#gotta save my energy for my big plans for tomorrow!!

[miramisaki]

61(???) days until Charlie...

[scarletsaphire]

For his entire nine years of life, Danny has had incredible dreams. Featured in every one is a patch of stars, staying just in the corner of his vision, just out of reach. It is only after his first nightmare that the stars appear as what they truly are; a ghost, here to make a deal.

--

This is my Big Boy fic I've been planning for over a year. I hope you guys enjoy.

Danny had always dreamed of stars. It wasn't necessarily that he always dreamed of the stars, but they were always there. Sometimes he'd dream that he was a pirate, fighting glowing green sea creatures that came up from the bottom of the ocean, tentacles grappling on the sides of his pirate ship. Sometimes he would dream of a world made entirely of smudges of color, and he had to save it from the evil people who wanted to erase it all. Sometimes he would dream of exploring other planets, of the taste of space dust on his tongue and a ground that made him bounce like a trampoline. Danny dreamed a lot of things, but no matter what he dreamed about, the stars were always there, just out of reach. They were different then the ones that appeared in the sky; they seemed to flow and ripple like water, and they always seemed to move to the corner of his vision no matter how hard he tried to see them.

For a while, Danny tried to catch the stars. Every time he got close, he'd wake up. But his parents had taught him that Fentons don't give up, and Danny wouldn't be the one to break that streak. So he swore to himself, after what felt like the millionth time waking up in the dead of night, that he'd get to hold those stars someday, even if he needed to go to space to get them. He spent every night that summer trying to catch them, every night waking up disappointed and going through the next day so tired his mom brought him to the doctor's for a check up.

Danny didn't try and catch the stars the night before third grade. In between teaching Danny the correct way to weld, his dad had talked all about how he'd need all his energy to learn the new things that tomorrow would bring. His mom had stolen Danny away to show him the new and improved Fenton Folders she'd finished for him, designed to be able to hold not only the papers for his class, but any textbooks or other supplies he might need as well. They were bulky, and the combination of metal and mesh wasn't the prettiest, but Danny loved them; he'd helped her make them, after all. Jazz had told him while helping him pack that he needed to prepare himself. 

"Third grade is where the real school starts," she said while trying to fit his pack of #2 pencils in the backpack without disrupting the spots she'd already put his other supplies. "I can help you prepare physically, because I'm the best big sister ever, but you've gotta make sure you're prepared mentally. It's a lot of responsibility."

"I don't know what that means," Danny admitted.

Jazz grinned at him, showing off the gap in her teeth. "Yeah, well you're gonna. That's something third grade will teach you."

Danny did not pout. He was nine now, which was basically double digits. He was above pouting. "Why don't you just tell me now?"

Jazz zipped up the backpack and left it on the hook next to the front door. "I can't do that, it's against the laws of third grade. Everyone has to go through a ritual at the start, to make sure they're fit to be a third grader."

Danny narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."

"Would I ever lie to you?"

"Yes."

Jazz stuck her tongue out at him, and Danny did it right back. "I'm surprised Mom and Dad didn't tell you about the third grade ritual. What else do you think they've been having us do those martial arts classes for?"

"Ghost fighting?" Danny said slowly.

"And who says the challenge isn't a ghost?" Jazz was smiling at him in the same way she had when she said she didn't hide his cookies on the top shelf.

"You're definitely lying."

Jazz shrugged and turned around towards the stairs. "Believe what you want. I just know that if I was you, I would listen to your big sister who’s already beaten the ghosts. You don't want to fight them by yourself, do you?" With that she went upstairs, leaving Danny by himself. Jazz was lying to him. She had to be. But...

Danny grabbed one of the half finished inventions laying on the end table in the living room and slipped it into the side pocket of his backpack. It was better safe than sorry.

That morning Danny woke well-rested, having slept better than he had all summer. He’d had a dream about constructing fish bowls out of clouds, wringing the water from them like you would a towel. It had been a good dream, even if the stars still hung in the corner of his vision, taunting him. It would have been a pleasant way to wake up, if the first thing he was aware of wasn't the bellowing of his name from the doorway.

"Danno!" Jack repeated at a volume that only made his ears ring a little bit. "Hurry up kiddo, you're gonna be late!"

Danny blinked the sleep out of his eyes as he tried to interpret the numbers on his clock. 7:10. "Dad, you were supposed to wake me up at 6:20!" Danny yelled, jumping out of his bed, blankets falling in a twisted knot to the floor. "The bus is going to be here in 10 minutes!"

"Sorry, son," Jack said. "You don't have to worry about the bus, your old man can drive you."

"No, I'm sure I can catch the bus."

---

Danny walked out of the GAV at precisely 7:24, with only his nine years of experience keeping him from vomiting. He'd missed the bus by thirty seconds at most. 

"You've got this, kiddo! Face those challenges head on!" Jack called from the open window. "Love you, good luck!"

Danny waved back, and Jack drove away. His mention of challenges reminded him of Jazz's words yesterday. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to take the unfinished device with him to school; his mom had ended up grabbing it to work on, and with how late he'd woken up, he didn't have a chance to grab a new one. That was okay. Jazz was just kidding. Probably. He tightened his grip on his backpack straps and made his way into the school yard.

Danny's plan was to find Tucker. His parents hadn't let him hang out the past week. They'd said something about summer reading stuff that Tucker still hadn't done, and that he was grounded until he got it finished or school started back up. It was completely unfair, and it meant that the couple minutes before they had to go inside were crucial for catching up about all the exciting things that they had done since the last time they'd hung out. Unfortunately, the first person Danny found was not Tucker. It was Dash.

"Are your parents still adding weapons to that hunk of junk you call a car?" he called out from his spot on the stairs. Dash was mean and a bully, and he had been since kindergarten, but he wasn't persistent. Danny had learned early on that the best thing to do was ignore him and walk away, ideally into the sight of a teacher. Danny tried to do this now, but Dash got up and started to follow him. "What are you running away from? Gonna go hunt down some ghosts to talk to? It’s not like any of us want to."

Danny's grip tightened around the straps of his backpack. "Leave me alone Dash."

"What are you gonna do if I don't?" Dash spat. Danny's next step was halted by Dash's grip on his backpack, forcing him to stumble backwards to keep from falling. "Are you gonna tell your weirdo parents? You'd probably have to lie to get them to care." 

Danny spun to face Dash, the force of his twist breaking the taller boy’s grasp. Despite their height difference, Danny didn't back down.

"Stop it," he spat.

Dash sneered. "Oh, I'm so scared." He leaned down until Danny could smell his breath, warm and gross on his face. "Your whole family is a joke, and everyone knows it. You're no different."

There were a number of things that happened in those few seconds. The first was that Danny realized that, whether intentional or not, Jazz had been right about needing to fight a monster. He wouldn't tell her that, of course. She was already insufferable. 

The second was that Danny's hand had let go of his backpack, clenched into a fist, and flew at Dash's jaw with all the speed and might Danny's nine year old body could muster. 

The third thing, which was by far the worst, was the door to the school yard flying open only a few feet from where Dash and Danny stood. This meant that the teacher got front row seats to Dash's tooth flying out of his mouth.

"Daniel James Fenton!" she called, but her voice sounded distant under the rush of Danny's blood in his ears and Dash's blubbering. He only fully processed that his name had been said when he felt her grab his arm. "Just what do you think you are doing?"

Danny flushed red from embarrassment as he realized that the teacher's yelling had attracted the attention of the whole school yard. "He started it," he mumbled under his breath.

"I don't care who started it, young man, that's no excuse for violence!" she snapped. "I'm going to need to call your parents, do you understand that? In all my years of teaching, I've never had to call anyone about something like this so early in the school year." She moved towards the building, Danny dragging along behind her. 

She stopped briefly near the door to point at a student Danny didn't recognize; a 5th grader, by the looks of it. "Would you be a dear and escort Dash to the nurse’s office?" The student nodded.

The teacher led Danny through the halls of the school to the main office. "You are going to sit right here," she said to Danny, leading him to one of the waiting chairs, "-and you aren't going to move a single muscle, do you understand? I'm going to talk to the principal, and then she is going to talk to you." Danny nodded, and the woman disappeared behind the adjacent door.

Danny would not cry. He wanted to, and his eyes burnt with hot, angry tears, but he did not cry. He was nine. That was almost double digits, and someone who is double digits doesn't cry. Danny focused on one spot on the worn, dirty, carpeted floors, trying to get the heat of his anger to burn a hole through it.

It didn't work. Danny cried quietly.

When the teacher walked back into the room, he wiped away his tears as quickly and discreetly as he could before getting out of his chair and following her into the principal's office. Danny had seen Principal Caulfield a couple of times before; she would give announcements in the cafeteria sometimes, and would lead fire drills. He'd never been called to her office before. He'd never wanted to.

She smiled at him warmly, a stark contrast to the teacher's steely gaze he could still feel burrowing into the back of his head like knives. "Hello, Daniel. I assume Mrs. Robertson explained why you're here." Danny nodded. "Mrs. Robertson explained what happened to me, but I want to hear it from your perspective. Can you do that for me?" 

Danny shifted from foot to foot, not meeting Principal Caulfield's eyes. "She can leave, if that would make you more comfortable." Principal Caulfield nodded to her, and Mrs. Robertson took her leave.

"Dash was making fun of my family," Danny mumbled. "I tried to walk away, but he grabbed me and wouldn't let me go."

Principal Caulfield nodded. "So you decided to hit him?" 

Danny nodded. 

"Why don't you take a seat?" Slowly, Danny sat down in the chair opposite of hers. "We try very hard to teach our students that violence isn't the answer here, and it never is. You should've called for a teacher, or tried to settle the issue with words. Do you understand that?" 

Danny nodded again. 

"Now, I'm going to call your parents. I'm going to have a long discussion with, and you will be sent home early. I know that the first day of school has a lot of fun activities, and with your behavior today, I think a fair punishment is missing out on them. If this happens again, however, you will be in far more trouble. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am," Danny said. He focused on keeping his voice from wobbling.

"Good. Now, let me see here..." Principal Caulfield stood up and made her way over to her filing cabinet, rifling through one of the drawers and pulling out a folder with a label that read "D. J. Fenton." She flipped through it, traced her finger down one of the pages, and started dialing a number on the phone. Just as Danny had expected, it went to voicemail. A voicemail that was completely full.

Principal Caulfield frowned down at the phone. She looked through the file again, before looking up at Danny. "Are your parents busy right now?"

"My mom's down in the lab," he said. "If Dad's home by now, he's down there with her. If not, he's in the car."

Her face twisted in confusion, probably trying to figure out what Danny meant by lab, before it settled on an expression Danny had become very familiar with over the years. It was the mixed horror and understanding that most adults got when they realized that those two jumpsuit-wearing ghost hunting weirdos did in fact have children, and one of them was standing in front of them. Danny braced himself for the conversation that almost always followed, even as Principal Caulfield's expression faded into a professional veneer of kindness.

"I didn't realize that your parents had a laboratory in your house," she said. "What type of things do they do in the lab?"

"They build things, mostly," Danny said. That was a major simplification; even though Danny wasn't allowed to help with a lot of the things they did, he helped with enough to know a lot more than that they just 'built things.' More importantly, he knew that Principal Caulfield wasn't actually interested in hearing about his parents’ work, no matter how interesting it truly was. She was poking and prodding around the house to make sure Danny and Jazz were safe. He'd gone through it many times. It was never a pleasant conversation but it didn't normally bother Danny. "They don't let me or my sister into the lab unsupervised, they have all the proper PPE for both themselves and us, and anything they think will hurt us, or that they don't know whether it will or not is locked away where we can't get it," Danny recited.

Slowly, Principal Caulfield nodded. "It sounds like that's something you've practiced."

Danny shrugged. "I just get asked things like that a lot."

"Daniel." Her voice was hard. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Danny," she said, and her voice softer this time. She reached her hands out on her desk and folded them over each other. "You understand that that's not normal right? That you shouldn’t be in a house where your safety is questioned by everyone?"

That was also something he heard a lot. It wasn't like any of them were wrong. His parents weren't normal, and he knew that; what did it matter that everyone else knew that too? But Dash's words from before whirled in his head, mixing with Principal Caulfield's concern and the remaining whispers of the dozens of other people who'd said it. Danny bit his tongue to keep from either crying or shouting. He wasn't sure which was more likely. 

It took a few seconds before he managed to get out the response he wanted. "I am safe."

Principal Caulfield sighed. "Do you have any other way to get in contact with your parents?" Danny shook his head, and she pursed her lips. "Ok. Do they let you walk home alone?" Danny nodded. "Since I'm not going to be able to get in contact with them, what we're going to do instead is you're going to walk home. Straight home, no detours. You’re going to give them a letter explaining the whole situation, and then they are going to call me back. If I don't get a call back from them by -" she glanced at the clock on the wall next to her "- by nine o'clock, you are going to be in a lot more trouble. Do you understand?" Danny nodded again.

The next few minutes passed in tense silence as Principal Caulfield wrote out the note for Danny's parents. Finally, she handed the paper over to Danny. "You're free to leave." Danny shoved the note into his backpack and stood up. 

Just as he was about to walk out of the room, she spoke again. "Daniel?" He turned back to look at her. "Let's make sure this doesn't happen again, ok?" 

All he could do was nod.

---

It was almost 8:30 by the time he walked through the front door, his face red and puffy from anger, tears, and the rising August heat. As he had guessed, the sounds of clinking metal echoed up from the lab. He threw his backpack on the couch, and crouched to untie his shoes. He needed to gather his bravery to face his parents. He'd gotten in trouble in school before; even Jazz had gotten in trouble a couple of times, and she was as goody two shoes as they got. It was just that most of the time when he got in trouble, it was for something that his parents were more lenient about; they didn't care about him missing homework assignments when he had spent most of the time with them in the lab. They didn't care about him not paying attention in class because neither of them could pay attention to much of anything not related to ghosts or science; they claimed it was a Fenton Family trait. 

Danny knew that they would care about this.

He took a deep breath and started down the basement stairs. "Mom? Dad?" he called out as soon as he reached the bottom, peeking his head around the corner.

"Danny? Is it three o'clock already?" Maddie said, glancing over at him in confusion.

"I could've sworn that I only just got started!" Jack said, sitting upright from where he was hunched over his workbench. 

"Time sure flies when we're working," Maddie replied with a laugh.

"Um..." Danny shuffled from one foot to the other. "It's not."

"What was that sweetie?" Maddie asked. 

"It's not three yet. I got sent home from school early," Danny said. He started to explain everything, the words falling out of his mouth as he talked. When he finished explaining what Principal Caulfield had said to him, he pulled out the note and held it out to his parents. They'd both moved to stand next to Danny while he was talking. 

Maddie took the paper and opened it to begin reading, while Jack lowered himself to one knee to get on Danny's level. "I'm disappointed in you, son. I thought we had raised you to know better than resorting to violence."

"Unless it’s against a ghost," Maddie added quietly as she continued to read.

"Unless it’s a ghost," Jack amended. "Then your old man can show you how to shoot the sorry spook right between the eyes!" Jack bounced to his feet, pointing his hands into finger guns, and imitating the sounds of shooting and explosions. That went on until Maddie finished reading the note.

"Jack dear, you've gotten distracted again," she said, folding the note back up and slipping it into her jumpsuit pocket before turning to Danny. "What your father is trying to say is that we're proud of you for trying to stick up for us, but you should know better than to start fights."

"I'm sorry…" 

"You don't have to apologize to us," Maddie said. "You need to apologize to Dash. And that's what you're going to do, right now. You're going to go up to your room and write an apology note to him, and then you are going to go right to bed. No games, no TV, no books, no toys. I think that's a fair punishment, don't you honey?"

"Sounds right to me."

"But he started it!" Danny protested. 

"I don't want to hear it, young man," Maddie chided. "We can be a lot meaner about this if you make us."

Danny bit his lip. "Fine."

"Good. Now, you go upstairs, and I'll give your principal a call."

Danny and Maddie made their way out of the basement together. She stopped at the phone to wave Danny along. "And I'll be coming up to check on you soon, so don't think you can sneak out of the punishment." Danny gave a curt nod in response, not stopping his trek upstairs. 

Danny sat down at his desk in his bedroom, grabbing one of his new school notebooks. He and Jazz had talked their parents into buying a bunch of stickers, and the two of them had spent an entire afternoon customizing their new school notebooks. Danny had, of course, covered his in stars, rocket ships, planets, and astronauts. 

Danny’s lungs and eyes burned with anger as he realized that the very first thing he was going to have to put in his new notebooks was an apology letter to Dash, of all people. But he didn't have any of his notebooks from last year, so he didn't have much of a choice.

He flipped to the first page and lifted his pencil to start writing. The first couple of words were dark and shaky. The pencil tip snapped from the force he used. Danny let his head fall to the desk, and groaned into his arms. "Why do I have to apologize?" he complained to himself, not lifting his head from the desk. "He doesn't deserve it. He's been nothing but mean for years." 

The burning feeling in his throat got more intense. Hot tears ran down his eyes onto the notebook, smearing the few words he’d managed to write.

Danny turned over and glared at the door. His mom had said that she'd come and check on him, but he had grown up with her. There was the chance that she'd make good on her word, sure, but it was far more likely that something would call her back to the lab and she'd forget all about Danny, at least until Jazz got home. 

Danny didn't want to risk the offhand chance of her coming up and catching him doing something she said not to, but that didn't mean he had to write the letter. Not yet, anyway. Danny pushed his chair back from the desk with a squeak, and made his way over to his bed, flopping onto the mattress. With his pillow muffling him, Danny let the tears flow freely.

---

Danny sat in class, the teacher at the front of the room droning on about something. He wasn't paying attention. How could he, when he could feel the weight of his classmates’ stares on his shoulders? Their whispers joined together in a cacophony of noise, getting louder and louder with every passing moment until Danny couldn't even hear himself think. The sound persisted even when he covered his ears with his hands, pushing against his head until it hurt. "Please, stop," he begged. Like a switch, everyone stopped whispering. Danny opened his eyes to see the teacher from the playground standing above his desk. 

"What was that, Fenton?" she said, her voice dripping with venom. 

"I just..." Danny looked around at his classmates, but he couldn't focus on any of them, not under the heat of the teacher's gaze. "I wanted them to stop talking."

"How dare you interrupt their conversation!" Spittle flew from her mouth, bright green, and splattered against Danny's desk where it sizzled, chewing through the wood. He flinched back. "Apologize. To all of them. And then it's straight to the principal with you!" 

"But I didn't do anything!" Danny protested. 

"And you're talking back? If you're ever allowed back in this school again, you can apologize then. But I think the principal might put a stop to that."

Danny tried to stand up, but his legs were glued to the chair. He strained against the force holding him down until his muscles burned, but no matter what he did, he couldn't move. 

"What do you think you're doing, young man?" The teacher said, and she bared her glistening fangs at him. "You are about to be in a world of trouble!"

"What, are you too weak to get out of your chair, Fenturd?" Dash's voice overlapped the teacher’s. "Or is a ghost holding you down? We gonna have to call your crazy parents?"

They didn’t stop talking even as the rest of the class started again, an echoing cacophony of every horrible thing Danny had ever heard about him and his parents and his sister and his house and everything. All he could do was struggle against the chair even as his legs burned from the effort and his head pounded and his eyes leaked hot tears and- 

Danny sat upright in his bed, gasping for air. His school clothes, which he had fallen asleep in, stuck to the skin, and the blanket he'd been sleeping on top of was soaked with cold sweat. He grabbed at his chest, trying to slow down the frantic beating of his heart. 

"It was just a dream," he said to himself, still breathless. "It wasn't real."

Danny'd had nightmares before, but they'd always been full of fantastical beasts and monsters and ghosts. He’d never felt trapped; any time that he'd get too scared, he'd reach to the stars. Their ever-present shimmering would block out whatever terrors plagued his mind, and he'd wake up calm.

The stars weren’t there to save him this time, and that was almost scarier than the nightmare had been.

---

"Did you get the note finished like I asked?" Maddie asked over their Chinese takeout. (Surprisingly, Jack had tried to cook dinner. Emphasis on the tried. He claimed that the hot dogs started the fire in the kitchen, but they had been peaceful since the Great Toaster War, so Danny was pretty sure that Jack just burned the water he'd been boiling. And the stove he'd been boiling it on.)

"Mhm," Danny answered around his mouthful of pork fried rice. He hadn't even started the letter. Every time he did, the cutting words of his dream flooded his mind. It wasn't like she'd check it anyway.

"Good. Make sure to give it to him tomorrow when you go back to school," she said. 

"I still can't believe you got into a fight!" Jazz said. "I didn't get into any fights when I was your age."

"You're only two years older than me," Danny grumbled, shoveling another bite into his mouth.

"And those two years make quite the difference, obviously," she replied. She twirled the noodle around her fork. "I wonder if it has anything to do with the fact that-"

Danny cut her off before she could get started. "Can I be excused?"

Maddie and Jack shared a look before Maddie nodded. "Don’t forget you’re still grounded, mister!" Jack called out after him as Danny shoveled one last spoonful into his mouth and retreated to his room. 

The day had passed slowly and painfully, with Danny spending a lot of time staring at his wall. He'd tried going down to the lab to help his parents, but they had made him go back upstairs to his room. It had taken an hour for them to remember to do so, in which they had told him all about the newest ecto-filtration system they were working on developing, but that hour hadn't done much to help with the other ten hours of extreme boredom. That, and the skin crawling grossness from the dream had yet to leave him.

Despite the fact that Danny had done less than nothing today, he was tired. He may have left the dinner table to avoid Jazz's rambling, but he probably would've done that anyway. In spite of the sun still streaming through the window, he made his way through his bedtime routine, before laying down in his bed, this time in his comfortable pajamas.

Apparently, it didn't matter that Danny's exhaustion seemed to run bone deep; no matter how he twisted and turned, he couldn't get comfortable. Every time he thought he'd found a nice position, his hand, head, or legs would throb. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the teacher from his nightmare with the venom filled fangs, or the disappointed faces of his parents and Principal Caulfield. 

Something told him that if he fell asleep, he would be met by similar dreams. No matter how tired he was, he didn't want to go through that again. He tried to keep his hands busy, and when he was too tired to move them with any more grace then a baby, he moved to keeping his mind occupied.

Despite how much he fought it, the soft ticking sound of his clock lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

—

Danny knew that he was dreaming because of the stars. The stars that had hovered at the edges of his vision in every dream but the last now covered everything, as if they were making up for lost time.

"Woah..." he whispered. He'd dreamed of standing in a field of stars before, but this felt...different. Before, there’d always been that one patch that stood out from the rest, his constant companion, a spot inconsistent with the rest of them. It had always felt more real, more physical, then the rest of them. This time, that patch made up everything around him. 

He dropped to his knees to touch one, an exceptionally bright star that pulsed with the beating of his heart. He cupped it in his hands, pulling it out from the inky blackness that surrounded it. It stayed where he held it, with most of the darkness dripping off like water, only a thin strand keeping it connected to the rest of the starscape. It wasn't warm like he'd expected; in fact, it was cold. So cold that it almost hurt to hold it, but he didn't put it down. He'd been dreaming of this moment, literally, for his entire life.

He stared down at the glowing ball, enraptured by its flickering lights, before he realized that it was… wrong. He knew stars; he had begged his parents to bring him to the space museum so often over the summer the people working there knew him by name. Stars were not just balls of light, they were balls of fire that moved and changed. Whatever he held in his hand was nothing but pure light, perfectly frozen, completely unchanging. 

He let the not-star fall from his hands, slipping back into its place in the inky void.

"Is it not living up to your expectations, little dreamer?" Danny whirled around to try and find the voice, but it seemed to come from everywhere, echoing endlessly. The sound traveled in ripples across the not-quite liquid floor, and the echoes only started to fade when the ripples did.

"Who are you?" Danny asked, continuing to scan his surroundings unsuccessfully. "Where are you?"

"You may call me Nocturne," the voice said. "And you already know the answer to the last question."

"I do?" Danny asked, confused. He spun around in a circle slowly. 

"You do. We're in a dream."

"This doesn't feel like my dreams..." Danny said. 

"That's because it isn't one of your dreams," Nocturne said. The surrounding darkness coalesced into one being, the starry cloak extending endlessly into the rest of the surroundings. One cluster of stars became a horned mask, with sunken eyes that seemed to be staring straight through Danny. "It's one of mine. I've brought you here to make a deal."

Nearly every alarm bell Danny had started ringing at once. Despite this, he did not feel scared, just wrong. Something was wrong. He tried to figure out what, but failed. Nocturne was still staring at him expectantly. He had to answer, even if he couldn’t figure it out. “My parents say I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Nocturne's laughter rang out through the dream, even though his mask remained perfectly stationary, his eyes never leaving Danny. "Dearest Daniel, I am many things, but I am no stranger." He moved closer to Danny. Or, Danny moved closer to him, the ground beneath his feet folding over itself as if the world was being moved around him.. "You've known me for many, many years now."

"I don't..." Danny started to say, but he cut himself off with a hard swallow. He did know Nocturne, even if he didn't understand how. "What are you?" Danny asked instead.

"I am a ghost," Nocturne said, and Danny’s alarm bells worsened as a cold dread settled on his shoulders. Maybe he was in danger. "You don't need to be afraid, little dreamer. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it a very long time ago." 

For some reason, that didn't make Danny any less afraid.

He tried to stumble backwards, only to find that the cold liquid of the pool had hardened around his ankles, locking him in place. "What do you want with me?" Danny said, and his voice was barely over a whisper.

Nocturne tilted his head to the side. "I think a better question is how can we help each other? As I said before, I am offering you a deal. All I want from you for now is to listen." Nocturne laughed again. "I suppose in this case your question ended up just as good as any other." He held his hand out to Danny. "Now, shall we?"

Danny struggled to tear his gaze away from Nocturne's piercing eyes, but he managed to. The ghost's hands were barely visible, blending in almost perfectly to the inky blackness surrounding them, but Danny could still make out the vague outline of claws connected to a hand nearly the size of his face. He knew he should say no; he'd spent his whole life listening to his parents talk about ghosts. They were heartless creatures, a sad mixture of energy and ectoplasm and nothing more. They were more dangerous than anything Danny could ever dream up, had the ability to kill him with nothing more than a thought, and may do something even worse with only a little bit more. He should not take Nocturne's hand.

He tried to move again, but his foot was still stuck in the pool, the cold liquid clinging to him like tar. It didn't look like Danny had much of a choice. Hesitantly, Danny reached out and took hold of one of Nocturne's claws, touching as little of him as he could. Nocturne's expression did not change, but Danny could still feel the satisfaction rolling off of him in waves.

Danny could not remember blinking, but he must have, because one second they were in the star-studded abyss, and the next they were standing at the rear end of Danny's classroom. Danny looked around, confused, and his confusion only grew when he saw himself sitting in the middle seat. His doppelganger was hunched in on himself, visibly uncomfortable.

"You recognize this scene, do you not?" Nocturne asked.

Slowly, Danny nodded. "My nightmare. From earlier today."

"Very good. Tell me, what do you think of it?"

"Um, I don't like it?" Danny answered.

"And why is that?"

Danny shrugged. "I mean, no one likes nightmares."

"Yes, but you've had plenty of nightmares before. Why was this one different?"

Danny bit his lip and took a shot in the dark. "It reminded me of my bad day?"

"Excellent, little dreamer," Nocturne said, his voice laced with pride. "The bad things that have happened, or the bad things that might. Everyone gets them, at some point or another. And yet, for a very long time, yours were special. You were never truly afraid of the things that might happen, but created new things to be afraid of. Isn't that right?"

Danny gave a small nod. It felt like the answer Nocturne was looking for.

"Tell me," Nocturne continued. "Do you want to have more dreams like this one? Do you want for them to be built on the ugly truth of your reality?"

This time, Danny shook his head.

"I didn't think you would," Nocturne said. "Which is why I am offering you an escape from it. I can make it so that you never have these dreams, or any like it, ever again. All you need to do is help me in turn."

Danny narrowed his eyes. He may not have been the smartest Fenton, but he wasn't an idiot. And he had grown up with an older sister. "How would I be helping you?" he asked. "Cause my parents have talked a lot about fairy stories, and they say it’s really bad to make a deal with a fairy, and that fairies are just ghosts that have been mislabeled."

"The details are somewhat complex."

Danny crossed his arms. "Well, I'm not making any deal unless I know what it’s about."

The stars in Nocturne's cloak twinkled brighter. "There is an issue within my home, the Infinite Realms, that requires someone special like you to fix. It is, of course, more complicated than that, but that is the important part."

"And what would I need to do to fix it?" Danny asked.

"It is my understanding that you would simply need to be present," Nocturne replied. "As for the how, that comes back to your side of the offer. Instead of having dreams like this," Nocturne swept his hand across the room. "...you would instead spend your dreaming nights in the Realms. In the morning, you would wake up in your bed as if nothing had happened."

"It won't be any kind of sleeping forever thing, right?" Danny asked.

"It could be if you would like," Nocturne said. "Unless you request it, however, no. It would last just as long as any of your other dreams."

"So you want me to agree to let you take me into the world of ghosts, every night, instead of having the occasional bad dream?" Danny asked slowly. "That doesn't seem very fair to me."

"It would not be the occasional bad dream," Nocturne said. "Dreams are my realm. I know them very, very well. And your dreams have been... tainted. It does not matter whether you take this deal or not, you will never return to the dreams you had for so long. I am simply offering you an alternative to this mundanity."

"Why should I trust you?" Danny asked.

"You shouldn't," Nocturne answered easily. "But you don't need to trust me to agree to the deal."

"And if I don't agree to it?"

"Then you will wake up with no memory of ever seeing me, and go back to a life where you can't escape the horrors of the real world even in the comfort of sleep."

Danny took a deep breath through his nose, and looked around the room. He couldn't hear anything that was happening, but his memory worked to fill in the gaps. The teacher was nearly frothing at the mouth with her green, acidic spit, the other kids in the class were either whispering or laughing at him, and the dream Danny was sitting at his desk. His face was a patchy red, tears streaming down his face. He remembered how helpless he had felt sitting there, and he couldn't imagine feeling like that for who knows how long.

Danny turned back to Nocturne, whose gaze had never once strayed from him. "Okay." His voice didn't shake, despite how nervous he felt. "I agree."

"Wonderful." Nocturne reached his hand out to Danny. This time Danny didn't hesitate to take it, and then the world shifted around him.

[paramorearchived]

April 5, 2011

Transcript:

Like Eli.. I deed it.

