#i know its be cringe be free but like. an old classmate knows about my channel from when i told her at age 11

[an-egghead]

so terrifying to upload something to youtube that no one else really has done. like yes i made this video and spent time making it but what if i upload it and it's embarrassing

Because the three people who still care about this character will probably not like it it's like two fandoms mixed together and neither one will like it

[beomiracles]

「 CRIMINAL CONSCIENCE 」

SYNOPSIS moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder.

wc -> 4.3k

pairings criminal!beomgyu x investigator!reader warnings for tape 04 mentions of substance abuse, implied sexual themes, HIGHLY suggestive sexual content but not full on smut, attempts at SA (refrain from reading if you are easily triggered by such themes!)

GENERAL WARNINGS ─ this story contains dark themes, portraying unhealthy and toxic relationships as well as substance abuse. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK.

✎ NOTE, this story is partly told in flashbacks. beware of time stamps as present and past is mixed throughout the story.

the tape recordings

tape 04 ─ I know you

April 17th 2022 

Beomgyu’s car was just like you had imagined it. A sleek black model with tinted windows and dark leather seats. It ran far smoother than your old rundown Volvo and as Beomgyu swiftly passed the cars crowding the roads, you leaned back against the cool leather.

The silence was making you rather uncomfortable but you had little clue of how to break it. It was awkward enough that you were currently in his car; after yesterday’s events you were unsure on what terms the two of you were on. 

You decide to take a safe route and ask what you thought was a reasonable question. “Where are we going?” Internally cringing at how weak your voice sounded as you shifted in the passenger seat. Beomgyu’s gaze is fixed on the road in front of him despite only keeping one hand leisurely on the wheel. “Where was your friend supposed to take you?” His voice is casual and seemingly unbothered by the awkward situation. 

“Ah, she was just taking me home, I didn’t have my car with me so…” you trail off as you pick at the polish on your nails. With his free hand Beomgyu swipes a finger over the screen in between your seats, the device flashes with a small GPS and a white search bar — he motions for you to type your address in. 

“Where’s your car?” he bluntly asks and your finger almost slips across the small screen. “Oh, at..at home”, you mumble as you finish typing the address, the device immediately shows a suitable route and Beomgyu casts a quick glance in its direction. “Why?” he then inquires and you wonder if he always pried this much into people’s lives. Yet you found yourself wanting to tell him, wanting to be open with him. 

“One of my classmate’s gave me a ride”, you explain as you fiddle with the hem of your bag, placed neatly on the floor between your legs. He hums next to you as his fingers drum against the steering wheel. “You like your classmates?” His question catches you off guard, did it really matter if you liked them or not? What was it to him anyways, he only ever saw you for sex. 

“I guess”, you shrug, albeit unsure of how to properly answer. Beomgyu doesn’t say anything and for a moment the same stale silence fills the car. It was hard, making conversation with him; you never knew how to answer the questions he threw at you — in turn you didn’t know how to counter said questions with ones of your own. He often seemed to dismiss indulging in any personal information regarding himself, yet he found no shame in dwelling deep into the details of your own life. 

It made you wonder what kind of fascination he had with you. You trusted what Kayla had said about him not seeing the same woman twice, so what was his deal with you? Was there something more behind all the occasions in which he’d asked to see you, was there a reason he had picked you up today, and why were you not made aware of his intentions. 

The feel of his ring clad hand on your left thigh startles you from your thoughts, fingers snaking between your legs to rest at your inner thigh. “Music?” he asks and you hum, “sure..” He nods toward the small screen on the dash, “pick somethin’ good yeah.” 

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, your fingers swipe across the many artists displayed. “Do you like BTS?” It was seemingly impossible to read him, his music taste? even less. Beomgyu huffs as he squeezes the flesh of your thigh gently, “that boy band?” you nod, finger hesitating over the play button. You weren’t in any way ashamed of your music taste, but when in the presence of Beomgyu you somehow felt the need to please him, even if that meant changing minor details about yourself. 

