sounds more than a little hesitant for the answer there. Good. Danny smirks, “oh it’s real, and lives up to the name, drinking the cold brew might actually kill you from botulism. The regular coffee is only the world’s strongest stuff though”, then finger-gunning at the man.
Lancer shakes his head as he sits down on the couch, “you concern me some days”, pursing his lips, “most days”, then sips at his coffee. Joseph shakes his head, “I’m just going to head to my classroom”, pointing at Lancer, “you keep that demon child’s classroom consistent, I do not want that ectoplasm stuff getting mixed with Charles’s science nerd stuff”, and throws Danny a scowl before leaving.
Lancer shakes his head before looking to Danny, “your classroom is going to be consistent though, considering I know exactly how often your homework had to be put in biohazard instead of the filing cabinets”. Danny rubs his neck a bit sheepishly at that while Lancer leans forwards, arms on his knees, “do you have everything ready? I could sit in on your first few classes if you’d like”.
Danny snorts, “somehow I think that would just get me mocked, Lance”, smirking, “but that depends on how much you want to leave me unsupervised with a bunch of teens and ectoplasmic substances”.
“You’re... not bringing out ectoplasm on the first day, are you?”.
Danny snickers, “maybe...”. Lancer sighs very loudly but Danny decides to take some amount of pity on the man, “mostly I brought ecto-proofing stuff since I don’t think you want to be replacing stuff a bajillion times. Anyway, can I paint the whiteboard ectophobic green? I mean the ectophobic bit laterally”. Lancer only sighs louder but does nod while putting his face in his hand. Smart man. Danny should probably just go ahead and do that immediately though, the walls and desks and stuff can happen later or fuck he can just make it an assignment because why the fuck not?!? Danny downing the rest of the coffee, clapping his legs, and getting up, “whelp I’mma go do that then”. Lancer speaking up just before he gets to the door, “I will be checking in on you, but feel free to call or ‘text away’ if you need anything”. Danny cringes a little but nods.
Are the hallways empty this time? Nope. Does Danny’s mere presence cause a bunch of whispering as he’s heading to his assigned classroom? Absolutely. Everyone knew who the Fenton’s were, he himself might have techically been a ‘loser weirdo’ but he was also simultaneously popular in the infamous kinda way, especially at school. Most of the comments -that his wonderful ghostly hearing let’s him pick up on easily- are along the lines of ‘guess he didn’t graduate, no surprise there’ or ‘why the fuck’s he here?’, some of the freshmen react with mock horror though so that’s amusing. When Danny gets to his designated room he absolutely spends his before class time painting the board and just throws the rest of his stuff on the provided desk. He is not a tidy person and that is so not gonna change.
He was, however, so not prepared for Val to walk through the door first though. Her and Danny making eye contact, Danny blinking, “‘kay why the fuck would you be here?”. She gives him a dumb look, “hey you yourself, Danny”, then scrunches up her face and sags, “oh my Zone, you are seriously the teacher? You were serious about that? We’re all gonna die”. Danny just smirks while she slumps down in a desk, him scribbling his name on the board quickly; Ancients if anyone calls him ‘Mr. Fenton’ he’ll gag. Speaking of gagging though, putting his class right after lunch was probably not the smartest move on the principal's part. Gives him the perfect excuse to do something weird and just eat ectoplasm or something.
Valerie bangs her head on the desk before looking back up to him, putting her chin in a palm, “though I guess I am kinda curious what the heck you’ll teach with this, you’re always so tightlipped about ghost stuff”.
Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, glancing back to her before turning around to sit down in his provided chair, not nearly enough burn holes yet to actually feel like his though. He’ll have to fix that, “with you. We don’t exactly see eye to eye on things”. She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes, but other fellow teens are coming in so she doesn’t give him any kind of actual response.
Every single teen does at least a slight pause at seeing Danny in the teacher's chair before taking seats. some say nothing, some swear lightly, others groan, and then there’s goddamn Dash??? Why was that jock taking this class? Better yet, why did it have to be Danny��s luck that Dash would even want to.
“Well if it isn’t Fenturd”. At least half the class snickers or coughs to cover laughs.
Danny glares at the jock, “I can give detentions now, don’t be stupid”, smirking, “or I can just designate you as the ‘helping hand’ and you can handle all the ectoplasmic shit I am absolutely going to bring in”. Dash takes his seat real quick after that while Val’s busy snickering at his expense.
Danny leans back in his chair as the bell goes off, “whelp, guess this is happening now”. Valerie puts her head down and laughs a little, a couple other teens laughing a little themselves while Danny continues, “okay, so obviously I’m the teacher, which honestly? more than a few of you should have seen that one coming”, nodding to himself, “now in case you somehow do not know who I am and also somehow missed Dash being an ass and calling me ‘Fenturd’, I’m Danny Fenton the youngest Fenton, and yeah I’m your teacher because literally no one else is remotely qualified or safe enough to do this”.
More than a few people mutter ‘that's fair’ or something similar. His folks being walking talking time bombs wasn’t exactly a secret and the G.I.W. were honestly more dangerous than the ghosts.
Danny chuckles to himself, digs in his backpack and gets up, “and also, in case you didn’t even bother to look at the class you agreed to take or what was written on the class schedule thingy”, Danny cups the little semi-solid ball of ectoplasm and slaps it on the whiteboard, it spattering across neon green and glowing, “welcome to Ecto-ology! And that!-”, pointing at the green splattered board, “-that’s ectoplasm!”, then shaking a jar of SignalShines -little tiny firefly-like blob ghosts- on the little tray attached to the whiteboard typically used for the markers, “and that’s some ghosts! Some very tiny ghosts”.
Valerie snorts and laughs, muttering, “oh no”, into her hand. Since she obviously figured out that Danny wasn’t going to even attempt at being a ‘normal fucking teacher’. Most of the class snickers and starts laughing after a bit, that or eyeballing the ectoplasm splatter/ghost-filled jar. Danny waving the board and everything off limply, “I ecto-proofed the whiteboard already so don’t bother calling the ecto-hazard line”, then making a point to sound ominous and mildly threatening, “they won’t come”. Which absolutely gets him more laughs and a couple shivers, seeing as he could actually legit pull off scary if he felt like it. Perks of being a ghost and ridiculously highly combative and confrontational.
Danny absolutely hands the syllabus paper stack to Dash to hand out, largely as payback for the name-calling. “So since this year this class is only an optional elective, being a trial run and all that, lets do the whole introduce-yourselves-even-though-I-already-know-who-you-all-are thing with why you took this class and, for funsies, who’s your favourite ghost”. Dash does give him a dirty look, which Danny smirks over, but what follows is people saying their names and giving reasons and shit.
Danny decides to smear around the whiteboard ectoplasm to write down ghost names and tally up how many people say that ghost. Is it mostly Phantom? Yes; even Val votes for him but that’s understandable since she actually got along with Phantom, for the most part, these days. Somehow the Box Ghost earns the second most tallies, Ember’s in third not all that surprising, and two people actually threw a vote Johnny’s way. As for why people took the class?
Well Valerie claims she wants to know more about ghosts and leaves it at that, earning some eye-rolls from the class seeing as everyone knew how she felt about the spookies. Dash took it because a Fenton was teaching, which is information Danny doesn’t know what to do with; what the fuck does that mean? And everyone else? To learn about ghosts (sure), for self-defence (good reason actually. Practical), better than the other electives (fair and probably accurate), easy grade (or so they think... maybe), because it absolutely was going to be chaotic (hundred percent yes). Danny’s content and smirking just a little bit.
Danny sits on the corner of his desk -why not?- and waves a hand around limply, “alright, semi-proper introduction of myself. I’m sure pretty much all of you are damn well aware of FentonWorks and it being basically the only ecto-tech company -besides the ever overpriced Dalvco- and that it is responsible for all the shields and ecto-weapons and all that jazz in town. Surprise surprise, I’ve worked on or outright built a lot of that stuff”, sounding incredibly sarcastic, “truly shocking, I know”, earning him a couple snickers/laughs. “Now you might think that since my folks literally invented the stuff and are some of the only published scientists in the field of ecto-ology that they’re more qualified to do this teacher thing, ignoring the fact that they would probably blow the classroom up or accidentally get everyone teleported into the ghost Zone randomly”, pointing at the class, “not an exaggeration”, before continuing properly, “but guess what? They've never actually explored the Zone or sat down and actually talked to a ghost”, putting a hand to his chest, “I, however, have. So yeah, qualified”; and snaps his fingers a bit dramatically.
James mutters, “not sure that actually means qualified”; and he’s not the only one. Expected, seeing as Danny was not actually qualified to be a teacher obviously.
Danny sticks up a finger, “I have no teacher qualifications though, but Lance decided he just does not care”, getting up and walking to the board, moving around the ectoplasm, “and as for my fav ghostie, you’ve never heard of them”, and scrawls out ‘ClockWork’ on the list of favourite ghosts. Turning back to the class, “ClockWork’s existence is mildly forbidden knowledge, so have fun with-”, Haley shrieking interrupts and most of the class going wide-eyed gets him to turn around and see the very well done drawing of ClockWork looking right at Danny with a glare, there is an ‘I’m flattered, Daniel’ written under it though so... Danny can’t help but bend over wheezing a little, “oh I so saw that coming!”, shaking his head and chuckling, “or something similar at least”. Okay he expected to get smacked over the head with an invisible staff out of nowhere, not a passive-aggressive yet still somehow fond drawing. Straightening up and turning back to the class while whipping at his eye, “y’all signed up for this, remember that”.
Danny sits down and starts going over the syllabus, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, but Jesse interrupts him halfway through, “are we just ignoring everything that just happened with the magic drawing?”. Danny looking at him and smirking, “a good rule of thumb in life is when the literal god of time chastises you, you move on immediately. Just good life advice if you want to keep doing the whole living thing”. Expectedly that gets him a lot of staring. Danny rolls his wrist around, “that Vortex ghost is also a god by the by. Same with UnderGrowth. Pandora’s a minor god technically”, tilting his head, “then there’s the whole mess of Pariah who’s pretty much just a way worse version of Hades”, smirking, “Amity’s seen some big names in the ghost world”.
“What the fuck”.
Danny just snickers at that while Valerie puts her head in her hands and shakes it.
Surprisingly the rest of the class is seemingly going normally, Lancer did stick his head in and eyeball the whiteboard which Danny gave him a ‘what did you expect from me? Honestly’ smirk for, and surprisingly no one decided to ask Danny how the actual fuck he knew the time god if they even believed him on that anyway. But maybe five minutes before class is over, Danny’s ghost sense goes off, because of fucking course, but it just feels like Boxy. So Danny, smirking, checks his phone to use as some kind of excuse for how he knows the Box Ghost’s here, gets up and goes to the window, opening it up, sticking his head out, and shouting, “HEY BOXY!”. That, of course, gets the ghost's attention immediately, who does his scary fingers thing, “YOU DARE DRAW THE ATTENTION OF THE MOST FEARSOME GHOST IN EXISTENCE! THE BOX GHOST!”. Danny just rolls his eyes, points towards the whiteboard in the classroom and shouts back, “WE DID A POLL! YOU'RE THE SECOND MOST FAVOURITE GHOST!”. The Box Ghost stares at him for a bit, goes a little wide-eyed, floats towards the ground, and starts crying. Danny pulls his head back in while cackling, looking back to the class, “congrats, we’ve just made the Box Ghost cry”; which absolutely makes everyone start laughing as the bell goes off. Danny smirking more, “I feel very accomplished with myself”.
Surprisingly most of his freaking students actually wave him goodbye, which is weird as heck but also kinda cool, Dash just scowls at him though; get fucked dick-weed. Val stays behind a bit, expected, and sits on the corner of his desk, “so this is really happening, huh?”.
“Yup. Guess so”, leaning back in his chair a little, “you gonna turn this into a debate club or?”, chuckling, “though I doubt you’ll actually learn a whole lot”. She nods at that, “I could probably teach this myself”, grumbling, “if I wasn’t still stuck as a student”, sighing, “I’m not gonna argue in class though, I know you’re ghost friendly, Danny, that’s gonna show obviously”, shrugging and smirking a little, “I just might need a little bit more proof before I take your word on something”.
“Just for that I’m going to bring in Cujo next class”.
“You wouldn’t”.
Danny smirks, “try me. He’ll really liven up the lesson on classifications of ghost types. Truly he is one of the best examples of an animal ghost”. She sounds downright offended, “then bring in a freaking ectopuss! Not the life-ruining dog!”.
“But everyone loves dogs, Val”, Danny smirks, “besides, ectopusses aren’t proper animal ghosts, they’re a type of blob ghost”. She grumbles a bit incoherently before muttering, “dick”, and leaving for her next class; leaving Danny chuckling.
(And Valerie absolutely spent the next day’s class glaring bloody murder at a tiny green puppy, inspiring slight fear and concern in her classmates; Danny just looked progressively more smug which only made his students more concerned).
-
Before Danny actually managed to leave the school, since he didn’t actually have to be there outside of his one class though something tells him that if the ecto-ology trial run works out then he’ll be stuck ‘teaching’ it two or three times a day. Ugh but also so much potential chaos. Anyway, Lancer catches up to him, sounding just slightly out of breath, “your first teaching experience go well, Daniel?”.
Danny smirks, “brought a ghost to tears, only made one mild ecto-hazard, and possibly annoyed a few thousand ghost cops; so good day actually”. Lancer stares at him a little, “should I be concerned”. Reasonable question.
“Maybe”, Danny chuckles, “to be fair, me teaching people about ghosts was absolutely going to piss off the eyeballs, said eyeballs are some ghost cops, it’s complicated”, chuckling a little though sounding/being a bit serious, “technically I really am the best choice for this, I know more than my folks or the G.I.W. do by miles”, smiling softly and a bit pitying a little, “and I know somethings that the living aren’t exactly supposed to”.
Lancer eyes him and shakes his head slightly, “I know, Daniel. I know”. Danny absolutely quirks an eyebrow at that because what the Hell does Lancer mean by that? So he just gives a simple, “oh?”, for a response; weak as shit but it’ll have to do. Lancer nods, “I’m not as oblivious as I let the students think, so yes I know. Though try to keep your, ghost activities let’s say, outside of the classroom? Don’t bring students into your spat with ghost cops”.
Danny actually coughs, again what the fuck. Shaking his head a little bug-eyed, “again, you scare me, Lance”, shaking his head again, “though no, their problem with me is the fact that I exist, so”, and shrugs; Danny is still a little goddamn thrown here. Lancer sighs, “I guess I should have expected that. And I’ll admit to having some questions about that, but-”, putting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “-I don’t truly need an answer there”. Danny, for a lack of knowing what else to do, finger guns; Lancer looks less than impressed.
Chapter 3: Ghosts In The Know
It takes a total of three days for a ghost to actually show up during Danny’s designated class time -the Box Ghost and ClockWork’s sudden appearances don’t count- and while Danny’s fairly certain Lancer at least has some kind of guess about the whole Phantom thing Danny’s not going to just go ghost in goddamn class; that would have been dumb when he was a student and it would only be dumber to do as a freaking teacher. At least as a student he didn’t have a class worth of people somewhat staring at him. But hey at least he had just been facing the whiteboard when his breath decided to be all icy fog, that was something; him watching it frost up the board for a couple of seconds and attempting to verbally steamroll right over the random sudden pause in his speaking. He also absolutely can hear Val’s scanner do its little proximity warning beep.
“-but we’re not talking about Cores today even if that’s unique to proper ghosts, so not getting into that right now”. Turning around and putting down the marker, seeing as he can’t exactly just let Skulker go running around. “Now I’ll be right back”, he almost says ‘bathroom’ but as a teacher he doesn’t need to do that shit anymore, he doesn’t have to justify himself to fucking nobody. But just before he gets to the door he points at Val, who’s mouth is slightly open and is definitely absolutely about to ask if she can go, so he smirks, “and no. You can’t”. She looks so confused and a bit freaked out that he can’t help laughing. He does catch James mutter, “did he just pull his bathroom thing? Seriously?”; which just makes Danny laugh to himself even more as he ducks off around a corner to transform.
He doesn’t have to go very far seeing as Skulker was practically directly outside of the area where his classroom was, looking supremely confused and quirking a robotic eyebrow with his arms crossed at Danny, “really, whelp?”. Danny flips him off and shoots him one in the face pretty well immediately, which starts off their standard combat. Skulker shooting off a rocket with a snide and definitely meant to be insulting comment of, “never would have pegged you for teaching or for telling humans our secrets”.
Danny near shouting back with a snort, “secrets my ass! Shove a floppy disk in it!”. That very predictably gets him a more well-aimed rocket to the face.
-
Meanwhile, in the classroom, Jesse glances around, “should we even be surprised?”.
“No but since he’s, you know, the teacher, I’m pretty sure he shouldn’t be playing hooky or whatever”.
Valerie snorts, “oh as if Lancer didn’t know what he was getting into here. Besides Danny was never going to be a normal anything”. Dash smirks and laughs meanly, “no shit, damn freak”. Valerie absolutely throws an eraser at him for that.
“I’m more curious how he predicted Valerie pulling her own bathroom thing”.
“Obvious answer there, he does it so he knows it”.
“Damn, got a point”.
Valerie grumbles and crosses her arms, “and here I thought he’d be totally cool with that”. Emilie laughing, “yeah you’d think, especially if he was going to keep doing it”. Todd pushes himself to stand up with a smirk, “Well I vote we go through his desk, this is Danny after all”; more than a few people look curious, some look cautious though.
Valerie blinking, before smirking and laughing to herself, “yes, go right ahead, do that, see what happens”. That earns even more cautious looks. Valerie knew Danny, had been in his house and room, she knew exactly what kind of state those two places were in. His desk drawers were absolutely boobytrapped. Todd, however, doesn’t give a shit, and just shrugs while moving up to said desk.
Valerie isn’t even slightly surprised when a bunch of snakes-in-a-can pop out of the very first drawer Todd opens, they’re all green because of course they are. Todd mutters a slightly startled, “fuck”, and kicks one of the snakes.
“HA! Suck it, Todd”.
James shakes his head, eyeing the green fake snakes, “I have a feeling that everything in this class is going to be ghost-themed”. Valerie rolls her eyes, “obviously, have you somehow missed the ghost-themed clothing? Or the fact that Danny is, and has always been, a damn pun machine?”. Over half the class groans or chuckles. Valerie rolling her hand and leaning back, “pretty sure he was wearing a pair of Sam’s platforms today, the ones with little plastic green ghosts shaking around inside”. Dash mutters almost absently, “huh, so that’s why he seems taller today”.
“Dash... why are you noticing his freaking height”.
“Shut up, Jesse. I can’t physically shove him in lockers anymore but I sure as shit can imagine it”.
Valerie sighs very loudly at that, but at least Dash wasn’t quite stupid enough to try bullying a teacher. Even if that teacher was Danny and the same age as him. Which, talk about wild. She honestly did not believe Danny for a second when he said he would be teaching at CasperHigh and yet here he was. Teaching. It was definitely weird, but at least nothing had blown up yet. Hopefully Phantom went and dealt with Skulker though, she’d think Danny would be one who let people leave whenever, guess not. Her scowling a little over that. Todd opening up another drawer and a black and white ghost popping their head out jerks her right out of her head though. Todd falling on his ass and scrambling back, “holy shit! What the fuck!”.
James blinks and wheezes, standing up like basically everyone else, “Danny had a whole ass ghost in his desk, what?!?”. Said ghost floats up, looks around, and waves; while the entire class just stands there, many with ecto-pistols drawn at this point.
“I’m picking up a lot of hostility here, busters”.
Todd grumbles, “you have got to be shitting me”. The ghost tilts their head, “I don’t think Phantom would like that very much. Totally not tubular”. Valerie facepalms and lowers her small blaster, “you’re that old ghost that haunts one of Danny’s old lockers, aren’t you”. The ghost gives her a thumbs up, “that’s the dealio!”.
“... and why were you just in his desk drawer?”.
The ghost crosses their skinny arms and huffs, “when I picked up on the Ha-Danny being here again I had to make sure that buster wasn’t up to his bully ways again”. Dash actually burst out laughing and drops back into his seat at that, “Fenton?!? A bully?!? Man what are you smoking?!?”; which the ghost gives him a very strange look for.
“Poindexter, by the Ancients, how many times do I have to tell you that I wasn’t being a bully, I was getting back at one. Geez”. The entire class goes still and snaps their heads around to Danny, who’s just casually walking in. Dash muttering, “I knew that twerp was the one screwing with me”.
Poindexter rolls his eyes, “like I believe that, buster. Someone would have to be a real dummy to do that to you”. Danny very obviously glares at the ghost, “I said that Dash is a bully, not that he’s smart”. Dash scowls very audibly, “I’ll make you eat those words, Fentit”. Danny instantly holds up a pink detention slip and smirks, while Dash very obviously holds back shouting expletives at him. The ghost just looks confused. Danny turning to the ghost, having to look up a little as he takes his seat, “like I said, not smart”. Dash just scowls while Danny continues speaking but while looking at the class instead of the ghost, “so where were we?”.
Amber blinks, “are we just ignoring the ghost that popped out of your desk?”; while everyone starts sitting back down slowly.
Danny quirking an eyebrow at the ghost, “why, man?”. While Amber tosses up her hands and sits back down too.
“I was looking for anything suspicious. Never know with you”.
Emilie chuckles to herself, “I like how ghosts apparently find him as suspicious as people do”. Earning her a few nods.
Dash rolls his eyes, “oh like what, ghost-themed pencils? A change of underwear in case his own class scares him?”. Danny starting to hold up another pink slip shuts the jock up real quick. Poindexter looks genuinely surprised and turns to Danny, “hold the phone, you sayin’ that rumour that everyone thinks you’re afraid of ghosts is actually the real deal???”. Danny just sighs, “it was a very good and effective way out of my folks trying to make a hunter of me”. While practically half the class shouts, “THAT WAS FAKE!”, including one stunned Dash who had thought he was being so smart and cruel by taking full advantage of Danny’s ‘fear’.