Hey everybody today, let's dive into the discussion of sexuality! yeah yeah, i wanna talk about the cosmo cover. it's a little more than a big deal to me. and you know what? i'm really excited about it. to the general public, cosmo magazine is either a) a woman's obsession or b) a woman's demise -- honestly, either of the two options equal out to be the same damn thing! the media clearly has our attention. it's easy to let all the images of all these godlike looking women whisper to us how we think we're supposed to look. it's like "here look at my BOOBS! don't you wish you had these?" "more guys will like you if you do it THIS WAY!" "get this figure" blah blah blah spend all your time, energy, and money on becoming the world's idea of ''sexy"... and you know what? it's never gonna change. as much as i tell myself i don't care and i wear whatever i want... there will always be those moments when i'm at the check out line at target and i see some gorgeous person on the cover of any ol rag... and i'm like "ugh, is that how it's gotta be!?" only to realize that... next month, that girl on the cover is gonna be me. 

WHAT A HYPOCRITE RIGHT?!?!

noooo. here's the thing. my #1 goal when the band began was to make myself invisible. not only did i not want to be the focal point, i wanted to be UNSEEN! and honestly, it never made a difference. i've turned down a lot of magazine covers. i specifically remember turning down Blender mag when i turned 19. and you know what? no one ever knew. it never made people focus on me any less. and it never mattered. so this time i'm taking a different approach. all 3 of us in Paramore have our own roles. and finally i will accept mine. i'm going to be okay with being a "powerful female". and if that's what it is... i'm going to use that role to make a difference.  here's the plan. here's my course of action. i WILL be myself. i WILL grow up. and i most definitely WILL find the time in my own life to be SEXY if i feel like it. who wrote the rules? who said that a girl that lives in this same tshirt and jeans nearly every day won't wanna wear pumps and a short skirt tomorrow? the heart that's underneath the clothes is still the same. because to me, it's not about using sex as a weapon. it's about how i feel. somedays i straight up feel like wearing sweats. other days, more confident days.. i'm like... DUDE WHO NEEDS CLOTHES!? ok well, i'm not that extreme but hopefully you see my point. if you are a girl, i think you'll understand all of these words just fine. you know those mornings you get out of the shower and you're drying your hair in your underwearsss and you realize you finally don't care that you have that scar on your leg? or that your skin is so pale that sometimes in bad light you can see your veins? ... or when your skin keeps breaking out and you're like "today, i simply do not give a f***!" those are the liberated moments that i try to hold on to. and i'm hoping by seeing my crazy mug on a magazine cover... some girl who's having a not particularly liberated day will think to herself that the MAY cover looks just a little different than the usual cosmo cover and hopefully they can even be inspired. no, i don't think i'm some kind of saving grace that's going to change the magazine world and the lies that we believe in the headlines every day. but i do know that i NEVER ever thought of myself as conventionally beautiful nor sexy. and only just recently did i ever even begin to accept how my looks differ from other people's whom i admire. i'm hoping that the more a magazine will take a chance on a girl like me, the more a girl will have a frickin chance in hell to be UNIQUE, powerful, strong in her weaknesses, confident in her flaws. because that's who i'm trying to become. 

sexy is whatever you want it to be. don't let cosmo tell you. don't let vogue tell you. even your boyfriend or your best friends. the point is, it's up to you. i'm gonna make up my own version as i go. 

and for the record, i really was hoping one of the headlines would be "69 ways to 69" but i guess it was a no go. honestly, i don't think they could come up with that many. thank you guys once again for being a part of our family. love every one of ya. 

hayley

-- once again, i didn't proofread ;////

[keefwho]

October 27 - 2022

11:57 AM

I had a stressful dream that had me waking up feeling like I already experienced a whole ass day but I feel confident enough to get everything done today. It feels like a Friday to me because I finished the last commission this month so all I have now is a request stream tomorrow. Today I still have to pick commissions for next month, shave my body, and do Inktober. And read up on mental health stuff. AND challenge myself a little bit by getting out of my comfort zone. Once everything is done I hope to still have the desire to work on a couple pics I wanna get done. I just gotta remember I can do all this without stressing about it. It doesn’t matter how well I’m performing or how long it takes, just as long as I sit down and do it. I don’t have to be great all the time. 

Straight up after I shave I wanna suck my dick giga hard, thats my big plan for the day.

4:17

There’s something about myself I don’t like and it’s always been like this. I really struggle to be friends with more than 1 or 2 people at a time. I feel like I should be able to handle more and most other people seem to. I don’t know if it’s okay that I commit to so few. There are some cons, like if they aren’t around then I can get lonely. 

It kind of feels like a betrayal to want more friends. Its almost like saying the ones I have aren’t enough even though that definitely isn’t the case. I just feel like I should have more because everyone else does. It might also be healthy to talk to a larger selection of people. 

My problem is I like to commit a large amount of attention to literally everything I do. I don’t feel comfortable letting anything sit on the sidelines. If I had 5-6 friends I hung out with separately, I’d feel terrible not being around the others and I’d feel like our relationship is weakening constantly. I think it would be more upkeep than I could handle. 

I also want intimate friendships. I know some people who are social enough to hang out with basically anyone and have a great time. I don’t always just want to have fun or be with people I don’t feel completely comfortable with. I also want to spend time with someone who already accepts who I am. If I were to join a group VC with people I kinda know, I’d have to socially prove myself and inject myself into the conversation/activity. I’d much prefer spending time with someone who doesn’t expect me to perform.

I also feel awful about how I view people outside of my friends. People feel like NPCs to me and I really hate that about myself. I’m trying to work on that. It makes it hard to get along with people sometimes. Maybe I like people who tend to be unique? Basically what determines who I am going to be friends with is whether or not I distinguish them from everyone else from the very first moment I meet them. Some people really do conform too much or base their personality around one thing. 

I might try to talk to more people but I can’t shake that feeling of betrayal. I want to save my energy to show the few people I talk to that I REALLY care about them. I don’t have the social battery to do that for too many people.

5:23 PM

I feel REALLY fucking bad, I feel like I’m a bad person for not being able to live up to social expectations. Is it ME?? Is it wrong that I don’t want SO much interaction? I make people upset because of it. 

6:03 PM

Going back to that friend thing, the other thing that sucks if no one is around is having no one messaging to check in on me. This is kind of a me problem because I should be okay without this but it it’s always nice to know someone is thinking about me. 

10:21 PM

This is going to sound corny but I think I should just follow my heart. Trying to think about and rationalize my social life/relationships seldom works. It just gets really complicated. The fact is I am okay dedicating myself to only a couple people. Thats what I want. Of course I’ll still get around because socializing is healthy like exercise. But my most meaningful friendships will be very few and well cared for. I care a lot more for quality than quantity. 

12:01 AM

Today was a success. I got a lot done. I guess the only thing I forgot to do with mental health stuff but I’ve kind been doing that idly all day. I really should have read up on some stuff though. Other than that I was productive and accomplished my earlier mentioned goal of GIGA SUCC. Tonight I hung out and actually made conversation in VRchat for about and hour with people I didn’t really know. 

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Epilogue // Wanda Maximoff

chapter fourteen | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad

author’s note: the final part is here! thanks again to everyone who stuck around with this fic, i really appreciate it 😊💗 now enjoy!!

The sound of a rooster crowing pulled me from my slumber and I groaned when I realised I definitely wasn't getting back to bed anytime soon.

Quiet laughter came from beside me and I didn't have to open my eyes to know that Wanda was finding my disgruntled self entertaining.

"I said yes to the chickens," I mumbled tiredly, not opening my eyes as I stupidly thought it would let me contain my sleep for a little bit longer, "but I should have drawn the line at the rooster."

Her fingers grasped my shoulder as she rolled over to hover above me. I squinted through my tired eyes, seeing the amused smile on her lips as she looked down at me. Despite how much of a morning person I wasn't, I appreciated how beautiful she looked with bed hair and a nightie.

"Shut up," she said jokingly, and I closed my eyes again. "You love them."

I rolled my eyes beneath closed lids. "I'd love to cook them, sure."

She slapped my shoulder gently. "Don't talk about Nikolai, Vanya and Sonia like that!"

A smile ghosted my lips. The first thing she'd done when getting the damn chickens was name them the most Sokovian names she could think of – I shouldn't have expected anything less. Though, now it meant she was extremely attached to them.

"My apologies, love," I mumbled.

She hummed disapprovingly before putting her whole body weight on top of me and hugging me. I sighed contently, resting an arm around her waist and appreciating the feeling of her so close to me. I could have fallen back asleep in this position if it wasn't for Wanda's wide-awake, curious self. Why did she have to be such a morning person?

"So, what are your plans for today?" she asked, fingers scratching against my shoulder blade tenderly.

I exhaled calmly. "I'm going to attempt to fall back asleep right now... then I'll let you know afterwards when I wake up."

She didn't say anything after that, and I was stupid to believe I'd gotten away with it because she suddenly got up and straddled me, jumping up slightly and startling me awake.

"Wake up!" she ordered, too hyper for my sleepy self.

I groaned, rubbing my eyes and finally opening them to see her looking down at me with a grin, hair falling around her face. There was a hint of annoyance in my expression as I narrowed my eyes, but she ignored it as she rested her hands on my chest.

"I hate you," I muttered.

"You're up now, so let's do something," she insisted, making me roll my eyes. "We should go on a walk. It's pretty outside. The sun's rising and it'll be fun!"

The sun's rising because its bloody dawn and that damn rooster crows at the same time every day, leaving me disgruntled and annoyed.

But of course, I didn't have the energy to explain that to Wanda, so I simply shook my head and closed my eyes. "Maybe tomorrow, Wanda."

She suddenly leaned down, jolting me slightly and making me open my eyes. She was inches away from my face as she pouted.

"Not tomorrow, now!" she exclaimed loudly, before leaning forward and peppering kisses all over my face.

I sighed, keeping her stable by resting a hand on her waist, but not appreciating the fact that falling asleep would definitely be a challenge now.

"I love you, Wanda, but please keep it down," I said quietly, still not used to her energy so early in the morning.

"Tell me what I can do to wake you up," she said sternly, stopping kissing me and sitting upright again.

"Absolutely nothing, love."

"Oh? Nothing?"

I hummed and closed my eyes again, getting used to her weight on top of me and deciding I could probably fall back asleep if she was quiet long enough. Wishful thinking, of course.

Her fingers found mine and she slowly lifted my hand, putting it underneath her dress and on her thigh. I knew what she was doing – it was cute – but it wouldn't work.

Not even bothering to open my eyes, I said, "Wanda, darling, we've been together for three years. I am able to resist your charm, believe it or not."

"Really?" she asked challengingly, letting go of my hand and resting hers on my shoulders. "I don't believe you."

Before I could counter her with a response, she leaned down and began nibbling on my ear softly. It was a sensation I was familiar with, but I refused to let her get her way, so I ignored her stubbornly. She knew me too well though, as she let go of my ear and trailed kisses down my neck before sucking on the skin sensually. Admittedly, I was a lot more awake then I was thirty seconds ago, definitely aroused by the gorgeous woman on top of me, but she couldn't win this. Not when she was playing very unfairly.

"Wanda," I said with a warning tone, squeezing her thigh and signalling for her to stop.

I should have figured that would provoke her even more, as she manoeuvred herself so her knee was now pressing between my legs. I'm ashamed to admit that I gasped into her shoulder at the sudden pressure, and judging from the quiet laugh she let out, she was very much aware of the effect she had on me.

"I told you you couldn't resist," she said knowingly, raising her head from my neck so she could meet my eyes.

Hers were darkened with pleasure and mischievousness, darting to my lips. I glared at her.

"I really hate you."

She shook her head, tongue wetting her lips, as a playful smirk stared down at me. "No you don't. Now lose the nightdress, moya lyubov' (my love)."

I tried to retort, but she closed the gap between us, lips capturing mine in a heated kiss. I definitely didn't mind being woken up like this...

—

After actually getting out of bed, I reluctantly agreed to go on a walk with Wanda, strolling around our premises and making the most of the countryside we lived in. As much as I didn't want to admit, I was glad she'd dragged me outside, since the morning stroll only made me appreciate our home more.

When we returned, Wanda went to her studio whilst I made us some tea in the kitchen, hoping to warm us up after the slight chill in the Autumn air. I joined her soon enough, smiling when I saw how involved she was with her work in no time. The studio was big enough for her to make a mess and it not seem so messy since it was spacious enough. I shouldn't have expected any different – Wanda couldn't tidy up to save her life.

"One day I'm going trip over your things," I announced as I stepped over some loose materials by the door, teacup and saucer in hand.

She chuckled, though her attention was still on her painting. "When that day finally comes, I'll clean up. Promise."

"Of course," I muttered sarcastically.

I stopped behind her and studied the painting she was working on. It was a close-up of a flower bed, with intricate details being put in the flowers themselves and ladybirds flying around. Wanda sensed my presence and accepted the tea from my hand, smiling at me gratefully before blowing on it to cool it down.

"Is this that commission you got last week?" I asked curiously.

She nodded, unaware of the paint streaks on her face. I rested a hand on her shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smiling at how adorable she was.

"The guy is paying double for me to put twelve ladybirds in the painting," she explained with amusement. "He wants to be able to count every single one."

I snorted with laughter. "Wow. That's very strange."

She shrugged, though I knew she was thinking the same. "A commission's a commission... is it evil if I only put eleven in?"

I laughed, nodding. She glanced up at me with a bright smile on her lips.

"It's very evil," I told her, before squeezing her shoulder.

She grabbed my hand on her shoulder, holding it comfortingly. "D'you want to do some gardening later?"

"Sure. I've just gotta do some work on my manuscript first. The writer's block is real."

"Of course," she said, giving me a knowing look. "Best-selling authors don't just become best-selling authors without putting in the work."

I rolled my eyes at her comment, but a smile played on my lips. "I'm leaving now."

She chuckled and I pressed a kiss to her cheek, trying not to get paint on my lips.

"Good luck with the writing," she said as I began to leave.

"And you with the painting," I called back.

Today was nothing special – probably a regular day when it came to Wanda and I's lives – but it made me smile. If the past three years had taught me anything, it was to be grateful for the mundane.

After Wanda broke things off with Y/B/N, it took a while for both of our families to recuperate. In their eyes, Y/B/N had broken things off because he wasn't interested in Wanda anymore, hence our parents' reaction. And Wanda's parents were upset because they believed it was her fault that Y/B/N wasn't interested, hence their reaction.

Our relationship with the Maximoffs was inescapable though, since Y/B/N and I were authors of theirs, so we had to mend what was broken. The only person who knew the truth about Wanda breaking it off with Y/B/N, apart from me and him, was Pietro. He didn't know why, but he knew that it was Wanda's choice.

After things calmed down between our families and everybody's anger had faded, around about the time that my second book was released, I'd saved enough money from the sales to buy a place of my own. With my father's help, I was able to buy a cottage in the countryside – the perfect place for privacy and to do my writing.

It was surprising that I got help from my dad, since I half expected him to be against the idea. But he was so proud of me for achieving all I had that he was happy to help. So, I got my own place and the first thing I did was invite Wanda to live with me. Nobody really saw it as more than two friends living together, especially since Wanda had started selling her paintings under a male pseudonym. Her parents were only reluctant because they wanted her to get married, but after she told them that she didn't want to and stood her ground, they left her alone.

I think they realised that they couldn't exactly stop her, and if they tried to, they'd lose their daughter in the process. So, to Wanda and I's excitement, we were moving in together...

"Are we there yet?" Wanda asked for the millionth time.

"Terpeniye (patience)," I told her, and felt her smile beneath my hands that were covering her eyes.

"Nice pronunciation," she commented, and I couldn't tell if she was teasing or not.

We finally stopped before the cottage and I was buzzing with excitement. I'd chosen it with Wanda in mind, a surprise for her, since I knew she'd only ever wanted to live in a place like this. What better way to give her that then now with me?

"Okay, this is it," I announced, removing my hands from her face.

I stepped beside her, leaning forward to see her reaction. She was raising her eyebrows with surprise, taking in the appearance of the front of the cottage. It was in a lovely field with tall trees and colourful flowers surrounding it. Vines had overgrown the bricks, but it looked stunning and I hoped Wanda would think the same.

Her lips curved upwards into a grin of disbelief. "This is it? This is ours?"

I pulled the key from my pocket and held it out towards her. "It is. All ours."

She laughed wholeheartedly, jumping up with excitement before grabbing the key and pulling me into a hug. I laughed alongside her, returning the hug, before pressing a kiss to her cheek and motioning to the door.

"Do the honours and I'll show you around," I told her with a smile.

She was practically beaming as she moved to the door, opening it. Her excitement only intensified when she saw the living-room it extended into, a large fireplace in the centre of the back wall and the furniture already in place.

"We can change the décor," I told her as I showed her around. "This came with the place, but we can change it up to however we want."

"I love it."

I intertwined our fingers, admiring the sparkle of delight in her blue eyes as she looked around the place eagerly. That was the look that made this whole thing worth it.

"You've not even see the best bit," I said, before tugging her into the hallway. "There's a kitchen and our bedroom and of course, a study for me, but this is the bit I know you'll love."

She watched with curiosity but allowed me to skip the other rooms and show her the room that I envisioned as her art studio. It was a spacious room, filled with random, old furniture from the previous owners, but I ignored it and stepped further inside, facing Wanda.

"This can be your studio!" I exclaimed, motioning around me. "Look, here can be where your desk can be." I pointed to the left wall, the space in front of it. "You can get some shelves put here for your supplies. And here–" I pointed to the space before the window at the back, "–is where you can paint on your easels. The natural light will be perfect!"

She followed my every move, hanging onto my every word, and nodded along with a joyful expression.

"I can't believe you've already thought about it," she admitted.

"Come here," I said, waving my hand for her to join me. She did and I wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping before the window. "You see that?"

"The perfect view," she realised, eyes wide as they took in the view of the garden, which I planned to show her next. "It's beautiful."

"You can paint everything there," I said with a nod. "The trees. The flowers. And this place isn't far from the train station, so we can take some day trips, too."

She leaned into my side gratefully. "Y/N, I love it. All of it."

My heart fluttered as she said that, it being all I wanted to hear.

"We can also get the coop for the chickens you wanted," I reminded her, before pointing out the window. "Right there. We'll get fresh eggs and they're cute – what's not to love?"

She pulled apart, arms still laced around me, and I waited to see what she thought. Her eyes twinkled in the sunlight coming from the window, matching the smile on her lips. Then she moved forward quickly, kissing me hard and leaving me no chance to react before she pulled away.

"I have no words," she said softly, caressing my cheek. "I'm so grateful."

My face was warm as I smiled shyly. "I'm glad. You know I'd do anything for you."

Her smile widened as she leaned in again. "Thank you."

Moving in with her was the best thing to happen to me, and my dream of being published had come true, so that was saying a lot. We both knew we could never get married and be together in public, but this was the next best thing. We had our own little slice of heaven to merely be, and it was perfect. She could paint as much as she liked and I could write as much as I liked, the two of us making a living and not having to rely on husbands we didn't love.

The only people who knew about the truth of our relationship was Steve. I knew I could never trust my family with the truth, knowing liking women was very different to becoming a writer. So, I was content with them living in denial about why Wanda and I lived together. Wanda was the same with her parents, but it was a few months into moving in when she decided she wanted to tell Pietro.

I was obviously hesitant, since Pietro was a standup guy, the reason I was even as successful as I was, but I wasn't sure if he'd be okay with discovering his sister liked women and I was the one she was with. Wanda was certain he'd understand though, since he was her twin and would only want the best for her. Plus, according to her, he loved me, so he wouldn't have a problem with it.

He was her twin at the end of the day, and nobody knew him better than her, so I trusted her to tell him and decided we could do it at dinner, inviting both him, Steve and Peggy over. Peggy didn't know about Wanda and I either, but I wanted to tell her, so we decided to do it together...

"We've been here three times and it still makes me jealous how peaceful it is," Peggy complimented as the five of us sat around the kitchen table. "No annoying neighbours. No nosy townspeople. It's perfect."

"Thank you," Wanda said with a friendly smile. "That's why we love it, too."

"Are you all finished?" I asked, standing up to grab mine and Wanda's plates.

"Oh, please, let me help," Pietro offered, about to stand up, but I shook my head.

"It's okay, I've got it," I politely declined, before stacking the plates together to take to the sink.

I glanced at Wanda and she gave me a knowing look before clearing her throat and looking to her brother.

"Piet, can you help me with something in my studio?" she asked him casually. "There's a lightbulb I can't quite reach."

He nodded and wiped his face with his napkin. "Er, sure." He looked to everyone else. "If you'll excuse me."

The two of them left the kitchen, leaving me with Steve and Peggy. I distracted myself with putting the plates in the sink before popping the kettle on, knowing they'd want tea.

"Dinner was lovely, Y/N, thank you for tonight," Steve started, easing the tension he knew I was feeling. I'd told him my intentions before inviting them and he was completely okay with the idea. "You and Wanda seem to be more and more comfortable every time we come here."

I leaned against the counter as I smiled gratefully at him, knowing he was giving me an opening to tell Peggy the truth.

"Yeah, we are," I said, eyes flickering to Peggy's as she watched on with interest. "We, er..."

My mouth went dry as the words I'd practiced in the mirror this morning escaped me. I'd only ever told Steve about Wanda and I, and that was by accident. I knew Peggy wouldn't judge me, but it was still terrifying to admit.

"Y/N, sweetie, are you okay?" Peggy asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, sorry..." I just had to say it. No more overthinking. "Wanda and I are together. As more than more friends. I'm in love with her."

Peggy raised her brows with surprise, barely believing it, but then she glanced at Steve and knew I was being serious. I let out a breath of relief, glad that I'd finally said it.

She stood up from her seat and I was half-afraid she'd leave altogether, but she didn't. She walked to me and pulled me in for a hug, squeezing me gently.

"Thank you for trusting me with such an important thing," she said, pulling away and smiling at me gently. "I guess it makes sense. You both compliment each other well and make each other happy. It's beautiful to see."

"Thank you," I said, returning her smile. "That means a lot coming from you."

She nodded and glanced at her husband. "I take it Steve already knew."

He raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I basically figured it out myself!"

She rolled her eyes playfully and I couldn't help but laugh.

"He did," I backed him up. "And he was the only person to know, so I owe him a lot. He gave me the support I wanted when I had nobody else."

Peggy smiled endearingly at Steve before looking to me with kind eyes. "Well, now you're not alone. You have me, too."

"I know. I'm glad."

"Does anybody else know? Or is it just Steve and I?" she asked hesitantly.

"Just you two," I explained. "My family would never understand. Especially with Wanda and her history with my brother. Same with her family. But she's actually telling Pietro about us now. I can only hope he'll take it well."

Peggy was certain as she said, "I'm sure he will."

I made tea for all of us and joined Peggy and Steve at the table as we waited for the Maximoff twins' return. Eventually, Wanda returned with her brother in tow and judging by the smile on her face, I could only hope it went well. Though I noticed the tear streaks on her cheeks and joined her side with mild concern.

"Are you okay?" I asked, grabbing her hand, but I didn't get chance to hear a response as I felt myself being lifted off the ground.

"Y/N!" Pietro exclaimed in my ear, hugging me from behind. "Welcome to the family, sestra (sister)!"

He set me down and stepped beside his sister, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and tugging her close. A grin was directed my way as Wanda's cheeks dusted pink. She was glowing with happiness, her brother's opinion mattering the most, and it warmed my heart to witness.

"I see things went well," I noticed, before smiling at Pietro. "Thank you, Pietro. It means a lot to have your support. Though you know this doesn't make me your sister, right?"

"Yet," he pointed out, making me sigh. "You know, I always suspected you had the hots for my sister, but I could never be sure."

Now it was my turn to flush with embarrassment, especially when Steve and Peggy laughed from the sidelines.

"Wanda's happiness is all that matters to me," he continued, looking to his sister with a genuine smile. "I'm glad she picked the right Y/L/N."

I chuckled awkwardly, eyes falling to a nervous Wanda. "Me and you both, mate." He laughed, patting me on the back, and I gave him an appreciative nod. "Seriously, though, thank you, Pietro. Your approval means a lot."

"No problem," he said with a shrug. "I'm always here if you need me."

"As are we," Peggy added, before looking to Wanda. "Both of you. Anything you need, ever, just let us know. It's what we're here for."

"Thank you," Wanda said for both of us, and when she looked my way, I knew she was thinking the same thing I was.

We were lucky that the most important people in our lives knew the truth about us and were supportive. We couldn't have asked for anything more.

—

As promised, after spending the morning on my manuscript and Wanda with her commission, we went into the garden to do some gardening. And by we, I meant I was doing it as she attempted to help out beside me.

"Hey, I think there's something stuck here," Wanda said, fingers stuck in a pot of soil.

"Then pull it out," I said like it was obvious, trying not to laugh.

I continued to rake the plant beds before me so I could eventually plant some vegetable seeds when Wanda's adamant voice spoke up again.

"I think you should check it out, Y/N, I can't seem to get it."

"Wanda..."

"Come on!" she insisted, and I sighed dramatically before dropping my rake and heading towards her.

Kneeling down beside her, I took a peek in the plant pot and put my hand in, rooting around until my fingers found something metal.

"It seems to be a ring," I realised, pulling it out and dusting the soil off it. "Maybe the suppliers of the soil dropped it in accidentally. Or maybe a bird dropped it in the pot without you realising..." I chewed on my lip with thought. "Huh. Well, here you go."

I gave it back to Wanda and prepared myself to stand back up, but Wanda groaned and facepalmed.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" I asked with an amused smile.

She looked up at me through parted fingers. "It's my ring."

"How many times have I told you to stop wearing rings when we're gardening?!" I said questioningly, shaking my head. "Stuff like this always happens!"

She rolled her eyes and looked up to the sky. "Why am I in love with an idiot?"

"Wanda–"

"It's for you," she said, holding out the ring.

I furrowed my brows. "Well, why didn't you just– wait." My eyes widened as I realised what she was implying, feeling stupid for not realising sooner. "Is this– are you– huh?"

Wanda swallowed nervously before clutching the ring tightly and meeting my gaze. "I've been in love with you for a long time, you know that," she said softly, her accent thick with emotion. "The time we've spent here in our little safe haven has been the best of my life. And I... I know we live in a world that won't let us be together. But that hasn't stopped us."

My heart was hammering in my chest as Wanda offered me a small, nervous smile. We'd never talked about marriage since we were so content in our little bubble, but clearly she'd thought about it without me knowing. I guess I had, too. But I never expected either of us to do anything about it.

"I know we can never really be married, but what is marriage if not a union between two people who are in love anyway? I mean, we basically already have that." She snickered to ease her nerves, then licked her lips shakily, eyes tearing up. "I'm asking you to marry me and if you say yes, I'll know you're my wife and that's all that'll matter... so Y/N Y/L/N. Will you marry me?"

I didn't even need to think about it. Wanda was the love of my life and just like she'd said, the past three years had been the best. We could never truly be married in the eyes of the world, but she'd be my wife and that would be enough. She'd always be enough.

"Of course I will, Wanda," I answered, tears of happiness slipping from my eyes.

She raised her eyebrows. "Yes? You said yes?"

I laughed, nodding, and leaned forward to kiss her. She returned the favour, salty tears mingling between our lips, but it didn't matter because she was going to be my wife and that's all I could think about.

Our smiles broke the kiss and I wiped her tears away with my thumb before pressing another kiss to her lips.

"Here, let me put this on you," she said between laughter, hands fumbling as she tried to find mine.

I put out my hand and let her slide the ring on my finger. It was a simple silver band with a small, elegant gemstone sat on top, perfect for someone like me who didn't like anything too flashy.

"It's beautiful, Wanda, thank you," I said, smiling through my tears.

"I've been wanting to ask you for a while, but I wasn't sure you'd say yes," she admitted.

"Are you joking? Why wouldn't I?" I asked with an exploding happiness in my chest. "I'm so bloody in love with you, Wanda Maximoff."

She laced our fingers together as she nodded in agreement. "That's good. Because I'm in love with you, too."

And when she said that, it wasn't unlike anything she'd told me before. If she wasn't telling me she loved me, she was showing me in all sorts of ways. But this was different... this was the first time she'd told me as my fiancé. And then she'd soon be my wife. And it made me realise.

I'd spent so long thinking that if we were in a different life, we could have had it all. But we were getting it all now, so maybe, just maybe, this wasn't the wrong lifetime after all.

FIN.

[forsworned]

[♥] academyau!substitute teacher {renguko kyojuro x reader}

Genre: Slight Fluff, Comedy

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Kyoujuro Renguko/Reader, Giyuu Tomioka/Reader

word count: 2,538

a/n: this is a pretty long read, so read at your own risk of boredom. i guess it could also b classified as a "x giyuu" but the title is just way too long and kind of throws the main focus off. might turn this into multiple parts so let me know what y'all think! also this is just a filler for the requests i have rn i don't want to leave you guys hanging

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

"I literally don't know shit about history."

Giyu sighed in exasperation. "You don't need to know anything about history [first name]. The teacher already has a lesson plan and you literally just need to pass out the papers. I just need you to cover for a couple of a days because one of the teachers are out sick."

You groaned as you threw your head back in annoyance, pushing your feet up against the edge of your desk. Even though it didn't look it Giyu was practically begging you to substitute for one of his coworkers. And he almost never asks for favors.

Giyu ran a hand through his hair. "He's super picky with his subs and everyone he's had come in hasn't come back."

"So you're saying that I'm a good pick." You mused, with your head in your hands with an annoying smug look.

"Don't push it."

You scrunched your face in disgust. "I just really, really don't want to Giyu. Middle school kids are the absolute worst. All they do is make moaning noises and forget or neglect to wear deodarant."

Giyu lightly chuckled. Your eyes darted to watch his usually solemn demeanor melted away into a small smile which immediately disappeared when you caught wind of it.

He cleared his throat and continued to speak like nothing happened.

"Anyway, so you'll do it?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll do it."

Giyu looked pleased with himself when he heard your answer.

"I mean after all, I do owe you like a million and one favors." You sarcastically mused.

Which you kind of did. Giyu was your childhood best friend and always kept your out trouble in the nick of time. Whether it was you getting chased down by the neighborhood cat, or when you got gum stuck in your hair and you didn't want your parents to find out so he quickly snipped it out of your hair with everything seemingly in place like nothing happened. Yeah you could say you were a bit of troublemaker growing up, but Giyu was like the older brother that always looked after you.

"I'm so glad you realized." He replied cooly. "Be here by 7:30AM. Don't be late, I already have enough on my plate and I don't need you embarassing me."

You used your hand to shoo him out of your office space. "Mhm, you can leave now."

"I'm serious."

"Yup."

He squinted his eyes at you."[first name]"

"Ok! I got it. I'll be there 7:30 sharp." You exclaimed throwing your arms up in surrender.

He smirked in satisfaction. "Good."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The morning air was crisp as the sun shone down on your blurred eyes. You absolutely dreaded waking up in the morning and despite that you still agreed to be here. Oh, how you hated that man.

"Good morning." A familiar voice muffled beside you.

Speak of the devil.

He was munching away at his raisin bread walking next to you in the most nonchalant manner. Typical Giyu.

"Shut up." You mumbled miserably.