He quirks a brow in the direction of your hesitating hand, “sure why not”, he shrugs and you breathe out a small sigh of relief. The rest of the car ride is spent mostly in silence save for the occasional interrogating questions fired by Beomgyu as his fingers trace your inner thigh. 

At last; after twenty long minutes, the car comes to a stop outside of your apartment complex. Finally feeling some sort of relief you step out of the car, only to frown when Beomgyu does the same. “Wait, why are you getting out?” the question slips past your unguarded lips and Beomgyu raises a brow as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ll see where you live”, it was a statement not a question — with those exact words he marched inside the building. 

It takes two tries to get your rattling keys into the keyhole and you swallow a gulp as the door to your small apartment swings open. The flat was small and the building rather old, but you had decorated the place to the best of your abilities — it was home for you, oh and…meeeow~ 

Your furry roommate gazes up at you with an expectant look as her tail pads against the floor behind her. “This is Nala”, you say as you give the small cat a few scratches. “She’s not very fond of new people so…” your words fall short as Nala trots over to where Beomgyu stands and brushes against his legs in a loving manner, “or not..” you awkwardly chuckle at your cat's odd behavior. 

Leaning down to give the feline a few pats, Nala purrs in response to his actions and Beomgyu smirks, “cute little thing you are.” It felt strange, seeing Beomgyu so affectionate towards anything really. “I didn’t take you for a cat person.” Your comment makes him raise a questioning brow, “no?” You shake your head, “well, you sort of strike me as more of a dog person..” 

He seems to be considering your words as he lets go of your cat to stand back up, “I like dogs”, he shrugs as a small smirk creeps its way to his lips. He takes a step in your direction, “dogs are loyal, pliant even.” Upon finishing his sentence he’s merely inches from you, pressing you up against the wall of your small hallway without as much as touching you. From this close the pungent smell of his cologne invades your senses, it’s a familiar and intoxicating scent. He smelled almost minty, refreshing, like the blow of the wind on a cold winter day. 

Blinking a few times, your eyes regain focus as they meet his dark ones. “Dogs are predictable”, he drawls, “cats aren’t.” What did that have to do with being a dog or cat person? You had always thought the question to be rather trivial — let people like what they like. Was there really more to what type of pet you kept. 

“You’re right”, he then says, “I don’t like cats.” Though he quickly casts a glance in the direction of Nala who was busy cleaning herself as she sat by the shoe rack. “But I like your cat”, he states and you frown, “Nala?” Beomgyu nods as he turns his attention back to you, “you need to earn a cat's trust. Usually that is not something I waste my time with”, his voice is low and you can feel his fingers feathery touch along your waist. 

“Perhaps with this one I will”, he murmurs, dark eyes piercing yours in such a way that would easily get anyone entranced. His words suddenly have you wondering if Nala was still the subject of your conversation. Though you get no chance to question him further before he pulls away and ventures into your living room. 

You quickly scramble to follow him as Beomgyu wastes no time in grazing the tips of his fingers along your crowded bookshelves; not hesitating to pick a few framed photos up to inspect them closer. Awkwardly rocking on your heels, you watch as he practically searches your living room. “This your mom?” he questions as he flips the picture frame to face you, squinting slightly you nod, “from when we visited Madrid…” you mumble. Beomgyu hums as he places the photograph back in its designated place. 

“Do you uh, want anything to drink…tea, coffee?” Your attempt to keep him from prying seems futile as Beomgyu shakes his head. Instead he nods toward the open bathroom door, “go get yourself dolled up.” Your brows draw together in a frown, parting your lips in an unspoken question, which Beomgyu quickly beats you to, “I’m takin’ you out, dollface”. Taking you out? Oh...OH! He was taking you out! 