Danny chuckles and looks around, “yup. Sorry not sorry”. Lancer picks that very moment to stick his head in, looking at the ghost then Danny, “Daniel...”.
Danny sighs and waves him off, “I know, it’s just Poindexter though. He’s here somewhere in the school almost every day and has been for, like, decades. Longer than I’ve been alive at least. He’s just seldom visible. Here’s his haunt”. Lancer sighs, “very well”, and just leaves; clearly not wanting to deal with all of that.
James blinks, “so, uh, is he going to stay or? And how the heck did you, but not the school, know about him?”. Poindexter huffs, crosses his arms, and seemingly vanishes; Danny, however, watches the transparent teen ghost just sort of float to the back of the class while making ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ finger motions at Danny. Danny rolling his eyes while responding, “maybe, maybe not. And you know that locker that’s rumoured to be haunted that I was randomly assigned to for a while? Yeah that’s totally true. We’ll talk about lair cores later. There was also a mild body-swapping incident”.
“Excuse me?”.
Danny points at James, “I have been through some shit, man. Body swapping with a ghost was less weird and more annoying though”. The entire class just stares at him which he takes as a chance to get back to the lesson plan. “So as I was saying...”.
-
Valerie winds up approaching him after the bell, “you know one of these days I’m going to figure out what the Zone that nickname that ghosts have for you is”. Danny quirks an eyebrow, because of course Poindexter probably nearly called him ‘the halfa’ since that’s what Poindexter literally always called him. Smirking at her, “I don’t doubt that, Val. Just like someday you’ll be fully honest about your, ahem, extracurricular activities”, and chuckles while she rolls her eyes. Her muttering, “oh whatever. Anyway, wanna go to a movie after school or are you too busy with teacher duties”.
Danny huffs, “as if. I only do one class you know, so sure why not”. Lancer picks that moment to stick his head in again, “actually you need to finalise that first assignment, also you do realise that as a teacher you are supposed to watch your language?”.
Danny gives an awkward, “uuuuhhhhh”, before scrunching up his face in a pout, leaning back in his chair dramatically, and whining loudly while Val laughs at him, “do I haaaaavvvvveeee toooooo?”. Lancer’s sigh is a pained one.
(Danny absolutely starts out the next class with, “so one of you s̴͜͝h̴i̶t̡̨͡s snitched on me so prepare for some slight language changes, b͘͘itc͜͝he͢͝ş̛”. Which earned a mixture of confused looks, laughs, and a couple glares at Todd, Dash, and Brittney; who were the most likely suspects. And really no one was actually surprised in the slightest that Danny seemingly knew GhostSpeak, it just tracked honestly).
---
Was Danny looking forward to this first assignment thingy? Haha fuck no. He’s just going to assume marking is Hell but he already established that he wasn’t the kind of sick freak that makes the very first assignment the one required oral presentation or some shitty quiz; and fine he already put down ‘research assignment on an unusual ghost theory you have’ in the syllabus but what the actual crap was he supposed to do for the guild lines of this to avoid getting the kind of ridiculous shit that he himself would write. Because as funny as getting twenty-odd papers about Plasmius’s clear attempts at making up for his fragile masculinity or about Phantom’s fashion choices would be, Danny’d rather not. Well he could just be like: y’all can either do all your papers on Phantom or none, vote now. At least then he would either be prepared to read a bunch of wild shit about himself or go in knowing he won’t have to read any about himself.
Rolling over in bed and sighing, “well I guess I could just limited the second option to known frequently seen ghosts?”, blinking, “oh and none can be on Boxy because I see too much of that problem man as it is”. Speaking of problems, he also has to figure out how he’s going to spend an hour getting stared at by most of his students (fuck that was still super weird) sans an entire hand; because sure the rest of his arm will have reformed by noon, but the hand will still an issue. Too bad he didn’t manage to find the chopped-off limb before it dissipated into free-floating ectoplasm. While he does appreciate that no one’s going to just stumble across his severed limb, getting it back would have been way better. Eh fuck it, super long sleeves day it is, Jazz did attempt at dark humour once and gifted him a straightjacket so what the heck time to look like a crazy person the legit way.
Of course it’s currently three am so he is not getting dressed right now, not a chance.
-
Does he get to fall back asleep and actually stay asleep till eleven or so? No, when does he ever? Fuck ghosts and their lack of caring about his shitty sleep schedule. It’s now five am, his ghost sense has got him mostly shivering awake, and his blankets don’t even qualify as actually still on his bed. Him letting himself slump onto the floor while transforming and starting to float up in the air before only slightly lazily flying out his window. If anyone asks about his eye-bags, he bought them off the black market. Does that make sense? Not really no. Does he care? Also no.
Him floating up on Ember smashing up a street sign with her guitar, pinching his nose while otherwise hanging limply in the air, “Ember, why?”. He’s too tired for this shit, Ancients.
“Anarchy”. She hits the sign again.
Danny sighs, “well could you go be ‘anarchy’ when said anarchy doesn’t result in my sleep becoming anarchy too? I really don’t feel like having the R.E.M. sleep government centres of my brain overthrown today”. That actually gets her to pause and look up at him, smirking and snickering after a bit, “you do look like shit”, then very pointedly looking to his half reformed arm; hey at least he had a proper elbow again! Shove a dick in it, goddamn. He absolutely flips her off before shooting her guitar, “go home, Ember. I have class”.
She gives him a pitying look like an absolute ass, “oh did they not let you graduate from that indoctrinating soul-crushing suffering?”, then grinning almost manically, “let’s burn it down!”.
“Jesus Ancients no, I work there”.
“Oh so you’ve become a cog in the machine for the man”.
Danny sighs very loudly, “okay what capitalist crawled up your ass and died, fuck. And if anything my mere presence is causing chaos”, chuckling hollowly, “one of the other teachers drank my coffee accidentally and was absolutely losing their beans half the day. And only one person’s gotten a mild case of ecto-poisoning”, sighing, “Ancients, Todd’s a dumbass. I mean-”, gesturing vaguely with his intact hand, “-I knew that, but next time he wants to ‘prove he can bend steel’ with a bar of ectoplasm I’m just going to let him break his arm and get full-blown contamination”.
Ember shakes her head, “I say let him. And so you are teaching humans ghost stuff”. Danny just shrugs kinda noncommittally at that. She smirks, “teaching death is more punk rock I guess, babypop”, while attempting to give him a boot kick to the face since she apparently couldn’t leave without causing him some level of bodily harm. He, of course, grabs her ankle and just flips her over him. Hand-to-hand combat was not her strong suit. She does successfully get him one with a laser drumstick though. Which hooray for a burnt hip. Fun. At least he knows she’ll just head back to her lair now, no real need for the capture and release thing; most ghosts pretty firmly decided they’d rather just go home after a Phantom ass beat down than getting sucked into the thermos, so they left immediately. Others were fine to just leave to their business. Some were true bad time problems. And then there was the Box Ghost... fucking moron. Ancients he is going the fuck back to bed.
-
Annnnnndddd now he’s late. Fuck. It’s a little past noon. FUCK. He sighs very loudly while practically scrambling out of bed, getting tangled in the sheets, phasing through the sheets when he remembers he can do shit like that, grabbing random ass shit from his closet and phasing that on. Quick mirror check... and yup, he looks like a dumbass and his sweaters backwards. At least he actually grabbed a sweater, he, however, did not grab pants. But fuck it, shorts it is. Shorts that are shorter on one side than the other because they got burnt and said burn marks are super noticeable on the neon green fabric.
He’s hopping out his window when he tries to grab the frame and just face-plants instead because, fuck, right, no goddamn hand dumbass. Quickly scrambling back and phasing off his sweater while also tripping backwards over the first aid kit he left haphazardly on the floor like a complete lazy idiot. Landing on his floor with an oof and sighing very loudly, just laying there half-naked for a couple of seconds, “why me?”. When he does get up he successfully grabs that straightjacket and makes it out the window, flying off to school while pulling it on.
Danny doesn’t even bother with walking into school, just smacks into the side of the building below the window to his classroom -honestly him having his own classroom still feels slightly surreal but he’s kinda used to it at this point. At least a little anyways- and a quick glance around plus transforming back human and visible and he knows he’s good, his singular hand holding onto the windowsill. Is he cheating by still defying gravity a little? Yes. But one Danny Fenton absolutely does not feel like falling to the ground and making an ass of himself yet again today. Huffing he lifts himself up, head-butts open the window -which can only open both ways because it’s an added safety feature in case a student got phased outside and was trying to get back inside through a closed window. His folks really did think of everything. Well almost everything- and scrambles in while his class freaks out a little. A couple fellow teens even scream/shriek and Ashley -who sits near the windows- actually fell out of her desk. Danny doesn’t even need to look up to hear Val’s extremely audible sigh though.
“What the fuck, Fenton?”.
“Danny!?!”.
“What the Hell?!?”.
“FUCK! Oh Zone thank everything, I thought he was a ghost for a second”.
“You’re late”.
“We’re on the second story, how the Hell did you get up here? And wait, did you head butt a window?? WHY ARE YOU WEARING A STRAIGHTJACKET??
“What????”.
“It’s a look though...”.
“Okay Danny being late isn’t all that weird, but you’d think... Like this is exactly why this class is after noon”.
“Is there a reason your top half and bottom half look like they came from two totally different fashion lines?”.
“Why couldn’t you have been five minutes later? We could have left then”.
“Are you okay?”.
“Danny.... what did you do?”.
“Wait, were you the thump on the wall just now?”.
Danny shuffles to stand up straight and brushes himself off with the long floppy arm-sleeves of the straightjacket, waltzing to the front of the classroom. Fuck he forgot his backpack. Damn. Guess he’ll just have to talk about the assignment instead of handing out the sheet things. Oh well. Turning to the class and gesturing them to shut up by waving his hand around which really just makes the sleeve flap around ridiculously.
Pretty much the entire class bursts out laughing at him after a couple seconds of silence.
Danny sighing, “okay okay, yes I’m late, but class or whatever begins now. Also y’all need to vote on whether your research c̷͝r͟a͘p҉͜ will all be on Phantom or none will be on Phantom. It’s all or nothing, you mǫ͡t̨͘h̴̛e͠r̷͞f̸u̴c̕k̨e͠r͢s̴”. That earns both groans and slight laughs, eh Danny’s cool with that.
Val doesn’t even give him a chance to ask for hand voting when she blinks down at his feet, “Danny... how did you even manage that???”. Danny quirking an eyebrow, “huh?”, then looking down... looking down at his laced-up socks. Fucking damnit. He thought he had phased on shoes, even laced them up; guess he just phased random shoelaces tying around threw his goddamn socks and laced up the socks. Danny sighs and slumps a little, “well okay then, guess today’s a no shoes kinda day”, and sighs again before looking up and shrugging at Val, who huffs disbelievingly at him. Fair.
Todd jerks up his hand, “can we go shoeless too then? Otherwise, unfair”. Danny sighs and waves him off, “go nuts, f̵̧͢uc̴̨ķ̴̕ if I care today”. That earns him a round of blinking and snickering; some people do actually take him up on his apathy and take off their shoes. Dash snapping, “not that I care, but what the Hell happened to you?”. Danny smirks at him, “I decide your grade so you kinda have to care”, and sticks his tongue out him like a petulant brat purely because he can. “I got hit in the head by an ectoplasmicly infused guitar at five am and didn’t regain consciousness till-”, glancing at the clock, “-however many minutes ago”.
Jesse blinks, “I can’t tell if that’s a creative lie... or not”. Danny finger guns before turning to the board and scribbling on it, “alright, voting hand time. Left for no Phantom, right for all Phantom...”.
Annnnnnnd, glancing around at the hands, looks like he’s receiving twenty-odd papers on himself. Wonderful. Whelp hopefully this’ll at least be interesting and mildly creative. Danny nodding with his hand and stump wrist on his hips at the board then turning around to face everyone with a huff, “alright then, now if anyone sends their research to the G.I.W. you automatically fail. I don’t want them getting any more funny ideas and having Phantom around is at least marginally a good thing. Honestly”. Earning him some snickers.
“Just marginally? He’s better than your parents”.
Danny glares at Todd, “hush, y͜ou͟҉ ̵s͞a̸l̴ţ͠y͘̕ ̢w̡͞et̷͡ ̡͠n͟͟ơ̢͝o͏d̡҉le”. Putting his intact hand back on his hips, “my folks aside, assignments. It’s on the syllabus and really you already know what to do so yeah. I’ll give you guys the papers for it tomorrow because, like my shoes apparently, I forgot them”. More than one teen gives him a really weird look and James mutters, “honestly? I think I prefer this, uh, ‘teaching’ style? He’s just so done”.
“More like one of us”.
“He is literally my age, he is one of us”.
“Oh yeah”.
Danny glances up at the ceiling, sighs, and talks slightly louder than necessary, “as for actual lesson plans, more ghost history slash lore, yay-”.
“At least he didn’t forget where he left off”.
Danny points at Todd, because come on man, seriously, “I will steal all your number two pencils, Todd”. James blinking, “why does that work as a legit threat?”. Danny points at him, “because then the scantrons will f̵̨̢u̵c̨͜͡k̶̵ up so he can’t take tests and he’ll have to ask the teacher for one embarrassing himself because no fellow teen would give him theirs because h͘e ̸s̨͢u̸̧̡c̷̡ks̕͠”.
“The fact that that is even slightly thought out and remotely realistic is actually worse”.
Dash actually looks legit slightly concerned and weirded out. Maybe he finally realised Danny’s kinda a whole ass nightmare when he feels like it. That’s without adding in the whole half-ghost clusterfuck he’s got going on.
-
Danny gets about halfway through his class when Charles just straight up opens the door. Danny should booby trap that sometime. “Okay I can’t believe I’m asking you this but tell me you have a spare stapler... what am I looking at here?”.
Danny had been gesturing a bit exaggeratedly at the whiteboard that had a doodle of a couple of Ancients on it, him dropping his arms and turning to the science teacher, “what, in any world, would make you think I have a spare of anything other than coffee, guns, thermoses, and maybe food; though the last one may or may not be inedible. Also, today was a crazy person day so yes this is, in fact, a straightjacket”. The fellow teacher smirks, “get that from the asylum you stayed at?”. Danny rolls his eyes, “oh har har, dickweed”, and chuckles; Charles was one of the teachers he got on better with even if the guy had zero sense of boundaries and sticks his nose in just about anything he found interesting, and Danny was basically a walking ball of interesting. Danny snaps his fingers and turns to the class, “oh I have actually been to an asylum before though”.
Ashley coughs, “Danny, you could make a living off of surprising people with random life bits. Get a tv show”.
Danny’s ghost sense goes off at the exact moment that an echoing voice says, “oh I quite agree”, from the direction of the window.
Charles goes wide-eyed and blurts out, “wellsinceyouclearlydon’thaveastaplerI’mgoingtogofindonebye”, and promptly shuts the door with a slam. Danny, meanwhile, snaps his head to the window and watches the Ghost Writer cross his legs while floating a bit above the windowsill. Danny blinks, “what and why”, and sounding stern enough to make a couple students jump/jerk in their seats. Valerie, Emilie, and a few others have weapons drawn already; expected and good really. The Ghost Writer rolls his eyes faintly and tosses his scarf over one shoulder dramatically while Danny slowly scoots over to his desk, not that the Ghost Writer seems to care, pursing his lips at Danny, “curious. Here I thought you had a hatred for literature and education”.
Danny rolls his eyes harshly, “no. Just Christmas”, pooping open one of the drawers. The class just watching tensely in the background.
“Christmas books”.
Danny rolls his eyes again, “Ancients fuck, man”, smirking a little, “here have some-”, jerking up an orange -that he, yes, had in his desk purely to spite this very specific ghost even though the Ghost Writer basically never came to the Mortal Realm- and stabbing it with his nails to make its juices leak down his hand/arm and makes the room smell noticeably citrusy, “-vitamin C for cannonball so you can shoot on outta here”. Valerie side-eyes Danny with a slightly dumbfounded look before dropping her arms, and her gun, down and turning to him, “seriously?”. Danny just shrugs loosely and bites a chunk out of the orange earning a lot of disgusted looks. Fair, he hadn’t exactly peeled off the skin or anything. But hey, the Ghost Writer looks thoroughly and deeply offended; so that’s a point for Danny.
The Ghost Writer audibly sighs, pushes up his glasses, and closes his eyes for a second before speaking up, “as I’m sure you know, The GhostWriters Manor has a fairly high and active patronage”, glaring a little, “regardless of men of a certain sort being unwelcome“.
Brittney leans over to Ashley, who’s shaking and a little stiff, “oooo I wonder what the heck Danny did. Boy’s banned from a library”. Dash scoffs weakly and a little wide-eyed, “o-oh please, getting banned from a library is, ah, is weak sauce”. Todd smirking at the jock, “smooooth”; and gets flipped off for the comment.
Danny shrugs and bites the orange with emphasis, speaking through a mouthful, “‘ell maye searaint ‘en ould ave ettr tases”, and swallows harshly. The Ghost Writer scowls. Danny quirking an eyebrow after a bit, “soooo?”. Making the ghost shake his head and mutter, “I truly can’t believe this”, then looking to Danny, “as a man of the written word there is a level of... respect, even begrudging respect, for those that teach it”, digging into his satchel and pulling out a card, “you may have a card again”; the Ghost Writer sounds almost physically pained to be saying that. Which of course means Danny absolutely has to bug the guy and the windows being phase-proof gives Danny ample time to do so.
Danny smirks, “and here I thought I was never even granted one in the first place”, and dramatically puts a hand to his chest, sounding overly sarcastic, “iMaGiNe HoW bLeSsEd I mUsT fEeL tO bE rEcEiViNg SuCh A tRuLy SpLeNdId GiFt SuCh As ThIs”, sauntering over in the most fruity and dramatic way he possibly can, popping open the window seductively, and snatching away the card, “ThAnKs BaBe”, and winks like an absolute ass.
Emilie collapses to the floor and starts wheeze laughing.
The Ghost Writer jerks away from him, scowls, and adjusts his glasses while trying to compose himself. Huffing a little, “consider the libraries resources yours, do be at least slightly decent and use them educationally”, the vanishing from sight; Danny following the flying off transparent ghost with his eyes before pulling his front half back into his classroom fully. Huh. Will he actually take up the ghosts offer? Might actually be a good idea also, fuck the gov he now has even more access to information they could only ever salivate over in dreamland.
Turning back to the class, “whelp, that happened”, humming and tilting his head, “too bad I definitely can’t get approval for an impromptu field trip to a ghost library”.
Valerie throws up her hands, slumps back into her desk, shoves her gun back into her bag, and glares at Danny. Todd bursts out laughing while Jesse blinks, “did that just happen?”. Dash screws up his face a little, “the Hell you little wimp?”. Danny’s just going to assume the guy never realised that Danny kinda had a pair of brass balls.
Danny smirks at the class, smacking the whiteboard, “I’m tougher than you, deal with it or eat a pink slip. Now class is basically over so I’m not even going to bother continuing with this, but in case any of y’all are wondering The Ghost Writer gains power from the influence, importance, and popularity of any form of writing that was written by a ghostwriter or anonymously. Totally in charge of basically the biggest library in the Zone, which yes I was banned from apparently due to blowing up a book”. Todd scoffs at that and rolls his eyes, clearly trying to seem unimpressed.
Ashley sticks up a hand and speaks anyway, “did you really not know you were banned?”. Danny waves her off with his handless arm, okay he’s got a palm again but stilll, “do you know just how many places have banned me or my entire family”, tilting his head, “or just my dad at least”, which earns him some chucking before the bell goes off and he starts shooing everyone out loosely. Emilie goes right up to his desk though, grinning almost meanly, “tell me you are going to bring ghost books”. Valerie goes wide-eyed a little and glares at the back of Emilie’s head, then at Danny when he smirks and shrugs, “oh I don’t see why not, heck let’s make that the reading requirement. Read a book written by ghosts”. Val makes a series of faces, likely torn between curiosity and being completely done with his general shit. Emile smirks and fist bumps before leaving.
Danny quirking an eyebrow at Valerie getting her to finally speak up, “you are unbelievable, Danny”, shaking her head and walking closer, “so about this assignment thing-”.
Danny groans dramatically, “oh Ancients, way to make me feel like a teacher”. She smacks him over the head for that, “better?”. Danny just smirks and nods curtly, giving a cheery, “yup”. Valerie rolls her eyes, “anyway, I know it’s been decided everyone’s doing Phantom-”, rolling her eyes a little, “-but could I maybe do mine on the other Phantom”, and stares at him.
Oh she is so totally trying to gauge if he knows shit, not that that was remotely subtle. Eyeing her a little, “if you don’t save that kind of subject to your computer then sure, I guess I didn’t specify Danny with a y Phantom. But-”, squinting just a little, “-if, say, the G.I.W. manage to hack things and find out some things that might be dangerous”. Valerie blinks before shaking her head in disbelief, “how the Zone”, sighing, “I’m pretty good with tech these days, but yeah okay”, and gives him a bit of a weird look before rushing off at the warning bell.
---
Does Danny decide to take up the Ghost Writers offer? Yes, yes he does. Barging in and walking around like he owns the place, the Ghost Writer blatantly massaging his temples while Danny walks up to the guys little counter thingy, “so got any twelve odd copies of the same fiction book? That a bunch of teens who may or may not wreck them can have? Also could totally use some lore and historical books, you know, for reasons”.
The Ghost Writer sighs, pours himself some tea, gets up and nods, “yes, do attempt to see them returned though”.
“I make no promises”.