"You know, you could be a little nicer."

Your eyes narrowed at him. Expression in full death stare mode, but Giyu was as cool as ever, and as always completely unfazed by your behavior. But before you could retaliate, middle and highschool girls were practically lining up to say good morning to Giyu, blushing like mad when he acknowledged them. You on the other hand, were getting the death stares and whispers instead.

"Must be nice to be the heart throb PE teacher." You teased, poking him with your binder.

Giyu ignored you as you walked into the building, showing you to your classroom. You ignored the stares of kids burning holes through your back as you analyzed everything. Tons of inspirational historical quotes lined the walls, pictures and signatures of past and possibly current students covered one single wall. You inspected closely trying to catch a glimpse of who the teacher you were substituting for. One person in particular caught your eye, and he was hot. With a capital H. But before you could look at the other pictures to confirm Giyu called you over.

"Miss [last name], can you come up to the front and introduce yourself."

You sighed as you approached the front of the classroom and watched as the students all stood up. As their whispers got louder, you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Good morning class. I'm going to be your substitute teacher for the day as Mr.--"You glanced over at the desk and moved the plaque in your direction. "--Renguko is out sick today."

As the class bowed in respect getting their good morning greetings, some of the children could't help but show their disappointment. You noticed most of them girls.

"I'll leave them to you." Giyu stated, and then looked at the class. "And be good to your substitute. I don't want to hear anyone misbehaving."

They bowed as he exited the room and now all eyes were on you. You sighed to yourself.

I really gotta learn to say no sometimes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. It’s not that you hated kids or anything, but they always just see to have so much energy and well, you didn’t. Not even a cup of coffee could save you right now. You watched as the clock above your desk ticked and felt yourself getting more and more sleepier by the moment. Your consciousness fleeting as you lie under your warm blankets.

The image of that fiery haired man popped into your head and your eyes shot open.

You totally forgot to ask Giyu about that hot guy!

You let out a loud groan, knowing that your timing was off because now he would most definitely be suspicious if you asked him tomorrow. The curiosity of knowing that man itched at your skin. You absolutely had to know who he was.

What if he was a high school student, or worse a middle school student who looked very grown.

You outwardly icked at the thought, closing your eyes and scrunching your face in disgusted.

No way. He definitely had to be an adult. Maybe even a teacher.

“The history teacher!” You exclaimed out loud, shooting your whole body up.

It had to be him. You smiled victoriously to yourself, mentally patting yourself in the back.

And you had the perfect plan set up to find out.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had to have looked in the mirror for about three hours to make sure you looked absolutely stunning. Hair curled to frame your face perfectly, and make up subtle but very much enhancing your natural features. You rubbed your lips one more time in the mirror before smacking your hands to your face to wake yourself up. Giyu was not going to be happy.

The morning bells chimed and you were seated at the desk welcoming students as they walked in. You discreetly checked your make up in your compact mirror under the desk to make sure nothing was running and not a hair was out of place.

“Perfect.” You whispered to yourself, running a hand through your blow out. All this work for a man that probably wasn’t even a teacher here.

“Miss [last name], what are you doing here.”

You froze at the voice. Nothing could prepare you for the icy glare that Giyu shot down at you. It sent a shiver down your spine. But his glare melted right off of you as you glanced over to the man next to him. Your mystery man finally come true!

“Oh hello, Mr. Tomioka. It’s pleasure seeing you.” You smiled, standing up. You looked right over to the handsome man right next to him. His hair like rays of sunlight with eyes to match. You could barely contain your excitement. “And you must be Mr. Renguko.”

His smile as big as the sun. Scratch that. He was the sun.

Bright, beautiful and fiery. He physically made you warmer just being in his very presence. You could’ve sworn you heard simultaneous female sighs in admiration, but you were way too distracted by how utterly gorgeous he was.

“Yes, I am.” He cheerfully stated. “And you must be the substitute that was in for me yesterday.”

He took your hand in his and you could’ve sworn you melted at his touch. Finely calloused hands, indicating that he worked with his hands a lot. Not that his physique couldn’t already tell you how absolutely fit he was.

“Yes, I am. Your class was wonderful. I didn’t have any problems with them whatsoever.” You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. This really was the man and it took every ounce of you not to pinch yourself to see if you were awake or not.

“So are you going to tell me why exactly you’re here today.” Giyu chimed in. This time his icy glare had no effect.

“Oh yes, I thought I was still scheduled for today. I never heard anything back from Mr.Tomioka so I assumed that I would head back in.” You lied right through your teeth and Giyu could see right through it.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “And I remember emailing you last night confirming that Mr. Renguko was fully recovered and ready to work again.”

You couldn’t see it but Giyu was totally spitting out venom with every single word he spoke. It was almost terrifying, but you were way too distracted by the glow of the man that was the literal sun right beside you.

As if the smile on your face couldn’t get any bigger.

“That’s odd. I don’t remember getting an email.” You innocently put a finger to your lip, and looked upward as if you were searching your head for the memory of the email confirmation that you definitely recall getting.

Giyu’s went from you to Mr.Renguko. And then it finally clicked for him. His shoulder dropped in defeat. He did not have the strength required to dealing with your shenanigans today. He turned around heading out the classroom, raising a hand to dismissively.

“Just don’t burn the place down.”

You gave him two big thumbs up. “You got it!”

"So would you like to observe the class since you're already here?" Mr.Renguko interjected. He motioned to the empty seat right beside his desk and chair.

You beamed at him. "Only if that's okay with your class, of course."

"Oh trust me, they are more than okay with that." He grinned at the students. Most of them smiled and blushed looking away from your direction. You sat there in confusion, but before you could inquire about what he said, he shot out of his seat and grabbed the stack of papers on his desk.

"Alright, class we are going to go over your classwork from yesterday and finish the rest of chapter six."

☆彡

It seemed like forever until Mr.Renguko had settled into his seat while he let his students work together on their classwork.

"I can see why my students are such big fans of you." He mused. You looked up from your phone and saw him warmly grinning at your face. This time you didn't fight the blood rushing to the surface of your cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well," He pulled out a stack of notecards and began shuffling through them. "I always have my students write their own evaluations of my substitutes and yours were outstanding. Lots of compliments about your appearance and how you carried the class."

Evaluation? Appearance?

Your jaw went slightly aslack at his words. The only thing that left your lips: "Evaluations...?"

His grin grew. Mr.Rengoku knew that this had caught you off guard but he continued. "Yes, I like to know what substitutes are doing their job and keeping my students in line and comfortable."

You were almost speechless. "Wow, you must really care about your students."

He smiled softly this time, and fondly looked over at his students working diligently and quietly together. "Yes, I do. They're kind of like my own kids. I want the very best for them."

Just when you thought you couldn't admire him anymore that you already did. Hot and caring? It had to be too good to be true. You pointed to the best teacher of the year awards on his desk. "I guess you didn't get those just based off your looks alone then."

He visibly blushed and chuckled at you statement as he rubbed the back of his head. "Nah, I don't think so."

You raised an eyebrow at him and pointed at the wall of photos and signatures that lined his wall. "That wall definitely says otherwise."

He laughed a hearty laugh this time. "I don't really think that's the case. Like I said I just look after my students like their my own. They really are my pride and joy."

It really was incredibly hard to not let yourself melt into a puddle in his presence alone. But before you could collect your thoughts, the lunch bell rang and students filed out to their homeroom's and handing in their assignments on their way out. Most of the girls shot you dirty looks before heading out as a way of showing their contempt towards you before the smiled at Mr.Rengoku who was collecting papers at the doorway. At this point, you literally couldn't blame them. Their teacher was a total hottie and you were practically stealing him right under their noses.

As the last student handed in their assignment, Mr. Rengoku closed the door behind them and approached his desk to set aside the stack of papers. He pulled put a box of tissues, picking one out and sneezed rather loudly into it. Cheeks were now a hue of vermillion and he slighted groaned while holding his head.

"You don't look so good, Mr. Renguko." You stated worriedly.

He waved you off. "Nonsense, I'm fine. And you can drop the formalities when were not in front of students. Call me Kyojuro."

You sighed as you fumbled through your bag handing him some cold and flu pills and a packet of vitamin c. "Ok, Kyojuro. You can call me [first name], but I'm going to need you to take these for me and get on home."

He blew loudly into his tissue before tossing into the trash revealing his very red nose. "I-I'm fine, Miss [last name]-- I mean [first name]. Really, I'm ok." He stuttered as he tried to collect himself and get up. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold himself up for more than ten seconds before collapsing and luckily you were there to catch him. He seemed to have been mumbled incoherent words as he laid heavily in your arms. You sighed as you slowly laid him down on the ground and reached for your cellphone to dial the one person you knew could handle this situation the best.

"You didn't actually burn the place down did you?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, idiot. Teacher down."

"Ah, fuck."

[just-come-baek]

body rhythm

Pairing: Taeyong x reader | mentions of Seulgi x Irene | mentions of Johnny x almost everybody

Themes: smut | fluff | dance!au 

Word count: 14.8k

Summary: Taeyong and Seulgi participate in a nationwide dance competition. However, due to unfortunate scheduling, she has to drop out of it, suggesting you, out of all people, fill in. Taeyong isn't pleased with how things manage to fall out of place, but he is in no position to be whiny about it. For him, it's either learn to work with you or lose yet another time to his arch-enemy.

Warnings: a moderate amount of fluff | Johnny flirting with everybody in plain sight | Johnny stalks people out on social media | cursing | Doyoung being a huge dick | Doyoung flexing his hips | reader has inappropriate thoughts about Taeil | Taeyong being very demanding dance teacher | stressfull situations | drinking | reader is kind of bratty and Taeyong finds it really frustrating | frustrated/angry making out | as per smut | oral!female receiving | unprotected sex (never try it at home or else Imma tell your parents) | they kinda fuck in the open and kinda check our their refection in the mirror |

A/N it's my entry for song association event, I hope you like it, and also don't forget to check out other entries ^^ they must be all out by now lol

“Are you ready?” Johnny inquired as he set his fourth coffee of the day on his desk and plopped onto the swivel chair in a cubicle next to mine. It was a really long day at work, and we both had trouble sitting through the end of it. Heaving a deep sigh, I looked at the pile of documents that required my attention, groaning before I sprawled across my workspace.

“I thought it’s canceled tonight,” I spoke as I looked at my wristwatch, wincing when I realized there was still one more hour until Johnny and I could finally clock out.

A few months ago, our lovely firm, instead of giving us a well-deserved raise, had decided to provide us with a variety of extra activities. Though I’d rather get some monetary benefits, together with Johnny, we chose dance classes. Our company was paying for it, so we might’ve as well attended.

Ever since then, every Thursday, we would go to a dance class to sweat out all of the pent-up frustration. I didn’t have plenty of expectations, still bitter after the company’s decision, but the dance class turned out amazing. Seulgi was our teacher, and although she was a bit demanding, she was patient enough to teach us some sick moves. If that didn’t scream talent™, I had no idea what did.

“Well… last week, she said she might be absent today, but I got a text from school that someone will fill in,” Johnny spoke matter-of-factly. I sighed, checking my phone, reading the same text message from the studio. I really didn’t have energy for dance classes, but there was no way Johnny would let me skip.

“Do you want to grab a drink after? I think I need one, or a few,” I proposed as I sat back in my chair, trying to let my eyes rest from the computer’s screen.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Johnny asked rhetorically, smiling at me as if I just read his mind. It was almost Friday at this point, and we deserved a little treat.

Though it felt like an eternity, the clock finally struck 5 p.m., letting us leave our claustrophobic cubicles. Tomorrow we would come back for another dose of torture, but right now, we were free. Only for a few hours, though.

Quickly, I returned home to get my gym bag. Thankfully, I lived within walking distance from both – my office and the dance studio, so it wasn’t as troublesome to commute as it was for Johnny, who got stuck in traffic almost every day.

A few minutes before the dance class, I was already changed into my gym attire, waiting for Johnny. Though no one was texting me, I stared at my phone, furiously typing away. Moon Taeil, also known as my secret crush, was leaning against the wall on the other side of the corridor, and I tried every single trick my mind could come up with not to look desperate.

“At this point, he must think you hate him,” Johnny commented as he conjured in front of me out of nowhere. “You should hit on him instead of trying to bolt every time he approaches you,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at his yet another one shitty advice.

“Can you remind me why I don’t take dating advice from you?”

“Why are you attacking me? I just wanted to help. There’s no need to get so aggressive,” Johnny defended his case, not really answering my question. Johnny was a self-proclaimed love expert, but to me, he was more of a pathological playboy. Either way, he seemed to understand the secrets of flirtation to pick up girls whenever he set his mind to it.

“I am just trying not to be obvious,” I commented, stealing a glance at Taeil. It was a silly crush, and though Johnny encouraged me to go for it, I never decided to act on my feelings. Taeil probably didn’t feel this way about me, so remaining idle actually saved me embarrassment after an inevitable rejection.

“Speaking of which, I figured out why Seulgi is so resistant to my charms,” Johnny announced proudly, and I raised my eyebrow, waiting for the big reveal. Everybody in our group knew that Johnny was attracted to Seulgi, but every time he tried to approach her, she would brush him off.

“By figured out, you mean you stalked her, right?” I commented when Johnny handed me his phone, showing me Seulgi’s profile. According to what Johnny dug out in social media, Seulgi was getting married to Irene – her girlfriend of five years. “Huh,” I mused as I gave him back his phone, trying not to laugh at him. Seulgi was already madly in love with someone else, no wonder she could resist his charm.

“Call it whatever you want,” Johnny started, putting his phone away. “Just don’t hold me down when FBI finally recruits me for my impeccable detective skills,” he argued, and I laughed as I imagined him leaving our lovely company. That would be a shame; I couldn’t imagine anyone else sitting in the cubicle next to mine.

“The room should be open,” someone hollered, mentioning for us to open the doors and get inside. I had seen him a few times around the school, so I deduced he must’ve been our substitute teacher today.

Once everybody took their spot on the dance floor, the man cleared his throat. “Hello everybody, my name is Taeyong. Together with Seulgi, we run this school, and I hope we will have a lot of fun today with new choreography,” he announced politely with a practiced professionalism. Perhaps Taeyong didn’t seem as cool as Seulgi, but we had to give him a chance to prove us wrong.

Taeyong was intimidating. I wouldn’t want to be left alone with him. When he showed us a few moves, he was immensely focused on delivering one hundred percent. It was impressive and admirable, but at the same, Taeyong gave off a scary fierce aura. Though he was a great dancer and teacher, Seulgi was just better.

“I think I have a heart attack,” I panted, gasping for air. The new choreography required lots of jumping, and I didn’t expect so much cardio today. I wasn’t out of shape; however, after dancing to Taeyong’s choreography, I had some doubts.

“We should’ve skipped,” Johnny commented, bending over with his palms on his knees, supporting his huge body. Taeyong’s dance routine was too much for us, and we weren’t the only people struggling to breathe. Thankfully, next week Seulgi would be back.

***

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Johnny announced, craning his neck to look inside my cubicle. Heaving a sigh, I put my pen down, giving him my full attention.

This better be good.

“What is it? Who are you stalking this time?” I inquired, giving him the attitude. Johnny was spending too much time on his phone during working hours, but I couldn’t really frown upon it because I often caught myself doing the same thing.

“First of all, I thought we agreed to call it researching, not stalking,” Johnny clarified, and I rolled my eyes. “And second of all, it’s Seulgi. She and the other guy from the dance studio qualified for some dance competition. Check this out,” Johnny explained, handing me his phone.

Seulgi and Taeyong rocked the stage. Though I had nothing to compare their performance to, they just oozed charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent. Without any shred of doubt, they would make it to the grand finale.

“Wow,” I mused, not sure how to appropriately respond. I was happy for their success; after all, their performance was broadcasted during prime time on national television. At this point, Seulgi and Taeyong were celebrities.

“I can’t wait for today’s class,” Johnny added in excitement, hiding his phone away inside the pocket of his jacket. “I have to congratulate her.”

“Them. You have to congratulate them,” I corrected Johnny as he seemed to forget about Seulgi’s dance partner. It wasn’t a solo competition, so both Seulgi and Taeyong deserved praise. “And as if you’ve forgotten, Seulgi is not and will never be interested in you. You gotta let this one go, man,” I added, hoping Johnny would stop his relentless flirting with Seulgi. Though it was funny at the beginning, it was evident Seulgi would appreciate it if he stopped.

“I am all over her. Trust me,” Johnny reassured me, and I let out a shallow sigh, wanting to believe him. “Do you know Wendy from the HR department? I think I’m gonna ask her out. I am all over Seulgi,” he added, and it actually convinced me. Although Johnny didn’t seek anything serious at this point in his life, and when something didn’t go according to his plan, he would shake it off and forget all about it.

“Ok, I believe you,” I said, giving him a genuine smile. “Oh, and I was thinking… how about some beer and chicken after dance classes today? I’ve been craving them the whole day,” I offered, and Johnny enthusiastically nodded. It did sound like a solid plan.

Thankfully, this week Seulgi was back, and everybody appreciated it. Taeyong was a great teacher, but we were a group of beginners, and it was difficult for us to follow his routine. We just weren’t ready for such complex choreography.

Everybody had so much fun today. At first, we practiced some old routines, working on synchronization. Later on, Seulgi taught us a few new moves, which I recognized from her television performance. Admittedly, they weren’t as difficult as they looked. Maybe it was a little bold of me, but I was thinking I was doing a pretty good job today.

At the very end of the class, Johnny delivered a dramatic congratulatory speech, making people laugh out of utter cringe. It was a nice gesture, and Seulgi’s embarrassment was adorable. She would cover her blushed cheeks and turn around, hoping the ground could swallow her up. In all honesty, it seemed to be the only way to shut up Johnny.

Just when we were about to be dismissed, I heard someone calling my name. Surprisingly, it was Seulgi. She must’ve wanted to discuss something with me. Damn it, was she going to scold me for not improving? Or was it because I sat half of the song out? I just needed a short break; I had no idea it would get me in trouble.

“I am sorry,” I apologized even though I wasn’t sure what for yet. Seulgi would enlighten me in a second, so I cleared my throat to apologize to her once again. However, when she giggled instead of yelling at me, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Johnny hollered before he strolled out of the practice room.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked, and Seulgi smiled, shaking her head.

Great, it was a relief.

“Actually, I may sound crazy to you,” she started, fidgeting a little. It was strange, Seulgi was a strong and confident woman, but right now, she seemed rather bashful. “Would you like to participate in a dance competition?”

Her question took me aback.

“What?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the topic.

“Let me explain,” she offered, and I reluctantly nodded.

By the look on her face, I could tell it wasn’t going to be a quick chit-chat. Seulgi had a lot of things to explain, so we decided to sit on the floor before she began her speech.

Patiently, I listened to everything she wanted to tell me.

Seulgi and Taeyong wanted to participate in a dance competition ever since they had decided to open up a dance school together. Last week they really thought they were going to achieve their dream. Unfortunately, as soon as they qualified and received the schedule, complications started to follow.

Maybe it was a little bit overconfident of them to think they’d make it to the finals, but it still made them anxious. Regardless of their talent, they wouldn’t be able to perform in the grand finale. Apparently, on the very same day, Seulgi was getting married.

At first, I wanted to interject that they could reschedule, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“It would be the third time we reschedule it, and I just can’t let that happen. I don’t want Irene to think I prioritize dancing over her. She means the world to me, and I’d quit a thousand times to get married to her,” Seulgi confessed, and I tried my best to contain my feels. There was something raw and pure about Seulgi’s love, and it moved me.

Seulgi’s proposition was genius in its simplicity. Together with Taeyong, she would perform, climbing up the rankings. And if by any chance, they would make it to the final round; she wanted me to fill in. Given I had been dancing at their studio for about four months I couldn’t comprehend why she chose me.

I was a rookie, for crying out loud!

Finding a substitute dancer made a lot of sense, actually. Instead of dropping out, they could find a replacement. This way, Taeyong could still make his dream come true. And next year, together with Seulgi, they could try to defend the title.

However, once again, Seulgi read my mind and answered my question before I voiced my doubts. She must’ve really thought this through before approaching me. It seemed she had rehearsed all possible inquires and came up with perfect answers.

“All of our dancer friends either compete against us or failed during qualifications,” she declared, and I hummed in response. “Unfortunately, people who already attempted joining can’t fill in for other dancers.”

“That sucks,” I commented, and Seulgi dryly chuckled.

“I think you would be a perfect fit,” she started, and I held my breath, wanting to hear what made her think I’d be able to rise to the challenge. “Everybody can memorize moves, but you have a natural passion for dancing. I can see it in class. Maybe you can’t see it yet because dancing is a hobby to you more than anything else, but I can tell you have the it™ factor.”

I was speechless. Seulgi, the dance prodigy, was praising my dancing skills. I couldn’t believe my ears. What kind of self-indulgent dream was it? Why couldn’t I dream like a normal person? I had tendency to toot my own horn sometimes, but it was just too much.

“I bet with proper training, you and Taeyong could win.”

“Let me think about it, okay?”

“Sure, of course! No pressure!” Seulgi replied enthusiastically, giving me enough space to clear my mind and think about it.

“See you next week.” I waved at her, exiting the dance room. Absentmindedly, I changed out of the gym clothes and walked out of the building, almost walking past Johnny.

“Hey, what did Seulgi want?” Johnny asked, grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of trance.

“She wants me to dance in her place if she and Taeyong ever make it to the finals.”

“What?!”

 ***

At first, I was hesitant about this whole thing. I wasn’t a professional dancer, and I really didn’t want to contribute to them losing the competition. However, Seulgi really made a point that they would have to drop out anyway, so in some twisted way, my participation gave them a slimmer of hope for victory.

Once I explained everything to Johnny, he really insisted I should help them out, spitting nonsense about fame and recognition and how I couldn’t doubt myself and just go with the flow. Opportunities like this rarely occurred, and I ought to welcome them with excitement.

So I did.

Every Saturday and Sunday, I dropped by the dance studio for practice. Taeyong still intimidated me, but I could deal with it. Seulgi was always around me to nag him whenever he demanded too much from me. They balanced each other very well, and it was fun working with them. Even though each practice left me with sore muscled, I was still excited. It was tangible proof I was improving.

Seulgi and Taeyong smoothly went through the contest, winning each battle with ease, slowly climbing in the ranking. There was still plenty of work until the grand finale, but everything looked they were to make it to the very top.

Unfortunately, the closer to the D-day, the less time Seulgi had to help us during practice. With her wedding coming up, she had a lot of preparations to deal with. As a result, Taeyong and I had to practice the dance routine on our own.

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Taeyong yelled in irritation when for the nth time, I turned to my right instead of my left. “Do it again; five, six, seven, eight,” he added, playing the song from the very beginning.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement of the century. I was aware that Taeyong really wanted to win the competition, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. With no Seulgi to supervise him, he was unbearable.

“I think I need a break,” I declared once I turned to the wrong side again before Taeyong managed to scold me for it. Even though he shouted something again, I ignored it. With a deep sigh, I walked over to my gym bag to get my water bottle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taeyong asked, staring down at me with his arms folded across his chest, his demeanor dominant. His eyes were drilling holes in my head, his jaw was tightened – it was evident I was driving him up the wall. It was just a matter of seconds before Taeyong would snap, lashing out at me.

“I am taking a break,” I answered quickly, ignoring his angry stare. I was at my limit. If Taeyong didn’t back off, it would be the end of the practice for today. One more mean word and I’d storm out of the studio. I was here voluntarily. I was doing him a favor, and I didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

“Is it a joke to you?” Taeyong carried on, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, it wasn’t a joke to me. But at the same time, I was sick and tired of his shenanigans. I wanted him to win, but not when my mental health was on the line. He was pissing me off, and I wouldn’t let him walk all over me. “I thought you decided to help us out, but you’re not trying at all.”

He did not just say that.

“What?” I rhetorically asked, standing up, poking his chest with my forefinger. “I am trying my best here. You’re the one who makes it impossible to have fun dancing. You’re making it a chore, sucking all the fun out it.”

“Then tell me what I should do for you to finally make some progress? We’ve been stuck at this part for two weeks, and you still haven’t learned how to turn right!”

“Then go ahead and find someone else who can put up with your shit. I’m out,” I spoke, bending down to pick up my stuff, ready to leave the studio. Unfortunately, before I managed to exit the practice room, the doors opened, and Seulgi walked in with a confused expression on her face.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” She asked in worry, trying to put two and two together. It wouldn’t be the first time Taeyong and I argued, but it seemed to be the most intense one so far. It didn’t sit right with her. “Please don’t tell me you fought again.”

Briefly, I summarized what happened, and Seulgi looked down at Taeyong disapprovingly. I was glad Seulgi took my side; after all, she knew Taeyong could be too demanding.

“I am a dancer, but why does it feel I am a couple counselor? You two really have to learn how to work together when I’m not around,” she scolded us, making her point. If this whole arrangement was to work out, we both needed to establish some ground rules and learn how to put our differences aside. “I have an idea.”

Oh, no.

There was something mischievous in her tone, and I didn’t particularly like it.

“Let’s finish for today,” she proposed, and I smiled, thinking it was a great idea. Taeyong and I needed some time to chill, and calling it a day seemed like an appropriate way to do it. “Let’s go out clubbing instead!” Seulgi added cheerfully, clapping her hands in excitement.

“What?” Taeyong and I asked in unison, a bit surprised by Seulgi’s statement.

“That’s my prescription for the two of you,” she started, and I rolled my eyes. Taeyong and I didn’t get along as well as she wished for us to, but it wasn’t that bad. We didn’t need to bond over a few drinks in a crowded club. We would do just fine if Taeyong learned to go easy on me. “I believe we all can benefit from clubbing.”

“How come?”

“First of all, it will remind Taeyong that dancing is about fun, not overworking oneself,” Seulgi spoke, and I hummed, agreeing with her. “Second of all, it’ll give you a chance to loosen up. Your moves are still a bit stiff during intimate parts of the choreography,” she added, and Taeyong nodded in agreement. “And I really need something to drink because wedding planning is stressful as fuck.”

Not even thirty minutes later, we were inside the club.

“It’s a very sensual song. And you two really have to work hard to convey emotions through your dance,” Seulgi started as she sipped her tropical cocktail. “You must feel comfortable around each other and just ooze longing and sexual attraction,” she added, and I almost choked on my drink.

Performing with Taeyong was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. When Seulgi and Taeyong showed me the choreography, I was amazed. Absolutely blown away. The way their bodies moved in synchronization left me speechless, but at the same time, I was a little bit nervous because I didn’t see myself living up to their level.

I wouldn’t consider myself particularly sexy. It made me feel awkward when I thought how seductive the dance routine actually was. I wasn’t sure I could pull this off, but Taeyong still had a lot of time to teach me.

“Take her to the dance floor,” Seulgi elbowed Taeyong, almost spilling his drink. Unenthusiastically, Taeyong looked at me before standing up and extending his arm.

Drunken people were jumping around us to the rhythm, and I awkwardly swayed from side to side, staring at Taeyong. With godlike precision, he moved, getting lost in the music. One could tell straight away Taeyong was a professional dancer.

Upon noticing how stiff I was, Taeyong shook his head, yanking me against his lean body. “How about you take a five-minute break to get that stick out of your ass? You look like you have no joints,” he yelled into my ear, his breath tickling my sensitive skin.

“I’ve had too little alcohol,” I replied, but Taeyong wasn’t having it.

“When we perform on the stage, will you need alcohol to let loose too?” Taeyong challenged with a playful smirk, and I rolled my eyes, too prideful to admit he was right. I couldn’t participate in that competition drunk. We wouldn’t win if I wasn’t able to come out of my shell and show everybody I had a sensual bone in my body.

“No,” I yelled into Taeyong’s ear. “How do I let loose?” I asked, hoping to hear some words of wisdom from him.

“Mirror what I’m doing,” Taeyong guided, and I nodded, focused on my new task. I could do that. I had been mirroring Seulgi’s movements during our classes, and I was pretty good at doing it. I could copy Taeyong’s moves.

At first, Taeyong danced a few classic moves we usually did during our warm-up routine. It was easy, and I think I nailed it. Later, he wiggled his upper body, feeling the rhythm. With envy, I observed how his body executed every single move, owning it. I wish I was half as good as Taeyong. Next to him, I probably looked like a crippled kid.

Upon noticing my struggle, Taeyong began jumping around, throwing his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but I remained focused on my task, dancing as if I was his shadow. Our bizarre moves earned some attention from other people, but our eyes were trained on each other, slowly getting lost in our own bubble.

I was sober, and I was on my way to owning the dance floor. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Maybe Taeyong’s charisma overshadowed my poor attempts of showcasing mine; however, I was sure I made a big step in the right direction. Slowly, I was improving.

“How about we spice it up a little bit?” Taeyong shouted into my ear, and I cocked up my eyebrow, thinking what he meant by that. “Don’t be shy,” he added, yanking me against his body. Taeyong was so close I could feel his legs rub against mine. “Come on, sweetheart. Touch me, tease me, feel me up,” Taeyong snickered, getting on my nerves. Not only Taeyong was smug for no reason, but he also quoted the song, which I was slowly growing to hate.

Taeyong must’ve assumed I’d back out. Surely, he didn’t expect me to follow his instructions and actually run my hands across his chest, shoulders, and back while simultaneously swaying my hips, earning approving stares from impressed men on the dance floor. At first, he was surprised he talked me into it, but a second later, he smirked, resting his palms on my sides, slowly exploring the valley of my butt.

I had no idea I had it in me, but Taeyong helped me discover it. We were basically grinding against each other, and it somehow didn’t feel awkward at all. We were just two people having fun.

“I’m sorry I was so harsh on you,” Taeyong apologized, shouting in my ear. “I’m just stressful all the time, and I think I may sometimes take it out on you,” he added, and I looked at his face, which was dangerously close to mine.

“It’s understandable,” I replied as I wrapped my arms around Taeyong’s neck, finding it much more comfortable. Now with our bodies pressed together, it was easier to have a conversation. “I know how much you want to win this competition. I’ll try harder,” I promised, and Taeyong released a relieved chuckle.

Who would’ve thought an adult conversation would work better than shouting at each other?

“Thank you,” Taeyong spoke genuinely, and I pulled away, staring at his face. His eyes were trained on mine. No matter how many hours we had spent at the dance studio, his gaze still intimidated me sometimes.

“Ekhm, I need a break,” I said in a desperate need to break eye contact with him. The dance floor was crowded, and it was making me dizzy. I was getting dangerously hot, and it seemed like heaven to get back to our booth and finish our drinks.

“Of course, you need a break,” Taeyong teased, sending me a lopsided smirk. “It’s okay, though. We still have plenty of time to work on your stamina,” he added as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the crowd. Carefully, we zigzagged around drunken people, trying to make it safely to Seulgi.

Unfortunately, by the bar counter, someone walked into Taeyong, almost knocking him down.