“I, s-sure..yeah– I’ll, I’ll be thirty minutes.” You stammer before quickly excusing yourself to the bathroom. Thirty minutes? What on earth were you thinking, there was no way you’d be able to get ready in thirty minutes. Let us hope that he has as little perception of time as he has of others' privacy, you thought as you pull your shirt over your head. 

February 20th 2024 – PRESENT TIME

“What’s going on?” Yeonjun sighs as he leans against the desk opposite you, hands digging deep into his pockets and a concerned look on his face. You grasp the glass of water tightly in your hands as you focus on the way the cold liquid moves rather than your senior’s question. 

After the scene you had caused over at the house, Yeonjun had pulled you aside to talk to you in private. “I seriously need you to tell me what’s happening”, his voice sounds tired and you can tell that he is too. You wanted to tell him, you had been wanting to tell someone, anyone — for the past ten months. But truthfully, you didn’t know how to. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as your fingers anxiously tap against the glass. “Look, if you can’t do it, then it’s totally fine”, he runs a hand through his hair, “but you need to tell me so that I can get someone else on the case.” As soon as those words leave his lips you find yourself shaking your head, Yeonjun lets out a frustrated sigh as his hand drags across his face. 

You knew that you were probably doing more harm than good being on this case, but letting it go to someone else, you just couldn’t. Why? You didn’t know. Perhaps it had to do with some fucked up part of you that thought you knew Beomgyu, that you could read him in ways others couldn’t — that was of course a lie. For the one year you spent in his presence, you couldn’t figure him out, not once, and you were sure you never would, no one would. 

“I can tell that it’s affecting you”, your colleague murmurs, it was obvious that Yeonjun cared a lot for you and in any other instance you would have listened to him. This was different. When you finally lift your gaze to look at him your eyes are filled to the brim with glistening tears. “I have to do this”, you whisper and your senior looks at you with so much pity that you thought you might just break down in front of him. 

Shaking your head once more, the first droplet falls from your eye, “I’m afraid that if I don’t…it’ll never be okay again.” Your voice comes out shaky and pitched, but you can’t find it in you to care in the slightest. Perhaps this was the closure you needed, to complete this case and write Beomgyu out of your life once and for all. So you told yourself. The emotions you were feeling, were all old feelings resurfacing. Nothing you wouldn’t be able to handle. 

Yeonjun sighs as he pushes himself off the desk. “Alright”, he agrees, “but you’ll promise to tell me when things get too much.” Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you nod, “thank you…” Your senior nods, “you’re one of my best investigators”, he says as he hands you a tissue, “don’t forget that you’re also human.” 

April 17th 2022 

You didn’t recognize the restaurant Beomgyu had taken you to, situated on a lonely and dark street, yet the diner was filled with people. Beomgyu on the other hand seemed more than at home in your current environment as he happily chatted with both waiters and the people sitting by the nearby tables. 

Their conversations ranged from the most dull and daily topics, but there was something else lingering in the air. Similar to that of the club Beomgyu had taken you to on your second encounter. Whatever it was it clung to him, the multiple glances from almost everyone in the room did not go unnoticed by you. Everyone seemed to know who he was, yet as you sit in front of him, you suddenly feel like you’re the only one in the room who doesn’t. 

Beomgyu turns his attention toward you once more, gaze lingering on the red dress you had carefully picked out. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, “you look wonderful, dollface.” The simple compliment manages to bring color to your face and you bite back a small smile, “thank you.” Suddenly you don’t mind that you might be the only person who had yet to be made aware of who he really was. Why should that matter when he was with you, and not them. 

Your waitress had been quick to bat her lashes toward him, to pout her lips and bite on her pen as Beomgyu ordered. Double checking and checking again that she got it right, almost tripping over her feet as she leaned forward to ‘hear’ him better. All the while she had almost forgotten to take your order, and when she finally turned to you, it was with a heavy sigh and a nasty look on her face. Beomgyu hadn’t seem to notice her blunt advances, if he did he simply didn’t acknowledge them.