That gets him another sigh but Danny follows the ghost around anyway. The Ghost Writer winds up getting a bit excited and gives him an honestly excessive amount of books at the end of the day. Danny also learns that apparently it was Ember who was a blabbermouth and told the writing ghost when she was checking out, or something, a musician's after-death memoir. Figures a singer couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
-
The Ghost Writer patting the stack almost affectionately, “a happy book is a read book and I have a lot here, so enjoy”, and gives Danny a ‘come back’ look that’s just slightly threatening which Danny’s just going to assume is because the guy had vaguely forgotten who he’s talking to, that or the Ghost Writer hated him a lot less than he thought. The ghost holding up a finger, “ah yes, since you were proactive and showed at least some genuine care for the craft, here”, and plops a little green writing quill down on the stack. Danny is oddly genuinely touched.
Danny blushing and rubbing his neck a bit, “uh, appreciated?”. This honestly said more than it seemed, sure they clearly were bickering and were not exactly fond of each other but it seemed that the Ghost Writer was yet another once-antagonistic ghost that was now at least somewhat on team Phantom’s side.
“Yes, now if you’re done loitering”, the Ghost Writer makes shooing motions at Danny, “be on your way”. Danny rolls his eyes but does, in fact, leave... with an unnecessary amount of books in tow.
Chapter 4: An Education In Fashion
So apparently someone went and threw a little complaint about Danny’s straightjacket stunt, him wearing a near-floor-length parka the next day with shorts probably didn’t help though, and now Danny’s at the mall for reasons other than having fun or fighting some ghost. How does Danny know someone complained? Well a little conversation with Lancer that went a little something like this: “Daniel, I know the school’s a little... lax, but we do actually have a dress code. Which again, you are supposed to actually be marginally following unless it’s for safety reasons”. Which he had of course responded to with, “technically a straightjacket is a restraining device sooooo...”, which got him glared at. In short, Danny now had to buy new clothing. New clothing meant for teaching, which was weird as fuck.
Was he doing this alone? Zone no! He had absolutely recruited Sam and Tuck to wander around with him. Which, speaking of...
“Sup, dude!”.
Danny grins to himself before turning to his friends, “hey, Tuck man”, looking to Sam and nodding, “look at you slumming it like a mall goth”. Sam rolls her eyes at him and flips him off aggressively. Tuck smacks his arm, “more like look at you actually buying clothing new instead of digging through used stores for cheap shit. What? Did Casperhigh finally develop standards?”, and smirks.
Sam scowls at the techno-geek, “it’s better that he doesn’t support corporate-run stores and name brand garbage. What with all the slave labour, animal abuse, and terrible worker treatment”. Danny looks down very pointedly at her plaid T.U.K creepers that are 100% not bought from a used store; Sam shoves him, making him stagger a little with a laugh.
Him looking to Tucker, “Lance asked kinda nice-ishly so I’m being nice to the poor man”, smirking, “and maybe this’ll make up for me sorta kinda being responsible for one of the water fountains spewing out black water for a bit there”. Both of them stare at him for a bit before laughing, Tucker patting his back after a bit with a smile, “they hired you, what did they expect”.
Danny sticks his arms out exaggeratedly while the trio start walking, “I keep telling them that!”. Sam shaking her head with a smile, “well trying to appease the man or not, don’t you dare say we’re suit shopping”. Danny screwing his face up at her before gesturing around, “do you see Vladdie around? Because I fucking guarantee you he’d have some kind of sensor or informant for if I so much as stepped into a suit store or tailor, and he’d immediately show up to at least stare at my choices judgingly or offer to pay by flashing around a fancy credit card”. Tucker snorting, “that shouldn’t feel as accurate as it does”; making everyone laugh as they head into one of the ‘teen’ oriented stores. Danny was buying new passable clothing, not high-class ‘adult’ clothing.
The first thing Danny sees is bandanas, MORE FUCKING BANDANAS! Yes, he’s so here for this. Well not this specifically but you know. He grabs a new alien one, one that looks like a white dragons mouth (Tuck muttered something about seeing one just like that at a furry con which really just encouraged Danny to take it but with a shit-eating grin), two ghost ones because of course and if one of them is pink and glittery and has sequins then that’s his business and no one else’s shut up, another that looks like bloody tie-dye, and one that reads ‘SATAN just do it’ with a Nike checkmark; the last one might just get him in trouble but he’s pretty sure just the existence of his class/him already pisses off Christianity so why not go for a home run.
Sam eyes the SATAN bandana as she walks back over from another store, her smirking, “nice. Anyway, shoes”, and shoves a bag at him. Danny quirking an eyebrow while digging inside and chuckling at the white doc martins, snorting, “I thought I was the only one here supposed to be making jokes about my suit while also blatantly hinting at my shit”.
Sam scowls and crosses her arms, “they’re not sneakers and they’re mildly ‘professional’, deal with it”. Danny just chuckles as he pays for his bandanas and the dress-shirt with frowning depressed bananas all over it that Tuck threw at him.
Walking out and looking around before all three share a Look, breaking out in matching grins and speaking in unison, “HotTopic”, and then march off with determination written across their faces; which yes, gets them actively avoided by everyone who knew who they were, which was basically all of Amity these days.
Danny’s got crushed velvet straight cut pants that marginally resemble dress pants -Lancer will so not let him get away with freezer burnt crust pants or grey sweat pants at an assembly or whatever- folded over an arm while he’s shoving around some of the angsty and anime-themed hoodies when Kitty finally decides to approach him. Did he know she was here? Yes, obviously. Be weird and concerning if he didn’t. But she was generally well behaved so he let her be. The biggest risk her and Johnny usually posed was traffic violations. So not his problem.
Anyway, Kitty pokes the pants, quirks an eyebrow and hums a little, “nice choice there, Danny”, humming a little more before grabbing up a hoodie with a plague doctor on it and the words ‘there is no cure only infection, and I’m patient zero’, and shoving it at him, “that’s more your style”.
Danny blinks, “I see you’re trying to cut me with edge now, geez. But technically-”, holding up a finger from his unoccupied hand, “-anything that sheds ectoplasm is ‘contagious’ sooooooo”, and rolls his wrist. She gives him a pouty look, “I don’t know what I expected”.
Sam walks up, eyes the punk ghost before looking to Danny, “you’re getting a dress tailcoat, it says ‘dead boy’ on it”; making Danny wheeze a little and nod with a stupid grin. Kitty smiles a little bit before waving the goth off and starts walking away, “looks like you’ve already got a lady friend clinging around so I’ll be going”. Sam chucks a necklace at her while Danny coughs.
Regardless he gets the sweater because now he kinda has to. The tailcoat too though, because of course.
-
Sam and Tuck already have their supersized order of fries and respective meat and veggie burgers while Danny’s ordering his go-to coffee from his go-to coffee shop, gotta get in that dose of judgemental and mildly fearful staring. But Charles -yes Charles, not Lancer. Why the fuck?- winds up calling and Danny picks up feeling just mildly confused and curious, “uh, why? Also, how?”.
“So Danny, you’re an adult, a perfectly responsible adult-”. That tone is ominous as fuck, damnit. “-a responsible adult who does absolutely know how to safely handle ectoplasm-”. Oh Ancients.
Danny cuts him off, “what did you do to my classroom?”.
“Wh-what? I- nothing. Better question is what and why did you, honestly really, have a bomb-rigged drawer? Also, how does someone... convince a chunk of ectoplasm to get out of your closet and stop eating your ties? I mean, I think it might have eyes but I might also be wrong and it keeps squirming away from the microscope, which why would it do that?”.
Danny gives a pained smile, looks to the barista who’s now holding his venti cup filled with around thirty espresso shots, Danny sighing, “if I give you a fifty, could I convince you to add five more to that?”.
“What?”. Danny absolutely ignores Charles.
The barista looks down at the cup like she’s debating if potential manslaughter due to willful negligence was worth fifty dollars. Apparently yes, yes it is. She adds five more shots and Danny’s down fifty more bucks.
He absolutely catches her squatting down staring vacantly at the fifty muttering, “but was it worth it”, though. He cringes just a little bit; then he gets back to the phone call. Sighing, “blob ghosts typically have eyes, Charles, and the little guy’s eating your ties because you constantly let the things dangle down into your samples and don’t fucking wash them in an ectophobic solution. Gosh”, and rolls his eyes as he sits back down with his friends; who just quirk their eyebrows at him while he keeps talking away, “and of course my desk is bobby-trapped, man. If the G.I.W. activates that they’d be so bothered by the cleanliness breach that they’d just go home”. Tuck chokes and smacks the table comically a couple of times, making loud thumping noises.
Charles actually laughs, “true! So what can you do about the blob, buddy?”.
Danny screws up his face, pulls the phone away from his ear and stares down at it. Glancing to his friends, “a teacher just called me ‘buddy’???”, Danny’s not quite sure how to react to that, them laughing at him doesn’t help. Shaking his head he returns the phone to his ear and gives a cheery, “nope! Enjoy your new pet!”, and hangs up on the guy.
“Wha-”.
Danny starts eating the fries.
Tucker points his second burger at him, “you know...”. Danny pointing right back at him with a fry, “hush you”. He knows he’s a teacher himself alright, geez.
(Charles seemingly took Danny up on that pet comment and actually called FentonWorks for a containment unit and to ask about ‘ghost pet care’, Danny’s mom gave him the phone with a truly dumbfounded expression).
---
Alright, today’s the day. What day? Why the day to get paper assignments for the first goddamn time ever and try not to lose, destroy, contaminate, or otherwise ruin them. He’s fucked. Solidly fucked. But hey, at least it’s also the day to show off his shit fashion choices as well, little ray of sunshine there. Some light in the darkness.
He should probably attempt to win some points with Lancer and wear the dress shirt, honestly. So that’s what he’s gonna do. Depressed banana dress shirt, sequin alien bandana, crushed velvet pants, and what the heck the ‘dead boy’ tailcoat too why not; this boy is getting DRESSED UP today! And fine, yes he looks good based on his mirror's reflection; but his mirror is definitely ecto-contaminated so it might not be entirely trustworthy.
His dad also whistling at him as he heads downstairs for breakfast isn’t trustworthy either, considering the man’s fashion style was less of a ‘style’ and more of a scientific protective mess of orange and the occasional tie. Danny rolls his eyes and waves his dad off, “oh whatever, needed ‘proper attire’”, shrugging loosly, “whatever that means”. Jack beams, “just wear a jumpsuit! That’s always proper!”. Maddie looks away from the microwave she’s nuking some noodles in to glare at him, “not at a reunion, dear”; making Danny chuckle to himself while Jack rubs his neck. She still waves cheerily at Danny as he leaves though so...
-
This is one of those days he actually leaves early enough for a few quick patrol laps around his town, two ectopusses, the Box Ghost (because of course), all followed by him literally tripping into one of Skulker’s traps; hence why he was now peeling a basic ass bear trap -be more creative, tinman- off his leg. At least he had the sense to wipe off the ectoplasm with one of his random shit handkerchiefs before walking to the classroom and loudly dropping said beartrap on his desk in what was probably a slightly terrifying alpha move.
Is he early now? Haha no. At least three people jumped from the sudden loud noise. But fuck, Danny was NOT waiting around for Skulker to show his ass for longer than three minutes. Danny had shit to do, man. And apparently the local poacher can’t bother to be punctual when his traps go off. Fuck.
James blinks, “what the fuck?”. While Valerie just sighs and rolls her eyes, leaning back against her chair, “you stumbled on one of Skulker’s traps, didn’t you?”. Danny waves a hand around limply, “yeah? Yer point?”; making her roll her eyes at him very hard.
Danny doesn’t even get a chance to pick up the whiteboard marker before he’s pausing as his throat ices up, him holding up a finger, and just turning to walk right back out the classroom door. Fucking Skulker, goddamnit. But hey, his tailcoat whipping/fluttering about in the air in a way that was actually kinda badass was probably cool looking. He doesn’t have attendance points but he does have style points today motherfuckers.
Dale blinking, “did he just walk in only to leave again?”, slapping the desk, “well I guess he did drop off a bear trap from a ghost so... samples count as teaching?”. Todd snorting and rolling his eyes, “that doesn’t count for shit”; Valerie just chucks a pencil at him.
“I’m more interested in his whole get up. Who pairs a fucking tailcoat with sequin anything?”.
“Oh shut it, Amber. At least he didn’t come in wit a tie or a freaking suit”.
Dash snorts and actually laughs a little, “oh imagine that little twink in a suit! Ha!”. Which just makes Valerie smirk and turn to the jock, “he looks better in one than you do, Dash”.
“Oh fuck you, reject”. That comment was the only excuse Valerie felt she needed for proceeding to kick him in the chin, which might have started up a minor brawl by the time Danny got back.
Danny’s mildly attempting to fix his hair when he hip-checks his way back into his classroom, pausing with his hand stuck halfway through his hair at Valerie just having Dash in a headlock on the floor. Danny blinking, “mmmmm’ ‘kay”. Which fine, the class starts laughing at him for. Danny talks right over said chuckling, “so once somebody’s done with their little vice grip, or whatever, on another person everyone can relinquish their vice grip on their assignment shit and gimme gimme”. Val flips him off but hey, at least she lets Dash start breathing again. It’s something. And everyone does, in fact, start getting up to give him their work. Valerie trying to quietly and subtly ask him if ‘he’s okay’ when she hands hers over though. Danny sighing and shrugging limply, “eh I’m good, Skulker’s gonna be hearing from my lawyers though”, and smirks; resulting in Val smacking him over the head with a scowl.
-
Lancer showing up just after the bell, looking Danny up and down, and nodding with a, “good”, is weirdly chastising and awkwardly awkward. Ashley giggling to herself, “oh I get it, boy got in trouble for his clothing ‘choices’”. Danny points at her aggressively, “hush you”. Lancer leaves without choosing to comment on that.
---
Does Danny basically use the next couple of school days to make the school/his class his own personal fashion runway? Yes, yes he does. Did he also decide to melt some glue on the end of his tailcoat and file it to be sharp and blade-like? Yup. Was that very thing why Millie was currently done with his shit and arguing with him? Also yes.
“He cut the case lock for the microscope and ruined an entire three hundred dollar machine! We’re allowed to be armed but not wear literal blades as clothing!”.
Lancer is very clearly restraining a sigh.
Charles shrugs from the couch, “hey buddy, it was my machine and you don’t see me complaining”, looking to Danny, “I’m more curious about the how honestly”. Which fucking tracks for the man. Millie gestures at Charles, garish bangle bracelets clinking around in the process, “it’s the schools”, turning to Lancer, “at least fine the child”.
Danny crosses his arms, “hey, I’m eighteen not a ‘child’”, he was still considered a child ghost but that was besides the point.
Lancer pinches his nose and holds up a hand, which Millie actually listens too thank fuck for that. Danny’s pretty sure Lancer is literally the only person that lady respects even slightly. “While I’m certain it was an accident-”, glancing at Danny which Danny rubs his neck sheepishly over before Lancer continues, “-and the school could certainly just add this onto the Fenton tab, I doubt that would pose much of a solution for the fact that you simply don’t like Daniel very much, Millie”.
Millie huffs and crosses her arms, “he’s a menace-”. Danny can’t even argue against that. “-is barely older than most of the students-”. Also true. “-and couldn’t we have literally anyone else, anyone who’s a competent decent respectable person, teach his elective”. Oh this woman just loved mocking and treating non-core classes as lesser.
Danny smirks, “be careful or Remi’s gonna put paint in your pencil drawer again”. She scowls at him for that, pointing at him aggressively, “I know you helped her with that”. Danny will neither confirm nor deny that, “oh but how could I possibly remember when your nasty yellow fake nails are being way too distracting”.
“Why I never-”.
Lancer interjects at this point, Danny’s surprised the man even let him finish his witty comeback/insult. “That’s enough, you two clearly need some bonding time so-”, looking to the math teacher, “-Millie, you’ll be sitting in on Daniel’s class, I know you don’t have any scheduled class during that time and that you’re all caught up on grading, so don’t give me that excuse”; she scowls at him. Lancer looking to Danny, “and Daniel, you’ll sit in on her second block grade twelves”, glaring, “and no bathroom breaks”. Danny sags and whines very dramatically and very petulantly; Charles just starts snickering while attempting -and failing- to cover up said snickering with his hand.
Danny is so not impressed. Neither is Millie but that’s not Danny’s problem now is it. But now that Danny thinks about it, this is the perfect excuse to talk about ghost hunger and force someone who didn’t sign up for this shit to listen to/deal with his shit. Danny might just give Millie a more than slightly malicious smirk as he shoves Charles out of the way enough to sit on the couch; the man just rolling with it while trying not to laugh at his expense any further.
Danny only came early today for the cookies Remi said she’d drop off in the lounge, look how hard that bit him in the ass. Doesn’t even have time to sit and enjoy more than one cup of coffee now. Fuck. Wearing his SATAN bandana was probably asking for it a bit though. Flipping out his phone while nibbling on a cookie and blatantly ignoring Millie storming out in a huff.
thealiveone: so guess who just jacked up the tab AND pissed off mille
PDAxpda: millies the math teach right?
Nightshade: nice
thealiveone: yup! she like always hates me nothing new there
thealiveone: she no happy about recent bought of destruction of property
PDAXpda: someone needs to chill that’s what you do
thealiveone: ouch but yes and now have excuse to force her to hear out ghost hunger
Nightshade: you cruel cruel man I apporv
Nightshade: that bitch gave me so much shit about my ‘satanic’ fashion
thealiveone: ahhh yes I remever that
thealiveone: from back when we were young
thealiveone: our youthful days
PDAXpda: *pfffft*
thealiveone: anyone any one want cookies?
Nightshade: 😆🙃 sure Danny
-
By the time it’s time for Danny to head to his shit he has consumed three cookies and stuffed around eight intangibly inside his body for safekeeping; not like Sam and Tuck gave a shit about eating/using stuff from inside him.
Is Millie waiting judgementally outside of his classroom? Yes. Does he care? No. The class absolutely eyes him and the math teacher as he waltz’s in though. Todd snickering, “ooooo someone needs a babysitter do they?”. Danny just smirks, “oh no Lance-y’s just punishing his problem children. Anyway today’s subject will be light cannibalism”, and smirks wickedly.
Millie glares while taking a seat off to the side, “I’m not the child here”.
“I’m not the one being petty”.
“You broke a three hundred dollar machine”.
“And? Your point?”.
At this point most of the class is snickering, Valerie shakes her head, “you never change, Danny”. Danny finger-gunning, “and never plan to”. Millie’s scowl deepens.
Danny rummages through his desk muttering, “where’d I put it, where’d I put it”, all the while. Because fine, maybe he was saving this subject for when he thought it would be the most impactful, so sue him. Grinning when he actually finds and starts digging out the little habitat with around five or six blob ghosts in it. Well technically they were blebs, a subspecies of blobs, but whatever. These would have probably been a lot easier to find if he hadn’t modified the bottom drawer to be connected to a slight pocket dimension… but then they wouldn’t have even fit in the drawer in the first place. You win some you lose some.
James blinking as Danny puts the container on his desk somewhat loudly, “huh, guess it’s ‘live’ specimens again. Neat”. Emilie grins, “awww they’re cute”, then glares/smirks at Valerie daring the girl to argue. Valerie just rolls her eyes. Danny also pulling out a blender makes everyone go awkwardly and cautiously silent though. Danny’s just busy cursing while he tries to plug the stupid thing in, “why the f̴̢uc̸̢k is it all bent up?”. No one elects to point out any obvious answers to that one.
Danny walking back over to his desk and popping open the bleb containment unit, “so anyone wanna taste test some basic b̴̡i҉̧t͟͟ch̕͠ ghost food?”, and proceeds to drop the bleb into the blender while simultaneously turning it on; does he get ecto splattered on his face because he forgot the blender lid? Oh absolutely and he’s cool with that. At least half the class jerks back and/or screws up their faces. Millie looks deeply offended; success! Danny licks a bit off of his cheek while staring at the class just to be extra. Dash and Val are the only ones who look completely unphased -though Todd’s trying to look unphased- seeing as both of them had seen him straight-up eat a ghost before.
Ashley squeaks, “um, no?”. Which Danny busts out laughing over and losses his composure, sitting on the edge of his desk, “I’m not serious, Ashley. And don’t worry about the little guy, as we’ve discussed, non-cored ghosts basically respawn”, holding up a finger, “plus! Bleb’s like being eaten”, at that he takes a swig straight from the blender and winks at Millie.
Jasper mutters, “oh Zone he’s doing this to fuck with Ms. Felmer”.
“Mood”.
“Understandable”.
Dale chuckles, “I knew Danny was a menace but damn”. Dash looks a little freaked out, “did I mess his taste buds up by making him eat my underwear?”. Danny absolutely has to address that, pointing at him with the blender slightly, “you are not nearly that influential on my life, Dash”.
“Whatever, Fentaco”.
Millie actually snaps, “Mr. Baxter”, over that jab; making the jock roll his eyes and huff. Her voice sounding a wee bit strained pleases Danny greatly though. Truly.
Danny taps the containment container, “now remember I have a really bloody weird ecto-contamination so do not try that at home. Anyway, ghost hunger involves the eating of ghosts. Surprise surprise, I know. And if none of you leave this class today without losing your lunch I will feel personally offended…”. Again, why did the principal think putting this class directly after lunch was a good idea? Oh well, the janitor's problem now.
-
Did anyone actually wind up throwing up? Yes actually. Not Millie though, much to Danny’s dismay. She did look close multiple times though. And fine, maybe, maybe, Danny went into far more detail than really necessary. Which absolutely explains Brittney sticking up a hand and asking, “how do you even know this this well”, while looking more than a little sick. A few other teens nodding their agreement and mutual curiosity.