“I’m very sorry,” a man shouted, but I could sense the words weren’t genuine.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong spoke, gritting his teeth, staring at the other man. Taeyong’s grip tightened around my hand. I figured he didn’t particularly like Doyoung.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung sighed, checking Taeyong out from head to toe before his gaze shifted to me. There was something spiteful about his lingering eyes, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. For sure, there was some bad blood between two men, and I suddenly felt an urge to know more. Inquisitiveness got the best of me.

Taeyong and Doyoung kept glaring at each other almost as if it was a competition. The tension was so intense one could cut it with a knife. I cleared my throat in a poor attempt to break their stare contest, but they didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“I saw your last performance,” Doyoung finally spoke, scoffing. “You’re getting out of it, and here I expected to kick your ass in the finale. I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your partner got eliminated next week.”

I thought I had seen Taeyong furious, but right now, I was proven wrong. The way he looked at me whenever I was a handful during our practice was nothing compared to the way he glared at Doyoung. Taeyong was scary, and I decided to not get on his wrong side ever again.

“I’d gladly kick your ass here, but I’d rather wait for the finale. You know what people say about prolonged gratification,” Taeyong talked back, and I gasped, trying to comprehend what I just heard. Taeyong was getting cocky, and it made me nervous. I was already stressed about the possibility of performing, and he just added more pressure on my shoulders.

“We’ll see about that,” Doyoung replied, focusing his scrutinizing gaze on me. “But I have to say I kinda look forward to seeing you cry again. The way I beat you the last time was spectacular.”

“Let’s go, Taeyong. Don’t waste your breath on him. He’s not worth it,” I exclaimed, pulling Taeyong’s hand, reminding him I was there the whole time. I couldn’t listen to Doyoung talk trash about Taeyong. If Taeyong wasn’t going to walk away by himself, I had to intervene and pull him aside. Doyoung was provoking him.

“And who is that?” Doyoung asked in a mocking tone, displeased by the way I looked at him. Though I didn’t know the back story, I took Taeyong’s side. At least, Taeyong didn’t try to humiliate his rival, while Doyoung had already tried a few tricks to tick Taeyong off.

“You’re right,” Taeyong said, looking at me. It was evident he was holding himself back, trying his best not to take the bait. “Let’s go,” he added, pulling me away from Doyoung.

“Who was that?” I asked as we approached our booth. Unfortunately, I didn’t get my response. Upon arrival, we noticed that Seulgi was sprawled on the table, giggling to herself.

“Is she always like this?” I inquired, concerned about how drunk Seulgi got in such a short amount of time. We were gone for thirty minutes tops, and she was barely conscious after drinking her and our drinks.

“Aww… there you are… my dear friends,” she cooed cutely, trying to attack Taeyong with cuddles. She was adorable, but it was kind of irresponsible to drink by herself when we were on the dance floor. Thankfully, nothing happened. We returned just in time to collect her and escort her home.

“I can’t believe my plan worked,” Seulgi grinned, pointing her finger at Taeyong. “You no longer have a stick up your ass,” she exclaimed at Taeyong, too drunk to realize she should be talking to me. “And look at you! You were having fun!” Seulgi yelled, extending her arms to hug me. “I am so proud of you!”

“I should take her home,” Taeyong reasoned, considering it the safest option. He could call an Uber for Seulgi or just phone her fiancée to pick her up but bringing her home himself seemed to be the most rational solution. “Will you be alright by yourself?” He inquired, and I nodded right away. It was sweet of him to look after me too. Thankfully, I barely touched my cocktail; I could get home safely on my own.

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied casually, sending him a reassuring smile. “Just make sure Seulgi makes it home safe,” I added, warming up at the way Taeyong hauled up Seulgi, carefully leading her out of the club. It made me wonder if Johnny did the same to me. Probably. He wouldn’t be that gentle, though. If anything, he’d throw me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Or just drag me out like a corpse.

“Give me a call once you get back home,” Taeyong demanded before we parted ways.

 ***

“You went clubbing without me?” Johnny dramatically asked after I told him everything that happened on the weekend. Despite my detailed narration, it seemed as if that was the only thing he caught on to. “How could you?”

“Relax, dude,” I rolled my eyes, shuffling around my desk, getting ready for work. It was Monday morning – it was about time we start our gossip routine.

“And I was wondering… would you mind helping me researching this shady dude? There’s some conflict between him and Taeyong. And I need to know what happened,” I started, wondering if Johnny would cooperate with me and put his stalking abilities to good use.

I was too embarrassed to ask Taeyong about Doyoung. Besides, I had a hunch he would either brush me off or scold me.

“Do you know anything about this dude besides his name?” Johnny pulled out his phone, no questions asked. “Please, don’t tell me that’s the only thing you know.”

“I mean… he’s probably a dancer,” I added with a sheepish smile, making Johnny heave a deep sigh. “He must be a big deal, though. Apparently, Taeyong lost a competition to him.”

“I’ll try to find some dirt, but it may be difficult given how little info you gave me,” Johnny declared as he began his thorough research.

It took Johnny five minutes to find the correct Doyoung. It was remarkable. If it wasn’t enough for the FBI to hire him, I’d gladly present them a recommendation letter. Quickly, I opened Doyoung’s profile on my phone, scrolling through his feed.

At first glance, Doyoung seemed to be a regular bratty internet star with an overgrown ego. His follower count was impressive. Studying his profile, I learned a lot about him. Unfortunately, it had no value. There was nothing specific about his conflict with Taeyong.

“How was your date with Wendy?” I asked Johnny as I gave up on my research. Whatever was the root of their bad blood would have to remain a mystery.

“It was fine,” Johnny started, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely honest. His disappointed tone betrayed him. “She left before the waiter brought the dessert. Apparently, she didn’t particularly like when I kept calling her Wanda.”

“Ouch.”

“No hard feelings, though,” Johnny shrugged it off, trying to focus on the positive aspect of their terrible date. “At least, I’ve had two slices of cheesecake. Besides, I’m kind of into Sooyoung from the creative team now. I think she is the one.”

“Every girl you’re into is the one,” I interjected, rolling my eyes, done with his antics.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve forgotten,” Johnny chimed in, staring at me in excitement. “Taeil asked me about you,” he revealed, and I almost spat out my morning coffee.

“What?”

“Are you still into him, though?” Johnny inquired, rubbing his temple in deep thought. “I haven’t heard you gush about him these days,” he pinpointed, and I wondered if my crush on Taeil was still as intense as it was a few months ago.

Taeil was insanely hot. I kept drooling whenever I saw him operate the printer. It was inappropriate to check him out whenever he bent down to change the ink, but I couldn’t help myself. Or whenever we met by the vending machine.

Good old times.

Right now, though, I rarely caught myself thinking about him. At first, I thought it was due to a hectic schedule. I was either at work or at the dance studio or getting shit-faced with Johnny on another wild adventure with him and his friends.

It was difficult to comprehend how easily my crush faded into thin air. Taeil was still sexy as fuck, but while I appreciate his looks, I wasn’t daydreaming how to get into his pants. At this point, I was just admiring his attributes in the most nonsexual way imaginable.

Apparently, the lack of response on my part was everything Johnny needed to confirm his suspicion.

“So what? Are you into Taeyong now?” Johnny asked boldly, and now, I actually choked on my coffee, thinking I heard him wrong. How did he jump to that conclusion?

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, but it kinda looks like you’re into him,” Johnny commented, playing with a pen. “You talk about him all the time with lots of passion. I think there’s something going on between you two. Is he single?”

“I talk about him all the time because I live to complain, and recently he’s the sole reason why I gotta vent,” I defended, but Johnny didn’t seem convinced. “And I don’t know if he’s single. I don’t really care,” quickly, I rejected all accusations, but in all honesty, his words got me wondering.

Was I attracted to Taeyong?

Surely, Taeyong was ridiculously attractive. He danced well, too. Unfortunately, we didn’t click much. There was passion between us, but it wasn’t romantically stemmed. We just kept annoying each other. I wouldn’t consider it sexual. We were just getting on each other’s nerves often, unable to properly solve our differences.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey,” Johnny teased, and I fought the urge to throw the stapler at him. “I bet fifty bucks you’ve imagined him naked, fucking you dumb.”

What the fuck, John???

I did not imagine Taeyong naked!

Not until now, at least.

“I seriously hate you right now,” I complained, deciding it’s about time I focus on work.

 ***

After Johnny had planted naughty thoughts in my mind, each dance practice was unbearable. My mind was running wild, coming up with different scenarios involving Taeyong and me in intimate situations. It was wrong on so many levels, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

After months of practicing the dance routine, we decided it would be best to make some changes to the choreography. Though it was still sensual as hell, with our hands roaming each other’s bodies, we found it crucial to accentuate Taeyong’s talents.

It was a strategic plan. While typically male dancers helped the female dancers shine, we put a little twist to it. Though our performance was still pretty balanced, Taeyong had a few crucial parts of choreography, in which he would snatch everybody’s hearts.

Seulgi didn’t object to our strategy. Well… she was never there, to begin with. Seulgi was a ghost, never present during our practice, always busy doing some last-minute wedding prep.

“Let’s take a five,” Taeyong hollered as he turned off the music, sending us off to a short break. It sounded weird when it came out of his mouth, but I didn’t complain. We’ve been practicing nonstop for the past hour. At this point, I was panting.

Lying down onto the floor, I rested my head on my towel, reaching for my phone. Quickly, I unlocked it to see a series of notifications from Johnny. He had sent me a link to a video, telling me in all caps to watch it.

Having left the earphones in the locker room, I played the video quietly through my phone’s speaker. It was a short film with Doyoung. It must’ve been his performance from last year’s competition. Jamming to the music, I studied his moves.

Doyoung was really good. I mean… it wasn’t professional expertise, but I could tell he had talent. His body control was impeccable, his hip thrusts must’ve impregnated plenty of women in the audience, but his shoulder rolls were just otherworldly. Along with the female dancer, they showcased quite the performance. From the beginning to the very end, I couldn’t look away, failing to notice Taeyong approach me.

“What the hell are you doing?” Taeyong shouted, tearing my phone from my hand, double-checking what I was watching. “Why are you watching this?” He angrily asked, locking the device, wishing for it to stop playing music.

It was difficult to explain.

I couldn’t exactly tell Taeyong that I asked my best friend to do research on Doyoung in hopes of finding out what was the root of their conflict. Though we had never found anything substantial, Johnny would send me more footage to check out. However, regardless of how much stuff Johnny had provided me with, I was still clueless.

“Why are you shouting at me?” I spoke, biting on my bottom lip. I was in big trouble, so it was only logical to play dumb.

Taeyong stared down at me, demanding a genuine answer. His jaw was tensed, his knuckles around my phone turned white. It was just a meaningless clip, but it got him fuming at me. Regardless of what I’d tell him, he wouldn’t like the answer. I figured this much.

“Why were you watching that?” Taeyong yelled, raising his hand, almost smashing my phone against the floor. Thankfully, he held back and gently put it on my bag.

It was incredible how much the video affected Taeyong. The movie worked on Taeyong like a red rag to a bull. One moment he seemed fine, but once he figured out what I was watching, he snapped.

“You really want to know?” I challenged as I rose to my feet, staring at him. It was my turn to raise my voice. If he kept shouting at me, I was going to give him the same treatment. “Ever since that night at the club, I was curious. You were basically throwing daggers at each other, and I really wanted to know what happened between you two. You never bothered to explain it, and I didn’t want to push you.”

“Do you have your answers now?” Taeyong exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes, agitating him even more with my fed-up behavior. He was scary right now, but I refused to let him intimidate me. “Or do you want to read my diary too?!”

I resisted the temptation of saying yes to his offering. Taeyong wasn’t the type of person to write a dairy. He was exaggerating, but I didn’t want to provoke him further. At any mention of Doyoung’s name, wrath took control over Taeyong, turning him into his destructive self.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know shit about him,” I confessed, throwing my hands in the air. “I wanted to know what he did to you, but I came up with nothing. And believe it or not, the way he treated you that night made me worry. You’re my dance partner, and I care about you a lot, and it really hurt me seeing you in distress,” I spat, not thinking about consequences. I was talking without filter, probably spilling too much information.

My verbal diarrhea confused Taeyong. His huge eyes were staring at me in astonishment. He was studying my expression, wondering if everything I said was true. Oh, no! My reckless words made him uncomfortable. He must’ve grown to hate now.

In embarrassment, I looked down at my shoes. I felt terrible, and I needed to come up with something clever to say to save my dignity and ease the tension. However, before I managed to voice my sincere apology, I felt Taeyong’s hands cup my cheeks as he surged forward and kissed my breath away. It was sudden, but I reciprocated the kiss in an instant.

Stress, anxiety, anger, sexual frustration, and probably many other factors led us to this very moment. I had been daydreaming about Taeyong’s mouth on mine for a while now. And when it finally happened, I eagerly swept my tongue across his lips, deepening the kiss. Though I had tried my best to withstand the tension between us, I wasn’t oblivious to it.

Taeyong already knew almost every inch of my body, so his hands naturally began roaming across my skin. Moaning into the kiss, he held me closer, keeping me pressed against him.

“Taeyong,” I breathed out as I pulled away, only for Taeyong to smash his lips against mine again, successfully shushing me. This time around, the kiss was even more passionate, making my knees weak. In a rush, Taeyong pushed me against the wall, pushing his thigh between my legs. “We shouldn’t,” I spoke, but my tone wasn’t convincing at all. I wasn’t even sure who I was trying to convince that it was a bad idea.

“Shut up,” Taeyong demanded as he tilted his face, sucking on my bottom lip. His hands were on my butt, kneading my flesh, trying to make me moan into his mouth. In all honesty, it worked. Maybe, I whimpered incoherent sounds, but it’s was just a poor attempt to encourage him to keep kissing me.

Regardless of how much he was to gift me, I needed more. I wasn’t going to stop until I’d take everything Taeyong was willing to give.

I craned my neck to the side, and Taeyong quickly caught on, leaving a wet trail down my neck. His lips were delicate, careful not to leave a mark, while his hips were grinding against me, letting me feel how stiff he already was.

“Legs,” Taeyong ordered, gently slapping my thigh. Obediently, I spread my legs apart, letting his hand cup my sex. It was ridiculous how horny he was making me. Once his raspy voice echoed in my ears, I fulfilled his wish, waiting for another command in excitement.

“Please,” I begged, needing more of him. Whatever he planned on doing to me, I needed it now. Whether he was to tease me with his beautiful fingers or fuck me raw with his cock, he better do it now.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered against my skin, pressing feather-like kisses along my collarbone. His touch was driving me insane. His hands were everywhere but where I wanted them the most. This type of teasing should be illegal.

It was more than I could take, so I took matters into my own hands. I could play this game, too. With a mischievous smirk upon my face, I hooked my forefinger under the band of his tracksuit bottoms. Unfortunately, Taeyong quickly swept my hand away.

“You’re such a bad girl,” Taeyong commented before he captured my lips again, sliding his tongue into my mouth, knowing I’d talk back to him. “You have to do everything your way. Would it kill you if you listened to me at least once?” Taeyong muttered, staring into my eyes.

Yes, I was a brat. Taeyong wanted me to submit to him, and I would do it eventually, but not before I’d tease him first. What was fun in that?

“Don’t answer that,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. Though we barely hung out outside the dance studio, Taeyong learned a lot about me. Having an answer to everything was one of those things he had the pleasure of discovering.

“Just fuck me, please,” I said nicely, staring into his eyes, hoping it would be enough to make him cave. “I can’t take it any longer,” I added, rubbing my loins against his restrained cock, making him let out a guttural moan.

My plan was working. Slowly, Taeyong was giving in, probably taking his time to think about the consequences of letting me experience instant gratification. Orgasm would’ve been sweeter if he made me wait a bit more, but it was difficult for him to control his urges.

Without any doubt, Taeyong wanted to bury his cock inside of me as much as I wanted him to fuck me dumb. We withstood so many practices without jumping at each other – I should consider it foreplay.

“Fine, but I’m gonna eat you out first,” Taeyong spoke, and I almost lost it by just imagining his jaw going between my thighs. Swiftly, he knelt in front of me, pulling my leggings down to my ankles in one fluid motion. Having kicked off my gym shoes, I wiggled the fabric off my feet, sending it flying across the dance studio.

Taeyong ran his fingers across my panties, inspecting how soaked they already were. With a smirk upon Taeyong’s face, he pressed a chaste kiss against my skin above the waistband before he yanked the undergarment down.

“Beautiful,” he said under his breath before he surged his face, taking my clit between his gorgeous lips, making me tilt my head in pleasure. Frustration got me sensitive. Even the slightest touch got me purring in delight.

Taeyong licked and nipped at my entrance, and I run my hands through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. He flicked his tongue, and I buckled my hips, wanting more.

“I need your fingers,” I pleaded, looking down at him. Taeyong looked breathtaking, with my juices were dripping down his sharp jaw, with his lips turned into a satisfied smirk. He was proud of how he was making me feel. His glistening skin was the very evidence of his skillful moves. “Taeyong, please, I am so close.”

Though I didn’t expect him to, Taeyong listened to my humble request. His middle finger slid right it, making me purr in satisfaction. I could finally feel him inside of me, and it was heavenly. His palm moved quickly, working me up.

The first orgasm was building up. Taeyong was fucking me now with two fingers while his mouth was fiddling with my clit. If it wasn’t for Taeyong’s palm, holding me still, I’d buckle right into his face for more friction.

“I’m about to come,” I declared, shutting my eyes close. As tempting as it was to peek at the mirror on the other wall and check out the view of Taeyong eating me out, it was more than I could take. My instinct to squeeze my eyes shut and welcome the orgasm was too much.

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.

Before tiny tingles of electricity could unite and explode, shooting through me like a lightning strike, Taeyong pulled away, denying me of my orgasm. It physically hurt when instead of a blissful peak, I felt nothing.

“What the fuck?” I barked angrily, ready to pull him by his hair against my sex and press him against me, so he could finish the job.

“We’re coming together, or we’re not coming at all,” Taeyong sternly replied, standing up. His lips were swollen from all the work he was doing, and they looked even more kissable.

“I’ve never pegged you for such a teaser,” I stated matter-of-factly, still a little bit butt-hurt over the way how smug he was about not letting me come first. Maybe I was a handful most of the time, but I didn’t do anything wrong to deserve such treatment.

“I’m not,” Taeyong chimed in, biting down on his lip. “There’s just something about you that makes me want to punish for your misbehavior,” he explained, and I got it where it came from. I wasn’t the best student he could work with. “Isn’t it the sweetest torture?” Taeyong challenged before he surged forward, smashing his lips against mine again, raising my thigh and giving it a gentle rub.

“Please, Taeyong, I need you inside of me,” I begged as I ground my sex against his rock-hard cock. I couldn’t comprehend how self-disciplined and patient he was; his budge was throbbing underneath his pants. It must’ve been painful for him, and he did all of that to teach me a lesson. “Fuck me, already.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I got you,” he softly spoke as he hoisted me up, pressing me tightly against the wall. “To be honest, I expected you to lose it sooner,” Taeyong added, and I hoped he was talking about my sanity. I endured more than enough; his teasing was too much.

“How should I fuck you?” Taeyong asked, looking around the practice room, seeking a perfect spot to stuff his cock inside of me. We didn’t have a lot of options, but I didn’t care. He could fuck me in the middle of the room, and I’d eagerly spread my legs for him. “Screw it,” he cursed, gently lowering me down onto the floor. “Do you mind?” Taeyong inquired, and I shook my head as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pressing him against me.

“Strip,” I ordered, and Taeyong smirked before he pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing his lean physique. My eyes marveled at his beautiful shoulders and toned muscles. I had touched him more than I could count, but I never saw him bare, and when I finally did, I gawked.

“What about you, sweetheart? Come on, I am waiting,” Taeyong teased, and I took off my T-shirt. I was only in my sports bra, and Taeyong bit his lip, staring down at me, admiring my simple beauty. With no further comment, Taeyong leaned in, attacking my collarbone. It was hot how attentive he was, but right now, all I needed was his cock buried deep down my cunt.

Desperately, I reached to his sweatpants, palming his erection through the fabric. As soon as I touched him, Taeyong released a needy growl, rolling his hips into my hand, finally giving in to the pleasure. He lost his self-restraint, and now, he seriously needed to fill me up with his throbbing length.

“Take them off,” I breathed out, pulling by the hem of his pants. With a lowered head, Taeyong tsked before he yanked them down to his knees, wriggling out of them. Just as I expected, his cock urgently entailed my attention.

Though the thought of blowing him crossed my mind, I eventually decided not to entertain this idea too much. It was apparent Taeyong wanted to him inside of my pussy. I’d suck him dry on a different occasion. Hopefully, it would happen soon.

“Fuck me, Taeyong,” I moaned as I trembled when the tip of his cock brushed against my folds. I was embarrassingly sensitive after his ministrations, and he dared to tease me again. “Please,” I begged as I gave his length a few gentle strokes, aligning it with my entrance.

“Aaahh…” Taeyong growled, slowly pushing his dick inside of me. Inch by inch, he filled me up, stretching my walls. A lot of different sinful noises came out of his mouth as he began steadily thrusting his hips.

Taeyong’s stamina was no joke. It was hard to believe how long he could snap his hips without messing up his rhythm. His low voice mixed with my desperate moans echoed inside the room, creating a wicked symphony along with the sound of our sweaty bodies smashing against each other.

He was fucking me hard, and I was in seventh heaven. Taeyong was filling me up so good; I could come undone on his cock anytime.

“Taeyong,” I moaned his name as I watched him fuck me. Though it was hot to look at his cock disappear in my pussy, it was even sweeter to stare in the mirror. With my head turned to the side, I studied the whole picture how Taeyong was fucking me.

“I am coming,” I screamed as I felt the bliss approach. Taeyong was panting, struggling to maintain his tempo with the way my walls tightened around his sensitive cock. Once he hit my sweet spot, I was a goner. After a few thrusts, I came, digging my nails in his back.

“Fuck,” Taeyong cursed, shouting my name as he shot his load inside of me, collapsing on top of me. We were a breathless mess, our bodies sticking together, but neither of us minded. At this point, we were too spent to care. “You were incredible,” Taeyong whispered as he pulled out, rolling to the side.

“You weren’t that bad yourself,” I panted, giggling, still recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm. Thankfully, Taeyong didn’t pay much attention to my playful jab. “I meant it what I said,” I added, turning around to look at him.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Taeyong started, staring into my eyes, showing me his sincerity. “I just can’t help myself but get angry when I see him or hear about him,” he continued, and I nodded my head, letting him know I was willing to listen.

I didn’t expect that Taeyong would agree to vent to me, but when he did, I patiently heard him out. After all, I was pretty sure we were at least friends now.

“It all happened about a year ago. We were competing in the same contest, and he made my dance partner quit. Doyoung seduced her, toyed with her, and once the trophy was his, he dumped her. Because of him, I was disqualified, and she quit dance altogether.”

Listen to his story made me both sad and angry. Doyoung had been a dick to interfere like that – he must’ve known he hadn’t stood a chance against them in a fair fight. My blood was boiling in my veins as I put all the pieces together.

Sadness took over next. The way Doyoung had manipulated Taeyong’s dance partner was upsetting. The wound had been cut so deep, she couldn’t have forced herself to keep going. Doyoung had wrecked two lives, and it made my blood boil, too.

“We’re gonna beat him. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do,” I spoke, reassuring him. It was impossible to tend the wounds, but the least I could do is help Taeyong win. For what he had done, Doyoung deserved punishment. If I were Taeyong, I’d not hesitate to beat him up.

“I hope so,” Taeyong muttered, reaching for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s still fine if we don’t. I’m pretty sure karma will get to him eventually,” he added with a sigh.

“I’ll work harder,” I declared, feeling an extra wave of determination wash through me. “I’ll try my best,” I said, and Taeyong smiled fondly, content to hear me say it.

“Thanks. It means a lot to me.”

For a while, we were staring at each other. It felt nice and somehow more intimate than all the fucking we had done. If we were in bed, I could do it all night. Unfortunately, we were still lying on the uncomfortable floor.

“Let’s get washed up before we get too sappy,” I added, trying to ease the tension. I really enjoyed it, but it was getting a little too much.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the shower with me. You know… water bills are a bitch,” Taeyong spoke, and I giggled at his bullshit excuse, finding it incredibly cute, considering what we had been doing a few minutes ago.

“Of course they are,” I deadpanned, chuckling. Though his excuse was lame, I liked Taeyong enough to go with it. “Come on. Let’s go. I don’t want anyone to catch me naked.”

 ***

After that one time at the dance studio, Taeyong and I made it a regular thing. However, we kept it civilized. We wouldn’t jump each other’s bones in the open like animals like we had done the first time. Usually, we would go on small kind-of-dates, which consisted of picking up food, going to my or his place, and then rolling in the sheets.

We were having lots of fun. It was a perfect way to de-stress. After all, the finale was this Saturday, and we were nervous as hell. In all honesty, I was still scared, but these orgasms were numbing my anxiety.

“I think that’s it,” Taeyong spoke, and I smiled brightly, unable to contain my joy. It was the first time Taeyong ever approved of our performance. Most of the time, he was nitpicking, complaining about the slightest mistake, but finally, he was satisfied with it.

I was ecstatic; I never expected to live up to Taeyong’s approval. Through hard work and persistence, I managed to earn his eulogy.

“What should we do now? How about we order some food?” I asked, feeling in a celebratory mood. Maybe it was a little bit too early to drink to this small success, but it’s still worth a shot.

“We should do it again. We should dance it flawlessly at least a couple of hundred consecutive times before celebrating,” Taeyong seriously replied, and I rolled my eyes. Despite his painstaking nature, a couple of hundred times, it was a bit too much. Even for him. “Don’t give me that look. Let’s start again; five, six, seven, eight.”

Though usually, I’d complain and try to force him into a five-minute break, right now, I was oddly energized. We were dancing for the past two hours, and I was panting out of exhaustion. Nevertheless, the thoughts of finally mastering the choreography kept me going.

“I’m pretty good at this,” I confidently commented while roaming my hands across Taeyong’s shoulders before he twirled me around to the rhythm. I could tell that Taeyong was just waiting for an excuse to pause the music and scold me for making a mistake. However, much to his dismay, I executed every move impeccably. “I had a pretty good teacher,” I added, stroking his ego. The D-day was approaching, and Taeyong obviously needed an extra boost of confidence.

“I must admit you were a piece of work. I have no idea what kind of sorcery is this,” Taeyong teased, staring into my eyes. We had practiced the routine plenty of times; we could probably perform it in blindfolds and not make a single mistake. “I must be a magician or something.”

“Don’t push it,” I warned him in a very non-threatening tone, making him smirk. “But it’s only partially your success. Seulgi told me I have the it™ factor,” I proudly said, cracking Taeyong up, messing the choreography. “Is it a student-has-become-the-master kind of moment?” I asked, laughing at Taeyong. For the dance prodigy, he was getting distracted way too easily. It was suspicious.

With a broad smile upon his face, Taeyong grabbed my wrists, making me look at him.

“How about we finish up for today? I have a surprise for you,” Taeyong said, and I cocked my eyebrows, biting my bottom lip. “Not that kind of surprise,” he added, rolling his eyes at me. “We might get it on later, though.”

“What kind of surprise then?”

“Wait a second,” Taeyong spoke, quickly jogging out of the practice room. In a minute, he was back with a garment bag in his hands. “Here, that’s for you. Seulgi came in the morning to drop it off for you,” he explained, and I pulled down the zipper. It was going to be my costume for the contest, and I was curious how it looked.

I was speechless. At first, I thought it was a joke. I wouldn’t be able to perform in that. However, the more I looked at it, the more sense it made. It was a simple white suit shirt, but when mixed with a leather body harness, high-waisted shorts, and boots, it fitted the concept beautifully.

“Do you like it? I thought it was too revealing, but Seulgi insisted you would look amazing in it. I mean… it fits the mood, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we still have some time to find something else,” Taeyong blabbered, and my heart swelled. It was very sweet of him to consider my comfort above anything else.

“It’s skimpy, but it’s fine. I like it,” I replied, having no idea where my confidence was coming from. A few months ago, I’d be anxious to even try it on in the confines of my bedroom. However, now I was planning on showing a lot of skin on national television during prime hours on the weekend. I must’ve gone insane.

“Do you want to try it on?” Taeyong challenged, pulling the hangers out of the bag.

“You mean… here?!”

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the first time you took off your clothes in the middle of the practice room,” Taeyong concluded, smiling at me mischievously.

“Pass,” I firmly rejected his dare, even though it felt tempting. “It’s not fun when I’m doing it alone,” I added, and Taeyong grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, more than ready to discard his clothes in a blink of an eye. “Don’t fool around,” I warned him, placing my hand over his before he managed to take his T-shirt off.

“You’re right. Let’s go to my place first,” Taeyong agreed, zipping the bag before he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the practice room.

 ***

 On the day of the performance, I woke up with a terrible stomach ache. No matter how much fantastic sex Taeyong and I had, I was not mentally prepared to perform in front of the whole nation. I felt sick, almost as if my body was telling me to quit before I’d embarrass myself on national television. Stress was eating me from the inside.

“What are you doing up so early? Let’s go back to bed,” Taeyong purred in his raspy morning voice as he sneaked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “You need to be rested before the performance. Trust me, you don’t want a camera to catch you yawning,” he added, nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck, breathing hot air against my skin.

“Thanks for giving me one more thing to stress about,” I deadpanned, heaving a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was a mistake. I should have never agreed to Seulgi’s proposition in the first place. What the hell was I thinking? “I think it’s a bad idea. We should quit.”

Taeyong wasn’t in the mood for my nagging so early in the morning; he was having none of it. “You’re being ridiculous. We’ve practiced so much. We’re gonna win it with ease,” he declared, pressing a featherlike kiss against my jaw. “But for real,” he added, climbing on top of me, trapping me between his thighs, “we’re going to win. And even if we don’t, it’s fine. Really, if somehow we lose to Doyoung and his partner, I’ll just punch him backstage.”

“How can you say that?” I said with a sigh, running my hands across his thighs, finding it rather calming. “I know you said we should rest, but how about…” I trailed, and Taeyong smiled before eagerly capturing my lips, reading me like an open book.

“Say no more,” Taeyong whispered before his hands traveled under my shirt.

Unfortunately, Taeyong’s phone started buzzing on the nightstand before he managed to pull my panties down. With a groan, he extended his arm, staring at the screen.

“It’s Seulgi.”

“What are you waiting for? It’s her wedding day. Pick it up,” I yelled at him as I fell on the pillow, admiring his handsome face when he was talking to Seulgi.

“Please, not you, too,” he barked, rubbing his face in annoyance. Though I barely could make out what she was saying, I figured this much Seulgi and I were suffering from the same stress-fuelled illness. It was her wedding day, after all. Even if it was obvious she loved Irene with a burning passion, she wasn’t immune to pre-wedding anxiety.