Perhaps that was what you got for being seated with the most handsome man in the room. Going out like this, at a restaurant, it had to mean that he was serious about you, right? At least in your books it did. You could admit that you were slightly traditional when it came to dating, but going out to dinner — well it wasn’t exactly something that fuck buddies did. 

“What’s got your mind so preoccupied, dollface?” Beomgyu sets his glass down as he studies your distant expression. Fiddling with the foot of your own glass, you avoid his gaze to the best of your abilities. “I…well” — the low vibrations erupting from your phone shakes you off path and you glance toward the screen. Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he rests his chin atop his intertwined fingers; seemingly unbothered and not expectant of an explanation.  

“It…it’s Kayla, she’s asking about our next meet up.” You give him one anyway. You knew that you didn’t owe him anything, yet you found yourself wanting to reassure him, not that you were sure such a thing was needed. “You’re busy tomorrow”, he suddenly declares and you glance at him in confusion. He nods toward your phone, “tell your friend, you’re busy tomorrow.” 

His words left much to desire, but as Beomgyu took another sip of his drink, you knew that he wasn’t going to let on to any further information. Shoving your phone into your bag, you nod “alright, I’ll do that.” 

As another waiter comes to clear your now empty plates; all the while Beomgyu mutters something in his ear, you’re suddenly left with no more distractions. The lingering eyes on your table become the center of your attention. Why did they keep staring like that? You had done nothing to garner their attention yet you felt like there was a huge light pointed right at you. Maybe it was all in your head, maybe you were going crazy. 

In the midst of it, you fail to notice how Beomgyu watches you, studying your almost frightened face. The small hum leaving his lips snap your eyes back toward him and he looks at you expectantly. Swallowing a gulp your eyes flicker between the crowded tables and him. “They’re…they’re staring” you whisper, Beomgyu doesn’t spare your audience a glance, his gaze fixed on you. 

“Do you not like it?” he mumbles, studying your face closer, as if searching for clues allowing him to enter your mind. Biting your lower lip you give a small nod. Before you get another word out, he gets up and you scramble to do the same. With his hand on the small of your back, Beomgyu guides you past the many tables and to a secluded corner of the room, near the exit. His breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “stay here and I’ll pay”, before pressing a kiss to your cheek. That was certainly not something fuck buddies did. 

Feeling shielded by the dim light of your corner, you lean against the cool wall as your eyes flutter closed. Maybe Kayla had been wrong about him, just maybe. The sounds of approaching footsteps sends a wave of relief through you, he was already coming back. 

But it’s not Beomgyu’s voice that breaks the silence surrounding you. “You new around here miss?” the raspy voice of an unknown man has your eyes shooting open as you push yourself off the wall. “I would be sure to remember a face like your own”, he then adds as he eyes your frame with a little too much interest. 

He was tall. Possibly even taller than Beomgyu, and older too, he had to be in his mid thirties at least. Yet he seemed persistent in introducing himself, “the name’s Han-jae”, he reaches for your hand but you quickly withdraw it. “Ah, I’m afraid that I’m with someone for tonight..” you stammer as your eyes feverishly scan for Beomgyu. 

The man chuckles, “I bet you are, pretty thing like you, it would be pure luck to find you alone.” He leans closer and the sudden stench of alcohol invades your senses, “but it seems I just did”, a nasty smirk grows on his lips as his hand grabs a firm hold of your wrist. 

Your heart practically leaps out of your chest as the man's tight grip on your arm threatens to cut off all blood flow. Suddenly you regret not taking the self defense lessons together with Kayla, it would have perhaps saved you in a situation like this. “I…I really am here with someone..” Your meek attempts at persuading the strange man had little effect as the smirk on his lips only grew. 

“I’m sure you are, doll” he muses as he pulls you closer to him. Upon coming almost face to face with him, you can make out his bloodshot eyes and widened pupils; he was on something, that much you could tell. A ring clad hand suddenly joins the man’s hold on your wrist and your gaze snaps in the direction of none other than Beomgyu. 