Danny snickers, “I have walked in on Technus showering and brushing his teeth, do you really think I haven’t walked in repeatedly on a ghost eating another ghost. Especially when all our local blobs and whisps are totally smitten with Phantom’s stomach?”. That earns him a very loud round of gagging, and Val’s staring at her desk like she’s having a mild crisis. Ah today’s been a good day.
“Forget I asked. What the Hell”.
That just makes Danny smirk as the bell goes off. That makes Danny jolt out of his seat, summon his green quill out of his hair, and start wildly scribbling on the board, “oh! Oh! Before you go, grab your assignment şh͘͜i҉͞t̶͝ and to the person who wrote about the theory that Phantom’s a parasitic species and that’s why he can stay here so long -you know who you are- I hate you. Your little quizzes are in there too, I realise I was lazy about marking şh͘͜i҉͞t̶͝ don’t at me. Also also, this-”, tapping the board, “-is the room I’ll be in for the parent-teacher thingy ma jiggy not this room, for reasons”. Which gets him more than a little snickering and some pointed glances at the -now empty- blender, while everyone takes their graded shit. Danny’s just glad he managed to not lose or destroy anyone’s shit. Though Emilie’s quiz did have a mysterious new ectoplasm stain that he… attempted… to get out. He tried okay?
Millie glares at him as she gets up last to leave, “you, boy, are an affront to humanity”, then promptly leaves. Danny puts a hand to his chest and very loudly says, “why thank you”.
Unfortunately, he is now stuck staying here ‘till her shitty math class. Fuck. Sighing loudly at his ceiling before smirking and chuckling a little, “time to do some sketchy shit, do da, do da”. He could use some ghost summoning practice.
-
Needless to say half an hour later the schools been evacuated and there’s a pissed off dragon ghost -not from Dora’s kingdom which kinda shocked Danny- flying around. Most of the teachers are glaring at him, Lancer included. At least he’s got a duplicate of himself in Phantom form off throwing fist-a-cuffs; well… more like arguing aggressively about not meaning to summon the one goddamn dragon that wasn’t from the Draconic's kingdom.
Lancer sighs at grounded human form him, “you’re still sitting in on Millie’s math class”.
“Awwwww”. Danny smirks a little, “also, I need a new desk chair”. Lancer puts his head in his hands and shakes his head faintly.
Danny (as Phantom) and the goddamn dragon pause as Red flys up on her hoverboard. Danny waving goofily, “sup Red”, pointing at the dragon, “he’s just upsetti spaghetti, not a real problemo”. He can feel Red’s annoyance and disapproval. The dragon just growls and attempts to breathe fire at her; which she obviously dodges.
Danny gestures at the dragon while she basically unloads on them, “blame your teacher of ghost things!”, and then resumes attempting to capture the dragon. He can easily hear Red mutter, “Zone damn it, Danny”; which fine, he chuckles at.
Eventually, Danny does manage to get the dragon into his thermos. There’s probably one more ghost out there with a bone to pick with him though. Oops. He’s not even slightly surprised to get a chat message from Val a little later.
Robin: whhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy
thealiveone: 😏
thealiveone: are you not entertained
Robin: 😑🖕🏻
thealiveone: *snicker*
(Danny still does, in fact, have to sit through math, which was just as torturous as he remembers. Millie made it even more awful of course. Though unlike him she didn’t change her class plan just to fuck with his day, she did treat him like a student and called on him to answer questions constantly though… that got him so much subtle mocking).
---
The parent-teacher thing comes up way quicker than he would have liked. Lancer giving him a shoulder pat as Danny slumps down into this room's chair, “I’m sure this will go just fine”. Danny rolls his eyes, “I’m a literal teen, Lance. Adult-y folks aren’t known for respecting teens or whatever”.
Lancer deadpans, “somehow, Daniel, I doubt you actually care”. Making Danny snort, “true true. I do still have a point though”.
“Which is exactly why I’ll be staying here and supervising”.
Danny actively groans at that. But fine, understandable.
Of course the first parents, fuck this is weird Ancients, show up while Danny’s partway through spinning around in his chair. It’s Emilie and she is smirking, telling Danny that they absolutely don’t know this random teen is the teacher. Hell yeah time to fuck with them.
Emilie’s mom looks around, “oh is the teacher not here yet?”, looking to Lancer, “I doubt you’re also the ecto-ology teacher”. Lancer actually chuckles a little at that before shaking his head.
Danny snorts and stands up a bit dramatically, “sorry to say but… he died. Totally dead”. Emilie snickers into her hand. Val picks that exact moment to barge in herself with her dad, “Danny, stop telling people you’re dead. You walking problem”.
Mr. Gray quirks an eyebrow at Danny, “ah so my Valerie was telling the truth, somehow I’m both surprised and not”, then walks right up to Danny, claps him on the shoulder, and says, “good for you, lad”. Which Danny rubs his neck a bit sheepishly over. Both Val’s dad and Tuck’s folks worried about his ass, usually more than his own folks did; which, yes, was kinda a bit fucking wild.
Emilie’s mom blinks and looks to her husband then back to Danny, “you’re? the teacher?”. Lancer takes that moment to actually speak up, “indeed Daniel is. Arguably he’s the most qualified for the position, and excluding some… incidences… his performance is more than acceptable”.
Danny snorts, “complimenting and insulting me all in one go, nice”, and finger-guns at the man. Lancer just gives him a fond but exasperated look.
Emilie’s mom purses her lips before shrugging after a bit. Her and her husband both walking over and sitting down, Emilie lounging behind. “Well alright then, though you are certainly a little young to be in such a position of power-”. Danny has to seriously resist throwing his head back, cackling, and saying ‘you have no idea’ at that because fuck saying he had too much power was a goddamn fucking understatement. “-but how is she doing?”, looking over her shoulder to eyeball Emilie slightly, “not being too much of a distraction”.
Danny snorts, “ma’am, being a distraction is basically my job in class. I guess you could say I encourage active discussion and pretty much ignore the ‘put up your hand before speaking’ rule altogether”. Emilie snorts, “considering you blew up the classroom a few days ago…”.
Her dad sighs, “well I guess that’s still better than Jack”. Which fine, Danny snorts at.
Danny pointing at the man, “to be fair, I’ve taken plenty protective measures and do, in fact, know what I’m doing. The accidental wrong dragon summoning was just a miscalculation and wasn’t even during class time”.
Lancer glares at him a little, “yes, and now you’re banned from unapproved experimentation”. Danny just pouts at him before actually doing the class talking stuff he’s supposed to be doing. Val and her dad are just ‘waiting’ off to the side and chuckling at him faintly.
When it is Mr. Gray’s turn the man immediately asks, “she’s not letting outside interests interfere with your class, is she?”. Danny can practically feel the threat of grounding coming off of that question, holy shit. Lancer dutifully pretends to not be listening, Danny is goddamn postivite Lancer knows about Val since she’s way easier to figure out than him.
Danny chuckles, “naw, in fact I can say that my class is the only one she doesn’t ditch”, and gives a very cocky proud grin. Like a preening peacock. Val glares at him a little, “that’s because you boobytrapped the door. No one can leave unless you let them”. Danny just smirks more, “what can I say? I know how to hold a hostage or two”. Val clearly can’t help snorting/laughing at that. Mr. Gray actually looks a little pleased and impressed.
From there pretty much all the meetings are boring and pretty typical. Granted he did tell Todd’s folks that ‘Todd’s a real dick’, which Lancer apologised for on Danny’s behalf. Todd’s dad saying ‘oh we know’ threw Lancer through a bit of a loop though. And apparently Danny calling their son a dick made him more trustable in their eyes, who knew? Dash’s dad made a joke about how ‘hey aren't you that boy my son whipped into shape?!?’ and laughed heartily. Which lead to Lancer going off on a tangent about Mrs. Testlauf’s unhealthy teaching methods, which is how Danny learned that there is a serious beef between the two.
But then came Sophia with her parents, Sophia was one of the freshmen whose family moved here somewhat recently. Girl basically never talked and always seemed cautious. She did perk up a little whenever anything really dark or gory came up -can’t exactly talk about dead people without speaking of brutal horrid violent death- so Danny thinks she’s, like, a closet Goth or Emo or something. Sam would love to introduce her to the ookie spookie side.
Mrs. Holly comes in walking like she’s a judgmental holier-than-thou know it all with some serious entitlement issues, so Danny’s pretty sure this is just going to be so fun. Sophia looks a little more meek and sheepish than usual too. Mrs. Holly huffs, “I truly can’t believe they’d have such a garish class nonetheless let a child from such a proper family take it”, and huffs for a second time. Mr. Holly shaking his head, “truly unbelievable”. Ahhh Danny can see where this is going, even Lancer's frowning a little. Now Danny could either be ‘responsible’ and handle this ‘like an adult’ or he could just choose violence. He’s a combative motherfucker so one option is much more appetising.
Lancer speaks up first, “if you ask me, this class should be, and in the future will be, mandatory. A core subject. It’s a matter of safety after all”. Danny points at him, “and the general knowledge is way more useful than social or math”. Lancer gives him one unimpressed look at that. Danny shrugs and waves him off, “what? Everyone has calculators in their pockets, there isn’t an app for ghosts”.
The parents decide to speak up at that. Mr. Holly scoffing sarcastically, “ah yes, this ‘ghosts’ thing”. Which tells Danny exactly what kind of head-stuck-in-the-sand motherfuckers these guys are. Mrs. Holly nods and scowls at Danny, “yes, we didn’t expect this town to be a satanic cult stronghold”. Which makes Danny cough because that was not quite what he was expecting. Even Lancer coughs and goes a little bug-eyed.
Danny blinks, “excuse me? Do you not believe in ghosts and just think this town is under the delusions of a cult?”. This was actually a new one for Danny. What the fuck.
“We believe in Jesus. Sad to say you clearly don’t, doing the devil's work. ‘Ghosts’ ‘from the afterlife’. As if those are not other words for ‘demon’ and ‘Hell’. And I am not impressed that my little girl is being allowed to be indoctrinated like this. This is why we need more support for proper Christian homeschooling”, she nods to herself with a huff. Mr. Holly nodding readily as well.
This is actually the first time Danny’s ever been called a literal demon actually. He’s been called a demon child or little devil but not literally a demon. Like, a ‘from Hell’ type demon. Should he be flattered? Maybe? Oh whatever. But choosing violence would be the ‘demonic’ thing to do right? So Danny snorts, “I mean if you wanna raise your kid badly and mess them up for adult life, go right ahead. But when your kid doesn’t know what to do during a ghost attack when we get randomly assaulted by a sentient tornado or invaded by another dragon, don’t come complaining to me. Also don’t come complaining to me when your kid moves out at seventeen and refuses to talk to you for twenty-three years”. Lancer looks like he wants to stop him and make him shut up but also really doesn’t want to. Danny’s probably a bad influence on the man. “If you don’t want to believe in ghosts, something very explicitly real unlike your unproven book god, that’s your dealio. But come on and have some decency and let your kid make up their own mind, yeah?”.
Mr. Holly blinks at him, “how old are you?”. Making Danny laugh, “physically? eighteen. Mentally? A lot older than you, clearly”. Both adults look suitably offended by that and Sophia has a tiny smile though also seems more than a little nervous. Her folks are probably the ‘my house, my rules’ and ‘I brought you into this world I can bring you out’ and ‘this is the way this family does things, so you have to as well’ types.
Mrs. Holly scoffs, “this is unbelievable”, turning around to Sophia -who has a good Poker face, which is actually kind of concerning/depressing- and snapping, “to think you’d even select such a class”. Sophia muttering, “I find it interesting”, chewing her lip a little, “and he did bring proof of them day one”. Mrs. Holly rolls her eyes, “oh yeah? What proof?”, and actively looks like she just won this conversation; which Danny is so not having.
So Danny, being Danny and the undead gremlin child that he is, shouts, “this proof!”, and proceeds to grab an ecto-apple from inside his tailcoat, smashing it down on the desk hard enough to make it explode, and grins slightly manically while the green ectoplasm juice and chunks bubble, start moving, develop eyes and mouths, start sticking up like deadman’s finger fungus, and then start shrieking.
Lancer chokes. The parents jerk and jump back, having gotten splattered slightly. Sophia just blinks wide-eyed, taking a slight step back; she was, after all, slightly more used to Danny and his general wackiness.
Danny sticks his finger in the coagulated mass of screaming green horror and starts swirling it/his finger around, grinning manically still, “proof enough fer ya?”. He does pull out a thermos and suck the stuff up when the desk starts steaming though.
The parents say nothing for a bit before Mr. Holly stammers, “we-we will n-not be deceive-deceived by a w-witch”. Which Danny snorts at, “I’ve got a friend who’s a witch, but naw, not really my thing. I prefer to chill it with the dead rather than pagan gods”, tilting his head, “though I guess some pagan gods are also ghosts so eh”, and shrugs.
Mrs. Holly scowls, turns on her heels, and leaves. Snapping, “come on Sophia”. Her husband scampering after her. Danny waves in the most fruity way he can, speaking singsong,“🎵bbbyyyyeeeeee🎵“, looking to Sophia, “see you on Monday, yeah?”. She just nods at him with a slight smile.
Mr. Lancer blinks after a bit, “Daniel… I almost feel like I need to write you up for that entire stunt”, holding up a finger while pinching his nose and leaning back in his chair, “but. You probably did the right thing”. Danny can’t help chuckling at that, “I mean, I would say I did the right thing but my opinion on my own behaviour is absolutely super-duper biased”. Lancer glares at him while he continues, “and really? not believing in ghosts is a good way to wind up dead. Better to bite that bullshit in the ass than let them think throwing holy water at Johnny would be a good idea”.
Lancer blinks, “they would likely have bad luck for the rest of their lives”. Danny nods immediately, “understatement. Kitty would send that man to her alternate kiss dimension in a heartbeat”. Lancer just stares at him a little bit, “has… has that happened to you?”.
“Happened to all of Amity’s men slash boys once”.
Lancer chooses to not respond to that.
---
“Hmmmm. I see. He is rather handling it well. Fulfilling the proper and respective duties”.
“Ah yes indeed. As… begrudging as that is to admit”.
“We’ll have to have a… conversation”.
“But of course”.
“Most unfortunate”.
“Indeed”.
“But he will accept what he’s due”.
“As he should”.
“However, we can never be sure with… that one”.
“Truly unfortunate”.
“Time and her overseer favour that one far too much”.
“And yet they are right, which is also quite unfortunate”.
“Yes. Quite”.
“Well shall we get to it?”.
“Hmmmm no. Let four nine eight and four nine one deal with that one, they are unwise yet”.
“Very well. Watcher”.
Chapter 5: I Am The Guardian Of The Knowledge! The Knowledge Guardian!
Danny is having a morning alright? Sure he had a good-ish sleep, seeing as he apparently did decently well with the parent/teacher thingy excluding the fact that the school had now acquired a religious discrimination complaint (not that the school cared). And also sure, maybe he got out of genuinely fighting Technus by humble bragging since that ghost was ‘a man of science’ and thus was a sucker for any gossip involving someone taking the piss out of religious folks. Also also, he got waffles this morning. Big plus there.
So you’d think with all that he’d be about to have an awesome morning but nope. Instead, he is currently actively running away from his consequences. Well okay, mostly flying but he can’t exactly do that once he got to school.
Danny walks briskly into the classroom and shuts the door very firmly, even going so far as to lock it a bit dramatically before turning around and giving the class an awkward smile. Heading up to the board, “alright f͜ư͘ck҉͘ę͏r͡s̛-”.
He absolutely ignores the, “Open up”, from outside the door. Chuckling very awkwardly while the class glances at the door then back to him. Danny clearing his throat, “so now that the parent-teacher stuff is outta the way and y’all proved you’re not totally stupid with the quiz and mini lab thing. Why don’t we move on to lairs and contamination-”.
“Daniel James Janus Fenton”.
Danny sighs very audibly and stares up at the ceiling for a second, everyone else quirking eyebrows, snickering, or talking at each other.
“Uhhhh, I feel like he’s using us somehow”.
“Does he seriously have two middle names?”.
Valerie grumbles to herself a bit about how she didn’t even know Danny had a second middle name.
“Better yet one of them is ‘Janus’? The Hell?”.
“Ha, serves the freak right”.
Danny clears his throat a little, “anyway, the Eyes Of Ovi Colosseum is a perfect example of a really stupid specified lair for some mouthless d͏͜į͡ck҉̸͞s҉ nitpicking over laws who think they somehow have the right to control other peoples existences”, and throws a mild glare at the door. Bunch of floating cloaked dicks.
Emilie snorts and laughs into her hand, “oooh someone’s trying to throw a little shade”.
A couple of people chuckle at the, “we have responsibilities, Daniel. Now will you allow us an attendance with you”, that speaks up from the other side of the door.
James quirks an eyebrow, “that sounded more like a threat than a ‘please let me in, dickhead’”. Earning some nods and more chuckles.
“I’m more curious who Danny pissed off enough to stand angrily outside of the ghost-proofed door”.
Danny holds up a finger, “technically, they’re cops”. Earning him a round of shocked gasps and scandalised looks of horror. Rolling his wrist, “anyway, their lair is, like, the biggest standing prison. Vortex’s in it”, shrugging, “they might have tried assassinating me once…”, Danny continues without acknowledging or explaining on that one. And yes, he mentioned it purely to piss off the Observants and rub it in just a little bit more that they failed at ending his ass.
Once the class over bell rings though… he looks around awkwardly and with a level of fake pleading, “anyone suddenly feel like staying after class?”.
Val actually humours him (which he one hundred percent expected), ditto with Emilie actually. Todd just wants any excuse to skip class that doesn’t require him doing anything legitimately bad like leaving school property. Everyone else opting to get up and head to the door, though flashing him apologetic shrugs… or smirking meanly. You’d think they’d be nicer to a guy that can affect their grades. Fucking jerks. However it is Danny who gets to smirk meanly when there is -surprise surprise- two Observants floating outside his door that all of them have to skirt around very cautiously. The Observants, for their part, completely ignore all of his fellow teens/students; instead they just stare -if eyelidless giant eyes even can stare- at him intensely. Danny waves cheekily; they feel like they’re glaring. And pretty much all the other teens that see the Observants just kind of hide around corners and observe instead of heading to their next class. Nosy shits, Danny would do the exact same. He probably shouldn’t feel proud over their want for gossip outweighing the requirement to go to class or to practice self-preservation, but he totally does.
One of the Observants lifts up a boney green hand and points at him, “we need to speak with you”. Making Danny snort, cross his arms, and lean against his desk, “yeah I think I got that one after the multi-hour stalking session”. Valerie snorts at that though she is eyeballing the Hell out of the fucking ghosts.
“Alone”.
Danny puts a hand to his chest, “aawwwww, confessing your love for me in private? How scandalous”.
The Observant on the left looks to the one on the right, “I now understand why the elders didn’t want to deal with him”. Which fine, makes Danny feel exceptionally proud of himself. Emilie laughs, “oooo, I so want to know what Danny did to hurt these poor elders' feelings or whatever”. Danny side-eyes and smirks at her, “oh only colluded with a god to break the laws of temporal displacement”.
“I can’t even tell if you’re serious”.
Danny’s smirk grows malicious, “good”, then sighing and sagging, looking back to the two Observants, “fiiiiiiine. But no, I don’t know who jailbroke whatever prisoner out. Or where Plasmius has hidden whatever artifact of rare and overwhelming power. Or-”
The Observant on the right actually has the gall to interrupt him, “you are not to blame for anything”. The left one adding on, “currently”; making Danny snort. Him then gesturing at his three ‘students’, “but can’t you see that I am busy? I mean really. Some of us actually have work to do these days”; all three teens chuckling to themselves over that while also mildly pretending to be taking notes or some shit. But with another heftily sigh Danny moves to pack his shit… very slowly. Because technically legitimately snuffing the Observants was a recipe for disaster and Lancer probably wouldn’t appreciate the school getting beset by an army of eyeball assholes purely because Danny felt like being a bastard. That… and it might actually be something mildly important; which, arguably, he shouldn’t just ignore.
Today’s turned into real shit.
Valerie quirks an eyebrow at him when he throws his backpack over his shoulder, making the tailcoat flare out a little, “are you seriously going along with a pair of ghosts”, then glaring at Danny when he rolls his eyes at her.
“Val, it’s perfectly fine. Annoying, but arguably fine”, him shrugging, “it’s not like they can harm me”, looking to the Observants and smirking meanly, “seeing as they are incapable of doing harm”, snorting, “pfffft, fucking pacifists, am I right?”. A couple of people in the hallway are noticeably stifling snickers. The Observants, for their part, just ‘stare’ silently.
Joshep shouts from the hallway, “what are all you kids doing out here?!? Get to class!”. Danny’s pretty sure that he -and the Observants- is the only one who can hear Joshep muttering, “what the Hell did that Fenton kid do now? Why does my classes have to be so close to his? Just why?”.
Danny picks that moment to walk out of his classroom, look at Joshep, and laugh very loudly and sarcastically. Joshep grimaces deeply at him, eyes the two FUCKING GHOSTS, and grimaces deeper but also with slight fear. Val, Todd, and Emilie all slip out behind Danny; Val whispering at him, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Danny”. Making him smirk, “when do I ever”; earning him some major glaring. He’d bet money on her not actually going to class and instead trying to secretively follow him ‘for his safety’.
The hallway gets real empty real fast as soon as Danny walks off with the Observants following him a bit unnecessarily close; that really only encourages him to walk slower though so HA!
Just before exiting the building Danny quickly throws Lancer a text, you know, in case the man tries to go looking for him or some shit. Joshep will probably tattle on him for ‘having pet eyeball ghosts’. Though making a pet of an Observant would be one Hell of a power move, goddamn.
Danny : 🚓🚔🚓
Let his sorta boss think of that what he will, for now, Danny’s gotta go and deal with his problems. Apparently anyways. Kinda hard to skirt ‘the law’ when said ‘law’ were ‘all-seeing’. Fuck him.