Seulgi was talking her stress away, and Taeyong just hummed and nodded his head, registering her words. For some reason, the pressure didn’t seem to bother Taeyong at all. It was weird, but at least he was the voice of reason, which could help me and Seulgi cope.

“Breath in, breath out,” Taeyong spoke when Seulgi made a pause long enough for him to interject. “I know it’s a big deal, but there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting married to Irene. You love her so much,” Taeyong reminded her, winking at me, expecting Seulgi to end the call soon. “Everybody’s a little nervous; it’s completely normal.”

It was beautiful how close Taeyong and Seulgi were. They had each other’s backs in all types of situations.

About ten minutes later, Seulgi finally calmed down. Taeyong’s reassuring words swept the anxiety away, and she was more than ready to get married to the love of her life.

Once Seulgi hung up, Taeyong threw his phone on the bed and secured my legs around his hips before he leaned forward, giving me a quick kiss. “Seulgi says hi, by the way,” he added, sneaking his hand under the hem of my panties.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Taeyong looked down at me, creasing his eyebrows in confusion.

“She knows?” I yelled, unable to comprehend how, on Earth, Seulgi figured out I was in Taeyong’s bed. She couldn’t know. She wasn’t even there when our romance bloomed. “How?”

“Yeah, is it a bad thing, though? You didn’t want to fuck me in secret, did you?” Taeyong challenged, not really answering my inquiry. Did Seulgi figure it out on her own? Or did Taeyong told her about us? And, the biggest question mark was: what were we to begin with? “Seulgi must have some sort of sixth sense. She was bothering me about the sexual tension between us since day one of your training.”

“I wouldn’t call it sexual tension per se, but there was something going on,” I replied, reminiscing how rocky our beginning was. “But I think we were interrupted…” I reminded him, and Taeyong with a playful smirk on his face dived right between my thighs.

 ***

 The streaming should begin at 8 p.m., but we had to arrive before 5 p.m., so the make-up artists and stylists could prepare us for the performance. Sitting in that chair and waiting for all pampering to be over with was stressful as fuck. I tried to preoccupy myself with an idea of Taeyong, but whenever someone threw a question in my direction, I was being pulled out of my train of happy thoughts.

I wanted to get on the stage and be done with it. Unfortunately, whoever funded that contest didn’t think of the mental health of its participants when making today’s schedule.

Punctually, the show began its transmission at 8 o’clock. However, at the very beginning, the MC had to introduce all sponsors. Going through them took him about twenty minutes. Then, they interviewed some of the eliminated dancers, asking them questions either about their experience in the competition or simply who they thought would win.

Later, they decided to rewind the contestants’ moments in the show. At first, they showed Doyoung and his partner, and a few experts analyzed their performance, wondering what the odds of them winning were.

When the host announced the rewind of Taeyong’s and Seulgi’s stages, the jury only talked about the sudden switch up, confirming it was the first time it ever happened in the grand finale. It startled a lot of people why would Seulgi drop out, but Taeyong explained it in a brief interview.

“It was a crazy coincidence, but Seulgi couldn’t participate today because she is getting married today,” Taeyong revealed, and the audience cooed loudly, obviously supporting her choice. “I was stressed at first, but Seulgi found an amazing dancer to take her spot. She really chose well,” he added, and I looked at him, trying not to cry in front of everyone.

It was almost impossible to fish out a compliment from Taeyong during practice, but right now, he did it on his own accord, melting my heart with his words.

“Everybody is dying to know more about your partner,” the MC started, shifting his attention to me. I didn’t particularly like to be put in the spotlight, but before I managed to spit some nonsense, Taeyong butt in, rescuing the day.

“Although she doesn’t have much experience in dance competitions, I think she’s a great dancer. To think of it, she is my secret weapon,” Taeyong added, and I almost ran into his arms, feeling too overwhelmed by his speech.

“Alright then, let’s see what you got after a short commercial break,” the MC cheerfully announced before I bolted out of the stage as I felt the stress crept into my head.

“Calm down,” Taeyong softly spoke as he approached me, holding my hand, drawing circles with his thumb. “You’ve got this. Just focus on me,” he added, flashing me a reassuring smile before kissing my knuckles.

“Awww… isn’t it adorable?” Someone snickered, and I didn’t need to turn my head around to know it was Doyoung. He was like a venomous snake, trying to sneak into our subconscious and make us even more anxious. It couldn’t be fair play.

“Buzz off,” I barked as I didn’t want to let him tick Taeyong off. Taeyong was my safety pin, and I didn’t want him to go full rage on Doyoung. Their backstage battle would make it to the news, but I’d rather prevent it from happening.

“With Seulgi on your arm, I was giving you a five percent chance of winning,” Doyoung started, ignoring my warning. “Now, when she’s gone, I won’t even have fun beating you on the stage,” he added, and I almost surged forward to punch him. If it wasn’t for Taeyong, who held me in my place, I’d definitely rearranged Doyoung’s face.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Taeyong whispered into my ear, and I nodded my head, sighing. Then, it struck me. Doyoung’s motive wasn’t to mess with Taeyong but with me. He knew I was the weakest link, and he wanted to guarantee his victory by making me doubt myself. His words rung in my head, but one look at Taeyong helped me relax. We had practiced it a thousand times; there was not a chance I would make a mistake.

“Come on. Let’s go. They’re calling us out,” Taeyong mused, pulling me towards the stage.

The silence filled the auditorium when we got on the stage, taking our respective places. I stole a glance at Taeyong – he was mouthing words of encouragement seconds before the MC announced our performance.

I can hear it callin'

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Callin', something in the way you wanna talk

On two sides of the stage, we moved to the rhythm, telling the story of two strangers lusting over each other from afar. With hunger in our eyes, we tried to seduce each other with sharp movements, showcasing our attributes.

You got me sayin', you got me sayin'

How you doing? Tell me what's your name (Ey, tell me what's your name?)

What's your sign? Feeling like you are into me

Taeyong ran up to me like a man enchanted by the siren’s voice, rolling his body against mine. It was his moment to shine; everybody’s eyes were on him as he owned the stage with his overflowing charisma.

Baby, we're two distant strangers

I know you don't speak my language

But I love the way she's talking to me (Talking to me)

I can hear it callin' from where you are

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was a classic game of cat and mouse. Though our bodies were so close to each other, we moved in perfect synchronization, careful not to brush against each other. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the feeling of yearning was visible from the very last row.

Max, max, max, we can have it all (To the max)

If you back, back, back, back, back it up (Back it, back it)I'll take you where you wanna, got the gas in the tank (Wow)

If you really wanna make it last (Git, git, git)

Finally, as the song slowly progressed to the end, we were showing intense frustration. We were portraying two individuals, yearning for intimate contact, who were hastily losing their minds over uncontrollable passion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

The song was to end soon. The last chorus rolled in – it was our cue. After all teasing, we finally made the connection, ready to combust out of raw craze. After three minutes of painful longing, we were to reach completion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was all or nothing. We were finally together, touching each other with fervor.  The audience was eating our performance up – particularly when Taeyong showcased his flexibility and body control.

Tell me how you like it babe (How you)

I don't even know your name (How you, ey)

I love the way you're talking to me

It was finally time to finish our performance with a bang; we needed to show something spectacular, something Doyoung wouldn’t ever think about. As the singer began the last verse, it was my cue to run into Taeyong’s embrace. The second the last syllable rolled of the singer’s tongue, Taeyong caught me in his arms, and the lights went out to add a dramatic twist to our performance.

For a while, the audience was silent. However, a few seconds later, they roared in excitement, clapping loudly, showing how much they enjoyed our stage.

The MC was congratulating us, but I was too thrilled to register his words. I still couldn’t believe I performed on national television and didn’t trip and smash my face.

I had no idea how I found myself backstage, but there was a high chance Taeyong led me off the stage. I was too overwhelmed to do it on my own.

I even forgot that Johnny, together with Yeri – the love of his week, had backstage passes. I only remembered that when he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, congratulating me.

“You gotta quit that office job and start dancing professionally,” Johnny ordered, and I smiled, glad that he enjoyed my performance. “We both gotta quit. You’ll be dancing, and I’ll be a badass FBI agent.”

“You two were great,” Yeri politely said when Johnny let me go. “Thank you so much for letting me backstage.”

“No problem,” Taeyong replied as he grabbed my shaking hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, cupping my face, making me look at him. “You rocked the stage,” he added before he leaned forward to peck my lips.

Ignoring Johnny’s perplexed expression, I wrapped my arms around Taeyong in a comfortable hug. I hadn’t suitably introduced Johnny to the concept of me dating Taeyong, but hopefully, our interaction got the message across.

Emotions were slowly fading away, but I still needed Taeyong’s support. I was a rookie, and I had no experience with this type of stress. Something was calming about Taeyong’s aura; I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but I wasn’t going to question it.

“Anticipation is killing me,” I muttered against his skin. “Can he already go on that fucking stage?” I yelled, wondering why Doyoung’s performance didn’t start yet. I knew the MC was building up tension, but it was too much for me to handle.

“We could always skip,” Taeyong casually spoke, and I pulled away to look at him. What the hell was he talking about? I hadn’t agreed to help him out, so we didn’t wait until the end. “If we lose, we lose. If we win, your friend can accept the prize, can’t he?”

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he answered with a bright smile, brushing stray hair off my forehead. “I just want to know the result already so we can go to Seulgi’s wedding and congratulate them,” he added, and I nodded my head. Though we couldn’t participate during the ceremony, the least we could do was to show up ridiculously late to the reception.

“Can they hurry the fuck up now?” I craned my neck, trying to find Doyoung and his partner. They were arguing about something right behind the curtain. Everything seemed they weren’t in the right headspace.

“I don’t think I want to see their performance,” Taeyong whispered, tightening his grasp on my waist. “How about a quickie in the dressing room? What do you say?” He proposed, and I smacked him, telling him to behave. It was tempting, but we really shouldn’t. I wouldn’t walk up that stage with messed-up post-sex hair.

“Get a grip,” I added, gently elbowing him. “Let’s just hit the snack table. I am hungry,” I spoke, pulling him away when the MC invited Doyoung and his dance partner onto the stage.

While munching on snacks, we stared at each other fondly. In some weird way, we were helping each other cope with anticipation and stress. Though it was tempting to check out their performance, we decided it was for the better if we didn’t.

They performed to “Hips Don’t Lie,” and it was almost impossible to turn my head around to check out Doyoung’s sick moves. Having considered all the videos I had seen of him, I was sure he looked gorgeous.

“What about a little peek?” Taeyong questioned, unable to control his urge to see his rival’s performance. “I thought I could endure it, but I can’t,” he added, and I nodded, giving in. Instantly, we ran to the nearest screen to watch their stage.

It was everything I imagined. Their moves were executed with precision and grace, but entertainment-wise, I was bored. They had the skills, but something about the general concept didn’t fulfill my expectations.

No matter how great of a dancer Doyoung was, he just could not pull this song off as the original artist did. Regardless of how hard he swayed his hips, it just didn’t live up to its potential. Though I wasn’t educated enough to give an honest review, it felt meh.

The audience in the studio whistled and shouted once they finished their performance, giving them a round of applause. With genuine smiles, Doyoung and his partner bowed before they ran off the stage.

Now, only thirty minutes of aggressive advertising, and we would know the winner.

“Is it too late to agree to that quickie?”

“You should’ve said so earlier,” Taeyong answered with an innocent smile as he reached to hold my hand. “The best I can do is cuddles,” he added, leading me to the couch, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. “It feels nice.”

“It does, but it doesn’t take my mind off things like a quickie would.”

“Don’t even try. I am not going on that stage with a boner in my pants,” Taeyong warned, peeling my hand off his thigh, pressing a delicate kiss against my knuckles.

Though it wasn’t as preoccupying as sex, it was still nice. And most importantly, it took our minds off the unbearable anticipation. A staff member actually needed to gently shake Taeyong’s shoulder to remind us that the MC was calling us to the stage.

Taeyong’s hand didn’t leave mine once we were waiting for the big reveal. It was fine if we lost. Next year, Seulgi and Taeyong would definitely make it to the top.

When the MC announced the winner, a few confetti bombs exploded. The audience roared in excitement, but I had no clue what was going on. Uncertainty was over – one of us won.

Stress, anticipation, and anxiety slowed down my reactions. However, I figured it would be weird if Taeyong picked me up and spun me around in his arms if we lost. It could only mean one thing – we did it.

We won.

Taeyong’s acceptance speech was short and simple. He thanked everyone who succored him discover his passion for dancing, who supported him throughout his dream, who directly helped him get this far, and me.

When I was handed the microphone for the first time that evening, I basically rephrased Taeyong words. Maybe it wasn’t my dream, but it felt damn good to assist Taeyong in achieving his. It was a bumpy road, but overall, it was all worth it.

The MC handed me a statue after shaking my hand, congratulating me once more. Taeyong, on the other hand, was gifted a huge check for 20 thousand dollars.

“Let’s go,” Taeyong whispered to me, running off the stage with me.

 ***

It was shortly before midnight when the Uber parked in front of the hotel where Seulgi’s and Irene’s reception took place. It was beautifully decorated with lights and flowers, making it look like a magical castle.

Though the security didn’t want to grant entrance, one of Seulgi’s aunts recognized Taeyong and told the man to let us in. She was nice enough to help us out, but she still found some time to glance disapprovingly at my stage costume. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gossiped to her entire family I was a prostitute.

As soon as we walked into the ballroom, Seulgi noticed us. She was sitting by the table, eating the wedding cake with Irene. In an instant, she rose from her chair and ran up to us, throwing herself on Taeyong’s neck.

“You won! I knew it!” She shouted as she gave Taeyong a bone-crushing hug. “Irene and I sneaked out for a while to watch your performance. You smashed them,” Seulgi added before she turned to me, congratulating me too.

“You were amazing,” Irene approached us, sending a polite smile. Unlike Seulgi, Irene was much calmer and collected.

“You are finally married,” Taeyong spoke, beaming. “You better have everything recorded. I gotta know every embarrassing thing that I missed,” he added in a teasing manner, earning a playful jab from Seulgi. “I bet you cried during your vows.”

“Congratulations,” I chimed in, breaking their friendly banter before it properly started. It was Seulgi’s wedding day, after all.

After we caught up, Seulgi and Irene walked off to the dance floor, leaving us by the table alone. For a while, we admired them. They looked absolutely stunning in their white suits, dancing, basking in happiness.

“Do you know where the gifts are held?” I inquired suddenly, looking around.

“Why? Did you have time to get them anything?” Taeyong asked before he stuffed his mouth with a chocolate glazed strawberry. “Or are you thinking of stealing some?”

“I just want to give them my part of the prize,” I started, making Taeyong choke on the fruit. “Seulgi’s the rightful winner, and I think it’s only right.”

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I know, but I really want to do that,” I replied, fiddling with my fingers. “I don’t need this money, so I want to give it to her.”

“You’re so hot right now,” Taeyong said, making me turn my head in embarrassment. “If that’s what you really want to do, do it. But remember, you earned it.”

“I am sure.”

“Then let me spoil you with my prize,” Taeyong offered, staring into my eyes. At first, I thought he was joking, but when his gaze didn’t even falter, I understood how serious he was. “Well… look at that. What are the odds?” Taeyong spoke as a familiar melody echoed within the walls of the grand ballroom. “It’s our song. Shall we dance?”

Having glanced at Seulgi, who whispered something to the DJ, I smiled at Taeyong. Though I was sick and tired of Love Talk already, it was kind of our song. We had been listening to this song too much, and regardless of how good it was, the prospect of it being our anthem terrified me.

“One last time,” I gave in, accepting Taeyong’s invitation, letting him lead me to the dance floor. Despite having mastered the choreography to it, I just wrapped my arms around his neck, slowly waltzing to it.

“That’s nothing like we practiced,” Taeyong pinpointed, and I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t mind, though. It’s comfy,” he added as his hands found purchase on my hips.

“Seulgi doesn’t look pleased. She didn’t expect us to perform, did she?” I whispered into Taeyong’s ear, hugging him closer. “Also, it can’t be our song. We have to change it; the sooner, the better,” I complained, but Taeyong just chuckled into my ear, humming softly.

Instead of giving me an actual answer, Taeyong decided to sing it.

“I love the way you're talking to me.”

[books-are-my-life-stuff]

One last party for my farming team. On average I farmed four times a day for each stages, sometimes only two times when I feel exhausted from work, on weekends sometimes I tried to snag one or two extra run. But most of the time I did four times a day.

I’m going to miss farming with these teams, accompanied with their respective background music. Gotta prepare for Regirock tomorrow.

Even with different background music, farming got really exhausting and boring really fast for me. Maybe it’s because I used the same team over and over, but the point of farming is to use the most consistent teams to get the cookies, and I don’t have the energy to use the less consistent ones like the Siebold and Cyrus team against Moltres, so...yeah. Despite that, I do feel that I’m going to miss farming with this team a lot. Subway Bros+Acerola is unstoppable.

At one Moltres run I got really sleepy from work and I timed Potion incorrectly, resulting in Ingo going down from taking a sun-boosted Flare Blitz. He was at 60% health anyway so I can’t blame him. Luckily Moltres was one Rock Slide away to be defeated too, and not even Healing Sun could save it from Hit the Gas 5+Healthy Strength 5-boosted Rock Slide. I could gush over Emmet over and over, honestly, but I already did that a lot.

For Latias runs, I purposely prolonged some of the runs to rack up more debuffs. Because Anni N’s sync damage multiplier is derived from stat reductions, he still could take benefit from capped evasion debuffs from Palentine Dawn and Halloween Caitlin’s attacks.

The damage there is 77.975, almost 78k. That’s still pretty amazing, especially without supereffective and weather. Imagine a sun-boosted damage with fully debuffed Latias like this, surely Anni N could reach damage cap off-type. Not necessary, though. I just feel like racking debuffs because I wanted to see how much Anni N could reach, because he’s still one of the best units that I pulled, and one of the best investments that I made.

Uxie’s run really helped me to train myself on how to quad-queue, especially because Uxie’s stage is the most relaxed out of all. From all of my runs and training to quad-queue, I realized that I’m still terrible at it. Sometimes I managed to queue Giovanni’s Shadow Ball before Uxie’s first sync, resulting in Uxie’s first health bar finished before it launched an Iron Tail, sometimes I couldn’t, resulting in Sycamore took a lot of damage (it’s not like he couldn’t take it, but taking almost 600 damage from Iron Tail was really scary). Sometimes unexpected stuffs like Sycamore crit-ing his Moonblast which resulted in Uxie dropping to below half health threw my plan off, because I queued Giovanni’s Shadow Ball before Erika’s Toxic/Infestation expecting Sycamore to only do chip damage and not crit-ing since there’s no crit buff at him. 

I guess this just shows that even after months of playing Pokemas, I’m still not used at the real-time battle system like these when I have to take swift actions and plan ahead on everything. And if something unexpected happened, I got panicked and my mind just got blanked out, throwing all of my strategy in disarray (which resulting in me preferring defensive strategies over offensive, me taking hours to choose parameters in CSMM, me not believing in my teammates enough to take offensive parameter pressure in CSMM, me preferring safe options than high risk high reward units, all that).

The games that I am mostly accustomed to are always turn-based RPGs that gave me space and time to plan some strategy, while in this type of game, I have to plan ahead, and if something unexpected happens in a middle of the fight, I have to think fast to save my team from the situation, or just reattempt the battle until I get the result I want (and I’m not a big fan of restarting attempts just for MPR proc and stuff because it’s really exhausting and time-consuming, it sucks to spend my time for fruitless effort). Pokemas’ gameplay is a lot of fun, and I like real-time battle system like this, I’m just still not used and generally not good at planning ahead and handling unplanned things.

[polaroid15]

To Be Like You

Read on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005406

Summary: I’ll kill you and everyone you love. I’ll kill you dead.

Peter closes his eyes to keep the world from spinning. His panic sits like putty in his throat, blocking the air from reaching his lungs. He wraps his fingers around his neck, his pulse erratic underneath like he had just finished running a mile.

Come on Peter. Come on Spider-Man.

Or, the missing scene in Homecoming after the vulture fight.

----

It’s not working out.

I wanted you to be better.

There’s sand in Peter’s eyes, in his cuts. It mixes with his blood and adds to the ache, stinging and burning every inch of his skin like fire.

It hurts, but really it’s nothing in comparison to the heaviness in his chest.

I’m going to need the suit back.

Mr. Stark. Toomes. Homecoming.

He’s not exactly sure how he ended up on the cyclone, everything in his recent memory a dark blur. One moment he’s standing in front of Toomes, the last of his energy spent in cleaning up the beach and the next he’s sitting in the sky. The air is colder up here, but he’s too in shock to really feel it. Besides, it doesn’t come close to how cold it had been on the plane.

Before he had crashed it, of course.

Or when Toomes had dropped him in the river.

I lost the internship.

Logically he knows he needs to move, that he needs to go home, but the low-burning fire on the beach distracts him and steals all his attention along with the breath in his chest. He stares and reimagines the impact of the plane hitting the earth, of Toomes slamming him into the sand. The burns on his hands make them tremble and the pain brings tears to his eyes.

If you’re nothing without the suit you shouldn’t have it.

I’m trying to save you!

He wants to go home, crawl under his covers, bury his day deep underground and let it die. To wake up tomorrow and for everything to go back to the way it was.

But he can’t, the prospect impossible.

May is home.

It’ll break her heart.

Nothing will ever be the same again and the deep-rooted sadness that accompanies the realization threatens him to tears.

You smell like garbage.

Ned could help him. Ned can help-

It’s almost enough to spur Peter into action. But then he pictures Ned at homecoming with the rest of the normal kids and a deep pain separate from his physical infirmities cuts through him like a knife.

Like a talon in his chest.

Ned doesn’t deserve it, Peter realizes bitterly, even if he is his guy in the chair. Besides, Peter can barely fathom the energy to move off the cyclone let alone travel all the way to Ned’s house.

He has no phone. He’s out of web shooter fluid.

He’s out of options.

Hey. I just saved your life. Now what do you say?

Thank you.

A low noise of anguish comes out of his throat, surprising him. Through the smoke and the fire he can see Toomes’s legs jutting out in the sand. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t tried to escape.

I’ll kill you and everyone you love. I’ll kill you dead.

Peter closes his eyes to keep the world from spinning. His panic sits like putty in his throat, blocking the air from reaching his lungs. He wraps his fingers around his neck, his pulse erratic underneath like he had just finished running a mile.

Come on Peter. Come on Spider-Man.

A sob rips through him, and out of everything that has happened tonight, it’s what surprises him the most. Tony abandoning him, the warehouse crushing him, getting thrown off a plane, his fight with Toomes- it’s all too much and he can’t breathe-

Lights and sirens coax his eyes open, though the tears in them make it near impossible to see. There’s ambulances and firetrucks and police cruisers.

To clean up the mess he made.

Is everyone okay?

No thanks to you.

He’s too tired to be relieved.

He doesn’t look for Happy’s car.

Sorry doesn’t cut it.

He should go to Ned’s.

Peter tries to move. Can’t. An overwhelming chill infects his body. He feels lightheaded and woozy and somewhere through the cutting numbness he feels his entire body give up on him. It’s deep, bordering on bone dead exhaustion. When he reaches up his fingers to touch at his chest they come away painted red.

Red, like May’s hair.

Red, like Tony’s armour.

Red, like the suit he had lost.

A deep nausea starts at the base of his gut and his vision shifts like a kaleidoscope. Only now does he realize how badly he’s screwed up, how he’s going to bleed out on the cyclone of all places.

He doesn’t have his phone, doesn’t have Karen or Mr. Stark or anybody. For once his inability to ask for help is entirely his own fault. There are no plan b’s, no second chances.

He’s alone.

It’s scary.

Come on Peter. Come on Spider-Man.

A bus was thrown at him, a warehouse dropped on his shoulders. He crashed a plane and fought a man with metal wings. It had taken strength. More than he’s ever had to use in his life.

And where is that strength now?

He doesn’t even have the energy to wipe the tears off his cheeks.

Through depleting vision, he sees blurred figures approach Toomes, the lights of their flashlights hitting his makeshift prison.

It’s over, he thinks, but it’s empty and cold. It doesn’t feel anything like he had hoped it would. And maybe that’s what it means to be a hero- to feel like you lose even when you win.

He wants to go home.

But he can’t.

The beach turns black, his chin lolling down to rest on his chest.

He’s so tired.

-----

Tony hadn’t quite expected to end his night on the beach and especially not surrounded by the burning remnants of his belongings. The plane had sheared an ugly line on the coast, though the damage is admittedly nowhere as catastrophic as it could have been.

Everyone is safe, they had assured him. No casualties.

Regardless Happy is a mess, unable to look him in the eye. Tony tries hard not to be upset at him.

His friend comes up to him now. His face is pale and ashen, the panic in it accentuated by the low light of the ruin around them. Breathless, Happy gestures over his shoulder with his thumb. “We uh- we found something boss. Over here.”

Feet sinking into the sand, Tony stumbles after him. It doesn’t take long for Tony to see their destination, standing straight like a beacon through the destruction. All the valuables on the plane, everything, stacked together neatly. A man is sitting at the base of the pile. The Vulture, Tony realizes darkly.

But it’s not what has the breath stalling in his chest.

It’s the webbing holding everything together.

Peter.

World narrowing and ears ringing, Tony crosses the rest of the distance to stand in front of the criminal. He looks smug, Tony thinks, and a little more than rough around the edges. His clothes smoke on their edges. There’s blood in his hairline and under his nose.

And beside his face, stuck to the mess, a note from Spider-Man.

P.S. Sorry about the plane.

“Where is he?” Tony asks, his fingers curling involuntarily into fists. The rational part of his mind is telling him to calm down, because Peter wouldn’t have been able to clean up the beach if he were dead.

He’s okay. He has to be okay.

Toomes smiles crookedly at him, reflecting behind it some foreign aspect of loss beyond the visible world. Tony has seen it hundreds of times, feels the weight behind it. “Pedro?” Toomes asks lightly, and Tony’s blood turns to ice. “Dead, hopefully.”

Happy holds him back from slamming his fist into Toomes’s teeth, though his own face reddens with anger. “You know who he is,” Tony says instead, accusatory to cover the fear creating a sinkhole in his chest. “How?”

Smirk unfailing, Toomes shrugs as if he hadn’t just been beat by a fifteen year old kid. “He was my daughter’s date to homecoming. Too bad he missed it.”

Happy swears viciously and let’s Tony go, taking a resolved step back. Freed, Tony drops to his knees in the hot sand and wraps his fist around Toomes’s collar. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. “Listen closely bird man. If you’ve done anything to hurt that boy I swear to God I’ll end you. You’ll never see the light of day again, you hear? Now where the hell is he?”

Toomes doesn’t flinch. Eyes reflecting fire, he returns Tony’s passion in equal measure. “He was the one so hellbent on fighting me. Besides, aren’t you supposed to be his damn babysitter?”

“WHERE IS HE?”

Toomes laughs. Laughs. He spits out blood. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“I’d prefer it.”

Disgusted, Tony releases his grip and stands back. He looks towards the water and wishes he could hear the waves hitting shore instead of the uncomfortable buzz in his ears. “You knew he was fifteen,” Tony says, “and you still did this.”

“You did too. Don’t pretend you’re better than me, Stark.”

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Something rockhard, something he thought was untouchable, shatters in his chest. It leaves him feeling sick and twisted and he fights the urge to throw up.

What if somebody had died tonight? Different story right? Cause that’s on you.

And if you die, I feel like that’s on me. I don’t need that on my conscience.

“Have fun in jail,” Tony says, but there’s no heat behind it. Because criminal or not, Toomes is right. He’s let Peter down. Big time. He turns to Happy and hopes to the universe that the split in his chest isn’t visible on his face. “Leave him. We gotta find the kid.”

“Better hurry,” Toomes says, coughing against the smoke. Some of his bravo is failing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he bleeds out within the hour.” It’s said in anger but Tony is familiar enough with facades to know that Toomes has constructed one of his own. He’s worried.

And if Toomes is worried, Tony is three seconds away from a full blown panic attack. He turns away from the scene without another word, holding his breath so it doesn’t leave somewhere he can’t get it back from. Happy stays by his side, matching his strides with precision and hand outstretched should Tony need it.

“I’ve messed up,” Tony says.

“We all have.”

“I have to find him.”

Happy straightens, eyes cutting across the beach. “He could be anywhere by now.”

If his friend says anything else it dies in the sudden roar in his ears. His eyes attach to a speck of blue and red under the lowlights of the amusement park as if the gods themselves have orchestrated the connection. Even from the distance Tony knows without a doubt that it’s Peter.

I tried to tell you about it but you didn’t listen! None of this would’ve happened if you had just listened to me!

If you cared you’d actually be here.

“I see him.” His mouth is numb.

“What?”

“I see the kid.”

“Where?”

“Oh God. I need a suit.”

“Tony calm down-”

“I need a suit!”

And they’re running.

----

Peter is prodded back to existence by something warm on his shoulder. A faint murmur registers in the back of his mind, like TV static or hearing someone talking from a different room.

So tired.

“Kid? Peter?”

The surface is painful, he decides, so he sinks further.

“Parker! Open your eyes right now. That’s an order, you hear me?”

The voice is familiar. He wants to listen. He tries, but his eyes stick as if fused together with cement.

Cement. The warehouse. Thousands of pounds crushing him, making it impossible to breathe-

He gasps, his body jerking involuntarily with the movement. It makes every ache and pain in his chest triple and he can’t breathe and he can’t move and he’s being crushed. It’s cold. He sees nothing but sky and loses his grip.

And then he’s falling.

The ground rushes up to meet him in a disorienting blur and it’s only then he remembers. Toomes. The beach. The cyclone. The fact that he’s out of web fluid.

He doesn’t have the time or energy to scream before his descent is halted, the warmth from before attaching itself around his biceps and lowering him gently to the ground. Peter collapses against it, grateful, and looks up to his rescuer.

An Iron Man suit, the eyes blank and angry.

Sorry doesn’t cut it.

Something heavy rolls through him and he scrambles back, his breathing ratcheting up like clockwork. The blood on his hands leave marks on the pavement. “Mr- Mr. Stark. Oh man. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-”

Tony emerges from the suit and it’s him, really him. Just like after the ferry. It’s surprising enough to stop his backward scramble and stare at the worried lines in Tony’s face, in the transparent fear in his eyes. He rushes to close the distance Peter had made between them, squatting down close. “Kid?” he asks, his tone thick with something foreign.

He should be angry. He’s supposed to be angry. Why doesn’t he look angry?

“I’m sorry,” Peter says again, blinking slowly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Tony says. Behind him, a sleek black car pulls up. Happy exits from the driver’s seat and Peter forgets how to breathe again.

Is everyone safe?

No thanks to you.

No thanks to me?