Despite his intoxicated state the man seems to recognize him as the grip on your wrist falters. “Mr Choi” he exclaims, uncertainty flashing across his features. Beomgyu lets go of his hand with a small grimace before disregarding the man and turning to you. “You okay, dollface?” he asks as his fingers trace along your jaw, you give him a small nod as you cradle your sore wrist. 

“‘S a pretty little thing you got there”, the man comments, his speech growing slurred. Beomgyu’s fingers drop from your face as he casts a glance in the direction of the man. “What?”

The man grins as he motions toward you, “almost mistook her for a doll, pretty girl was standin’”, he hiccups, “all alone, but now I see who she was waiting on.” Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he regards the man with a sultry look. Obliviously, the man continues to ramble, “but you’ll do me the favor of letting me know when you’re done”, the grin on his lips grows, “I’ll be happy to take up wherever you left off–” 

Whack!

The man’s words are cut short as Beomgyu’s fist comes in contact with his jaw, metal rings clashing against his teeth. He stumbles backward as he grabs onto his face with a small whine. Your own jaw falls open as the scene before you unfolds and if your heart nearly beat out of your chest earlier, this certainly didn’t help. 

Beomgyu doesn’t spare him a second glance, and neither does anyone else…In fact no one batted as much as an eye in the direction of the wounded man. Their conversations flowed without interruption and suddenly everyone avoided even glancing Beomgyu’s way. 

Too stunned to even speak, you let him guide you out of the restaurant, you don’t question him when he opens the door to the backseat rather than the passenger one, and neither do you when he gets inside along with you, nor when he slides down on the floor between your legs. 

The cool metal of his rings sends small sparks through your body as his hands caress your inner thighs. He lets out a soft sigh and as his eyes meet yours, you suddenly find it hard to fault him for punching a man. “Dollface?” his breath is hot against your naked skin. Swallowing another gulp you glance down toward him, yes? your words barely above a whisper. 

Beomgyu sighs as his hands push past the hem of your crimson dress. “You need to be careful”, he murmurs as his fingers trace the outline of your panties, earning a soft gasp from you when they brush against your clothed clit. “There are tons of dangerous men out there” he presses a soft kiss to your thigh. 

“Men who won’t hesitate to take advantage of you.” Fingers slipping past the fabric of your panties as they caress your already glistening folds. The cold rings against your warm core pulls a small gasp from you. His touch clouds your mind and turns your vision hazy. “Who knows what could’ve happened to you if I hadn’t been there”, he mumbles as his thumb grazes your clit, eliciting a sweet moan from you. 

He retracts his hand and your hips buck in an attempt to chase his fingers. The same fingers that hook around the lining of your panties and with a harsh tug he pulls them down your thighs and past your knees. “Promise me you’ll be careful, dollface” he breathes against your wet cunt and you nod as you squirm beneath him. 

“Need to hear you say it”, he groans as his tongue drags across your folds, earning a soft cry from you, “promise me.” His voice sounded almost pleading and you clenched around nothing. “I will, I will, I will…I’ll be careful I promise”, you ramble as your fingers intertwine in his dark hair, twisting and pulling at it. “That’s what I wanted to hear”, he murmurs before pressing a kiss to your cunt. 

February 20th 2024 — PRESENT TIME

You were supposed to have gone home earlier, a lot earlier. In fact Yeonjun had offered to take you home by lunch, yet you had declined. Instead you found yourself lingering by your office as the hours passed by. When 5 o’clock hit, your colleagues began venturing home, you stayed. By 7 the office was completely empty. 

Soon you started walking, though unsure of why, or where your goal was, you walked. Floor up and floor down, mindlessly passing the multiple vacant offices and meeting rooms. At last you found yourself by the interrogation rooms, perhaps you thought it would ease the lump in your throat to go there, but it didn’t. So you kept walking. 