-
By the time Danny and his two personal shadows get to the Colosseum he thinks the two Observants might just be starting to get close to overdosing on puns. Probably helps that Danny’s using the shittiest, corniest, dumbest ones he can possibly think of. And to think he only got halfway through his stockpiled eyeball-themed ones!
Him glancing around the Colosseum full of Observants, and apparently ClockWork? off to the side cleaning their staff lazily. Stupid Clocky, Danny so could have used a heads up; throwing them a quick pout -which they smirk slightly over- before looking up at Watcher, the head Observant. Putting his hands in his pockets, “soooooo? The fucks up, extra-large eyeball”.
Watcher leaves him hanging for a little bit before speaking up and Danny can practically hear the reluctance and regret in their voice, “Daniel James Janus Fenton Phantom, I’m certain it should come as no surprise to you that we are well aware of your recently acquired… position, as well as how your performance has tracked”.
Danny snorts, “so what? You fucks care about mortal realm teaching now? Isn’t that shit, you know, beneath you or whatever? Not that I actually care. Go ahead and get your knickers in knots about whatever the fuck you wanna. But this?-”, gesturing around lazily, “-seems a little excessive as retaliation for educating mortals. Dramatic as fuck, which mild props there I guess, but still-”.
Watcher cutting him off, “this is not a punishment, as you’ve already been made aware-”. Danny flips him off for that jab. “-rather your… position makes you qualified and befitted of another”.
What.
No seriously, what the fuck?
Danny blinks and tilts his head, “are you trying to also give me a job offer?”; the fuck is wrong with people and springing sudden surprise job offers for shit he is almost definitely largely not qualified for. Though fine, Danny as Phantom had a fuck tone of qualifications here in the Zone. Fuck, he even technically had right to claim the High Throne!
Watcher almost sighs and glances up for a split second, “the answer to your question is neither affirmative nor contradicting. You have taken actions no other has and doing so with more than just marginal success. As such you are the only being fulfilling the role of educating mortals and working through those means to ease the strained and threatening relationship between our realms-”.
Danny jumps in at that, throwing his hands out to the side, “you’re only now just noticing that?!? I’ve been pretty well doing that since the beginning!”. ClockWork holds up a finger, “but was that out of choice or necessity? And were any instances of you actually being educational simply accidents while you were doing what you do best?”, nodding to themselves almost smugly, “I think we both know the answer there, Daniel”; Danny rolls his eyes though blushes a little. Damn it, Clocky.
Watcher doesn’t actively acknowledge ClockWork -which he’s sure ClockWork’s gonna use as an excuse to fuck with them later. Fuck, they might be fucking with them right now- instead continuing to speak at Danny, “you are being granted a position of Ambassador and Sovereign Wisdom, Guardian of the passing of wisdom between the two realms”.
Danny blinks, oh my Ancients. Okay yes ClockWork was absolutely involved in this and the Observants are absolutely not happy about this. Guardians were BIG FUCKING DEALS. The High Sovereign was basically the only one above Guardians. Well and technically the Observants, but that was debatable. Danny snorts, “wow you guys must really hate yourselves. Here I thought you didn’t want me having more power?”. He can feel multiple glares.
Watcher themselves seemingly glares, “while that still stands, what is earned is earned and what is due is due. And while a Guardian of this variety is not necessary, it is beneficial to the realm and future. And, begrudgingly, you do it well”. Danny has to roll his eyes at that, the Observants and their ‘for the betterment of the future’, that got old before he even met them. He does actually put on his more serious face/posture when Watcher floats down to be more on level with him. “so will you accept?”.
“What, in any world, would make you think I’d say no? You don’t have to beg me, you bunch of eyeball crybabies?”. Like really? HE WAS ALREADY DOING THE ‘JOB’. The only reason he didn’t take the High Throne was the added boatloads of responsibilities; that, and he’d have to spend so much time here that he might as well just live in the Zone… not happening anytime soon.
“Very well”. Watcher raises a hand and waves it, a sceptre forming next to their hand floating in the air before it starts moving towards him slowly. Danny decides to leave Watcher hanging and mildly admire the black Arbutus wood with glowing blue carvings across it, legit looked pretty hecking cool. Clocky’s stiff pinstriped staff design wouldn’t exactly suit Danny’s quirkiness. The prehnite crystal on top was a definitively spooky pale opac green with green glowing falling feathers inside; at least the green in green didn’t look weird.
Danny shrugging after a bit and reach out to grab it, the three little silver bells secured by blue leather rope surrounding the crystal chiming slightly from the jostling. Danny furrowing his brows a little and sniffing at said bells; ignoring the twitching in his limbs from connecting to the artifact. Huh, well that smells a heck of a lot like sandalwood and frankincense; eh there was probably some inside. Danny is absolutely blaming the dangling red and green feathers on Ghost Writer giving him a fucking quill though.
Shrugging Danny leans the thing lazily on his shoulder and pointedly makes a point to not react even slightly to the weird pulsing come from in towards his core. Little uncomfortable but not nearly as uncomfortable as being impaled by a giant fishhook. Or mauled by a tiger. Or watching his dad disco dance in public. Little more uncomfortable than Lancer’s attempts to be ‘hip’ and ‘cool’ and ‘relatable’.
Danny thinks he’s being glared at again. ClockWork is absolutely smirking in the stands. Danny also not reacting to a cloak magically poofing into existence attached to his neck is probably annoying the Observants even more. Ha, suck on that. He is the unphaseable one! Phased by nothing! Who is also apparently king of knowledge! Lord of knowing! Yet stupid enough to show up with his clothes backwards more than once (how the fuck did he accidentally wear a jacket backwards and not notice it? Seriously self. Gosh). He does glance at the cloak though, lifting up one side judgingly. Chuckling, “black with blue stitching? What? No green to accent my eyes?”.
“We do not choose the appearance”.
Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah no fucking shit. Blue’s an educational, or whatever the fuck, colour”, tilting his head, “and Lancer’s why I even know that. Huh”. Poetry symbolism was useful for something he guesses. Oh and the clasp is a quill, goddamn that Ghost Writer. Fuck. He’s definitely ignoring whatever symbolism might be behind the slightly bondage harness-looking triple straps going across his chest, he doesn’t want to know honestly. The hood tip zig-zagging like a lightning bolt is supremely obvious though. Like, painfully obvious. patting it a little and looking back to the Observant, “so this all the shit? Don’t feel like fucking with my half-life any further?”.
Watcher almost audibly sighs, turns to borderline glare at ClockWork, “dress your child, ClockWork”. ClockWork grins and pretends not to hear them for a second before floating down.
Danny is perfectly content to let his ClockPops ruffle up his hair, both of them side-eyeing Watcher with mean smirks while ClockWork boops Danny on the cheek with their staff; Danny letting their energy mess with his appearance more than willingly. Suddenly his tailcoat is on him in ghost form, which yeah feels a little weird. An (ecto-ha) green frilled poet blouse underneath with little cufflinks that have ghost pipes (ha!) on them. Crushed black velvet trousers, straight cut and wide/baggy. Silver armoured boots and gloves, which fine, he’s a combative motherfucker. He can also feel some shit going on with his hair, a quick pat-down proving that apparently ClockWork decided he needed some flowers in his hair. Goddamn better be ghost pipes. Danny chuckling, “nice, Clocky”; they smirk lightly and fondly at him.
“But of course, Daniel”.
Watcher does their little hand-wavey glittery thingy taking an in-time ‘photo’ of him to send out through the realm, because bitch there be a new Guardian. Danny just chuckles, “can I go now?”.
“We’d prefer you did”.
Danny snorts, throws a peace sign and finger guns before just fucking off entirely. Him turning away to stalk off making the cloak swish in the air which reveals that the end is, like, curled up into something resembling a scroll. Fucking symbolism, Ancients.
-
Turning human when he gets back reveals the cloak changes to light blue with black stitching, well that’s convenient. Seeing as technically he’s supposed to wear the thing whenever he’s doing his ‘job’ so it changing with his forms is probably for the best. Phantom’s the Ambassador, Fenton’s the Sovereign Wisdom. Plus wearing a cloak to school is totally a weird quirky thing to do, which is perfectly up his alley. Sick as shit too. He’s gonna wear the hood down while human, up and tucked right behind his ears while Phantom; just for that little added difference. Danny had some sense of self-preservation. His clothing is still exactly what his ClockPops gave him… well okay the shoes look slightly more dress shoey than like straight-up knight's boots; eh that’s probably for the best too. Less noisy. And a head pat-down shows that the flowers have gone, good seeing as Sam would mock him relentlessly otherwise.
Whelp, he’s going home now. Because fuck doing anything else. Seriously. A quick check of his phone, however, reveals that Lancer actually got back to him.
Lance: for future reference, Daniel, please reframe from ‘getting ghost arrested’ during school hours.
Lance: I would appreciate a call, after hours of course.
Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, eh might as well do that on his walk home. “Sup, Lance. I do not have another arrest on my record and I also did not destroy another jail”.
“I do hope that is not sarcastic, but I’m glad you’re alright from the sounds of it”.
Danny snorts, kicking a rock down the road, “nope. No sarcasm here. Perfectly fine. Just had to stand and talk in front of an entire colosseum of ghost cops slash judges and get my sentence”, snickering to himself, “now see that was sarcastic. Well, mostly. Really it was just me getting acknowledgement, or whatever, for basically teaching ‘the mortals’”.
That actually gets Lancer laughing a little, “well my job offer was never meant to get you in trouble or cause you hassle, though I doubt you mind much”.
Danny huffs and rolls his eyes, glaring at the stoplight to hurry the fuck up, “considering this let me annoy the absolute fuck out of the Observants? Zone no I don’t mind. Also I have a cloak now, that I am required to wear. So have fun with that school uniform upgrade”.
“Oh? I can’t wait to see, Daniel. I’m sure you’ll make the appearance work, so long as you don’t show up in a hazmat jumpsuit”.
Okay that one Danny has to laugh at, loudly, “yeah, no, that’ll never happen!”. He might love his suit but wearing anything remotely similar while human was just begging for trouble. Actively and explicitly.
“Good, good. Now I’m sure after all that excitement you’ve got work to do, so since I know you’re fine I’ll let you go”.
Danny smirks, “oh Ancients no, I’m going to bed and napping like the dead”.
“Bye, Daniel”.
Danny chuckles as the man hangs up, got ‘em with the death jokes.
---
Sam snickers and pokes Danny on the cheek, him flipping around in the air to avoid her prodding fingers, pouting at her, “meanie”. Now some may wonder why is she pestering him? well because an early morning flight revealed that the flower hair was still a thing and was likely to be a permanent thing at that. Fun. And he can’t even really be mad, because it’s basically a gift from Clocky. Ever rare and always cherished… by him at least.
Tucker goes and flicks one, “at least they’re ghostly”. Earning an eyeroll from Danny, “har har har, though fully agreed”, looking to Sam, “I am so looking forward to a confused and panicked call from Vlad. Because this-”, gesturing to his entire body, which while is back to his jumpsuit, he is still rocking the cloak and the staff’s stuck in a little solid prehnite ring, “-is not ‘standard halfa physical changes’ and we know how Vlad pays waaaaaaay too much attention to my physical appearance”.
Sam barks a laugh, “he pays more attention than you do”.
“In my defence, Vladdie’s got all the time in the world to be a weird nosey bastard. I, however, am a busy busy man”.
Tucker puts a hand to his chest, “if only you could work from home like me”; earning him a smack over the head from Sam. Danny just chuckles, transforming back human and planting his one good foot on the ground, “that’s only because they decided you’d be too much of a security and safety threat otherwise”.
“That changes nothing”.
Danny throwing his arms around their shoulders as they walk into the school. The administration just ignores them and doesn’t even try to force his two friends to get visitors badges, knew a lost cause when they saw one. Danny glances from one to another, “so you two just sitting in for funsies?”.
Sam rolls her eyes while Tucker chuckles, “Hell yeah why not”. Which Danny just laughs at while using their shoulders as support to lift himself off the ground, swing his legs up, and double kicks open his classroom door.
Ashley jumps, startled, and joins the rest of the class in staring at him before muttering, “Uh, how is it that we’re almost always here slightly before you”.
Danny scoffs, “because I’m chill like that”, while his friends carry him to and drop him into his seat before wandering to the back of the classroom. Danny holds up a finger, “also-”, throwing his one leg up onto the desk, gesturing at his armoured ‘dress shoes’ because yes, he’s still wearing Clocky’s gifts, “-I broke my leg in three separate places this morning. Fun, I know, no need to be jealous. Also got in a little light stabbing because I may have put a little too much effort into sassing someone”.
Valerie sighs very audibly and painfully, “Danny, why? Just why?”, she has long since learned to not care all that much about his injuries. His contamination whisked them away like magic anyway.
Emilie snorts, “I’m more interested in the fucking cloak”. Which Amber absolutely chimes in on, “talk about a fashion don't”. Danny points at her, “hey f̵̶uc̡k̶͝͞ you”; earning more than a couple laughs. Danny shrugging, “anyway, cloaky grants me special knowledge powers so I am officially ‘wise’”. That gets him an eraser to the head, which Danny ignores as he keeps talking, “the ghosties decided that teaching you ghost thingies is officially my job”.
Valerie stares at him, “… but that’s already your job”. Danny shrugs, “eh ghosts like to feel superior”.
Dash throws his hands out, completely derailing the conversation, “what? Are you not going to pink slip Jesse for the eraser?”. Danny smirks at his former bully, “nope. I do have one with your name on it if you’d like though”. Dash scowls at him and Tucker’s laughter is absolutely a bit loud. Which gets James’s attention, him turning to the two, “and what about you two? Why are you here?”. Sam smirks, “living crutches”. Which really should have been the obvious answer to everyone.
Danny beams, “yup! Waaaaay better than some s͟h̴̛it҉t̛y̵̧͜ wood. And yes I got hired by ghosts to do the thing that I already got hired by humans to do, am I changing the lesson plans because of that? Haha f͞u̴͜͟c͏͝k no. Now as for class, we’re gonna talk forbidden knowledge because I am feeling petty”. Which yes, people laugh at.
-
Barely halfway through Charles just kind of barges in, fuck Danny needs to redo his booby traps. Charles looking him up and down, smirking, “oh I so had to see this. Tell me you are starting a cult without telling me you’re starting a cult”. Danny blinks hard at that before bursting out laughing, pointing at him and deadpanning, “yes”.
Emilie beams and sits up straight, “oh we should absolutely all wear cloaks now, Hell yeah”. Amber glares at her, “I’d rather drop out”. Valerie just rolls her eyes at the preppy girl.
Danny looks to the girls, “a couple Christians have already made it their mission to report me daily for satanic indoctrination so that would have some interesting end results”. Charles chuckles, “oh this so is a cult, and if you were a spawn of satan I wouldn’t even be surprised”, then quickly closes the door.
Dale chuckles awkwardly, “I think one thing this class has taught me is that Mr. Trent is way weirder than I thought”. Danny snorts, “oh you have no idea, the things that man has asked me”. He also had a feeling the man tried to break into his house/bedroom once because he got over-excited about some curiosity of his. Shrugging, “back to illegal dealings with guardians and how our mayors a d̶̢i̶͠c̶̨͝k҉͏w͢e̷͟a͏şl̛͘e͘…”.
He doesn’t even get to speak for ten minutes before fucking Vlad bursts in. Danny really needs to re-booby trap that fucking door. Damn. Too bad Vladdie wasn’t in ghost form, then the anti-ghost coating on the door would have at least done something to keep out the rich nutter.
“Daniel, what the Gouda have you gotten yourself involved in now?”.
Danny looks to him slowly, gestures to his class dramatically, “excuse you, frootloop? I mean, timing. But Ancients, chill your tits. Could this not wait twenty f͜͟u̶̕c̸̢͝kin̸g̢̨ minutes? f͞u̴͜͟c͏͝k”. Vlad just glares at him.
Dash leans over to Dale, “the Zone is the mayor doing here?”. Dale just shrugs. Todd snickers meanly, “maybe Danny pissed him off too, because the mayor sure as shit isn’t here to see your shitty ass, Dash”.
“Fuck you”.
“Screw off, Todd”.
Todd just smirks smugly to himself instead of responding to either jock.
Emilie snickers, “maybe he felt Danny talking about him and was summoned”.
Sam smirks to herself, inspects her nails, and deadpans, “it’s cult powers”. Which lots of people actually make ‘ahhh’ and ‘hmmm’ and other understanding agreeing sounds at.
Vlad scowls at the goth, “oh nothing so drab or petty”, actually walking up to Danny and lifting up the cloak, “I am talking of this”. Looking to Danny, “butter biscuits, Daniel”.
Danny snorts, “no I will not butter your biscuits”. Vlad absolutely subtly shoots him with an ecto-beam in his good legs knee. Fucker. Danny rolling his eyes, “the Observants are occasionally tolerable… tolerable-ish. And are occasionally capable of being mildly decent… decent-ish”. Vlad stares at him for a bit before shaking his head, “your desire to be tortured out of existence truly amazes me”, smirking, “if you wanted to suffer you could just fill out a request and I’d be happy to appease you”.
Valerie coughs and actively spits out some water. Dale quirks an eyebrow, “did… did the mayor just threaten to torture Danny?”.
Emilie starts cackling, “yes, yes he did!”.
Danny waves everyone off, “oh please, this is tame and lame”, looking back to Vlad, “I would but only if I could get payment in the form of feeding your internal organs to your cat”. Vlad actually chuckles faintly at that and shakes his head almost fondly. Pulling on his suit jacket to straighten it, “well I guess you’re perfectly well, albeit stupid, but well. I’ll leave you to your… duties”.
“It’s only a duty if I make someone crap their pants”.
Vlad actually stops with his hand on the doorknob at that, looking back, “a poop joke, Daniel? Really?”. Danny just smirks and finger guns while Vlad leaves.
Danny glancing at the clock, “whelp, continuing this class is pointless”, shrugging and looking around at everyone, “I’m honestly amazed this hasn’t already come up yet but me and Vladdie have a very interesting family dynamic”.
Which results in multiple shouted, “FAMILY!?!?!?!?”, comments from everyone.
Valerie rolls her eyes and glances around, “he’s Danny’s godfather”. Danny beams and nods, “yup! And that I’m his chosen heir”.
Dash stares and mutters, “what the fuck”, at that; which, fair. Danny just chuckles meanly at him while the bell rings.
Amber walks up to him through, twirling her hair a little, “so are you, like, rich?”. Danny can absolutely tell people are taking their time to leave class just to hear his response. So Danny smirks, “whole fam is. FentonWorks makes a lot of money. Plus! the government pays us”.
Dale looks almost horrified and Dash is just muttering, “what the fuck”, to himself repeatedly. Amber shaking her head, “well you coulda said something”. Which Danny tolls his eyes at.
Sam doesn’t let him respond though, her snapping, “and what? Have all you people liking and ‘befriending’ him purely because of something so goddamn shallow? As if. Danny -Ancients we are better than that”. Amber, Dash, and Dale all make offended noises; Emilie and Todd can be heard laughing out in the hall. Fuck, Danny’s pretty sure he even hears Hanna loudly cackling out there and she’s not even in his class or even still in school still. Here to hang out with Emilie perhaps? Danny just keeps on smirking as everyone finally leaves and his door clicks shut.
Is he surprised when Vlad suddenly regains visibility next to his desk with crossed arms? Ancients no, fully fucking expected. Even Tuck and Sam are unphased, though they do chuckle to themselves a little while glaring mistrustfully at the man. Danny sighs and looks to the man, “Vlad, I’m fine”, gesturing around at the empty classroom, “all of this just apparently made me qualified to become a Guardian, a Guardian of knowledge”.
Vlad scowls at that.
“And also apparently I’m the ambassador of ghosts now?”.
Now that makes Vlad blink, “and you weren’t already?”.
“That’s what I said!”, waving a hand dismissively at Vlad, “it’s not like you were going to do that”.
Vlad shakes his head, “indeed”, frowning, “but ‘Guardian’? Really, Daniel”. Tucker coughs into his hand, “oooh someone's jealous”. Vlad barely dignifies that with a quick glare.
Danny shrugs, “eh it is what it is”, finger gunning, “but don’t you worry, Vladdie, I’ve still got that claim to the High Throne”.
“Unfortunate”.
Danny laughs, “to you maybe”, summoning out his staff from the ring and holding it lazily behind his neck to rest his head on it, “but for now I do the shitty duty of teaching”. Vlad glares at him for that repeat joke/joke reference. It was pretty crappy, ha ha.
Vlad purses his lips after a second, “well I could lend my expertise in that regard-”.
Danny snorts and cuts him off, “trying to ‘get in the good graces of a Guardian’ will not get you out of the very bad graces of the Observants”.
Vlad rolls his eyes though seems slightly disappointed, “as if my reasons would be so people-pleasing. You know I’m not the type”.
Sam audibly scowls, “oh we know”.
Danny, however, grins meanly, “now you can certainly be a guest speaker just to piss them off”, holding up a finger, “let’s make it about ghost portals and the effect they’ve had between realms”.
Vlad smirks at him, “you are playing with fire, dear boy”. Danny knows the man’s going to make his folks look bad, but honestly? hurting his parents' reputation was impossible and no one would be even slightly surprised. Also yes, he’s aware that basically having the two halfas discuss the very thing that made them halfas was actively asking for it. Sam and Tuck shake their heads in the background while halfa and halfa shake hands.
(Informing Lancer of this resulted in him genuinely questioning if Danny and Vlad were getting along these days, so guess Lancer also noticed his hostility towards the mayor, not that that was hard. Lancer was a bit confused by the fact that the town mayor was into the ecto-sciences though).