“I messed everything up,” Peter murmurs, backing away further until his back hits something cold and metal. “Oh man. Your- your plane. I’m so sorry.”

Everything blurs again. Distantly he’s aware of Tony approaching him but Peter must make a noise because he stops short.

“You’re hurt,” Tony says, something like pleading in his voice.

“No. I- I’m fine.”

“No, Peter. You’re not.”

I was the only one who believed in you. Everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a fourteen year old kid.

I’m fifteen-

No. This is where you zip it! The adult is talking.

“I said- I said I’m fine.” As if to prove it, Peter struggles to his feet because he doesn’t need their help. Tony walked away. Happy ignored him.

These are the facts.

Standing is harder than he anticipates and he can’t help but cry out against the new pain it brings, swaying when it makes him dizzy. Something warm trickles down from his chest and back. He sees double. “I’m okay,” he pants, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not fine!” Tony yells.

Peter flinches.

Tony does too.

He wants Ned. He wants May. He wants everything to be okay.

It’s not working out. I’m going to need the suit back.

“I gotta go,” Peter mumbles, but the world is dissolving. He tries to walk away, to show them that he’s as independent as they want him to be. “I gotta go home.”

He doesn’t even make it two steps.

Tony catches him when he falls and Peter doesn’t have the control or strength to push him away.

I just wanted to be like you.

And I wanted you to be better.

“Help me get him to the car.”

And like a mountain of cement crashing down over his head, everything turns dark.

-----

Peter collapsing chalks up to be one of the most terrifying experiences of Tony’s life. It’s worse than when he had fallen off the cyclone just minutes before, worse than finding Peter strung up between a divided ferry.

He catches the kid before his head hits the ground and promises himself that from here on out, it’s a permanent part of his job description.

Together they manage to haul Peter into the back of the car. Tony crawls in beside him and brings Peter’s head onto his lap, pressing shaking hands down against the worst of the bleeding. Happy scrambles to the driver’s seat, tires kicking up smoke as they peel out of the lot.

Peter looks terrible.

He looks dead.

Pale and bloody, his eyelids bruised and tear tracks cutting through the ash and grime on his cheeks. He’s wearing his original suit. Pajamas, as he had first referred to them as. They’re ripped to shreds, charred and stained with crimson.

I’m going to need the suit back.

Tony’s hands are red. He did this.

“Drive faster,” he says.

“I am.”

“Driver faster!”

“Tony-”

“Just do it.”

Peter’s head lolls with the movement of the car. He looks small and weak and fragile. He looks exactly how Tony never wanted to see him.

He should be at homecoming dancing with his friends. Not here, not hurt.

Your fault, his mind screams at him. This is on you.

“How much farther to the Tower?” he asks, throat constricting.

Happy’s sympathetic eyes find him in the rearview mirror. “The Tower’s empty, remember? We’re going to the hospital. Ten minutes tops.”

Christ. Of course it’s empty.

Because he left. He walked away and took Peter’s only protection with him.

Your fault. All your damn fault-

“Make it five.”

Peter moans, scrunches his eyes before opening them. Tony pats his cheek lightly in hopes to rouse him further. “Underoos?” he prompts. “You back with us?”

Cloudy eyes meet his own but don’t connect.

“M’ St’k?”

“Y-yeah kid. You’re going to be okay.”

Peter’s breath hitches, speeding up. “I’m sorry,” he whispers in anguish. “‘M so s’ry.”

“Peter don’t-”

“Wanted to be better,” he slurs. Weak and uncoordinated fingers latch onto Tony’s sleeve, leaving smudges of red. “‘M sorry. Wanted to be better.”

Happy stiffens. Tony forgets how to breathe.

“It hurts Mr. Stark.”

He’s out of his depth, drowning in the deep end.

“Comfort him!” Happy snaps from the driver’s seat.

Tony feels dizzy. He pats Peter’s head once, twice. More blood transfers onto his palm. “It’ll be okay bud. We’re getting you help. It’ll stop hurting soon I promise.”

Peter closes his eyes. “W’nted to be better.”

Happy accelerates.

----

Happy Hogan’s defenses are crumbling.

Cracking, tumbling, like Humpty Dumpty on his goddamn wall.

Because it’s Peter, and it’s the plane, and none of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t been such an idiot.

Everything after pulling up to the hospital is a blur. He remembers parking behind an ambulance, remembers his hands shaking too badly to twist the key out of the ignition. He remembers Peter tucked against Tony’s side in the back seat, dead quiet as Tony hyperventilates.

“He’s- he’s not waking up Hap.”

“He’s going to be fine.”

“He’s- he’s-”

“Breathe Tony.”

And then they’re inside, carrying Peter between them like a ragdoll. He doesn’t make a sound, lax and broken and it’s all his fault.

It doesn’t take long before Peter is scooped up by a team of doctors. The loss of the kid’s weight leaves Happy feeling cold. He stands in the middle of the hall and watches as Tony follows the staff pushing Peter along on a stretcher. Even from his position he can hear Tony talking frantically about NDAs and giving Peter the best treatment they’ve ever given anyone in their entire careers or so help them-

Eventually Tony can’t go any further. He stops at the swing of a double door, his palm resting on the glass as Peter is whisked away.

The hand curls into a fist.

Crimson smears under the movement.

Happy finds the strength to move. One step, two, until he’s at Tony’s side. He’s scared to touch him, to break something else, but finally works up the courage to lay and hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s sit down,” is all he can manage.

Tony doesn’t say anything, looking nearly as pale as the kid had been. He allows Happy to steer him into the waiting room and flips off other visitors as they gasp and stare. They find a quiet corner and sink into separate chairs.

They don’t speak for an hour.

Cho finds them at the tail end of the time. Happy is surprised to see her and figures somewhere in this whole mess Tony reached out to her. Her hair is windblown and her eyes are wide and alert, ready to jump in and intervene.

“Where did they take him?” is all she asks.

Tony moves for the first time, pointing towards the doors of surgery.

As quick as she had appeared, Cho is gone.

“Damn it,” Tony whispers, sinking low into his chair. The blood on his hands is dry now, flaking off his skin when he reaches up to rub tiredly at his face. It’s only now that Happy realizes his own hands have Peter’s blood on them too.

“It’s not your fault,” Happy says. The walls are closing in, the temperature seeming to increase by ten degrees.

“It is my fault. I dragged him to Germany. I gave him a suit, I gave him protection, and then I just yanked it all out from under his feet. I didn’t even have the guts to wait and see if he stuck the landing.”

Happy swallows. “Peter is stubborn. We both know that. You did the right thing-”

Tony shakes his head violently, throwing up a hand to cut him off. “No, no. You don’t understand. That kid is fifteen years old!”

“I know, Tony.”

“He should be at homecoming with his friends right now.”

“I know.”

“He’s bleeding out in a set of glorified pajamas because I was too scared to trust him.”

“We’ve all made mistakes here.”

Tony is quiet, looking at him with red rimmed and bloodshot eyes. “He’s just a kid, Hap. He didn’t even call for help. He doesn’t- he doesn’t trust me anymore. And he still saved all my crap. Do you know how much damage that stuff would have caused in the wrong hands?”

Yes. Stomach sinking, Happy looks to the doors Peter had disappeared through. He wishes for the kid to come cartwheeling out in his usual energy, in one piece and alive. Bragging about churros and bike robberies and Star Wars-

“Happy?”

Tony’s voice is disant.

“Happy.”

“What?” His throat is dry.

“What are you not telling me?”

Pretending not to feel the blood on his hands, Happy shifts uncomfortably in the cheap hospital chair. “I was stressed about the move,” he says slowly, “and you know what the kid’s been like. Calling and texting about every little thing since Germany.”

Tony is silent, the tension between them thick enough to cut.

“His friend called tonight. Before the plane went down. To warn me, I’m sure.”

“And?” Tony prompts, but the tone of his voice tells Happy he already knows the answer.

“I didn’t hear him out. I hung up. It’s my fault Peter had to do this alone.”

Keeping his focus anywhere but Tony is easy but it doesn’t save him from the reaction. He hears a sharp intake of breath, a muted curse. Tony stands, towering above him. He walks away, disappears, and for a moment Happy thinks it’s over. He hangs his head between his knees.

Then Tony’s shoes come into his field of vision. “We all made mistakes here,” he says.

And that’s it.

Tony sits back down and Happy holds his breath until Cho comes back through the doors. She approaches them quickly, her face completely neutral.

She looks at Tony and Tony alone, his face pained enough to know it must be the priority.

“Is he-?”

“He’ll be fine.”

Tony sags against the chair and covers his eyes with his hands, gasping for breath as if emerging from deep water. Cho waits patiently for Tony to collect himself and it gives Happy equal opportunity to blink the relief out of his eyes.

He’ll be fine. He’s okay.

“Thank you,” Tony says, his voice cracking on the end. “Oh God. Thank you.”

Cho’s expression turns into something gentle, her voice even more so. “He’s young,” she says.

“I know.”

“He sustained a lot of injuries. And though he’ll heal fine on the surface,” she pauses, taking a step closer, “just remember that there are wounds that you can’t see.”

Tony straightens, jaw setting.

It feels like a mantle being set.

“I’ll make sure he’s okay,” Tony promises.

“Good.” Cho stands straight and pulls the clipboard that had been hanging at her hip in front of her. “Before I let you see him, there’s something I think we should discuss.”

Happy holds his breath again. It sits heavy in his chest.

“What?”

“Peter received a variance of injuries. Puncture marks, burns, a concussion, a fractured wrist, multiple bruises and lacerations, the list goes on. All seem to coincide with the plane crash and following fight with Adrian Toomes.”

Tony stiffens, his fingernails splitting the wooden armrests of his chair. “And?”

Cho shuffles on her feet. Happy has never seen her nervous, but she looks it now. “There was something else too,” she says. “Deep bruising around his torso with several of his ribs fractured or broken. I believe something else happened to Peter, perhaps before he got on the plane.”

Happy clears his throat, finally finding the energy to enter the conversation. Tony is sheet white, eyes blank and unblinking. “What’s your best guess?”

Sympathetic, Cho dips her head. “In my best opinion, I would say he was crushed under something with a substantial amount of weight, probably for an extended period of time. There was concrete dust all over his clothes.”

Tony sucks in a shallow breath and doesn’t release it.

“But of course it’s all hypothetical. We won’t know anything for certain until he wakes up.”

“Which will be when?” Happy asks.

“With his metabolism I can’t be sure. Most likely within a couple hours.”

“Can I see him?” Tony asks, voice small.

“Of course. Follow me.”

Tony stands and doesn’t ask for Happy to follow.

He figures he deserves it.

So he sits alone, staring at the ceiling and wishing with every inch of his soul that he hadn’t hung up his phone.

----

Tony sits in the small hospital room.

It feels like failure.

It feels like relief.

Peter is small against the sheets and blankets, the tubes and wires. He’s pale and marred with dark bruising but at least he’s not covered in blood anymore.

He never wants to see Peter covered in blood again.

The kid doesn’t stir and Tony almost wishes that he’ll stay that way, that he won’t have to face reality and fess up to his sins; that Peter will remain safe and whole and better off without him interfering.

After a long hour of collecting himself, he calls May and asks if he can take Peter to an impromptu conference for the weekend. She sounds uncertain but ultimately caves, telling Tony to have Peter call her when they get here.

He thanks her and tries above everything else to keep his voice steady.

Hangs up and stares at the phone in his hand.

Hears the machines breathing air into Peter’s nose.

Hears other machines tracking his heart, reassuring it’s still beating.

He lays his head onto the bed and cries bitterly.

It’s quiet. His chest constricts.

Your fault.

He isn’t sure when he stops. He’s exhausted.

The heart monitor changes. The blankets shift.

“M’ St’k?”

The voice alleviates some of the pain in his chest. Slowly Tony raises his head, feeling slightly embarrassed the kid has found him hanging over him like some mother hen. He covers it with a smile and hopes it conveys a confidence he doesn’t feel. “Hi kid. How’re you feeling?”

Peter’s breath hitches. He looks up at the ceiling with glassy eyes, bottom lip trembling. “The roof,” he slurs, “‘s it gonna fall?”

Confused, Tony looks up. “What?”

Becoming more agitated, Peter grabs Tony’s wrist. The contact burns, makes acid rise up through his stomach. “Gonna fall. We gotta- gotta leave.”

Tony shakes his head but feels otherwise frozen. His mind is working double time trying to process that Peter’s hand is latching onto him, looking at him in a way that signals the difference between life and death. “The roof’s not going to fall,” he says. “You’re okay. Everything’s okay now.”

Unconvinced, Peter lays his head back and squeezes his eyes closed, his grip on Tony unfailing. “No. Falling. Hur’s.”

“I’m so sorry kid.”

“Plane fell too. Plane. Fire.”

“Peter-”

The kid’s eyes grow wide, impossibly so. There’s no coherence behind them, only drugs and pain and fear. “Mr. Stark. My- my parents died in a plane crash.”

Tony feels his eyes sting, his throat tighten.

“Thought I was goin’ die. See them.”

Words are impossible.

“Hurts.”

And then Peter relaxes, closes his eyes, goes limp against the covers with a low whine. His hand is still curled tight around Tony’s wrist. He stares and stares and stares.

Then he pulls it away, stumbles to the trash can in the corner of the room, and throws up.

-----

The next time Peter wakes up he’s more lucid, but barely.

“May?” he breathes, his face pinched in pain.

“I handled it,” Tony says.

“The plane?”

“Everything accounted for and safe. All thanks to you.”

Deep breaths. “Happy?”

A sharp pain. “He’s okay, Peter.”

A tear. “Liz?”

“Who’s Liz?”

But Peter doesn’t answer, his eyes closing against another dose of drugs.

The pain leaves his face in an instant.

----

Thirteen hours later and Peter is eating jello, eyes drooping and paler than Count Dracula. Tony sits in the corner, quiet and unsure, unable to stop watching his every move. He catches the kid throwing him hesitant looks and tries not to think of the implications behind it.

“You can go,” Peter says after his jello is gone, setting the empty container aside. “I know- I know you're busy.”

Every inch of Tony’s body goes cold. “I’m staying right here until you're better.”

“I feel better.”

“I’ll let Cho be the judge of that.”

Peter sighs and sticks out his bottom lip. “Fine.”

None of this would have happened if you had just listened to me!

“You should get some more rest.”

“Alright Mr. Stark.”

Something in the kid’s eyes is dark and sad.

And Tony isn’t brave enough to address it.

-----

Tony doesn’t sleep.

Peter does. A lot, though largely in part to the drugs still being pumped through him. It should be a peaceful sleep. God knows he deserves it.

But he twitches and flinches.

Whimpers.

Cries and wakes up gasping.

Tony sits by Peter’s side like a guard dog and talks to him after each episode until he falls back into a restless sleep. He looks at Peter’s bruised hand and is tempted to hold it like his own father never had, to assure in extra measure that everything is going to be okay.

But he doesn’t, wishing instead he were strong enough.

Peter doesn’t reach out for him either.

“It’s okay,” he says, feeling powerless and unsure if Peter can hear him half the time through a panic undesigned for fifteen year old kids. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

It helps a little. Peter apologizes over and over, and Tony tells him not to.

“I wanted to be better,” is the core of Peter’s delirium.

It feels like a knife to the gut.

-----

Sleep is difficult, a plague of concrete dust and sand.

Of not being able to breathe.

Of hitting the ground so hard he thinks for sure all his teeth rattle out of his skull.

He dreams about Mr. Stark standing in front of him, telling him he doesn’t deserve the suit. Of walking home in Hello Kitty pajamas.

He dreams of Toomes pulling a gun on him in his car.

Of the ringing in his ears after the plane had hit the ground.

Darkness. Dust.

It’s not working out. I’m going to need the suit back.

An impossible weight landing on him, grinding him to dust.

Help! Please! I’m down here. I can’t move!

I’ll kill you and everyone you love. I’ll kill you dead.

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe-

“Peter!”

The darkness changes, shifting to a light glow. It’s an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar sounds and smells. A heartbeat, loud and erratic.

“Peter it’s okay. Wake up. You’re safe.”

“Wha-”

He gasps for air, certain there’s none despite the pressure of an oxygen tube against his nose. He claws at his chest and feels the distant sting of cuts.

“Peter you gotta breathe.”

It’s Tony. His face swims in front of Peter, looking just as panicked as Peter feels. Why is Tony here? Where is here-

“Breathe, bud. Listen to me, okay? Use those freaky spider powers to listen to me breathe.”

“Mr. Stark-”

“It’s okay. You can do it.” Peter flinches when Tony grabs his hand. He brings it flush against his chest, rising and falling in exaggeration. “Follow this, okay? You can do it kid.”

He tries.

After a while, he succeeds.

Air has never felt so good.

Peter falls back against his pillows but Tony doesn’t let go. He feels exhausted, chest and ribs burning, his mind foggy. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles through numb lips. “What- what happened?”

Tony’s grip tightens. “You were panicking.”

“Oh.” Something in Tony’s expression tells him that it might not have been the first time.

“How are you feeling now?”

Peter shrugs, eyes fluttering but remaining open. Everything comes rushing back to him now. Toomes, falling off the cyclone, being brought here. Tony, for some reason, refusing to leave his side and bringing him jello. “Mm. Tired. Sore.”

“Do you- do you want to talk about it?”

No.

He shrugs.

Tony is quiet for a long time. “I’m really sorry Peter,” he says. His voice is different, heavy in a way Peter has never heard before. “I should’ve never let this happen.”

The pain returns to his chest and Peter smiles in an attempt to dispel it. He tries for humour, a language they both share. “I’m the one that screwed the pooch, remember?”

Tony stills.

“Peter look at me.”

He does.

“You definitely did screw the pooch,” he agrees, “at the ferry. But nothing after, you hear? That was- that was all on me. I screwed the pooch too.”

Peter furrows his brows, shimmying up his stance against the pillows. It hurts, but this is more important. “What? You did nothing wrong.”

“I took away the thing I specifically designed to keep you safe. We didn’t listen to you. We let you go through that alone. You should’ve been at homecoming, Pete. You shouldn’t have had to go through what you did.”

“Toomes was my date’s dad,” Peter admits, then laughs hysterically. It really is funny. “He pulled a gun on me in the car and then-” his mouth goes sour.

Tony’s eyebrows raise. He isn’t smiling. “A gun? Peter- God. Then what?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

Peter sighs. Closes his eyes. Wishes none of this ever happened.

“He kind of dropped a warehouse on me. But it really wasn’t a big deal, I promise! I got out before he got to the plane and everything was fine-”

“Fine?” Tony chokes. “Peter Parker that is so astronomically far from fine!”

To his left, Peter hears his heart monitor double. Tony must notice it too because he visibly relaxes, though a vein pulses at his temple.

“It was scary,” Peter admits, “I- I couldn’t move at first, or breathe. I thought I was going to die.” He pauses, eyes widening, because it’s true. He shakes his head to make the faint ringing in his ears leave. “It’s okay. I got through it.”

Tony’s heart is beating rapidly. Peter can hear it. He doesn’t have the strength to look at the expression on his mentor’s face. “Is that what you dreamt about earlier?” he asks quietly.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Peter lets his shoulders fall. He picks at a string on his comforter. “Yeah,” he says softly, “it was part of it.”

Tony curses, shifts away. It feels like a gaping distance that Peter doesn’t know how to bridge. “I never should’ve taken the suit away. Your AI would have alerted me. I could have helped.”

If you’re nothing without the suit, you shouldn’t have it.

“I get why you did. I was being irresponsible. All those people on the ferry could’ve died. I get it Mr. Stark, really.”

Tony is quiet. “If we hadn’t found you at the beach-”

“You did though,” Peter assures, even though his voice cracks. “Everything’s okay.”

But it’s not. It’s really, really not.

Tony collapses. Peter thinks he isn’t going to say anything more on the matter. Then, “I’m sorry.”

Tears well up in Peter’s eyes. “I’m sorry too.”

And then Peter is sobbing. He can’t help it. Everything since the ferry crashes over him, drowning him. He tightens his hand over his mouth and tries to hold in the noise, turns away from Tony who is sitting shell-shocked in his chair.

“I’m sorry,” Peter gasps between sobs, “I’m sorry-”

And then Tony is hugging him.

That’s not a hug. I’m just grabbing the door for you. We’re not there yet.

And it makes him cry harder.

“You’re okay,” Tony says into his hair. Confident this time. Sure. “Breathe, Pete. Things will get better. I promise you.”

“It was all so scary,” Peter whispers. For the first time it doesn’t feel like weakness. “The- the warehouse. The plane. I thought- I thought it was going to hit the city. And- and Toomes. He said he was- he said he was going to kill everyone I loved and it was- it was so scary Mr. Stark.”

“You’re allowed to be scared. Hell, I was scared too.”

Peter regains control over his breathing and manages to hug Tony back. They stay like that for a while before separating.

Peter pretends not to notice the shine in Tony’s eyes, too.

“I didn’t know Iron Man was scared of anything,” he says, only partly serious.

“Well there’s not much,” Tony agrees.

And then he laughs.

And Peter laughs too. It’s stilted and disbelieving and relieved.

“No more sorrys,” Peter begs between breaths. “Okay? We’re even.”

“Deal.”

They sit in a short silence. Warmth enters the room.

“You deserve the suit,” Tony says. “I mean it kid. You did good. You did the right thing. You deserve it.”

“Mr. Stark-”

“Nope. Don’t want to hear it. My decision is final. If you proved anything tonight it’s that you’re meant to be Spider-Man. It’s who you are, kid. I’m not going to stop you from that.”

The warmth from the room moves into Peter’s chest. He stays perfectly still to prevent disturbing it. “Thanks,” he whispers, because it’s all he can manage.

“Help me upgrade it,” Tony says. It’s an invitation, but it sounds more like a plea. “Come over to the compound on the weekends. I’ll show you the mechanics of it. We can work on it together.”

“What? Are- are you sure?”

“More than anything.”

Peter smiles as the aches and pains in his body seem to disappear. “I’d really like that,” he says.

If you cared you’d actually be here.

And he is, Peter realizes. Maybe he had been all along.

He’s here. And for now, it’s enough.

-----

A month passes.

It’s one of the best in Tony’s life.

Peter heals and springs back like an elastic band. He smiles and talks enthusiastically about Star Wars and May and acing algebra tests.

His scars fade. He talks to Tony on the bad days when it hurts to breathe.

He gets help.

They’re together now, squished side by side to peer into a magnifying glass. Peter’s leg is bouncing, lips pressed into a determined line as he tinkers with the mask under the table. “Like this?” he asks.

Tony nods, though he doesn’t look. He already knows the kid is doing it perfectly. “Just like that.”

It hits him then, how much the kid means to him.

Though really he knew from the very first day. From the first second.

“Kid?”

Peter looks up, his concentration slipping into an easy smile. “Yeah?”

It looks like trust, like family.

“I’m just proud is all,” Tony says quickly. It’s important. “I wanted you to know that.”

“Oh,” Peter says, pink coloring his cheeks. “Thanks Mr. Stark.”

“It’s Tony, kid.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Stark.”

God. This child will be the death of me. He rolls his eyes and ruffles Peter’s hair, an odd display of affection he never would have thought himself capable of. “Fine, have it your way Mr. Parker. Now get back to work already.”

“Yes sir.” His smile is wider than Tony’s ever seen it.

The kid.

Peter.

He could live a lifetime of this, he thinks in content.

And maybe, just maybe, he will.

[chibinekochan]

Hi, I'm new here but I've read some of your work and I have to say it's amazing 🥺🥺💕 Can I make a request? What if the MC woke up suddenly and has the ability to read minds? When the MC would pass the brothers, they could listen to everything in their head. What would be on their mind if they are alone with the MC? 🤔

Welcome to the fandom! Thank you so much and of course.

This is really interesting so let's do this.

Mammon

You notice it right away when you go to class with Mammon. 

He thinks about pretty common stuff, like how annoying it is going to be, what he will eat for lunch. 

How much money he can save by asking you to share your lunch with him.

How nice it would taste if you were to cook for him. 

Mammon is also more honest in his thoughts. 

~"You look so great today but if I say it I will be the idiot if you feel ugly today."~

Then a moment later he will say something completely different. "Oh, today you have umm clothes on."

Usually you would roll your eyes at this, but now you know what Mammon meant. 

So you give him a smile. "Thank you, Mammon."

He is confused since you would usually scold him. ~"Oh, that actually worked? Am I getting better at talking?" ~

"Haha naturally you like a comment about yourself made by me the great Mammon." ~"Yeah just like that Mammon be smooth."~

You can't help but giggle at his thoughts. "Yeah of course, I love compliments by the great Mammon.

"It's so unfair to pull moves like that." Mammon pouts in his voice and his head.

Later you use the chance when you are alone to get completely honest thoughts about you when you are alone with him. 

When Mammon steals glances at you. ~"If they would just look at me."~

Of course, you turn to him. 

Mammon blushes. ~"Oh no you looked at me. Now what? Oh yeah, just casually talk smoothly."~

"Nice weather today huh?" Mammon just seems to say the first thing that crosses his mind. 

"Yeah it's pretty nice." You smile, slightly amused that even in his head he plays the cool guy. 

~"That went pretty well now I just gotta stay focused, darn hard when you look like that at me. Ummm so what next… GeGetting closer to you… How am I going to do that? Think Mammon, you are a smart guy. Who am I kidding? I'm not. You don't need to know that though."~

"You know it's a bit chilly here." You decide to throw Mammon a curveball. 

"Ohhh haha yeah, I guess I should crank the heating up hold on a second." Mammon gets up but then realizes ~"Oh wait I think I just messed that up. I'm so stupid I should have offered myself as warmth. Stupid Mammon. What am I going to do now? Oh, I know. I will just say the heating is busted. Brilliant you got it after all."~

You shake your head slightly, but Mammon doesn't see it. 

"Oh, what a misfortune it's broken. I guess I have no choice but to keep you warm myself." Mammon says it in a way that you know it's an act, even without reading his thoughts, but you want to cuddle so you let it slide. 

"Alright Mammon. I will take that offer." You smile at him and giggle a bit when he gives himself a mental high five. 

Lucifer 

You notice when you are at a student council meeting that you can read his mind. 

Lucifer's thoughts are filled with all of the things he has to say. 

His workload on the desk in his office, the meeting with Diavolo. 

Lucifer sighs after all of this. 

You feel a bit bad. 

Later you go over to him with some fresh coffee. 

You hear his thoughts before you enter his room. 

Lucifer sounds tired even in his head. 

~"So I have like 100 of these left and then I can stop, no wait I still have to check my brothers homework. Then there is the speech for tomorrow I should practice.. "~

You knock on his door. "Coffee delivery."

"Come in." Lucifer sounds tired too. ~"Coffee is just what I needed. I need to thank you for this."~

You open the door with a smile, and see his workload. 

You fill his cup and sit on the other side of his table. "Can I help you with anything?" 

Lucifer takes a big sip of coffee and looks at you. ~"I can't burden you with my work. I'd much rather just relax and talk to you for a while."~

"Thank you for the offer I think I can handle this much." Lucifer politely refuses. 

"Alright how about a shoulder massage then at least?"

Lucifer smiles. "That sounds great."

You get to work and hear how much he enjoys it in his thoughts. 

At least you can do this much for him. 

Leviathan 

His thoughts circle around anime and games. 

Levi's mind is full of references and scenes from various media. 

He often complains in his mind about Mammon. 

Levi sees himself as pretty cool or very bad, there is no inbetween. 

Whenever you are close you can hear him trying to come up with something cool to say, but never quite manages to say it out loud. 

Then after failing Levi will scold himself for that. 

If he manages to talk to you normally he will give himself a mental high five. 

Sometimes you can hear Levi cheering when you respond positively to him. 

At least once you hear him thinking that your love meter raised. 

You aren't sure if you should kick or kiss him for that one. 

Asmodeus 

Much of his mind is focused on himself. 

How great he looks, how good his outfit looks, how great his hair looks.  

Also if others are noticing his perfection. 

Asmo is very pleased when they do, especially when it's you.

Occasionally you hear a few insecure thoughts creep in. 

Asmo seems to doubt himself, as if people like him or just his looks. 

Asmo is more than just a pretty face, he has do much to give. 

Sometimes he thinks of stuff that will make his beauty shine even more. 

Asmo also seems to be obsessed with his social media account, and you hear him thinking about his likes and notes. 

You later ask him to help you with decorating your new phone. 

Of course he is delighted to help, you hear in his thoughts that you are the only person who would ask him for help with this. 

It sounds a bit lonely to you, especially since you know how creative he truly is. 

You plan to ask him for more creative ideas soon. 

Maybe you can make some outfits with Asmo soon. 

Beelzebub 

Unsurprisingly he thinks a lot about food. 

What he ate earlier, what he will eat later, this looks pretty tasty. 

You look pretty tasty but he will not eat you because you are precious. 

Beel thinks about dinner and lunch and waits for the next break while in class. 

You never knew how hard it was for Beel to concentrate until now. 

He tries but is interrupted by his stomach more than once. 

You can hear Beel trying to make himself focus on the lesson but it's hard. 

You feel bad for him and smuggle something sweet to him. 

Later when you are alone with Beel you notice his thoughts shift to you. 

Not once does he think about eating, maybe it helps that you made him an extra big dinner. 

All of his thoughts are focused on you. 

Most of it is how much he likes having you around. 

Sometimes he thinks about Belphegor and then there are a few times when Beel thinks about Lilith. 

He seems to get somber in these moments, you always have suspected that this is the reason why Beel seems down sometimes. 

Now you know for sure and take his hand to show that you are here for him. 

Beel is very glad about that. 

Satan

His thoughts seem to be on random things and all at the same time. 

Satan thinks one moment about a story he read and then the next moment he wonders if he will see a cat today. 

It's pretty amazing to be honest. 

Satan has like 2-3 thoughts on his mind at the same time. 

Even when he reads you can catch him thinking about something else or you hear him thinking about whatever the other people around him are talking about. 

Satan also often has plans in his head to make life hard for Lucifer. 

You can hear him yelling at or about Lucifer in his thoughts all the time. 

The only time Satan focuses his thoughts is when he is with you or petting fluffy animals. 

You aren't sure if that means that he likes you or that you are somehow seen by him as fluff. 

Belphegor

He often thinks about sleeping. 

It's of course not a surprise. 

Belphie seems to be tired the whole time. You never realized how hard it is for him to stay awake and focused. 

His mind often wanders off. 

Belphie thinks fondly about his next nap and struggles to think about anything else. 

You can hear his relief once he finally drifts off. 

What keeps him from thinking of his next nap seems to be his brothers. 

They either annoy or amuse Belphie. 

You can hear him making snide comments about Lucifer, he is strangely awake and passionate about being mad at him. 

The only other people that get that much energy from him are Beel and you. 

Of course you know that Beel is very important to Belphie. 

You are surprised that you are on the same level.