You don’t know how you ended up at Beomgyu’s cell. Your feet led you to the few rows of empty rooms, all but one. The door only allowed a small window in which you could gaze into the room, it was dark but you knew that he was there. 

Did you miss him? Was that why you were here? You had told yourself that you wanted answers, but did you really? — were you even ready to hear them? You should turn back, go home, sleep, possibly call in sick tomorrow. Instead you knock. 

Three soft knocks later and a small light is flicked on somewhere inside the room. A trembling hand slides the small window to the side, allowing you to hear him, and him to hear you, to touch you even, but you wouldn’t allow that. 

Beomgyu doesn’t seem surprised at your sudden appearance, a smirk spreading across his lips, he had expected you to visit him. “Dollface”, the name sends your heart into a minor frenzy, “it’s a little late to be working still, no?” he asks as he tilts his head to the side, studying your unblinking expression. 

You swallow, “perhaps”. He chuckles and you’re once again reminded of how hard you thought he was to read. Maybe that was what made him so intriguing to you. “Yet you’re here”, he murmurs, eyes glinting in the same way they had when you first met. 

“But you shouldn’t be”, he states and you know that he’s right. 

You should most definitely not be here right now. But as your gaze meets his you suddenly realize why you are. Because despite everything a small part of you clings onto the faint hope — the hope that he isn’t what you know him to be. Because a small part of you wants to believe that Beomgyu is innocent.

taglist ✎... @beomtasticc @beomies-world @leeminhosairfryer @baekberrie @fairyofyeongyu @lunathewritingcat @archoive @baemgyu @yunjinsbbg @velvetmoonlght @kkochiau @seokqt @soobiary @20-cms @moagyuu @ioveastera @gardnhee (if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

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[sayakamaizonowrites]

Hello! I came by here to see that your requests are open so I kinda wanted to take advantage of that :) so could I request Leon Kuwata, Hajime Hinata and Shuichi Saihara with a GN! or Male! S/O who has a Hacker Personality from Akudama Drive? Thanks!

Oh! My first ever request! Im so happy🩷 I'll gladly make your request!:)

Leon Kuwata , Hajime Hinata , and Shuichi Saihara with a Hacker like S/O

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️

Slight OOC characters (especially hacker since i dont know him that much-)

Grammatical errors

Slight angst on Hajime one

Cringe -,- but enjoy!

Leon Kuwata

He's super pissed at you on your first meeting.

The meeting goes like "Oh hey! Yes you! You're that newbie sad boy right?! Hey! Talk to me!".

You gave him a cold and uninterested face and that's what he's pissed off about.

"You're The Ultimate Hacker right?! you see, there's this guy on my old baseball team that has been pissin' me off, I'll let you watch one of my baseball game for free if ya' hack this guy! What do you mean you're not interested?!!"

Yes, he's still not used on your personality and it still piss him off sometimes.

When you both started dating , he's kind of got used by your actions and personality better.

Most of his classmates avoid you because they're scared of you and there's Leon walking up to you like "Heya darlin'!".

Everyone immediately knew that you both are dating because of him.

"I announce to you all that Y/N is now mine!......What do you mean no one cares?!? Hey S/O! Say somethin'!"

Yes you're unfazed.

Cuddles hugs and kisses are not the thing for both of you so it's limited.

Makoto and Sayaka are the only two who seems happy for both of you.

Hajime Hinata

He finds you weird at first.

You both met when Hajime went to the park and you're there too coincidentally.

He saw you with a laptop and seems concentrated.

He tried to approach you but you cutted him off.

"Hel-" "I'm not interested in making friends with you."

The mood between the both of you are awkward after that.

When you both started dating, he starts to understand your personality more and more better.

He's still kind of awkward with uou you sometimes.

He once accidentally dropped a glass of water on your laptop.

Let's just say that after that, he can't open any of his social media account anymore.

But don't worry, you immediately forgave him and gave him access through his accounts again.

Cuddles hugs and kisses are most likely him asking you to do those affectionate things.