---
Apparently Charles, and maybe Danny’s entire class, took the ‘cult’ thing a little too seriously or maybe just had a little too much fun with the idea over the next week because now he’s been called into Lancer’s office to talk about starting a cult. Fuck.
Danny poking his head in and waving awkwardly, “heeeeeeey Lance-y”. Lancer just glares at him and sighs deeply, so Danny goes and takes a seat, “soooooo, I swear I didn’t actually start a cult this time”.
Lancer quirks an eyebrow, “‘this time’?”.
“Eh, it’s happened”. At Lancer’s pained expression Danny adds on, “hey, you knew full well what you were getting into. I keep reminding you of this”.
“And yet you keep one-upping yourself”. Danny finger guns and winks at that. Lancer shakes his head, “regardless, yes I’ve been getting a lot of concerned calls regarding cult behaviour. Though some are clearly just taking any excuse to complain about you specifically”.
“Yeah a lot of adult adults really hate my guts for some reason”.
“I couldn’t imagine why that would be, Daniel”. Lancer shakes his head again before digging in his desk and pulling out some papers, “so now you and I are going to be making up letters addressing this and sending them out to all the parents”.
Danny’s sags back in his chair and groans, “ah come on, man! This is Charles’s fault! Not mine!”.
“I’m sure you encouraged it”.
Danny gives a very petulant and pouty, “…maybe”, perking up a little, “but so did literally everyone else”.
“Students can get away with it, you, as a teacher, can not”.
Danny pouts at him again, “boo. Boo to you”. Which gets him glared at before Lancer hands him letters to work on. This is gonna suck ass. Fuck him.
-
Did writing up letters suck? YES. MAJORLY. But Danny was honestly cackling now seeing as Lancer let him read all the complaint letters. Some claiming he was certainly coding classes with hidden satanic messages of murder to increase the ghost population. Others claiming he was teaching them to torture people; which wasn’t entirely wrong, how to harm a ghost could be also used to torture them or a human technically. And a couple claiming he WAS a ghost, which was just straight-up true. There was two insisting that a priest needs to be present for his classes, which fuck no; he’s already had one too many run-ins with holy-water-rosary-clutching types.
Danny leaning back and chuckling, “people are crazy”.
“Coming from you?”.
Danny points at Lancer, “hey, crazy knows crazy”. Lancer puts his hands up in surrender.
---
Did Danny feel like having a guy who arguably could have actually become a cult leader if he wanted to guest speak the day after the letters went out was actively being spiteful? Yes. Though the fact that this happened on the day that Walker curb stomped his throat also felt spiteful. (Was Danny wearing crust punk pants again today? Absolutely, purely because of the multiple anti-cop patches on it). Danny clearing his throat painfully and using his quill to write on the board, ‘cheese head will be doing the talkie walkie today. Don’t play with portals kids’, and draws an arrow pointing at Vlad before sticking the thing back into his hair.
At least half the class quirks their eyebrows at him so he croaks out, “got throat curb-stomped by the po-po”. Vlad chuckles, “your timing is impeccable”. Danny flips him off while putting a little triangle of paper on the side of his desk reading ‘return books here ditto with the essay thingies on them’. Surprisingly almost all of them were undamaged. Val’s was a little singed and stained, Dash’s had a coffee ring on the cover, and Dale’s looked like it had been burned on a stove element; but Todd’s literally had the pages all torn out of the hardcover, it was obviously intentional.
Vlad eyes the stack for a second before actually addressing everyone, while the class tries not to be weird -or actively tries to murder him with her mind in Valerie’s case- over the mayor freaking Vlad Master, near richest man on the planet, teaching their freaking class. “For those of you that don’t know, which I imagine is all of you, I worked with Daniel’s parents in the ecto-field back in college”. That earns the man a round of coughs and disbelieving staring. Danny just nods to confirm the man’s statement.
Vlad speaks sounding truly pained, “Jack couldn’t make anything that didn’t go horribly wrong if his life depended on it, and that’s how he got me sent to the hospital for seven years with ecto-acne and didn’t even bother to visit”. Danny has to try really hard not to laugh at him. “I will find and force-fed you nails if you say anything, Daniel”. Which honestly just makes it harder not to mock the man relentlessly.
Todd speaks up for him though, “wow sounds like someone’s pissy, bet it was your fault actually”. Vlad glares at him, “coming from a child who’s going to get abducted by a man who wears glasses and a ratty scarf tonight”. Everyone gives Vlad some very confused looks and Danny has to put his head down and wheeze slightly painfully into his desk. This was a good idea. Also a horrible one, but whatever.
Vlad shakes his head, “Jack was the one who decided to power up a prototype ghost portal in my face, I will have you know”. Danny sticks up a finger and mutters, “diet pop in filtrator”. Earning a glance from Vlad, “that fudging imbecile”.
Emilie snickers, “I think the mayor hates Danny’s dad just a little bit”. More than a couple fellow teens nod.
Vlad then goes and erases Danny’s whiteboard writing and draws out an over detailed diagram of a man made protal and a natural one. Danny rolls his eyes at the overkill, but Vlad was nothing if not highly excessive. Who shows up to ‘teach’ in a fucking Armenian suit? Danny’s pretty sure the buttons are solid rubies, like, for Ancients sake.
“Natural or artificial some basic rules, that even the simple-minded can follow, are the same. Don’t create a portal in front of someone’s face. Don’t walk inside of one and then activate it-”. Danny doesn’t so much as move when Vlad smacks the side of his head, ever since Vlad found out that that was how Danny half-died the crazy nutter has given him shit for it at every opportunity. So he saw the head smack coming a mile away.
Dale chuckles, “looks like Danny’s a dumbass”. Dash snickering meanly, “what’s new”. Danny absolutely holds up a pink slip over that. “Oh come on!”, Dash sags in his desk grumpily; you’d think the guy would learn. Vlad’s just smirking faintly before continuing, “don’t walk through randomly. And don’t tie a string to it and another person in an attempt to make the portal follow them”, Vlad smacks Danny over the head again. Danny has a feeling Vlad’s annoyed with him today for some reason. It couldn't possibly be that Danny replaced the water in his water bed with wet cement just before he went to bed two days ago, could it? Never mind, Danny knows that is exactly why. Fuck that was funny.
“Hey, it worked”.
“It really should not have, Daniel”.
“Cloning also shouldn’t work yet here we are”.
Vlad glares at him but continues talking at everyone, “another basic rule is that if the portal is any colour other than green, leave it alone; the town and I will not cover whatever happens if you don’t…”.
Vlad actually manages to get to go on for a while without being actively petty towards Danny or starting a mild bickering match with him. Danny’s honestly a little impressed. Vlad also gets almost overexcited repeatedly, very much proving he’s a scientist at heart while also clearly forgetting he’s talking to teenagers; more than a few things clearly go over everyone’s head. Val still looks like she’s plotting murder though; Danny can admire the tenacity.
But when Danny straightens out a bit from his ghost sense going off Vlad sighs, picks him up by his cloak collar and just walks him to stick out the window, unceremoniously dropping him. Danny screaming, “WHAT THE FU̢C̶͞҉K͟! FU̢C̶͞҉K͟ YOU!”, as he falls and hits the bushes below with a thud. Vlad leaning his head out to reply, “you were going to leave anyways, thought I would simply hurry the whole process up. I do know how lazy and tardy you can be”.
“I WILL PISS IN YOUR FRIDGES FANCY ICE-MAKING COMPARTMENT!”.
Vlad doesn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning back to the class with a smirk, “so on how to topple the ghost government…”. The class stares at him in shock and amusement at the sudden subject change. Valerie just stares with even more hatred now knowing full well he set her up during the Pariah incident when he gave her that ring. She does throw an ‘are you okay’ text to Danny though, which he responded with ‘I smell like bush’ to.
What’s really sad is that Danny got dropped in a bush from the second story of a building because the Box Ghost was having a lovers quarrel with The Lunch Lady in the park. By the time Danny got there it had descended into a full-blown food fight involving boxed-only foods. More than a few townsfolk had even joined in, and honestly? Danny said fuck it -not out loud ‘cause fuck his throat still hurt- and just joined in the chaos.
Vlad could handle a class of teenagers and if the man tried anything then Val wouldn’t hesitate to outright commit attempted murder.
Did Boxy win the food fight? No, obviously not. The Lunch Lady wasn’t super powerful but she still outclassed The Box Ghost’s ass. Danny finger gunning at the box-themed man who’s currently covered in crackers, “I’d buy her something nice before she decides to fill all your boxes with enough meat to make them rounded”. The Box Ghost looks completely scandalised and insulted, “you don’t think she would”.
“Oh she would, Boxy. She absolutely would”. Considering that women caused a meat tsunami purely because Sam wouldn’t eat meat…
The Box Ghost flies off in a hurry and Danny gets to back to his class with literal armfuls of boxed goods. He also got to discover that Vlad could not handle a class of teens who were now discussing how to overthrow Vlad from the mayoral office to the mains dismay and insult. Vlad looking at him, “your students are demons. Suiting”. Danny just chucked a box of frootloops at him.
(Apparently and according to the Ghost Writer, the Observants went and gave Walker shit for interfering with his Guardian duties. Danny was absolutely tickled green by this news. The Ghost Writer, however, was not happy about Todd’s apparent intentional destruction of a book; Danny doesn’t envy Todd who did, in fact, get abducted that night).
Chapter 6: Feather Quills And ‘Tests’ To Fill
“Danny, you’re overthinking this”.
Danny sighs and leans back in his chair, groaning very loudly at his bedroom ceiling before looking to his sister, who was, as per usual, attempting to be helpful… helpful-ish. “But this is the final, it’s kinda a big fucking deal. And considering how fucking splendidly I usually did on those things, how the FUCK am I writing one up? Plus, like, how do I condense this shit? Do you know how many subjects I wound up covering? Too fucking many!”.
Jazz hums encouragingly at him so he just keeps on ranting, which was probably exactly what she wanted.
Danny gesturing a hand around wildly, “ecto-biology, ecto-linguistics, ecto-medicare, ecto-history slash ecto-culture, ecto-psychology slash ecto-behaviouralism, ecto-literature, ecto-mechanics… Too fucking many”, sighing and sagging, “also pretty sure I just made up, like, all those names”.
Jazz giggles a little, “ecto-Medicare is accurate, though I have a feeling you explained far more than just treating ecto-burns or regular ecto-contamination”. Danny snaps his fingers at her, “well obviously, might as well teach the fuckers how to treat a ghost and not just humans affected by ecto stuff”.
“A roundabout way to achieve self-preservation. Should any of them stumble across an injured Phantom”.
Danny pointing aggressively at her, “hey, none of that”. Jazz just could not chill it with the psychoanalysing. She just grins at him like she’s done nothing wrong. Him sighing again and just staring up at his ceiling, randomly mentally drawing out the constellations his glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars made.
Jazz getting up and ruffling his head jerks him out of his ceiling watching though, “hey!”, him flailing his hands around to shoo her off which, as per usual, just makes her giggle at him fondly; which he absolutely pouts at her over. Her speaking up after a bit, “you know, if you find a proper written test so annoying you could just simply do something more unconventional”, her beaming a bit smugly, “my advanced abnormal psychology prof didn’t even make a final at all”.
Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah but that’s university, they can do that. And as awesome as it is that you got to start break early, they should have kept you”, and smirks while she shoves him one.
“Now that was just mean, Danny”. Shaking her head and going back to sitting on his bed, “but I am serious. Do a final project, or just an essay”.
Danny glares slightly, “essays as finals are the goddamn worst, I would never”; she rolls her eyes at that.
“I prefer them actually”, nodding to herself, “far more room for exploring ideas and showing your prof your personality”.
Danny grumbling, “more like how to really rub it in when someone doesn’t know everything perfectly”. Sighing after a bit, because she did have a point. Tests were fucking bullshit and did a shitty ass job of doing literally anything other than telling how good someone’s short-term memory was. Becoming more opinionated about how schools do schooling is one side-effect of this teacher thing that he so did not see coming. Eh whatever, not like he isn’t right. But what the fuck else can he even do? What could even qualify as ‘finals’ worthy? He sure as shit isn’t doing oral presentations, those things were like a mild form of torture… unless you were a drama kid, which Danny was not. Sure he didn’t have to worry about whatever the fuck being an absolute clusterfuck because a regular-ass test would be a clusterfuck anyway since he basically covered the ghostly version of EVERYTHING, EVERY SUBJECT AVAILABLE IN SCHOOL… except math. Fuck math. What kind of nightmare test jumps from laws of an alternate death dimension to ghostly art? Ghost hunger followed right up by portal safety? Plus, does he even remember everything he taught? Ha ha FUCK NO! What, in any world, would make anyone think otherwise. A ‘project’ would totally help deal with that issue. Grumbling, “how would I even have a project that covers everything?”.
Jazz humming to herself and tapping her chin, “well you could have them go fishing for blob ghosts through a portal?”.
Danny blinks a bit harshly, what the fuck? Looking to her, “Jazz… what the Zone kind of Uni friends have you been making?”. Though he guesses that anything involving blob ghosts would cover a tone of shit. And it’s not like he hasn’t talked a literal fuck ton about blob ghosts. They were like a go-to example/comparison tool.
Jazz shrugs, “my dorm-mate likes to fish dangerous fish”. Danny just blinks, well that sorta? explained it. Sorta.
“What kinda fish”.
“She kept a displayed piranha”.
Danny whistles at that, damn, “guess Amity’s not the only land of crazies”. She laughs a little at that and nods with slightly crinkled eyes.
Danny uses his foot to push himself around in his chair, grumbling incoherently to himself. He did kinda like the idea of dragging blob ghosts into his problems, but taking people portal fishing -snort- was just ridiculous even by his standards. Not that Charles hadn’t ‘gone fishing’ in his desk to get his hands on one; yes Danny’s still a little miffed about that, but hey, at least the man kept his grubby hands out of his desk ever since.
Blinking, wait a fucking minute…
Grinning, Danny stops spinning and loudly slams his hands down on his desk repeatedly, “HA! Pet ghosts!”. Jazz shakes her head good-naturedly, “not sure the school will go for an adopt-a-ghost program as a final”.
Danny points at her and snaps his fingers repeatedly and a bit excitedly, “no no no no no no. Blob ghosts. Catch your own blob ghost. Keeping It ‘alive’ would cover almost everything, catching It would cover most else, and naming It, like, a ghost name in ghost speak could be the whipped cream on top!”.
“Danny, how are you going to get all the parents to even agree to that?”. Glaring at him when he smirks, “without abusing overshadowing”. Danny actively pouts at that. He does have an actual answer though, “oddly most of them take me seriously or respect me some. Weird, I know”, sighing slightly and tilting his head, “Sophia’s still hate my guts though”.
Jazz laughs at him, “so what you’re saying is that they are not going to approve”.
“When does everyone ever approve of the shit I do? Get the majority vote and everyone else can just suck it up”.
“See that is likely part of why they apparently hate you”.
Danny flips her off for that one.
Jazz shaking her head and getting up, “regardless, feel like treating your very proud big sister to dinner?”. Danny rolls his eyes fondly and sighs like this is just so much effort and such a massive hassle while getting up, “fine. But we’re going to the Soup And Ham Can because their coffee’s good”. That earns him an eye roll right back as they head out of his room.
---
Now see Danny wasn't stupid or mean, he damn well looked around town to make sure that a bunch of teens could feasibly capture some blob ghosts… without ghostly superpowers. And yeah he also did the responsible thing of actually doing the proper paperwork which made him feel super old and simultaneously like he was too young to do this kind of shit. He’s eighteen and ‘doing paperwork’? Fuck. It so didn’t help that he accidentally complained about paperwork around Vlad, which turned into the elder halfa complaining about his own paperwork; which both of them got just mildly weirded out by. Vlad still thought of him as a child after all, and Vlad was absolutely an old man in Danny’s eyes. It was fucking weird. Vlad did get a little smug about Danny ‘being like him because there’s no way that fool Jack did any paperwork’, which did cause the entire encounter to turn into a minor fistfight. Regardless of the man being right or not.
At least Danny was stronger than the man these days, and both of them were well aware of that. Which honestly? might be part of why Vlad chilled the fuck out.
Anyway, said paperwork that’s making him feel old is absolutely why he’s getting an early morning Lancer call. Has to be. Unless Danny absentmindedly destroyed something without knowing it… which was always a fair possibility.
“Daniel, I’ll admit this is probably the most interesting request I’ve ever received as a finals alternative and I can’t say I’m particularly surprised that you’d rather forgo a formal written final”.
Danny snickering and leaning against the park's water fountain, “hey you know me, I like to keep things lively in the deadly kinda way”.
“And so long as blob ghosts aren’t capable of being deadly then I don’t see a reason to deny this. But this can not interfere with other classes, as in, they can not bring ‘awesome pet ghosties’ to their other classes”.
Danny snorts at that, yeah no fucking shit, “well duh, Lance. That would be asking for trouble especially with Charles”.
Lancer audibly sighs, nearly groans actually, on the other end, “now I don’t doubt that. And because I don't want any possibly ecto-contaminated paper from FentonWorks making its way into the students' homes, I already sent out the permission slips”.
Danny blinks, well damn, appreciated he guesses? Blinking again, “huh, well ah, thanks, Lance, I guess. I’m taking it that you just mailed them out though and that I still have to actually tell my own class of fellow teens that they have mandatory pets now?”. That gets a chuckle out of the man.
“You requested this, Daniel, now you have to deal with it. Though somehow I think you’ll be getting ‘thank you’s rather than annoyed groaning and complaining”.
Danny chuckles, “hey if you want everyone to like you more you shouldn’t assign so much work”.
“I’d be doing you teens a disservice”.
Danny rolls his eyes at that one, the man was dedicated he’ll give him that much. “Not ‘fully grasping literary genius’ isn’t really gonna affect anyone negatively, Lance. I’d definitely rather sleep than brush up on your beloved Shakespeare”.
“It’s good for the mind”.
“So’s sleep”, snorting, “and I missed enough of that as it is”.
“Now that I can agree and attest to, considering your class habits. I’ll let you go”.
Danny blinks at his phone, well that was abrupt. Fucking rude. Eh, it’s not like Danny didn’t fuck off randomly all the time. Oh well. Sighing and pushing off of the fountain, “whelp, guess I know what I’m stuck doing tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow? Fuck, what day even is it?”.
Hint: it was Friday. And Danny, like a dumbass, forgot to even attempt to show up for class.
“Ah well. Fuck”.
It probably says a lot that Lancer didn’t even bother cussing him out for that. Should he feel ashamed? embarrassed? at least a little guilty? Probably. Does he? Honestly, no. He stopped feeling guilty about that kind of shit a long ass time ago. Being a little half-dead hero that has to tap out constantly and lie all the time kinda does that to you after a hot minute or two. Which probably wasn’t exactly healthy. But also, it’s not like ‘healthy’ was really a thing he was familiar with these days. Eh, whatever.
Anyway, time for a night fly/patrol.
---
So now it was Monday and Danny officially has to ‘face the music’ or whatever the fuck.
To bad Technus got fancy with the house's microwave and basically destroyed half of Danny’s bedroom. Meaning he couldn’t even look good… good-ish. He absolutely gets some smug pride from the fact that him going to his ‘professional job’ in tattered clothes would piss Vlad off something fierce though. Actually deciding to stick with wearing a pair of pants with one leg torn off so badly that his boxers were able to be seen probably wasn’t the world's smartest idea. At least his shitty Antichrist button-up t-shirt was intact! … More or less anyways. (It was missing a pocket and maybe the bottom wasn’t quite the same shape it once was but he’s not too sure about that bit). The cloaks perfectly fine of course, being ghostly clothing and all.
Pushing the classroom door open with his foot, “alright little ectoplasm knowledge nuggets, we actually have some housekeeping s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧ to see to so…”.
Val doesn’t even let him actually get to the whiteboard, “so what was up with Friday?”.
Emilie leans back in her seat, “yeah, the only class that’s actually neat is also the one class with a tardy teach”.
Danny points at her, “hey, I resent that statement of truth”, finishing his walk to the board and smacking it, “honestly? I forgot”. Val just stares at him so he winks at her, earning him a scowl and a thrown pencil; which he lets just bounce off his head. Pulling out his quill and striking it all the way down the board, the words ‘FINAL ASSIGNMENT’ magically forming.
Jesse shakes his head, “I still don’t understand that stupid quill”.
Brittney scoffing, “whatever, it’s not like he’ll give us one”. Danny snorts over his shoulder at that, “yeah, no s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧”. Turning around dramatically enough to make the cloak fan out, “what’s also no s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧ is that finals are a thing and that I also -like any sane teen- hate written exam s̷͞h̷i͞ţ̧, so we’re not doing that”.
To no ones surprise that announcement results in some smiles, some cheers, one or two fist pumps/high fives, and multiple relieved sighs.
Val chuckles and leans her chin on a palm, “yeah I was wondering how you were going to write some test that covered everything”. Danny absolutely chuckles and nods at that.
Plopping down onto the side of his desk, “so hear me out, since I’m obviously not writing some written thingamajig out and I’m not nearly enough of a sadist to make oral presentations a thing that’s happening”, clapping his hands together cheerily, “so instead y’all are gonna be ghost hunters for a bit”, shrugging, “or for however long it takes you to catch a blob ghost in our town”, tilting his head and tapping his chin, “which honestly shouldn’t take that long all things considered”.
The class just blinks at him for a bit before most burst out laughing.
Emilie wheezes a little, “you are one quirky fucker”. Valerie shaking her head, “here I thought you were about to ask us to catch a proper ghost”, smirking, “which I’m down for”.
Danny rolls his eyes, “as fun as it would be to torment Boxy by making fifteen odd teens repeatedly catch him, I doubt that would accomplish much”.