Check my Obey me! Masterlist for more content

[mirrerover]

Big Plans

“You know shit’s never gonna fucking change, right?” Jason makes to grab for his Zippo. Remembering Dick will happily remove his nuts from his waxed sack for even contemplating smoking inside Dick’s apartment, he stops. His fingers twitch with irritation, nothing like a little nicotine deprivation to start the day. “Gotham’s a gothic nightmare where corruption runs thicker than blood and Blüdhaven’s worse, somehow. Like looking in a funhouse mirror. Uglier. More warped.”

“I really do enjoy our little morning pep talks,” Dick replies, closing the last two buttons on his dress shirt before tucking the fabric into the waistline of his pants. In general, Jason would say he prefers the Kevlar-enhanced, ass-hugging suit Dick prowls the night in—but there’s something to be said for a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, forearm veins on display. He doesn’t know how the Blüdhaven criminals are faring but, personally, he wouldn’t mind letting Detective Richard Grayson slap some cuffs on him. Let Dick work him over hard in a surveilled box until Jason cracks, raw and bloody under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

“These fucking places,” Jason grumbles, tired and cranky from watching Dick getting ready to leave, all that warm, gold skin about to slip right out the door. “It’s not something anyone can fix. Nothing short of dropping a bomb on the damn place and razing it to the ground.” 

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. It’s getting longer, strands brushing the bone of his jaw. He’s no stranger to this; Jason and the trash he talks. Words pouring out of him sharp as knives, the blades full of blood. Just endlessly spewing shit.

“No point to it all, huh?” Dick leans a hip against the dresser, arms folded, eyebrow raised. There’s an ease to him that’s inherent; the way he owns his body, his space, every room he’s in. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to lure me back to bed.”

 Jason thinks it over. Admits, “not originally,” and lets his legs fall apart slowly. Nude body lounging against cheap, synthetic pillows, he’s got Dick’s low-rent sheets strategically draped across his crotch, all tasteful and shit. Just like the Renaissance paintings cluttering the hallways of the Wayne Manor. None of the shameless, naked peacocking Dick gets up to after sex. No, Jason’s classy. Artful. The signature Jason Todd brand. “But are you feelin’ down to fuck?” he asks. 

Dick throws his head back and laughs. Really fucking laughs. Eyes scrunched up and shoulders shaking, all charisma and beauty and warmth. Laughing like that, it’s suddenly easy to see how a group of metahumans chose Dick as their leader despite his lack of superpowers or how the Blüdhaven Police Corps would accept him as their own despite him being the ward of Gotham’s favourite billionaire asshole. There’s something about Dick like there’s something about Bruce. Something captivating and inescapable that would make you launch a thousand ships for them. Burn down entire worlds for them. Jason’s not sure Dick’s aware of that. And in a way, Jason thinks he understands the Joker better than Bruce ever could. 

Dick’s laughter fades too slowly, and Jason would be annoyed but there’s a tightness to Dick’s pants that wasn’t there two minutes ago, and Dick’s always laughing. Joyful and happy. Like those are easy feelings to conjure and easy feelings to have. As if getting out of bed isn’t like crawling out of a dark pit every morning and as if life isn't like taking a suckerpunch to the gut, over and over.

“Wish I could,” Dicks says, and Jason swears he sounds like he means it. “But I got big plans today. Gotta save a city.”

“‘Save a city.’ Jesus Christ. More like go get shanked in the gut.”

Dick shrugs and slips on a watch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

The other bats all have their day jobs. The Police Detective, the Socialite, the rising Tech Wunderkind, and Jason’s personal favourite: the Student. Jason derives no small amount of pleasure from knowing that Bruce and the Demon Spawn get to suffer through the worst of it. Like an ill-fitted suit, Jason hopes it pulls and itches every time they’ve got to slip their disguises on. It shows how removed they are from the rot and the grit and the filth of what is Gotham. The gore at the core of it all. 

That’s where Jason lives, at its epicentre. 

He’d fallen into it naturally, being a crime lord. It had been a logical first step when he’d come home, head full of green fumes and rage. He’s proud to say, he puts the organized in organized crime. Outshines even the worst of them in calculated vicious violence. The crime part of the job, Jason can admit he’s gotten more discerning about. There’s no peddling drugs to kids or bleeding junkies dry, no people traded like cattle, and he doesn’t like selling guns to the lowlifes clogging Gotham’s streets. So, he’s become a parasite instead. Infiltrates a crime organisation and eats it from the inside out till it finally collapses. Scraps the dead beast for parts and money.

It’s not something Jason talks about with this version of Dick. His shady deals, his underground moonlighting. Never with a cop like the one making his way to the bed right now, uniform tight over thick thighs and a sway in his hips that’s nothing less than sexual warfare. 

“Try smoking in my bed again, Todd,” Dick warns, looming over him. He stops whatever threat he was going to utter, disrupted by Jason grousing at him to fucking let that go already. Perfectly pleasant, Dick does exactly that. Just stares at Jason with a face far too naked and utterly too fond. Something’s creeping under Jason’s skin at the sight of it—an itch he doesn’t know how to scratch, unable to decide whether he wants to kiss the prick or break his perfect face instead.

A little lower, there’s a bruise peeking out of Dick’s collar that looks like a handprint. Jason had put that there last night. Violently. Not even the fun kind of violent but the messy kind. The kind where something hunts Jason through nightmares and his body acts before his sleeping brain has had the chance to catch up—that kind of violence. Maybe a better person would wallow in the guilt and remove themselves from the situation. Not Dick and Jason. They just get better at hiding the batarangs and guns. The 200 pounds of well-trained muscle and murderous reflexes are a little harder to counteract but Dick’s no babe in the woods. Besides, Jason’s not exactly the first lethal bitch between Dick’s bedsheets.

Dick smiles. A teasing thing full of soft edges. “Mornings are hard. Aren’t they, Sugarplum?”

“Fuck you to hell.” Jason groans with feeling, hating the hard lumps of Dick’s mattress when he sinks back into them. “Just get lost already, Birdbrain. There’s no fucking point to you with your clothes on.”

“Nice to know I’m not completely useless.”

Jason wants to fight that far too favourable self-assessment. Would fight it, were he not half a pack of Lucky Strikes and three cups of coffee short of mustering the energy. Which is also the only reason he’s letting Dick press an off-centre kiss to his forehead. A shitty place for a shitty kiss from a shitty person, if you ask Jason. Very much Dick Grayson’s style.

“Try and behave, Little Wing.” Dick’s already moving away from the bed and shrugging on a jacket. “I really like this place. Got three South facing windows and none of the neighbours run a meth lab.”

“Prime Blüdhaven real estate,” Jason mutters darkly.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Dick takes one last look at himself at the mirror, shoots Jason a tacky wink because his existence is a curse, and promises under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like I’ll be back or I’ll miss you. Another twenty seconds later and Jason hears the front door lock click back into place.

His day is wide open now. 

There are things to do but there are always things to do. At any time, Jason’s got about forty things in various stages of motion. Always working on something. Someone. Bigger games than the one he’s running on Dick right now, lighting one up in his bed.

Blowing smoke up into the air, Jason decides that today he’s going to crack the safe Dick keeps behind the panel in his closet. Perfectly harmless, really. Just him fishing through some of Dick’s case files—maybe even solving a few, if he’s feeling charitable. And for tonight, there’s that Malaysian place three blocks over that does a better Rendang than anything he’s found in Gotham. Dick never shuts up about it. Like he’s never going to shut up about the cigarette smell seeping into the wallpaper.

Jason smirks. Solid options. He still has last night’s terrors painted on the back of his eyelids and the feeling of Dick’s neck under his hand but they’re slowly fading. And Dick’s got him covered, said he’d take care of the big plans, so Jason doesn’t have to. And next time, when Jason’s Dick and Dick’s Jason, he’ll have Dick covered too. Jason will tackle the big plans while Dick raids Jason’s fridge and leaves wet towels all over his apartment. Jason knows it’ll happen. It has happened. Just not today.

Maybe tomorrow.

----------------------

@wethatake thanks for being the beta and basically a co-writer. You suck but I love you. <3 Here’s to hoping that your sad little sack of a co-worker doesn’t kill you. XD

[hyenahunt]

Beast Survival - 6

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Summer

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Jun: ...He came up with this whole thing, yet he's the one going feral from hunger, huh.

[Location: Outside Starmony Hall]

[Six hours later...]

Jun: Urgh... I'm starving... No matter how much water I drink, it doesn't do anything for the gnawing hunger in my stomach...

Aira: ...Ah, Sazanami-senpai... You're working hard...

Jun: From the looks of it, it seems we're both sticking pretty closely to the rules of this whole thing.

Aira: You mean this savannah LARP Leo-san came up with, right...?

Of course we are. We promised, after all...

The rules are that for the whole day today, we're gonna try a self-sufficient lifestyle. Buying any food or ingredients to cook with is a no-go so we gotta find our own supplies...

And that's how we've wound up in this state... stuck outside in this kinda condition... I don't think I'm gonna make it...

Why're we even following these rules so strictly, anyway? Look at where they've gotten us...

Jun: Well, while his idea is definitely out there, he really had us in mind when coming up with it so we couldn't just toss it out.

We really ended up warming up to it, huh.

Even foreign actors have adopted this method of stepping into the shoes of their roles in order to really learn them, so the logic behind it is sound, but...

I never thought he'd suddenly tell us to live like this is the savannah...

Thanks to him, I haven't eaten a thing since breakfast...

Aira: Sazanami-senpai, you'd been working up until a lil' while ago, right? Did you manage alright?

Jun: Not exactly, but I roughed it out. It's not very professional to be so hungry you can't move, after all.

Aira: I actually went to kill some time at Tattsun-senpai's place 'cause I felt like I just couldn't deal with it alone.

Jun: Sigh... Do hyenas always live out such harsh lives...?

Well, if they've gotta do everything on their own, then of course they're gonna have to hunt like their lives depend on it.

Aira: Pretty sure I'd never survive in the wild~ I'd get done in straight away.

Jun: Haha, that's a mood. Let's see, he said we'd be sleeping out under the stars tonight, but just where are we even gonna do that?

For now, why don't we head over to where Tsukinaga-senpai is?

✦✦✦✦✦

[Location: Starmony Hall Courtyard]

Leo: Rrrrr... Grrrrrr—!

Jun: ...He came up with this whole thing, yet he's the one going feral from hunger, huh.

Tsukinaga-senpai, are ya doing okay?

Leo: I'm nokay, actually! My tummy's all rumbly and grumbly!

Wanna hear something cool? I'm sooo hungry that my stomach started playing out Tchaivosky's Symphony No. 6!

Jun: Well, I'm glad to see you're doing better than I expected.

Aira: Um, actually... Since it looks like all of us are just about to hit our limits, how 'bout we call it a day soon...?

Leo: What!? Quit your whining! Young boys are supposed to be ambitious! Don't give up! Give up and your life on the savannah is over—!

Aira: Wehhh~ But I want it to be over~

Jun: On another note, practically speaking, what're we gonna do about food and shelter 'til tomorrow?

Leo: Wahahaha ☆ ! Yep! I've thought it all through already! Our home's gonna be right here! And as for food...

Um, we can go hunting?

Jun: As if there'd be any prey here — we're bang in the middle of a city.

And even if we really are gonna sleep out in the open right here, is it okay to do that in the dorm courtyard?

Leo: ...Should be, right?

Jun: Why're you asking me...

Aira: More importantly, what about food~... I'm so hungry I can't even move~...

Jun: Hmm. With these rules, it'll be hard finding any food... Could be a pretty good idea to just stay put and save our energy until tomorrow, y'know?

After all, it seems like savannah animals actually do that to conserve their strength.

Aira: Urgh... Rather than a savannah animal, I feel more like a newbie monk on some harsh training.

Tatsumi: Ahh, so this is where you all were.

I heard from Aira-san that you're all attempting some real-life survival game for your role immersion.

How is that coming along?

Jun: It isn't really, though we're planning on sleeping outdoors right here. That covers our place to sleep for tonight, but we're stuck on what to do about food.

So for now we're just gonna sit around saving our energy.

Tatsumi: Heheh. It seems you're having trouble, just as I thought you would.

Here, take this.

Jun: Is this... a fishing rod...?

Tatsumi: That's right. The Overnight Outdoors Party circle lent it to me. Leo-san's also a member of the group, if I recall.

Leo: Yeah. We haven't really started doing anything together yet, though~

Tatsumi: After that, I talked with the Gardenia circle, too.

They've said you're free to harvest what you need from their home-grown vegetables.

I've also borrowed a camping set along with the fishing rod, so you can sustain yourselves with fish you catch and the vegetables you gather — how does that sound to you all?

It may be bending the rules of savannah life somewhat, but it still preserves the point of surviving by your own means.

Considering your current state, I do believe it's the most ideal solution here.

Aira: O Lord, Buddha, and Tattsun-senpai above! That's the raveliest idea I've ever heard!

Jun: Oh, awesome! This way we can even experience what it's like to hunt!

Leo: Sounds fun! Count me in!

Jun: Alriiight! Suddenly I'm all pumped up~! I'm definitely gonna fish up a big one so we can all eat our fill!

✦✦✦✦✦

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[cottoncandyjester]

Dream daddy au-welcome to the neighborhood pt1

This is kinda the prologue before you do any dad dating, congratulations you have a daughter

Also I’ll work on the choice parts during work so worry not it will be up soon.

You pulled your car into the driveway gazing at the new house that sat there staring back at you. A house was honestly something you weren’t expecting to do but you figured it would be time to plant your roots. Your divorce had been finalized finally and you found a cute little two bedroom home in a cul-de-sac that you seemed like the perfect spot to raise your daughter.

“I gotta potty!” Your six year old daughter Charlotte screamed out from the back seat making you snort with laughter before you got out the car and helped her out now holding her while walking inside the house. “

“Well let’s get ya inside before you explode, yknow that happens when you don’t pee you blow up into pieces of confetti”

You snickered at the small gasp followed by her bouncing in your arms urging you to go faster before she dies. She could walk, but she that would require you putting her down and she wasn’t letting go quite yet.

Once Charlotte was done you watched her run out now full of energy, your plan was to do some packing, take a nap, and maybe dream about setting up a garden in your backyard knowing that you were never going to manage it but it seems Charlotte wanted to leave even though you two just got there.

“Daddddd! Let’s explore!” She huffs out and you kneeled down to her level. “Char, you don’t have any desire to stay inside and cuddle up to me while watching princess movies?” You asked lightly hope shimmering in your eyes but your six year old quickly squashed that

“No, that sounds boring right now” now you had to change out of your grass stained sweatpants and interact with others, the things you do for love. You watched as Charlotte sat on top of a plastic container now flooring on the lid of it though you were a little unclear where the crayons came from but you decided to ignore that for the sake of your sanity. Before you could change out of your clothes you heard a knock on your door, once opening it there stood a man with glasses holding what looked to be chocolate cake in a container

“Hello there, my name is Theodore I live next door and I just wanted to show my welcome” you were not expecting such a nice welcome, oh yeah and theodore’s words were sweet too. Feeling a little awkward you grabbed the cake only to feel it tugged out your hands by an eager six year old who darted away into the kitchen.

“Your baby hands won’t be able to open that Charlotte!” You called out before turning your attention back to Theodore who was a little shocked but gave a smile. “You have a daughter? How sweet. Though what about your spouse?” He asked out and you rubbed the back of you neck. “I just got my divorce finalized after a few years they didn’t want to be a part of Charlotte’s life and fled to an exotic country” neither one of you said a thing and it seems Theodore was regretting ever saying anything his eyes glancing away as he nervously fiddles his thumbs.

“I-oh I’m sorry, I should have been more respectful forgive me!” He said with a short bow before trying to change the subject cause things were getting tense. “Well I’m the owner of a daughter as well-wait that sounded a bit funny like they were a car or something” Theodore fumbled with his words making it even more awkward before he let out a shaky huff.

“I’m sorry, we don’t get new people here a lot so I’m a little nervous, what I mean is that I have two daughters and one son” sir what!? You couldn’t think about handling another Charlotte let alone two charlottes and a chad.

“Oh, I’m sorry...so sorry” you mumbled out slowly before silence crept up once more and Theo gulped before letting out a big sigh. “Okay, so me and the other neighbors are all having a party tomorrow at my home please come. I swear it won’t be this awkward” the male cheered out with a charming smile. After you agreed and closed the door you walked to the kitchen only to see Charlotte covered in cake

“You were supposed to save me some you little troll” you huffed and rolled up your sleeves, preparing for what comes next. Like that one guy in that dinosaur movie you crept near her slowly your voice hushed. “Charlotte, it’s time for a bat-“ before you can finish she took off running giving you the chance of a lifetime.

“Baths are evil!” She screamed out as you ran after her best you could. “Charlotte you have to take a bath you have chocolate in your ears!” You huffed out and after an hour of running the both of you took baths and got dressed.

Thankfully all that running plus warm water tuckered Charlotte out so she was in your arms dozing off, this meant no random exploring with you so this was a win. After tucking her into bed and kissing her head you walked out her room now closing the door.

You checked the time with a small hum, it was around seven which was her bedtime so this was perfect. You did get dressed though and your child is sound asleep for the night...would it be bad to go out?

You figured a stroll around wouldn’t be too bad just as long as you don’t stay out too late. You took a late night stroll making your way to the park somehow before a faint sniffling could be heard. This was either a vampire with a cold or a zombie those were your choices. As you gazed around you saw someone sitting on the bench crying, the closer you got the more awkward this became for you.

“Erm...hey?” You called out seeing the male gaze up his eyes were like pearls or something they looked real cool. “Whose there?” He called out and you sat next to him. “Names y/n, a-are you okay?” You asked out only to hear him sniffle once more tears running down his face faster.

“I-I-I-my son said he hated me tonight, th-that he couldn’t stand me. I don’t know what to do I-I mean what can I do? I-I just, I’m sorry I’m piling this all on you..I’m axis” he mumbled out and gave you a shaky laugh.

“Can I vent to you? Everyone else i talk to just calls me sensitive and says I talk too much, I just really...really need a shoulder to cry on” he mumbled out and you checked the time. It was 7:15pm this guy looked like he had hours and hours of baggage

Let him vent

Decline and go home

[rudysrings]

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 6

A/N: Shortest part yet, but I promise more is coming tomorrow and I just couldn’t bring myself to figure out a good stopping place other than here :)

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing...I think that’s it for this one? 

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

The next morning, you guys took out the HMS Pogue, before realizing the only way you could figure out the location of the wreck and with it, the gold, was to get access to the internet and plug in the coordinates.

Of course, with the power out on the Cut, there was no way you could get online from home. JJ worked as a busboy at one of the fancy hotels on the kook side, and offered to let you guys in.

As always, the familiar warmth of the sun felt nice on your skin. Somehow, after the events of yesterday, it felt like forever since you guys had just hung out on the boat—tanning, swimming, drinking.

You felt uncomfortable today, uninterested in your usual bikinis and shorts. Instead, you borrowed one of your brother’s long-sleeved shirts, usually saved for the winter, and pulled on some faded, worn skinny jeans over your bikini bottoms.

Of course, Kiara noticed, giving your ass a friendly slap as she asked, “What’s with the fit today?”

You threw an arm over her shoulder, hers circling your waist as you walked towards the van. “I just wasn’t feelin’ it today.”

“You’re gonna get real hot, real fast. It’s breaking 100 today.”

“I’ve got my suit under. If worse comes to worse, I’ll just strip down to that.”

“Suit yourself.”

It was rare that you felt insecure. You weren’t ashamed of your physical appearance, no. It might’ve been the realization that your dad had intentionally abandoned you that had shaken you so much. You were feeling vulnerable already and being exposed all day would be a physical manifestation of your fear.

You were quieter than normal, but the pogues didn’t question it, noticing the opposite in John B. It was as if last night had given your brother purpose, something concrete he could actually put his mind to, rather than wonder for days on end.

Once inside, you guys had found out it was about 900ft down, almost off the deep end, but reachable. Though not totally legal, the pogues hatched a plan to ‘borrow’ the drone from the salvage yard that JJ’s dad used to work for.

You asked if you could sit this one out, and, taking one look at your defeated figure, no one disagreed. “I’m going to go and try and write for a bit today, alright?”

You had been a part of a band with a few kids from school, scoring gigs here and there to scrape in whatever money you could. It allowed you a living while doing something you loved at the same time. You were thankful for it, and for Kiara’s dad, who made sure you knew that the band was always welcome to play at the Wreck and earn something for the time they performed. Part of it had to do with the fact that the band always improved business, people staying longer for dessert just to hear you play one more set, but part of it was that he just liked you. Though you were just as crazy, if not crazier than the other pogues, it was easy to see that you had an idea for your future and that’s all that Mr. Carrera ever wanted for his daughter. Though the band had broken up before the summer, with both the drummer and the lead guitarist having graduated high school and moved out of the outer banks for college, you still wrote from time to time. It was your own sort of therapy, the cathartic ritual of trying to reach somewhere within your mind to actually create something. 

Kiara grinned. “Yeah! You should definitely come down to the wreck later tonight; it’s karaoke night!”

You assured her you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

John B gave you a pat on the back as you exited the van. They dropped you off at the Chateau and drove off, JJ shooting finger guns at you and making you smile.

You spent the day at the Chateau, working through your songs and nursing a rare bottle of old wine you had managed to hide from the others underneath your bathroom cabinet. 

You contemplated the last few days, not just about how unloved you felt by your parents, but also the growing thing between you and a certain blonde haired boy. 

You smiled as you strummed the guitar that your brother had given you for your thirteenth birthday as you remembered when you and JJ had first met. 

The third grade was hard enough without a twin brother that radiated energy, leaving you looking like the evil twin who lived in the shadows and collected the limbs of barbies in different containers. Which you did, but you didn’t expect to be so ostracized for it. 

You were alone that day at recess, walking across the black top with your arms hugging yourself. Your dad had done a poor job of helping you with your hair, leaving it a stringy mess across your back. 

Suddenly, your face met the ground and you groaned, turning your head to see a halo of gold behind you. You blinked quickly, pushing yourself up to see a blonde boy with crooked teeth apologizing profusely. 

“Dude! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, this guy—”

You noticed something in his hand. A Gameboy?

Behind him, a pudgy boy with a sweater vest and khaki shorts was quickly approaching and you soon understood what was going on. So this blonde little boy was a thief?

On instinct, you grabbed the gameboy from the blonde boy and shoved it in your backpack as his attacker came running up. 

He shoved the blonde boy to the ground and shouted. “Where is it? You took it, you thief!”

Furious at the violent treatment of the blonde, even though he had stolen, you threw yourself at the bully, your nails scratching him. 

In the end, all of you got in trouble, but when you walked to the bus that day, you gave the blonde boy the game boy and invited him to your place, where you had your own. He gave you a wicked smile, before giving you a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, pretty. I’m JJ.”

You didn’t know why, but you had always been protective of the boy, without a single good reason. He had always hidden his best qualities, but maybe some part of you recognized a part of yourself in him instantly. A kindred spirit of sorts. A hotheaded mess that was awful at suppressing his emotions but didn’t know how to deal with them any other way. A boy that would do anything for his friends. You didn’t know it at the time, but you found a mirrored version of yourself in that nine year old boy, and you brought him home with you. 

At sunset, you gave up on your songwriting. You had made little progress anyways, instead heading to the Wreck as you promised Kiara. 

When you walked in, the pogues were already shoving their faces happily after a long day. Kiara gave you a huge smile and beckoned you in to hear what had gone down. 

You gave JJ a kiss on the cheek for no reason at all, and he blushed, quipping, “Hey, wifey!”

You pulled your brother and Pope in for a big hug, feeling nostalgic after your lingering thoughts of childhood memories today. 

Before the pogues could comment on your drastically improved mood and sudden need for affection, you suggested that you all get started on karaoke before downing a beer, getting all of them excited.

You danced with Pope John B’s awful, fast-paced rapping of fifty-cent, but that was the point of karaoke, you guessed. 

Pope twirled you, before grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him, shaking his head in a silly fashion. You threw your head back and laughed, catching JJ smiling at the sight from his seat. 

You continued dancing with Pope as Kiara kept vibing on her own a few feet away. She finally had enough of John B’s voice and stole the microphone from him, replacing his screeching with her gorgeous velvet tones as she began singing her go to — Come and Get Your Love. You watched as JJ finally stood up, striding over shyly, with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, raising his eyebrows at you in question. You let John B whisk Pope away as you pulled JJ to you by his forearms. 

You turned around, letting him cage you from behind as you swayed within the comfort of his arms. John B and Pope were waltzing beside you, making you chuckle. 

JJ sang softly to some of the lyrics, so low that you barely heard, only catching some when he bent close to your ears. “What’s the matter with your mind...And you’re mine, and you look so divine...If you want some, take some.” You tried to keep down the goosebumps, but of course, you failed, the fluttering of emotions you always tried to bury making its way up your throat. Or was that the alcohol?

He dropped his head to your shoulder, smiling as his hair brushed your collarbone. “You smell nice.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows and turned in his arms. “I haven’t even showered today!” 

JJ shrugged. “You always smell nice.”

The beer made you giggle, “Do I? Are you getting soft on me, Maybank? You dance and sniff girls’ hair now?”

JJ scoffed, before saying. “Soft? Me? Get outta here, Trouble.” He added smoothly, “And it’s only your hair I sniff.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That’s a little stalkerish, don’t you think? Should I be concerned? C’mon Bear, you’ve gotta live up to your rep.”

JJ shook his head, pulling you back towards him so that you were chest to chest, forced to wrap your arms around him to keep your balance. “Fuck that, just dance with me for fuck’s sake.”

You felt Kiara’s eyes on you, smiling as she moved on to another song. 

Eventually, you got tired and let Kiara pull you away from the guys for a breath of fresh air. 

You walked across the beach, arms crossed over your abdomen. Kiara kept looking at you with that teasing smile and you finally had enough. “What?”

Kiara shook her head. “Nothing, just, you know it’s kind of obvious? You’re so thick headed sometimes, but you clearly –”

“Have feelings for JJ?” You finished for her. She looked at you in surprise as you turned back to the waves. “I’m not so thick-headed. I know what I feel. I’m not stupid.”

She nudged your side, giggling. “Well, he’s really feeling you, too. Like all the butterflies and shit, I swear.” Kiara gave you jazz hands, emphasizing the jittery feeling of a crush.

You smiled. “Yeah, I know.” You knew JJ liked you. You knew it in the way he was always looking out for you, no matter what was going on or what he was doing, his focus was involuntarily always on you. Even your own twin brother didn’t pay that much attention to you. There had always been a tension in the air between you two, a sort of understanding of mutual attraction. It weighed heavy, not just in the air, but on your shoulders, on your heart. Because you knew that you couldn’t let anything come of it. 

Kiara stopped, holding your elbow to keep you from walking any further. She looked confused. “Then why don’t you do anything about it? The rule’s bullshit, anyways.”

You took a deep breath, looking at your friend with heavy guilt as you tried to put into words why you knew that it was a bad idea. “Because we’re so similar. Neither of us have our heads screwed on right. We’d eventually destroy each other. And the worst part is...After the chaos, I wouldn’t have my best friend to help me pick up the pieces.” You shrugged. “I figure if there’s one time in my life I’m going to think before I act, it’s with this. Because this is one of the most important things in my life and I know there wouldn’t be any coming back from that.”

Kiara opened and closed her mouth multiple times, before finally asking, “But what if it works out? What if you create something beautiful?”

You laughed in denial, your throat tight. “It wouldn’t, Kie. It kills me to say it, but I know myself. I can’t be what he needs. I can’t bank on what ifs, anyways.”

Kiara pulled you towards her, wrapping you in a warm embrace. She looked behind you at the guys, who, from the looks of things, were beginning to get suspicious of you guys.

You and Kiara began walking back. Right before the two of you were within earshot of the rest of the pogues, Kiara took your hand and said to you, with complete surety, “For the record, Y/N, I think you guys are being idiots. You were lucky enough to find something real and you’re throwing it away. Because what? Because you’re scared? I just—I just don’t get it.” She scoffed, shaking her head as walking back inside, leaving you back at square one, wondering if you were being foolish and cowardly.

Masterlist

Tag List (If there is a strike through your user it’s bc I couldn’t tag you bc tumblr is wack sometimes...)

@hurricane-abigail @omigodyall​ @timotaychalabae​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​@caswinchester2000​ @meghanisdeadinside​ @harrysbbby​ @official-maddibrown @xdelicates@maybebanks@yourwonderbelle @treestarrrrrrrr @loco-latte@sspidermanss@theradvibes @eviction-notice-no666@screamingnewsies @the-fandom-life-forever @dolanfivsosxox@vibin-n-thrivin @em-aesthe  @the-real-jort @riverdaleserpent04@free-pool-trash @mileven-reddie @drewswannabegirl@queen1054 @eternalharry@alwayshopelesss @superqalifragilistik@smileyxdolans@fangirling-all-day @dianaillusion@catonthesideoftheroad @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise​ @thelovelydreamer17 @http-cherries​ @pit-zuh​ @kisssmefree​ @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies​ @outerbankstings​ @oliviadrake1​

I’m also kind of new to tagging and rlly bad at it so if something is wrong, I’m sorry and pls let me know and I’ll try my best to fix it!

I also lost my updated tag list i’m so dumb so let me know if I told you i would tag you and i didn’t oop

Stay safe and stay healthy!

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.X

Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.IX

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel, though a bit salty that her uncle would send her away from battle, quickly saw the chaos raining down on Earth and formed her own plan: find dipper and work together to save the world. Simple enough. So she used Gompers the giant goat to gallop across the valley and through the woods to Thebes, where a big goblin was smashing buildings and weirdness was torturing the Greek city, creating an apocalyptic atmosphere.

Mabel remembered where her brother’s house was and heard an old man yell as Gompers approached. She stopped the giant goat and gasped at who was at the entrance. In armor and a red cape, someone who looked a lot like her Grunkle Ford was staring at her with brown eyes that matched her own.

Stan smiled nervously and stepped forward. “Hi… Mabel, ri-...”

“GRUNKLE STAN!” Mabel cheered with tears streaming down her face and she jumped down into his arms, knocking him to the ground, but Stan just laughed and hugged his newfound niece. “I can’t believe it! I get to meet you! Hi! I’m Mabel! Hi!”

“Well, hey there, pumpkin.” Stan greeted as he hugged her and petted her long brown hair. “Grunkle, huh? I love it! Alright, lemme look at you.” He gently held her by the shoulders and grinned at the blushing muse. She glowed golden, her skin a slightly bright hue than his thanks to being immortal. “Holy Hera, you’re beautiful. You look like Ma, bless her soul. Wow… just, wow.”

Mabel brought him into another hug and whispered, “Thanks. I… I never thought I’d get to see you.”

“Mabel?” Dipper said weakly as he leaned against the doorway.