Todd puts his hands behind his head, “we can totally still do that”. Dale laughing, “HA! Yeah! That could be fun!”, and elbows Dash a couple of times which turns into a mild dude-bro shoving match. Todd snickers meanly at that before looking back at Danny, “and what’s up with the lame-ass underwear? Becoming a bad stripper or something”.
Danny rolls his eyes at the jab, “Technus got a little friendly with a microwave”.
“They’re green”. Apparently, Todd doesn’t give a flaming fuck about the ‘why’, just the colour. Figures.
Valerie rolls her eyes at the fake ass ‘bad boy’, “Danny’s a joke, of course they’re ecto-green”. Danny nodding and rolling his hand about in the air, “and besides, sleeping in phase-proof underwear is a pretty solid idea, all things considered”. That earns some understanding cringing from the class. Danny sticking up a finger, “just like having you lot bring me some captured but not destroyed-”, giving Val a meaningful look, “-spookies makes perfect sense for an ecto-ology final!”.
A couple of people shrug, Ashley muttering, “oh what the Hell”, toying with her fingers a little, “but does it have to be a big one?”.
Danny waves her off, “naw, so long as it’s in the blob family I don’t care”.
James sighs, leaning on a palm, “but why can’t we just do something normal? An essay?”.
Danny puts a hand to his chest in mock offence, “why I never! I just said I’m not a sadist”, waving a hand around, “and because, I am the true multimedia teacher of spooky academia, just handing out knowledge like a new kind of haemophilia. So I am creating g̵͡o͝d̶͡d͠҉am̛n͘҉ new educational finals criteria. Just don’t go getting into necrophilia on me”, and winks as everyone else groans.
Dustan muttering, “so much for not being a sadist”. Sophia sticks up a hand.
“Yes?”.
She plays with her fingers a little, “well, um, what about our parents?”.
James jumps in, “hey yeah, are we just supposed to keep a ghost in our rooms till finals week?”.
Dash scoffs, “aww is some scared of a little blob ghost”. James just rolls his eyes at that.
Danny shrugs, “eh Lance already sent out permission stuff so parent stuff’s already covered. And naw, catch one by…”, humming to himself, “… oh let’s say next Monday. Bring me proof”, holding up a finger, “but also don’t let the little bugger go. Because if you think all I’m asking is ghost capture then ho boy you’re wrong”. Let them make of that what they want. More than a few look slightly disturbed and he absolutely hears Ashley mutter something about dissection. Danny’s pretty sure Lancer wouldn’t let him get away with that. The blender stunt had been pushing it already, apparently there was a such thing as detention for teachers. Shudder.
Jesse glares at Danny then Valerie, “you better not be marking this on time because some of us have unfair advantages”.
Dash jumps in, “yeah! Little miss anti-ghost psycho probably fantasises about this!”.
Todd rolling his eyes, “as if you need to worry about that, you’d piss yourself before catching one anyway”.
“FUCK YOU!”.
Danny chuckles, his class was probably the only one where anyone could shout ‘FUCK YOU’ and not get in shit. Though Dash being ‘star football star McGee’ probably wouldn’t get in trouble for it in any class. Tch. “Now now, just g̵͡o͝d̶͡d͠҉am̛n͘҉ catch one”, shrugging, “don’t care how or when or colour or whatever the f̵̛u̕͞c̴̶̡k̶̨͠. Ancients, go climb a crane and fish one out of the bucket for all I care. But if you die, don’t haunt me”.
Val sighs, giving him an exasperated look, “great, now someone’s going to do exactly that”. Emilie laughing, “I call dibs!”. Making Val thump her head on her desk. Danny does at least give her an apologetic shrug, hey not his fault that people like to take him up on his bullshit to fuck around and find out.
(Did someone actually take him up on the crane idea? According to the news, yes, yes someone did. Danny’s personal bets are not on Emilie even if she did ‘dibs it’, it was probably one of the quiet kids honestly. At least they were smart enough to wear a disguise. So long as Lancer doesn’t find out…).
---
Danny groans face down in his bed, Lancer was in his bedroom. WHY?!?!?!? Well okay, he knew exactly why. Lancer specifically asked for Danny’s makeshift final to not interfere with other classes and what happened? Well apparently a blob ghost ate the cord to the old school projector that Joshep loved so much. BECAUSE OF COURSE THAT HAPPENED! Danny had some truly shit luck. Groaning again, “I didn’t ask them to randomly bring them to school!”, mumbling, “at least not until next week”. What dumbass caused his problem? Probably Todd honestly. Dash might want to shit kick him but the jock was not nearly petty/sneaky enough to ‘get Fenturd’ in this kind of roundabout way. Todd, however, was the definition of petty. Though Danny was a lot more petty; but he’s a ghost! He’s allowed to be!
Lancer sighs faintly, “you’re still the reason ultimately. Even if Joshep has little room to talk, considering how his class law experiment went”.
“You’re talking about the one that was a recreation of that prison psychology excitement thing? Because yeah, that was bad even by my standards and my experience with jailers involved a lot more tasers”.
“… Daniel, I explicitly remember you tasing people at that time even though you weren’t even in his class”. Danny can practically hear his technical boss shaking his head, “that doesn’t change that you owe Joshep a new projector, and I am not putting it on the FentonWorks tab”. Danny groans very loudly over that. Fuck.
Danny rolling over in his bed and just staring at the ceiling, “forcing me to spend the paycheck you give me on stuff for the school, smarmy shit”.
“That word doesn’t mean what I think you believe it does”.
Danny shrugs, “eh. And besides, Lance”, turning his head to actually look at the man, who quirks an eyebrow before Danny continues, “lords of knowledge, or whatever, should be allowed to ban finals because reasons”, putting a hand very egotistically to his own chest and trying to bleed ego, “a lord like me specifically”.
Lancer chuckles and shakes his head slowly, “I’m sure you would ban them if Id let you”.
“Oh yeah, no shit. In a frickin’ heartbeat-”.
Both of them pause and glance at the floor when a very loud explosion sounds and actually makes the floor shake a little. Not for the first time Danny’s glad he’s nailed/screwed down a large majority of the shit in his room. He even got those weird suction drinking cups that even he, with his ghostly strength, couldn’t slap over.
Barely seconds later his mom pushes open his door, smiling quickly at Lancer, “sweetie, Mr. Lancer, you may what to head outside”, rolling her eyes a bit fondly, “Jack, the dear, might have blown up the photon carbon ecto-endaton”.
Danny blinks, “you mean that new bomb thing? You guys actually blew up something that was supposed to blow up?”. His mom actually has the fucking balls to nod sheepishly. Lancer, however, is sweating unpleasantly.
They absolutely head outside.
Danny patting Lancer on the shoulder while they stand from the sidewalk watching smoke pour out the door/windows, “I’m guessing this’ll be the last time you make an unexpected house visit?”.
“… your home life worries still… this has not helped”.
“‘Life’! HA! Good one!… so will you not dying today count as payment enough?”.
“No, Daniel. Just no”.
“Damn. Was getting my hopes up for a second”.
Lancer glares at Danny a little before heading home; Danny cackles to himself a little. He may be paying for Joshep’s stupid projector love out of his own pocket, but at least he got to make someone -Lancer- regret their life choices in the process. His ghost sense going off tells him that he’s also going to get someone to regret their death choices. Nice. Two for one coupon.
---
Thankfully there were no other blob ghost-related incidences, that Danny heard about, before Monday.
“So did everyone catch a blob ghost?”. That question gets Danny a pretty solid round of ‘yes’s and people holding up blobs in jars or just waving around their phones to show pictures of their particular blob. Danny nodding to himself, “good good”, sounding ominous, “now your final can begin”.
Earning lots of concerned staring and worried glances at the present blob ghosts. Which makes sense, ominous-ness deserves at least some worry. Especially considering the things that usually followed Danny specifically being ominous.
Danny, content with his mild terrorising, actually explains himself while staring down his class like he’s some kind of government agency boss, “your assignment is thus, you will keep that blob ghost ‘alive’ until the twentieth. One full month. And you bet your knickers I’m gonna be tagging your suckers so I will know if you f̵̛u̕͞c̴̶̡k̶̨͠ it up and try to replace them”, glaring at the class comically, “you can keep it trucking however you see fit, use that knowledge! Bring It to hang around Cored ghost! Give It ecto food! Ecto-water! Use your imagination”, chuckling, “just don’t try creating a ghost portal to throw It in the Zone. That’s a real good way to die”.
Jasper grumbles, “yeah the freaking mayor was pretty clear about that”.
Amber purses her bubblegum pink lips, “and how do you plan to ‘tag them’? Half of us didn’t even bring ours!”, and huffs to herself. Danny smirks almost meanly and flops backwards in his chair to spin around more lazily in it, “I’m a teacher not a cop, meaning I don’t have any jobly standards against breaking and entering”.
Emilie snorts and starts snickering while Dash half shouts, “there’s no way a twerp like you has the guts!”. Dale shrugging, “well his freak folks do bust down walls all the time”.
“Still! Fenton’s a wimp!”, Dash grumbling to himself a little, “even if he’s manned up a little”, grumbling even quieter to himself, “… and some of the wimpiness was faked”.
Danny rolls his eyes, toying with yet another pink slip, “pinky pinky someone should keep their lips zippy zippy”. Earning death glares from Dash. Danny chuckling, “anyway, considering my lack of giving a s̛hi̸t̡ about school rules and whatnot you'd think me also lacking in the s̛hi̸t̡ giving department towards general laws would be some kind of a given”, shrugging, “eh whatever. I’ll tag your suckers and I’ll tag ‘em just right”, and smirks, turning back to face the whiteboard.
Valerie rolls her eyes and coughs a little, “well that wasn’t creepy at all, Danny”. Which really only makes Danny smirk more as he shoves himself out of his chair before going about writing up what in all this ‘final assignment’ even involved with his funky little quill. And while everyone goes about reading that shit he’ll walk around and ‘mark’ all the little blob ghosts, which sit all pretty and proper for him; being that he’s the strong ghosty here and being that they all ‘live’ in his wonderful little lair.
Brittney scowls at her blob, “why does It listen to you? Every time I touch It, It tries to bite me”, her attempting to pet It and getting almost bit in response feels like emphasis, and more than a few people nod at that. Danny just chuckles meanly, “because they fear me”, and moves on without explaining that at all.
Dash scowls and grumbles down at his desk, “as if anything fears him”. Which really just makes Danny smirk. Oh how wrong that was, in more ways than one. Which he wasn’t exactly always happy about. Danny did like certain fear, he was a ghost after all, and he definitely liked it if it was The Observants or Boxy’s fear. Just not genuine fear from the general population of humanity, Amity, the Zone, etcetera.
Danny popping back over to the board, “ookily dookily, now that that’s done and over with”, glancing at the class meanly, “I will get the rest of you later”, then back to the board, “now for actual class class s̛hi̸t̡. Which yeah sure fine, this has nothing to do with the final so technically you could just ignore my a̡̡s͢͞s̸ or f̢̡u͞c҉k͡ off entirely if you think you can sneak out for a half hour-ish without getting caught. But hey! My s̛hi̸t̡ might be useful s̛hi̸t̡”, shrugging, “or at least interesting. Unlike most stupid classes”. That gets him some snickers and laughs. Success. He’s also not surprised no one takes him up on the ‘fucking off and leaving’ option; most people took this class because they actually wanted to hear some nut job yammer on about ghosts… or at this point they just wanted to bear witness to whatever shit might happen to or be done by Danny. Perfectly understandable.
---
“You did what?”.
Danny shoves another mouthful of the noodle dish in his mouth before looking up to his mom, “uhhhh, it seemed like a better idea than some useless info dump regurgitation required test”. Okay so maybe it was stupid of him to think that his folks, oblivious as they often are, would just… not notice? people running around after blob ghosts.
She gives him a worried look, “but Danny, they’re still ghosts. Still dangerous”. Danny makes a point not to roll his eyes. Sure her genuine worry was ludicrously misplaced and steeped in ectophobia but it was still genuine… and while Danny is indeed a little shit, he’s not an utter dick.
He does still wave her off though, “i’s’ine”, swallowing his food, “it’s not like they haven’t spent an entire semester learning about this shit. Ghost shit”. She frowns at him, “still”.
His dad waves her off goofily, “oh I'm sure the kids have some idea what they’re doing, Mads!”, laughing loudly, “especially with Danno over here!”, and smacks Danny one on the back hard enough to make him cough. Danny appreciates the confidence but does he really have to get mildly assaulted at the same time? Not that he really minded but still.
Danny sticking up a finger, “and besides, Lance did approve it soooooooo…”, and waves his hand around limply. He’s honestly a little amazed by that fact still. Either Lancer trusted him a wee bit too much or didn’t want to see what else he might request if denied. It worked out mighty fine if you ask Danny. So far everyone seemed to be doing fine, sure Val had called and asked if she’d lose marks if she ‘used It as a pin cushion’; Danny said ‘yes’, of course… she was definitely disappointed. And both Dash and Dale were trying to teach theirs to fetch footballs. He might have to go give Todd a talking to about trying to turn his into some kind of feudal warlord over the other ‘wild’ blobs though.
She sighs and picks at her food a little, “it’s not that I don’t trust Danny”, actually looking at Danny, “but couldn’t you have just had them catch and release or even track Phantom down and hand them off to him?”. Danny sighs a little, “but that would have hardly covered anything. How’s that supposed to test their understanding of low-level behaviouralism or stuff like ghost hunger”. She actually blinks at him, sounding slightly confused, “ghost… hunger…”.
Ah
Shit
Right
Sometimes he forgets he actually knows -and teaches- shit his folks don’t actually know. Which is weird all alone. But hey, ectophobes don’t deserve to know. So Danny just shrugs and elects not to even attempt to explain himself. They’re -or at least his mom, based on his dad going back to chowing down food- are probably just slightly worried about what he’s teaching his fellow teens.
His mom, of course, presses the issue, “…Danny…”. Which Danny takes as the perfect time to get up and head towards the door, “whelp, guess I should go and stop someone from establishing tyrannical blobby rule”, waving his folks off as he actually heads out said door, “Todd’s kinda a dick… and moron”. He doesn’t miss his mom frowning or her muttering, “maybe this job wasn’t the best idea… and is he implying someone’s trying to teach leadership to a blob?”. His dad laughing a little, “yeah so weird! Those things can’t even be trained not to bite! HA!”.
Danny rolling his eyes as he looks up at the sky, “oh they’re easily trainable”, and chuckling to himself a little.
-
It’s a simple ten-minute flight before he’s got himself perched on his ankles on Todd’s bedroom windowsill. Apparently the guy keeps his bed right next to the window… which is street-facing. Fuck that’s stupid and reckless. How has he never gotten rudely awakened by Phantom him or some other ghost getting throw into/threw this wall. Fucking Ancients, mild death wish much. But hey, it gives Danny the opportunity to be a creepy little bastard gremlin. Aka, Danny absolutely leans ominously down over Todd before speaking, “looks like sleeping beauty’s been naughty”. Todd, like Danny wanted, gets jolted awake, yelps, shuffles backwards, smacks his head on his headboard, and just stares at Danny in shock. Danny snickers meanly, “trying to establish tyrannical rule, tsk tsk tsk, can’t have that now can we”.
Todd gulps and musters up some -clearly fake- bravado, “what the Hell man”.
“Not from Hell but I’m sure Satan would be touched that you think I’m his handy work. Real compliment right there”.
Danny hops off the windowsill, over Todd/his bed, and lands in the guy's room; cloak fluttering in the air faintly all the while, he was technically doing his job right now after all. “So as I was saying, trying to make a merciless authoritative ruler out of your blobby is not part of the final and is honestly quite objectionable”.
“You broke into my room”.
“And you sleep right next to a street-facing window, so clearly I’m not the one making stupid life decisions here, buddy”, turning around and smirking at his fellow teen, “you’re practically begging for a break and enter, be glad it’s just your quirky teacher taking you up on that offer”. Granted he was also basically the most powerful ghost around town, but hey right now he was just teacher. Shrugging, “granted breaking in here isn’t apparently all that entertaining, considering all you’ve done so far is wake up and stare at me from your bed like a brain-dead monkey”.
Todd jerks and glares at him, “aww am I boring you. Get out of my room”.
Danny shrugs again, “ah naw, I’m good right where I am”. Snapping his fingers and sending out a bit of his energy to call over the little blob ghost that Todd’s SUPPOSED TO JUST BE TAKING CARE OF BUT IS INSTEAD GROOMING INTO A WAR MONGER. The blob ghost of course listens and immediately zips over and rolls around under Danny’s raised palm. Danny turns his attention to the little guy, speaking like one does to a small child or kitten who’s being misled by a miscreant, “now you listen here little one, don’t let this jackass fill your head with silly little thoughts of blob world domination”, staring at It meaningfully, “Phantom’s the more peace-seeking type”. The blob actually shudders slightly over the prospect of being rejected by Phantom.
Todd screws up his face and mutters disbelievingly when the blob turns to him and hisses. Danny smirking at the teen, “have fun taking care of them now”, and throws a very cheeky peace sign before strutting smugly over to the window and dropping out it down to the sidewalk.
Danny’s not even slightly surprised to get a bunch of empty energy cans thrown out the window at him along with a very loud, “FUCK YOU”… and a slightly shrieked, “YOU BIT ME!”. Hahahahaha have fun with that Todd, serves him right.
---
Todd had glared at him angrily and was more of a nuisance than usual for multiple days, not that Danny gave a shit. He also ‘reported’ Danny as a ‘peeping Tom’ to Lancer which did result in a ‘conversation’ with the man but Danny’s counter of outing Todd as attempting to turn the general blob community in harbingers of war -which fine was a major exaggeration but whatever- resulted in Lancer sighing exhaustedly and basically throwing out the report. One of these days Danny’s going to run out of ways to make Lancer slightly regret ever offering him a job but that day has yet to come.
Danny smacks a hand on the whiteboard a couple of times, “alrighty alrighty alrighty, test results time!”, turning around and smirking at the class, “you get that s̛h͜i̕͟t͠ now since no one has to waste time grading a bunch of stupid paper scanner thingies and then rechecking them for fu̕͝c͟k̛͜ ̧u͝p̸̨s”, and smacks the board again. Though pausing at the cracking sound and snapping his head around to the board. There’s a decent-sized crack/dent in it, making Danny grin like an idiot, throw his hands up, and cheer, “YES! FINALLY!”. He has cracked the board! It has happened! Turning back to the class, actually tearing up a little and wiping his eyes, “I’m truly overjoyed. Blessed really”.
James blinking and muttering, “is he crying?”. Dash snorting, “ha loser”. Val actually turning around to the jock while Danny holds up a pink slip, “do you never learn?”.
“I’m collecting them at this point”.
Val blinks at that, “now you sound like Danny”. Dash looks genuinely offended and like he’s seconds away from starting a brawl right then and there, “you take that back!”.
“Make me!”.
Danny just laughs and waves a hand dismissively, “now now children, no fighting”. Earning him eye-rolls and scowls, Val laughs though so it’s a win in his books. Summoning out his staff and pointing it rather aggressively at the class, only Ashley jumps so clearly they’ve gotten too used to his shit by now, “now present to me your blob pets for grading!”.
Everyone dutifully pulls out their jarred blob ghosts and places them on their desks. Maple sticking up a hand, “do we have to release them or?”.
Danny chuckles, “you can keep ‘em if you wanna, wouldn’t exactly recommend it but hey Charles’s -that he so rudely stole from me- is doing cool so”, shrugging, making his staffs bell jingle. Danny pushing his energy into his staff making the feathers multiply and extend out to ‘assess’ the blobs. It was fucking weird that his staff could basically do anything so long as it had to do with his ‘role’ as Wisdom Guardian.
Jesse shakes his head at his blob attempting to nibble the feathers, “I’m just going to pretend this makes sense. This class is almost weirder than the ghosts are”. Danny simply smirks at that.
Danny nodding to himself after a bit, feathers retracting, gesturing the staff over the board making the results magically appear. Danny nodding smugly at his handy work/his students' results, fists on his hips, “Ancients the G.I.W. would hate me so much”.
“You say that as if you don’t already”.
Danny ignores that, turning around grinning and gesturing grandly at the board, “behold! Crack or no, your results!”. Walking to his desk and flopping down into his chair, “of course no one failed”, leaning back and feigning being utterly desolate, “oh how disgraceful that would be. To think my pupils would even consider bringing such shame upon me, after everything I have bestowed upon them”.
Val gets up and slams a cup of coffee on his desk, “will you stop being overdramatic now?”. Danny snagging it up eagerly, “oh why thank you”, gesturing dramatically, “my beloved emergency caffeine maid, how I thank yo-”, Val promptly cuts him off by punching his head into his desk.
“Call me ‘Maid’ again and I’ll make you a ghost”.
Danny just grumbles incoherently into his desk while the class goes about looking at the results.
“Oh Hell yeah! Guess who’s average is going up!”.
“Honestly I thought I did worse. Wow”.
“The bastard seriously docked me marks. Jerk”.
“You deserved it, Todd”.
“I’m honestly actually kinda proud of this. Doesn’t feel as meaningless as tests usually do”.
“High five bro!”.
“Heck yeah bro!”.
“That’s enough ‘bro’ing. Fuck”.
“Shove it, pipsqueak”.
“Is it sad that I care more about this result than my math results?”.
“Now if only uni gave a shit about this class…”.
Danny lifts his head up off his desk and rests his chin in a palm, “good for all of you”, sipping his coffee, “granted I’d got all happy go lucky if I ever got decent grades”. Val actually gives him a slightly sympathetic look at that, even if she says, “well maybe if you didn’t skip constantly”. Danny just takes another sip of his drink before standing up, “so who wants to do a blob release party in the field? Like releasing balloons into the sky”.