Mabel and Stan gave him their full attention, still completely ignoring the devastation taking place around them, and Mabel cried freely as she looked at her twin. “DIPPER!” She got off her knees and ran to him. He graced himself for impact, but was happily brought into a tight hug that lifted him off his feet. Clearly she had some god-like strength, too.

“Mabel… it’s great to see you…”

“I missed you, I missed you, I MISSED YOU!” Mabel yelled happily and sat him on his feet. She looked back at her great-uncle, who was on his feet and joining the niblings, and she reached out a hand for him and held Dipper’s hand. “Look at this! We’re a family again! So… how do you like each other?” She asked excitedly.

Dipper shrugged. “Fine.”

Stan chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re not still… mad about me not telling you, are you?”

“Wait… oh.” Mabel said and let her boys go and took a step back to let them talk.

“I’m just…” Dipper gritted his teeth and rubbed his forehead, his head grazing over his birthmark that looked like a kitchen dipper. “I don’t understand. Why? Why didn’t you ever tell me? Were you… Are you really that ashamed to be family?”

“No.” Stan quickly said. “No, Dipper, I��� I’m proud to be your family. I am so proud of you, hero or no hero. I… I just didn’t know how to tell you. I almost did when we first met, when this scrawny but strong and smart twelve-year-old came to my doorstep, desperate to become a hero only so he could have a family again, but… I decided you were better off not knowing. You were already dealing with so much, knowing you had an uncle who was a total failure didn’t need to be one of them. 

“I’m sorry.” The old trainer of heroes said woefully. “I wish I had told you. I wish I had been more honest with you. But… kid, it doesn’t matter if I’m your uncle or not. Nothing’s changed. Not really. I’m still so proud of you and I’m still gonna do everything I can to make sure you two aren’t ever separated ever again.” Stan swore, pointing at Dipper and Mabel. “Even if it happens tomorrow or thirty years from now, I swear it’ll happen. But no matter what, you’ll always have a family, Dipper. We’ll always be a family, god or no gods, blood or no blood.”

Dipper let this soak in, then sighed and swayed a little. Really, if it wasn’t for everything going on, the big reveal probably wouldn’t have been as devastating, it was just a lot at once. “Yeah… Yeah, we will…”

Mabel’s smile dropped at seeing how pale and sickly he looked, and she rubbed his shoulders and was much more gentle with him. “Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?”

“He traded his strength away to that Bill guy.” Stan informed.

Mabel turned to look at the big goblin tearing up the city. “I’m guessing that’s why.” The young muse cracked her knuckles and grinned excitedly. “And here I thought I was gonna miss a fight! Stan, you look after Dipper, I’ll handle Ugly.” And she ran down the street for the monster.

“Mabel, no!” Dipper called after her, stepping towards her, but he tripped over his feet and Stan had to catch him.

“Easy, kid, easy. Your sis can handle this.” Stan reassured. “Check it.”

Mabel ran past people who were trying to get out of Eight Ball’s way. She slid to a stop at the town’s circle and whistled loudly. Eight Ball looked down and laughed. “A little girl?! Aw, what, are you gonna dance for me?”

Mabel growled and sneered a sly smile. “If it’ll make you happy… let’s dance!” And she pulled out her duel sword from either hip and plunged them into a green foot that was almost as big as her.

Eight Ball yelled and kicked up, sending Mabel up in the air. The goblin quickly swatted her and she was thrown against a stone wall and slid down painfully, but she staggeringly got up and resumed the fight.

“Ouch! That’s it, pumpkin, shake it off!” Stan coached.

Dipper pulled himself away from Stan and moaned, “I gotta help her…”

“Kid, you’ll die without your strength.” Stan said firmly and made Dipper sit down on a step of their home. “Just breathe and rest, okay? You’ll get your strength back in twenty-three hours.”

Dipper held his head. While so weak and in pain, it was hard for him to think. His mind was so stuffed and so full but so low on energy that he was driving himself insane, but those words created a clear path of thinking, and he shot up as an idea came to mind. “Or if you’re hurt.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah.”

“The deal’ll break if you’re hurt.” Dipper explained and looked around. He saw Pacifica guiding children into a house where they would be safe, and he whistled. “Paz! C’mere!”

The blonde woman looked ashamed, but did as she was told. She slowly approached the scowling old man and the weak young man as she nervously played with her hair. “Listen, I…”

“No, you listen. You owe us a favor.” Dipper panted, weak from the effort of whistling.

“Uh, okay.” Pacifica agreed.

“Punch him.” Dipper said, jabbing a thumb at Stan.

“Me?”

“Him?”

“Him.”

Pacifica shrugged. “Okay.” And she gave him a sharp left hook.

“GAH!” Stan held his cheek and rubbed. “Woman! That hurt!”

“Good!” Dipper laughed, his color instantly returning and his stance getting stronger, grinning with pride over his own cleverness. “You got hurt! The deal’s off!”

“YES!” Stan cheered and punched his shoulder, having no effect on the young hero with god-like strength. “That’s my little conman! NOW GO BEAT UP THAT GUY WITH YOU SISTER!”

Dipper nodded and ran off into battle. 

Mabel was doing a very good job of fighting off the monster, but the fight was at a stand-still. At one point the muse was in the clutches of Eight Ball, both hands trapping her as she squirmed and pulled. “I’m gonna bite your head off!” He roared.

“LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!” Dipper demanded, grabbing a lit torch, jumping off a tall building, and smacking Eight Ball in one of his weird eyes with the fire.

“GAH!” The monster dropped Mabel, who recovered by doing a flip and landed perfectly with a bend of her knee. Dipper jumped down beside her and they both smiled proudly at each other, only allowed a moment before eight Ball had recovered and roared, but one sly glance at each other and the fallen god and the young muse were ready to do battle.

They pounced on the goblin, Dipper throwing punches and Mabel using her duel swords, and they fell behind a large mountain with the beast. Stan and Pacifica gasp, the battle out of sight, and three voices yelled when large rocks from the side of the mountain fell. The audience ran closer, but stopped as they heard rustling. Preparing for the worst but praying for the best, Dipper and Mabel slowly emerged, a bit dirty but healthy nonetheless.

Stan hollered with joy as his chest swelled with pride while Pacifica clapped politely. “THAT’S MY KIDS! Alright, alright! I’m so proud of you guys!”

Dipper and Mabel grinned, but the brother looked up at the dark clouds seriously. “Bill’s still out there…”

“OH NO!” Mabel smacked her forehead. “I almost forgot! More monsters were attacking Olympus! Grunkle Ford needs our help!”

“You two go help Sixer.” Stan said and jabbed a thumb at the broken city. “I better help these guys out, tell the press what’s going on, the usual stuff.”

“You sure?” Mabel asked. “We could use your help.”

“Nah, you don’t need me.” Stan chuckled. “You both just took on a monster with your bare hands like it was nothing! Now go save the world!”

Mabel and Dipper grinned, excited to kick that demon back where he belongs, and the muse whistled for Gompers. As soon as he arrived they got up on him and galloped for the home of the gods, ready for Round 2.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s our status?!” Ford asked his best friend.

“Everyone’s bein’ turned t’stone!” Fiddleford yelled as an eyebat shined a beam down at him. “Even me!”

“NO!” Ford threw his last bolt at the eyebat, but it swerved out of the way and scooped up Fiddleford’s frozen body.

Ford looked left and right, waiting for an idea to come to him, but he was too clouded with anxiety and worry that he failed to notice the huge, now three-dimensional demon behind him. “Fordsie, I’m home.” A shrill voice sang.

“Bill?” Ford breathed, his eyes narrowing in anger and he shook with rage. He should have listened to Mabel and knew he was behind this. He growled like an angry bulldog and tried to throw a punch, but with a lift of a finger Bill had total control over Ford’s body and made him float lifelessly in front of him.

“Well well, looks like you truly are as dumb as you look. Tell me, did you really think such a powerful being would ever be friends with a six-fingered monster?” Bill laughed evilly and moved two arms close, creating lava and ice to work together to encase Ford in a stony prison. “This dimension is mine, Sixer, and it’s all thanks to you.” He said as Ford climbed and crawled to try to escape, but was steadily being encased, like quicksand. “Now all I need to do is make sure those brats stay out of my way.”

“NO! NO!” Ford screamed. “NOT MY KIDS, YOU CA-…” And he was completely covered.

“I’m the one giving orders now, Freak.” Bill sneered and sat in his new throne the eyebats had made for him, made entirely out of gods and goddesses. “And I think I’m gonna like it here.”

“Don’t get too comfortable, Bill!” A voice yelled and Bill turned red and left his throne to see behind him.

Bursting on top of the mountain, Gompers carried Dipper and Mabel, who hopped down and scowled up at the mean triangle.

“WHAAAAAAAAAT?!?! No, no no NO!” Bill roared. “Eight Ball had ONE job to do! UGH! Henchmaniacs, TAKE THEM OUT!”

The twins nodded at each other, agreeing to the plan, and Mabel gave Dipper some cover by hopping over the monsters and attacking the eyebats, stabbing them like they were meatballs. Dipper quickly hurried to the throne made of stoned gods, and used his god-like intelligence to know which god to pull loose.

After a quick analysis, Dipper gently pulled out a dark-skinned goddess with a red dress, the goddess of summer and romance, one by one all of the victims were unfrozen and the throne fell apart. Freed and ready for battle, gods pulled out their weapons and helped Mabel attack the monsters now that all of the eyebats were dead.

“YA HOO!” Fiddleford hollered and smacked little Teeth with a banjo. “Thanks, Mason!”

Dipper grinned and quickly climbed over the large pile of rock. At the top, he tore the prison apart and freed Grunkle Ford. The men had a moment much like Stan and Mabel had, simply looking at each other, until Ford blinked his eyes dry and put a six-fingered hand on each of dipper’s shoulders. “Thank you, my boy.”

Dipper felt like throwing up, but in a good way. He and Ford looked down at the glorious battle of gods defeating the monsters, and they quickly joined in.

One by one as monsters were defeated, Dipper used his super strength to pull them behind them, gathering unconscious, sagging bodies until he and Mabel were at the entrance of Olympus with their gain. Mabel swiped the Golden Rope of Truth from the goddess of summer and romance and the twins worked together to tie up the minions in a heap, and Mabel held them still while Dipper kicked so powerfully they flew all the way to the ocean and down through the little hole in space-time, which sealed instantly.

Mabel pounced on her brother, who scooped her up and hugged her tightly as everyone cheered over their victory. Ford was by their side, ruffling their hair and smiling with brown eyes full of love. “I’m so proud of you both.”

Dipper could feel all his dreams coming true, but a shrill voice rang through the dark clouds as a golden triangle fled. “Thanks a ton, freaks! But at least I got one swell consolation prize! A friend of yours, who’s dying to see me!”

The three gasp over fear of losing their missing family member forever. “STAN!”

[actuallybarb]

The Aftermath ~ Part 8

Summary: y/n meets the 99th precinct in brooklyn and gets a ride to school with a cop, brad still tries to be friends with her even though she’s told him off multiple times, and pepper potts saves the day, as always

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, trauma, more i’m forgetting

Word Count: 4450

A/N: truly, sorry not sorry. obviously you gotta keep reading tho, it all resolves in the end. 

                                                        //////////

The police were there in fifteen minutes. They had the apartment taped off after five, and two detectives from the ninety-ninth precinct were on the scene after ten. The detectives, Peralta and Diaz, let Dad and I grab a few things before the apartment was entirely given over to the investigation, but there wasn’t much else we could do.

“We’ll let you know as soon as we get the blood results back and if any new developments are made, but for now, just keep trying to find your mom.”

Detective Peralta was talking to me while Diaz took over talking to my dad - he was a little more distraught than I was. (I was 17 years old and had seen a lot of shit, call me heartless.) But something wasn’t sitting right with me about all of this. I looked at the detective with narrowed eyes. “Let’s do everyone a favor and not bullshit, okay? I just want an honest answer: do you think my mom is dead?”

He flinched a little bit and looked around the crime scene, but his eyes looked clear when he answered. “I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies, kid, and you get familiar with how much blood a body has. There’s too much to make me think there’s only one victim here, so we took multiple blood samples. I wouldn’t put the chance of your mom being alive high, but the amount of blood makes me think she might be.”

“Huh. That wasn’t what I was expecting you to answer.” I looked around the apartment though and could tell he was right. “Thanks.”

“If you need anything, give me a call, okay?” I took his card and nodded, then left with Dad again for the second time that day.

“Where are we going to stay?”

Dad scratched the scruff on his jaw and sighed. He looked exhausted, and it wasn’t even two. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know.” He opened the door to the stairwell (he always took the stairs, a real curse when we lived on the twenty-third floor) and let me lead the way down. “We could get a hotel. I can book it before I go to the hospital and drop you off.”

I slapped my feet on the stairs. As much as I scrubbed my hands in the bathroom, I still felt like there was blood under my fingernails. It still smelled like it, too. And the last thing I needed was to be by myself washing my hands until I got so tired I passed out. “I don’t want to be by myself in a hotel, Dad.” I slowed down, thinking about my options. “I could call Jess. I could stay the night with her then we could get a hotel tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to have to bother her...”

“I don’t want to be alone,” I whispered.

His eyes softened immediately and he needed no other persuasion. “Okay, Y/N. Let’s call her when we get to the lobby.”

“Okay.”

She picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Can I stay the night with you?”

“Is everything okay?”

“No. My dad’s going to the hospital tonight and—and—” I couldn’t breathe. Holy shit I couldn’t breathe. Who the hell would do something like this? Where the hell is Mom?

My phone was pulled out of my hand. “Breathe, Y/N. Deep breaths, that’s it.” He pressed the phone to his ear. “Jess? Yeah, it’s me. I can drop her off and we’ll talk then? It’s - it’s bad. Okay, see you soon.” He hung up and leaned down beside me. “You okay?” I nodded as convincingly as I could. “Okay.” He helped me off the ground and we walked slowly to the parking garage.

We eventually made it back into Queens and outside Jessica’s house. She and her husband, Brayden, were waiting for us on the porch.

I ran into her arms as soon as I got out of the car. “Hi.”

“Hi, Y/N. Let’s talk inside.”

I didn’t do much talking. Jess got me a mug of hot chocolate and a blanket and I stared into space while Dad relayed all of the happenings in the last few hours to them. But then he had to go to work, and even though I was with Jess and Brayden, I still felt alone. I guess I was more distraught than I thought.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow and we’ll sort things out, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.” He drove off, and I curled in on myself.

“Come on, let’s talk.” Jess lightly touched my arm and I followed her up to her room. She opened the french doors to the balcony and we both took a seat, but even the blanket I had wrapped around my shoulders couldn’t keep out my chill. “I’m not going to make you go to school tomorrow. But you should probably tell someone so you don’t get behind on work.”

I nodded numbly, then sent Peter a text.

I won’t be at school tomorrow, will you get my work?

Course. Everything okay?

Not enough energy. Thanks Pete

Any time Y/N

Jess nudged my foot with her own. “What’s going through your head?”

I put my chin on my curled up knees and sighed. “There was so much blood, Jess. The detective thinks there might be a chance she’s still alive, but it was everywhere. And I can’t help but think that this person is coming after me, because of everything. Venice, Prague, London, even helping Spider-Man clear his name. Maybe Mom was just in the way, so they got rid of her.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this, Y/N. It’s not your fault.”

“Doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty,” I mumbled.

The sun started to set and my stomach started to grumble; the only thing I had eaten all day were Sam’s pancakes. Delicious, but not a fix-all. Brayden made dinner - grilled chicken and mashed potatoes - and I got to sit beside their little girl, Hayley, who was getting the hang of small full sentences by now.

“I like you.”

“Well that’s good, considering we’ve been sitting next to each other for the last twenty minutes. I like you too, Hayley. I’m glad we get to be friends.” As much as I hated using a three-year-old as a coping mechanism, Hayley was an easy distraction. She didn’t have to worry about dead bodies and superpowers and the chemistry test on Tuesday.

Shit, the chemistry test. I was still missing some notes. And, as much as it surprised myself, I didn’t want to ask Peter for them. But I knew someone else in that class.

Eugene, will you send me the notes from Monday?

Finally realizing your sleeping endeavors were poorly timed?

Stop using big words and send me the notes

Why don’t you just ask Parker? Aren’t you two attached at the hip?

Believe it or not, Eugene, I’m actually trying to form some semblance of a friendship here, and you’re kind of ruining my plan (okay, I wasn’t trying to make a friendship, but it’s something Taylor’s griped about for months, so might as well try with someone who won’t get offended at my relentless roasting.)

The fact that your grammar is perfect even when you text is infuriating. Whatever, I’ll send them. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the favor you owe me.

Of course not, Eugene. Thanks

I grabbed my backpack and started copying down the notes, but even though I was asleep for some of the class, I could tell Flash didn’t have all of the content. There was one other person I could text before Peter. But we weren’t necessarily speaking.

Hey can you send me the chem notes from Monday?

yeah sure. ready for the test on tuesday?

Hell no, why do you think I’m cramming now 😂

and then we have that english paper due on friday 🤢

If I fall over dead in the middle of the test on Tuesday do you think we’ll all get an A?

i’ll take one for the team if you don’t

Haha sounds good. Thanks MJ

no problem

Thank god MJ actually took good notes. Combined with her’s and Eugene’s, those pages of notes were better than any I had actually taken in class. Maybe I would actually do well on this test. But that was a cramming problem for tomorrow.

///////////

Hayley reminded me a lot of Morgan: too smart for her own good. Jess called in sick to work so the three of us stayed home and watched Disney movies, but Hayley was starting to guess the endings halfway through. I mean, they’re all pretty predictable, but she’s only three. She had just guessed the ending for Brave when my phone started ringing.

It was Peter.

“Hey, Peter.”

“Y/N what the hell is going on?”

My blood went cold. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. I went by your apartment to drop off the notes I got for you and it was covered in police tape and blood. Wha- Is everything okay?”

I couldn’t get the words to come out of my mouth. I couldn’t say anything, let alone answer his question. So I just texted him my location.

“I’ll be there soon.” He didn’t wait for an answer, which was probably for the best.

He pulled up to the curb half an hour later. “May let me borrow her car.”

“I didn’t know you got your license.”

“Right before Europe, actually.”

“Oh.” I sat on the porch steps with plenty of room for Peter, and he just sat and looked at me. Waiting for me to start talking. “Thanks for getting my notes.”

“Yeah, no problem. There’s a review for the chem test in there, too, but it’s not an actual assignment.”

“Oh, okay.” I brought my knees up a step and wrapped my arms around them. We sat in silence for a while, but he came over for a reason, and if I was going to tell anyone about what happened, I’d want Peter to know. “We found it after we dropped you off at your apartment.”

“The blood?”

I nodded. “We opened up the door and there was blood everywhere, and my mom wasn’t home, which was weird, because she’s usually making something in the kitchen on Sunday afternoons. So we called the police, and they took some blood samples, and I stayed with Jess last night because my dad was on-call at the hospital and I- I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Have they called with any news?”

“Not yet. But hopefully they’ll get the blood samples back and know whose it is.”

Peter just sat in silence for a second. “Are you doing okay?”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, trying to put a semblance of a smile on my face. “What do you think?”

The corner of his lip lifted up. “Yeah, I figured.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and let me lean against him. “When’s your dad supposed to get back?”

When was he supposed to get back? It was getting closer to five, and he was usually home around then. I checked my phone, but there were no new messages. “Hold on,” I told Peter, and I called Dad’s cell.

No answer.

I called the hospital. “Southwest Mercy Hospital, how can I help you?”

“Is Doctor Y/L/N in right now?”

“Might I ask who’s calling?”

“Y/N Y/L/N. His daughter.

“One moment please.” A few taps on the other end. “No, he’s not. He was actually supposed to come in last night, but he never showed up.”

“Can you call me back if he shows up?”

“Of course.”

I hung up.

Where the fuck is he?

Why didn’t he show up at work?

There was something warm in my hand, and it took me a second to recognize it as Peter’s own hand. “Hey,” he said softly, “it’s going to be okay.”

“My dad’s missing, Peter,” I wanted to shout, but it was barely a whisper. “My dad and my mom, in less than forty-eight hours. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“We should call the police. If they’re really connected, they’ll be the ones to figure out how.”

I nodded in agreement and pulled out Detective Peralta’s card. “This is Jake Peralta.”

“Detective Peralta? This is Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Wow, what timing, we were actually just about to call you. Is your dad with you by chance?”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” I squeezed Peter’s hand as tight as I could. “My dad is missing.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“He was supposed to work the night shift at the hospital last night and he never showed up. And he’s not answering his phone.”

Peralta was scribbling something down frantically. “Would you be able to come by the precinct, Y/N? We found something interesting in your apartment that you’ll want to see.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, we’ll see you soon.”

I hung up and pressed the palms of my hands over my eyes. “God, when did my life become a living nightmare?”

“Five years ago,” Peter said, “when everyone turned into dust.”

I can’t argue with that. I stood up, brushed off my jeans, and sighed. He stood up beside me, and, completely unprompted, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held on tight. “Thank you,” I mumbled into his neck.

His arms wrapped around my waist. “Call me when you hear something, okay?”

I pulled back and nodded, then kissed him on the cheek. (I was unbelievably upset and needy and decided I was not going to deny myself the simple wants of physical contact with Peter Parker. Sue me.) “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I ran back inside and had a quick conversation with Jess and Brayden (who somehow got into the house without me noticing, weird) and he handed her the keys to his car. We were on the road a minute later.

“It’s not necessarily linked with what happened to your mom, Y/N,” Jess tried to console me as we trudged through traffic to the 99th precinct in Brooklyn. “It could be completely unrelated.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s any less terrifying, Jess.”

“No, it doesn’t. But it could just be a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” I said as we reached the parking garage. The man at the front desk told us which floor, and I was too anxious to wait for the elevator so I ran up the stairs. I waited for Jess before I walked in, but it hardly made a difference; I’m sure I still looked like a crazy person.

An extremely muscled man approached us first. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here for Detective Peralta,” I wheezed out, still catching my breath.

“He’s the second desk on the left.”

“Thank you.” Detective Peralta turned around and shook both of our hands. “What do you have on my mom?”

He brought over another chair for Jess and sat behind his desk. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get the information for your dad first. Just so we can get an APB out for him as soon as possible.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Okay, when was the last time you saw him?”

“Last night, around 5? His night shift usually starts around 6.”

“And where was he?”

“He had dropped off Y/N at my house, we talked for about ten minutes, then he left for his shift.” Jess told him her address and where Dad worked while I looked around the precinct. Peralta’s desk had a picture with him and another detective and a little girl between them. Detective Diaz’s desk was across the little walkway, and there was a man at a secluded desk in his own office.

I kept looking around at the office until Jess put a hand on my arm. “Sorry, what?”

“We got the results from the blood samples. There were two different bloods in the apartment, like I thought, so I got forensics to use a UV light and some sort of magic I can’t explain to differentiate between the two. And this is what came up.” He slid over a picture and five words were shining against the mass amounts of blood.

I know who you are.

“Whose blood is it?”

He took the picture back. “Your mom’s. But those are the only traces of it we could find.”

“And the rest of it?”

“The DNA isn’t in our system. We contacted the FBI and CIA to see if anything comes up in their systems, but we haven’t gotten any results yet. Y/N.” He leaned forward, extremely serious. “Because of the message left behind and the fact that your dad is now missing, we want to relocate you to a safe house —“

“No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Y/N,” Jess started, but I cut her off.

“If they’re actually trying to scare me, I’m not going to let them go after anyone else I care about. Let them come for me.”

“Y/N, you could be in serious danger. We shouldn’t take this lightly.”

“I’m not. But this person already took my mom and my dad. They’re not getting anyone else.”

Peralta and Jess looked at each other, but Jess knew me better than most; she knew I wouldn’t budge on this. “Okay,” he conceded, “no safe house. But I’d like to have a detail on you, just in case, okay?” I nodded. That wasn’t the issue. Besides, if I wanted to go to a safe house, I’d just go upstate.

Detective Peralta walked us to the door of the precinct. “We’ll keep a look out for your dad’s car and let you know if it comes up. Officer Mason will be keeping an eye on your house tonight. Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” It was closer to eight, and I still had that stupid chemistry test tomorrow, but all I wanted was to fall asleep and never wake up.

But that wasn’t how the world worked, and I was up until one studying. Jess handed me a to-go cup of coffee when I walked into the kitchen right before school, and I raised it to her before taking a sip. “See you later.”

“Have a good day.”

I walked down the steps and knocked on the window of the patrol car outside of the house. Officer Mason started and looked around, then rolled down the window. “What’s up?”

“Can you give me a ride to school?”

He looked at me like I was incredulous. He wasn’t wrong, but still. “That’s not really what I’m here to do, kid.”

“You’re here to keep an eye on me, right? So let’s go.” I pulled on the handle until he unlocked the car and let me in.

I got to school with five minutes to spare (shout out to Officer Mason for running that last red light). My Spanish book was so unused it collected dust on it, but I brushed it off quickly before I walked into class. I took my spot among the few in class and looked over Peter’s notes from the day before, just in case there was a pop quiz.

“Hey.”

Shit. Brad.

“What do you want?”

“You weren’t here yesterday, and you showed up today in a cop car. Everything good?”

I rolled my eyes and looked up at him. “Why the hell would you think I would tell you anything personal about my life ever?“

“I was just asking, Y/N, fuck.”

“I don’t like Brad either.” Peter sat beside me and gave me a small smile.

“I think most of that has to do with the fact that he tried to make a move on MJ.”

“And the fact that he took a picture of me in my underwear and was going to show it to everyone in Europe.”

“Everyone in Europe? That’s pretty big, Peter, you could’ve been famous.”

“For almost-nudes I didn’t even take,” he said with a smile. “What did the detective say?”

The bell rang and Peter flinched just slightly. “I’ll tell you after class.”

No pop quiz, and lunch was turkey and gravy. I was feeling slightly better, and I remembered almost everything I needed to study for the chem test. I was halfway through it, feeling good, when Principal Morita was at the door of the lab, asking for me. I looked up, and none other than Detective Peralta was standing beside him, giving me a look full of nothing but pity.

My heart dropped down to my stomach.

I looked over at Peter and his eyes were as wide as mine, his heart racing. But there was nothing he could do.

I left my test at my seat, grabbed my backpack, and met Mr. Morita and Peralta in the hallway. “What did you find?”

“We found your dad’s car, and I had forensics do the same test as the one in your apartment. This is what they found.”

I know what you did.

“I need you to come into the station, Y/N. We need to ask you a couple of questions.”

I looked between the two adults and could feel my heart rate rising. “I, uh — I didn’t finish my test.”

Mr. Morita spoke up. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Phelps and make sure you can finish it later in the week.”

“Okay.” I followed him to his squad car and sat in the back, making me feel like I had actually done something wrong.

Detective Diaz joined us in the interrogation room at the Nine-Nine, and I could feel two others behind the mirror. But none of them stopped me from being set on edge.

“Y/N, I hate for having to bring you out like this, but we need some answers. What is this second picture about?”

I shifted around in my seat. Where to even start? “I’m not going to talk with the people behind the mirror.”

Peralta sputtered. “What? There’s no one behind the —“ Diaz glared at him and he stopped. “We have them there as a precaution, Y/N, they’re detectives too.”

“Either they join us in here or they leave, but I’m not talking to someone without being able to see their faces.”

They looked at each other for a second before Peralta turned to the mirror and motioned for them to leave. I felt their footsteps retreat down the hall until I couldn’t feel them anymore, then I at least let my shoulders drop. Just a little bit.

“You guys remember Quentin Beck from the summer? The Mysterio guy who fought the Elementals?”

“Yeah, that dick that said Spider-Man murdered him?”

“Yeah, him. He kind of... hijacked our field trip.” I told them everything; well, almost everything. “Beck blackmailed me into helping him with his plan, so I, uh... I ended up hurting a lot of people. That’s probably what this person is talking about. It could be a family member, or one of Beck’s crewmen.”

“Why would one of the crew come after you, you’re just a kid.” Diaz hadn’t said much, but she was an observer, like me. I just wish I could shove away my emotions like her.

“I, uh, kind of got them all put in prison after they put up the video of Beck outing Peter Parker as Spider-Man.”

“Oh. Well that would do it.”

Peralta thought for a second then spoke up. “We’ll keep an eye on the families of the crew, see if anyone has a similar timeline to the disappearances. Until then,” he put his hand down on the table and looked me in the eye, “I have to insist that you stay in a safe house, Y/N. Staying anywhere else could put yourself and others in danger.”

Staying in a place by myself made me want to throw up. But I could see how selfish it was.

“One more night. One more night, and then I’ll go. And I want to stay at my own safe house.”

“You have a safe house?”

I shrugged. “I know a — a person.”

They glanced at each other again. “Okay, we’ll talk about it. But I want to talk to them. Today.”

“Fine.” I pulled out my phone and clicked on Pepper’s contact. She picked up on the first ring.

“Y/N. Is everything okay?”

I laughed lightly, even though nothing about this situation was funny. “Not even close. So much has happened in the last three days.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “I, uh, need to come up to the compound tomorrow, but I need you to talk to these detectives.”

“You’re freaking me out, Y/N, what’s going on?”

“I’m going to put you on speaker.” I set the phone on the table. “I need to go to a safe house, and I figured the compound is the best place to go. But these detectives have some questions.”

“Okay.”

“Hello, ma’am, my name is Detective Jake Peralta, I’m here with my partner, Detective Rosa Diaz, and we’re concerned for Y/N’s safety. We’ve been trying to get her to go to a safe house provided by the Nine-Nine, but she says she’ll only go to her own safe house. Mostly we just need to verify that the location is legit and we need a squad car there at all times. Would you be able to come to the Ninety-Ninth Precinct in Brooklyn so we can talk in person?”

“Um, I’m not actually in New York right now, but I could be there by tomorrow. Could I come by in the morning?”

“That should be fine. Can we get a name?”

“Pepper Potts.”

They both balked. Their eyes got huge and they looked at me with disbelief. “Pepper Potts?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay, we look forward to meeting with you tomorrow.”

“Perfect. And, Y/N? You better call me back within the next hour about what is going on.”

“Yes ma’am.” She hung up and I tucked my phone back in my pocket. “Am I good to go?”

“You know Pepper Potts?”

“I told you, I cleared Spider-Man’s name. I have a lot of connections.” I stood up and opened the door, deciding for myself that the interrogation was over.

“You know Spider-Man?”

“Jake’s loved Spider-Man since the first video came out on YouTube,” Diaz said. “He won’t admit that he has a fan account, but I think he does.”

I laughed. “Yeah, I know Spider-Man.”

“Can you get me his autograph?”

I glanced at him. “Yeah, I guess.”

Officer Wade drove me back to Jess’s, and I happily left her at the curb.

I had an important phone call to make.

tags: @eridanuswave​ @vampirestrawberries​ @yougottalovefandoms​