Maple practically skips back to her desk and actually hugs the jar her blobs in, “not mine”. Danny waves her off, “that’s perfectly fine”, standing up, swinging the staff behind his head to rest on his neck/shoulder. Wandering over to the window and just falling out of it, “see you out there!”.
James blinks, “we’re… not following him, are we”.
Valerie shrugs, “yup”, and basically jumps out of it.
“There’s a lot wrong with the two of them”.
“That’s nothing new”.
“I’m taking the stairs, this is ridiculous”.
“Well it is Danny for you”.
“I love this class”.
-
Danny just grins at everyone with their jars, nodding at them all before pointing his staff up at the sky for no real reason other than dramatics, more than a few classrooms have teens staring out at them while everyone -well almost everyone anyway, a small handful opting out- opening their jars and letting out the random blobs.
Some of the blobs just start zipping around or floating off, a couple nuzzle their particular caretakers, one or two just straight up stay and take naps on the grass. It was all kinda cute actually.
Amber crouching down on her ankles petting one of the grass sleeping blobs, “yeah I guess we kind of put you guys through the wringer, huh”. Danny chuckling, “oh yeah, for the most part, blobs do perfectly well living on their own in the wild-”.
Half the class basically speaks in unison and in time with him, “so long as there’s enough ectoplasm around”, followed by, “we know”.
Danny pouts at everyone, “well at least y’all remembered”. He has been successful at this teaching thing. Hurray. Good for him. Guess for now he’ll just enjoy the view of the healthy blob ghosts running around. Todd’s is apparently still somewhat ticked at him, taking the time to naw on his pants before fucking off. Hopefully, that one doesn’t cause problems in the future.
---
“So how was it? I saw that everyone passed”.
“Surprisingly enjoyable”.
“Really now”.
Sigh. “Fine I’ll admit it, you were right about this being a good option for me”.
“Good. So you’re up for doing this again next semester I take it”.
“At this point? No shit. Though I think my folks are going to interrogate me about my ‘usual’ and ‘forbidden’ and ‘impossible’ and ‘can’t possibly be true’ knowledge at this point, all things considered”.
Slight chuckle. “Good, it might do them some good. Their bigotry only seems to grow more concerning”.
“Heh, nice to hear it called bigotry honestly”.
“You’d be the one to say that”.
“Yeah, I guess so”.
“You know you’ve got one more thing to do now though”.
“Oh yeah? What?”.
“Get Christmas gifts from your students”.
“FUCK”.
“We also have a staff holiday party”.
“…oh I hate you so much”.
Chapter 7: Probably Utterly Unnecessary Overly Wordy Self-Imposed And Unintentional Obligatory Closing Chapter (But Christmas-Themed) Because I Knee-Jerk Hate Christmas And Will Take Any Given Opportunity To Take A Piss On The Season So In The Words Of Danny Fenton ‘Dude, I Am *Sick* Of Christmas!’… ‘I Know! (Puts Down Walker’s Arm And Grabs The Orange) How ‘Bout *This*!’
🎵All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth🎵
🎵My two front teeth🎵
🎵See my two front teeth🎵
🎵Gee, if I could only have my two front teeth🎵
🎵Then I could wish you, "Merry Christmas"🎵
…
….
…..
🎵What a bright time, it’s the right time🎵
🎵To rock the night away🎵
🎵Jingle bell time is a swell time🎵
🎵To go gliding in a one-horse sleigh 🎵
Danny’s grumbling almost aggressively and marching to class looking like he actively wanted to murder someone… slowly and violently. Repeatedly. Scowling up at the ceiling, nearly snarling at the speakers, “swell time my ass”, before basically kicking in his classroom door. Was he wearing an anti-Christmas sweater? Yes. Only because apparently teachers were ‘highly encouraged’ to show ‘holiday spirit’ with their clothing. Fuck Christmas. Fuck Christmas cheer. Goddamnit. His shirt said ‘sleigher’ -because Danny will pun regardless of how shitty or not his mood may be. And currently, it was quite shitty indeed- with a murdered reindeer. A graphically murdered reindeer. He’s pretty sure no teacher has tried to dress code him because of the fear of throat punching based off his facial expression.
Anyway…. door kicking. Ancients he wishes the stupid thing wasn’t built fucking solid o that his goddamn foot would have just smashed a nice little hole in the bottom. But hey, at least the door bangs against the wall hard enough to shake and bounce back enough that he has to kick it again to get it out of his way. And fine maybe he has to do that repeatedly. And sure maybe he just gets more violent about it. And okay he absolutely broke one of the hinges. Whatever. Fuck that door.
Valerie just sighs and shakes her head, well aware of Danny’s hatred for Christmas and well used to him turning into an angry chihuahua this time of year. Dash also rolls his eyes, even if he’s slightly intimidated. The rest of the class just looks on concerned as Danny walks over to the whiteboard, him smacking it hard enough to make the cracking spread, “alright so the next fucker who asks if I’m going to decorate this room will get stabbed and I will use your blood as the decoration to make this place look like Satan’s personal spa retreat, including something demonic-looking getting summoned into the corner to stare at you all menacingly”, glaring at a couple of people in particular, “and the next person to give me a bag of feathers as a present is spending the holidays with Boxy in a warehouse. Got it. Good. Anyways, since we don’t need no stinking stupid-ass review periods because we’re already done with that shit, what the fuck do ya wanna talk about and preferably loud enough to block out the crappy Christmas music”.
Todd blinks, “what crawled up your ass and died”. Danny snapping at him immediately, “my will to live in this god-forsaken time of year”.
🎵Who doesn’t love to sing We Wish You A Merry Christmas?🎵
Danny’s rye twitches, him half shouting towards the ajar door, “I fucking don’t!”.
🎵Good tidings we bring🎵
🎵To you and your kin🎵
🎵Good tidings for Christmas🎵
“Take those ‘tidings’ and shove them up your ass!”.
🎵And a happy New Year!🎵
Scowling and looking at the class, “y’all better start talking or I’m going to get in trouble for vandalism and destruction of school property”. Now that gets the class chuckling at him a little, making him roll his eyes somewhat fondly.
James shakes his head, “so I take it you don’t exactly like Christmas”. Valerie turning to him, “understatement. Danny hates Christmas more than the Box Ghost hates circles”.
“Well damn, that’s actually impressive”.
Danny sighs and glares at the ceiling, “and I actually hate it less than I used to”. That gets him some disbelieving staring. Whatever. Yes his hatred might be excessive but he’s a ghost goddamnit, excess is the name of the game; fuck off.
Amber purses her lips, “soooo… you don’t want presents then. Or any more anyway”. Danny sighs, “it’s fine. But make them Christmas-themed at your own peril”. The class absolutely laughs at him, not that he gives a shit. So long as no one gives him Christmas socks they can laugh all they want.
(Does basically everyone eventually give him something? Yes. Was it mostly ghost-themed/related? Also yes. Did at least one person be a complete jackass and give him something Christmas-themed? Definitely; but no one else did after he dumped ectoplasm-infused eggnog on that particular teen's head)
“Ignoring Danny’s hate boner, I vote we talk about Phantom”.
Dash grinning, “well duh!”.
Danny chuckles and shakes his head a little, “I swear this town has a mass obsession or something”, shrugging, “eh what the heck why not”. Val rolls her eyes which makes him smirk, even if his mood’s still shit. He pretty much just lets everyone chat amongst themselves; him flopping down in his chair and pretty much zoning out.
By the time class is coming to an end Danny’s got his feet up on the whiteboard ledge, Danny glancing at the clock, “whelp this has been fun”, lifting his feet off and spinning his chair around to face everyone, “guess this whole teaching thing was, like, an actually good idea. Dealing with you people wasn't terribly horrible”. He’s amazed the whole Phantom thing never got caught.
“Yeah fuck you too, teach”.
Danny grins and finger guns. Emilie getting up and tilting the door to get it open graces his ears with more fucking Christmas music though.
🎵Let’s sing Merry Christmas and a happy holiday🎵
🎵This season may we never forget the love we have for *bell sounds*🎵
Danny snags his quill and flicks it at the speakers, shorting it out and making it smoke worryingly. Then blinking, “wait did they censor ‘jesus’? Haha nice”, smirking a little, that was probably Sam’s handiwork. Whelp anything that defaces a Christmas song is a plus in his book. Val shakes her head at him, “you going to wreck the other door hinge?”. Danny just gives her a thumbs up, gets up, and kicks the bottom hinge hard enough to bust it apart; the door falling with a thump to the ground. Danny nods, satisfied, to himself with crossed arms. Val rolls her eyes at him and gives him a friendly shove on the shoulder. Normally that would boost his mood entirely but his ghostly ears means he’s still able to hear the stupid fucking music from the other intact speakers.
Fuck this time of year.
(Though fine some of the presents he wound up getting were actually pretty neat. The ectoplasm lava lamp even impressed his folks, even if they were none too pleased about the ‘team ghost’ flag).
---
By the time the staff holiday party rolled around Danny had warned Lancer that if there was Christmas music playing the whole time or -Ancients help him- carollers, then he was going to invite Technus. Needless to say, said party did not have Christmas music.
Lancer shaking his head at Danny, “you can be quite intimidating when you want”. Danny just scowls at him, “you have never seen me legit piss off, Lance”. Even Danny knew angry Danny was a scary -and dangerous- Danny. The man simply chuckles, handing off a cup of punch to Danny. Who mutters down at it, “I could totally spike this with ectoplasm”.
“Don’t even think about it, Daniel. As it is we already had to put a cage over the noodles you brought for the pot luck”.
Danny snickers and side-eyes the writhing noddles with teeth gnawing on the bars. Unsurprisingly he was the only one willing to eat them. Frankly… they were delicious. “I like my food thank you very much”, and nods smugly. He can practically feel Millie glaring at him from across the room; she’s not exactly alone in said glaring. Not that Danny actually gives a shit.
Remi grins at him mischievously, practically slapping a reindeer headband on his head, “at least you made things more interesting, Mr. Grinch”. Danny scowls and subtly sets the antlers on fire. A couple teachers jerk away from him, but Charles laughs loudly, “you’re on fire!”. Danny smirks, “and? I happen to think it’s very friendly fire”. Remi giggles at him while Xander dumps some of the punch on Danny’s head. Rude. Understandable, but still rude.
“Whelp. Now my hair’s wet”.
“And that’s not better than being on fire?”.
Danny grins and nods smugly, “nope”.
Things go on for a while and there’s even a few shitty party games and a little dance thing which honestly just makes Danny think he’s going to die from mortification. What is it with full-blown adults and bad/embarrassing dancing? And pin the nose on the snowman? What the fuck, man. A certain purple cloaked figure distracts him from wincing over Mainers attempt at what appears to be some kind of shuffle? Eh whatever.
Danny grins at the blonde-haired man, honestly it still surprises him sometimes that his Guardian had a human form… well illusion would be more accurate. Not that that should really be surprising, considering their strength. “ClockWork”.
“Daniel”.
Lancer -who has apparently wandered back over for more punch- chokes a little, eyeballing the currently human-looking ghost. Right, he’s pretty sure he explained his Guardian to Lancer; possibly more than once actually. Lancer eyeballing Danny, “… Daniel”, with more than a little worry and warning in his voice.
Danny waves the man off, “it’s fine. ClockWork’s the last one you’d have to worry about”.
The ‘blonde’ nods, cloak moving slightly in a nonexistent wind, “indeed. Not that any would claim me harmless”.
“Nope, just legless”. ClockWork cuffs Danny one over the head for that. Danny pouting and rubbing his head, feigning injury. “Meanie”. ClockWork gives him an almost invisible fond smile.
Lancer blinks a bit harshly, “well… this is still for teachers”. Danny smirks, “and they ‘teach’ me. So there”.
ClockWork shakes their head, “I’m not here to partake, rather to remind someone that he has places to be”. Danny pouts at that, speaking incredibly sarcastically, “but I’m just hAvInG sO mUcH fUn. CaN’t YoU sEe?”, putting a hand to his chest dramatically, “BuT oH hOw NiCe Of My ClOaK bUdDy To CoMe FeTcH mE. oH hOw GrAtEfUl I aM”. ClockWork actually glares at him for that.
“Someone will come to fetch you”.
“Oh I know. But this party is just begging to be crashed”.
Lancer sighs, “for the love of Shakespeare, Daniel”. Putting on some obviously fake bravado and glaring at the ghost, “and where are you trying to take him”.
Danny sighs and sags a little, “Ancients fuck, Lance. Ghosts just so happen to have truce parties and maybe some of them get a little aggressive about me going to one”. More than a few of the other teachers are eyeballing Danny at this point.
Joshep glaring, “of course the ghosts actually like him”.
“Honestly isn’t he a little biased to be teaching about ghosts then?”.
Danny rolls his eyes, muttering, “having someone who dislikes ghosts would be what’s biased. Geez, been over this much”. Lancer claps Danny on the shoulder, avoiding ClockWork though, “for what it’s worth I agree with you, and my opinion just so happens to matter more”. Danny does smile over that, but eh, it’s probably a good idea that he skedaddles at this point.
Danny shrugs at Lancer before turning to ClockWork, “alright, cloak buddy, I’m sure Johnny’s already challenged someone to an unfair race and I’d rather a place get trashed after I’m there than before. But first…”, Danny turns around to grab up one of the Christmas oranges and lobs it through the ajar doorway. Resulting in the now more familiar than he’d like sound of Ghost Writers voice in the form of a shriek.
Lancer grimaces a little as Danny heads to the door, a few people watching awkwardly/cautiously, “I still don’t approve of you tormenting a poet with fruit”. That just makes Danny grin meanly at Lancer, then at the Ghost Writer who’s around the door and glaring at him.
Millie shouts after him, “you could at least dispose of the abomination that you call ‘food’!”. Danny shouting back, “naw! Why would I deny everyone the joy of such yummy friendly food!”, then snickering meanly to himself. Both ClockWork and Ghost Writer shake their heads at him, though ClockWork looks a lot more fond… and amused.
-
So what’s the first thing that greets Danny when he actually gets to Dora’s kingdom -which is apparently the place hosting, for his particular group anyway, this year- why it’s Skulker with a slice of pie in hand of course. Always was, probably always would be. Danny shaking his head fondly at the robotic ghost, “so what’s the flavour this year, my determined little poacher”.
“Berry and fish”.
Danny stares at him a little, “… okay yeah fuck you”, but takes the pie anyway. Like always it’s freaking delicious, but come on? Seriously? Berry and fish? Ghosts are weird, man. Not that he isn’t totally here for said weird.
It takes not even five minutes for Dora to practically skip up to him, putting a dainty hand on his shoulder lightly, “you look well, nest-mate mine”.
“You as well, Aurora”. Danny liked his nicknames, including for ghosties he actually liked. Danny smirking, putting a hand to his chest as she takes a step back, “in fact, I’m wonderfully well off. Got a group of teens to entertain most days, then there’s the Guardian thing I’ve got going for me, oh and all these fuckers-”, jabbing a thumb towards the random crowd of ghosts, “-actually somewhat respect my human job”.
Ember scowls and snarks, “messing with a Guardian’s duties is just asking for trouble”.
“And you don’t actively want trouble? Huh, guess I misread you”. Ember flips Danny off for that. Dora, however, giggles lightly, hand over her mouth, “trouble-seeking as she maybe, there is a difference”.
Danny rolls his eyes, waving her off, “yeah yeah yeah, I know. Still fun to poke fun at everyone though”, and sticks his tongue out in Ember’s general direction; she throws a guitar pick at him, though she does look a little amused at least.
That was the nice thing about ghosts, they liked picking fights and poking fun at each other… and they liked others doing that back to them. Unlike humans, who usually got pissed off if you snapped back at them regardless of if they snapped at you first *cough cough* Dash *cough cough*.
Dora hums and nods to herself, “well you enjoy the party and may the truce for you be bless-ed, nest-mate”.
“May it be bless-ed for you as well, nest-mate”.
Dora was a nice sorta sister to have, and considering the Queen/mother fucking DRAGON thing he didn’t really have to worry about anyone picking fights with his little -even though she’s legit older than him- sister.
YoungBlood zips over and whisper laughs into Danny’s ear, “you should totally go bug that nasty Aragon about your boring adult stuff”, snicker, “he so doesn’t know”.
Danny grins wickedly, “oh Hell yeah”.
The kid -that Danny’s pretty sure he can only still see because he was absolutely still immature and because of the right to the High Throne thing- laughs and gets overexcited, “can I come! Can I come! Can I come! I’ll bring grapes”.
“Does everyone just know that I throw grapes at that bastard”.
“Yup!”.
“Fuck you, yes you can come”, smirking at the child ghost, “but make sure they’re extra squishy”. YoungBlood giving him a goofy thumbs-up before getting distracted by the sweets table.
Kitty giggles from the side at him, “here I thought teachers weren’t supposed to swear around children”.
“I resent that”, putting a hand to his chest, “why I in fact taught them to”, sticking up a finger, “in ghost speak specifically”. They had totally been taking advantage of that to get away with swearing in their other classes. Which Danny one hundred percent supports wholeheartedly. Kitty laughs at that and Danny’s going to take a guess that Johnny’s off hitting on some other girls here. Kitty speaking up again, “you know…. The flowers are kind of cute”, and giggles, leaning over to fiddle with one of the ghost pipes. Well that feels like proof to him.
Unsurprisingly Johnny comes out of nowhere, scowling at him then smirking attractively at Kitty, “come on babe, whatcha doing with him”.
She just huffs at him; Danny taking the opportunity to subtly slink away from the pair while they go about having one of their typical lovers quarrels. Danny damn near crashes into Desiree in the process through.
She scowls at him a little before shaking her head, “and that is why I absolutely do not ‘want a man’”. Danny chuckling awkwardly, “ah come on now, some of us are at least fun to mess with”. That gets a smirk out of the genie ghost, “true. Still not worth the trouble”. Danny just chooses to shrug before wandering off to the little appetiser table, Desiree’s tolerance for him was minimal at best… especially because he was a guy.
-
Danny barely gets to spend ten minutes demolishing the appetiser table before Walker is there being a pick and shoving a present at his chest unnecessarily hard. Danny letting out a little oof followed by a not so eloquent, “jerk”, in the prison wardens general direction.
The skull-faced ghost scowls at him, “I hope you are teaching those delinquents the law”. Danny rolling his eyes so hard it almost hurt, “of course, Whitey. I might be lazy and have a complete disregard for law but when I have responsibilities I actually tend to do them”, shrugging, “with the occasional shortcut”, smirking meanly at the ghost, “besides, the best ways to break the law require knowing it”, and winks. If it wasn’t the truce Danny is a-hundred-percent positive Walker would assault him right now.
Walker sneering, “you’re lucky it’s the truce, punk”, and stalking off feels like proof in Danny’s books.
Walker taking the initiative with the present giving basically results in everyone else following suit. Which of course means Danny gets pelted by boxes, which the exception of the occasional one that’s actually handed to him. They were all combative motherfuckers alright? Danny laughing probably doesn’t discourage it though.
Like always most would prove to be useless or even slightly insulting. Not that the gifts he chucks back won’t be equally offensive/pointless. He’s pretty sure his gift for Boxy is literally just a shit ton of marbles with square shapes inside them to really bug the guy. ClockWorks was a little touching though, being a gear cog accessory for his staff, and fine maybe Danny also gave ClockWork staff accessories. Like minds think in kind. Too bad FrostBite and Pandora have their own kingdoms truce celebrations to see to. Eh, he’ll visit them at some point. Besides, they all took turns hosting his group's truce celebrations. Technically he could go to those parties too but Danny’s not putting himself through three to six ‘Christmas’/‘Yule’/truce parties every year. He’s not a fucking masochist, regardless of what anyone might say.
Eventually, everyone gets all well and done with their present-based assault of each other. Dora nodding to herself and raising her chalice, “to a blessed and successful-”, everyone glancing judgingly at the Ghost Writer, “-truce!”. Danny, and more than a few others, chuckling at the Ghost Writers expense before sipping their prospective drinks. Was Danny’s the most disgusting horrid-looking concoction he could come up with based on what ingredients he had at his disposal? Abso-fucking-lutely. He even stuck in an orange wedge for the fuck of it. The smell was truly atrocious and the mild glaring that causes only makes Danny feel all the more smug. Drinking what’s effectively consumable battery acid with a devilish smirk as the party begins to draw to an end.
-
And boom bada boom, another year's festivities over. Guess the class shit’s over for another year too, so a nice little two-for-one ending there. Nice. Now to do it all over again in, like, a month. Well okay, a year for the truce crap. Oh whatever. Class starts again in January…
Eh at least Lancer had the decency to put Danny’s ecto-ology class in the afternoon again. Hopefully, that will never change. Though the fact that Danny still managed to show up late would probably cement that afternoon time slot. Ancients Danny might not show up at all out of spite if the man scheduled it any sooner. Lancer probably knew that too, the man had proven he understood waaaaaaay more than Danny ever thought/knew.
At least no one was treating him different due to the Guardian/teacher thing. Much anyways. Goes to show that Danny could probably change into infinitely stranger things and people would probably still go ‘eh that’s just Danny for you’. No one, ghost nor human, should have expected he’d become a freaking teacher (except ClockWork anyway… and the stupid fucking Observants) and yet everything went more or less fine.
But still, fuck Christmas.
And fuck the Observants for good measure.
What the heck, fuck the educational system too.
Throw in a ‘fuck his half-life’ for bonus points and to complete the nonexistent list of things to flip off before he goes to bed.
End.
#Danny Phantom#phandom#invisobang#danny#sam#tucker#dash#valerie#mr. lancer#technus#skulker#kitty#johnny#box ghost#clockwork#observants#teacher! danny#danny's a little shit#danny fenton the teacher#danny gets a job#your teachers dead shenanigins#fan fic#phan phic#my writing#have a fic suck my dick#phantomphangphucker#slight religous mocking#invisobang 2021
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