The Kamukura project hurted you because of the realization that he might not remember you again after that.

Shuichi Saihara

Your first meeting with him is rather... embarrassing for him

He accidentally spilled his coffee on your latop and started to panic.

You saw him panicking and thought "Huh...?"

You saw your laptop with a...coffee..? On top of it and your vision darkened.

He apologized million times til you cleared your troat and said that it's okay and you can fix it.

But deep inside you're super mad

He buys you another laptop as an apology gift even though you said that you can fix it yourself.

Even if you both started dating already, he still feel guilty.

"H-hey about your laptop..." "Honey, its fine its in the past already, you should sleep because i dont want someone bothering me with apology on 3 in the f_cking morning."

Cuddles , hugs , and kisses are the things he's not used on doing.

He's still awkward with youuuu.

GRRR DONE! SORRY IF THE CHARACTERS DOESN'T FIT THEIR PERSONALITY! IM SORRY TVT BUT I HOPE YOU STILL ENJOYED!;)

~Mod Sayaka

[amoristt]

Just a Dare | Nathan Prescott x Reader

@trueloveknifefight asked, Also can I request Nathan asking you out?

here u are! i love writing convos w nathan UGH i adore his character.

as always, replies and reblogs are greatly appreciated1 i check all tags and comments <3

wanna support me for just $3? here's my ko-fi!

The lights were bright, vivid. Almost blinding. They dance LED accents into the reflection of your drink- a dull plastic cup filled to the brim with one part whiskey, zero parts mixer. The taste could bring a tear to your eye but you would be damned to water down such fine alcohol, provided by none other than Nathan Prescott himself.

Music reverberated along the pool rooms walls, laughter and hollers distantly rising with the tempos. Your foot absently tapped to the beat- you were never one for dancing. Never one for parties, either, actually, favoring drinking in the solitude of a small friend group.

If not for Nathan you wouldn't be here at all. Some would say it's a privilege to slip past those heavy doors, entering the dully lit world of the Vortex Club. You mostly just felt like it was all for show. Somehow securing a place among Nathan's friend group, and a good friend at that, it was almost duty to show up. He insisted on it.

So, here you were. Leaning against a wall in a suffocatingly warm, cramped pool room surrounded by a sea of faces you hardly recognized.

That was, until you saw Nathan's face peer through the small break in shifting bodies. You knew him all too well.

Strikingly handsome, equally strikingly pompous. Funny, crude, an absent minded party goer just as much as he was a fireball with racing, incoherent thoughts. A drinker, a druggie. Takes the edge off, he says, but you think he does it to take away his thoughts completely. You felt like his entire life was all edges, never sacred ground.

The poor bastard.

He lures your attention in as he saunters over with squared shoulders, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink when a random student cuts it a little too close. Normally Nathan would make a bigger deal, give him what for, but this time he just shoots the poor kid a menacing glare and grumbles, 'fucking watch it'. He's walking with purpose and intent, you can see it on his face. You must have a target on your forehead as he darts straight over.

When he comes to your side, his own alcohol dripping down the sides of his cup onto his wiry fingers, you raise a brow.

"Something wrong?" You ask, as he takes a spot leaning against the hard wall right next to you.

"Just wondering why you're being so fucking lame over here," He shouts over the music, taking a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste. "We're all having a good time over at the lounge and you're over here acting like all the other wallflower nobodies."

You roll your eyes with upturning lips. "Maybe I like being a wallflower. I like people watching. I see things no one else does."

"Yeah, okay, fucking weirdo."

"I mean it," You push off the wall and grin. "Look-" You point to a student obviously wasted, drink held high over head while he lets the music take him away. "That guy is clearly trashed- he's having the time of his life. He's gotta be seeing double."

Nathan whistles at his state, taking in the guys goofy smile, half lidded eyes. "I'll bet it's the triplets. I could breathe on him too hard and he'd fall over."

"You should go try it." You tease. He shakes his head and takes another drink.

"Nah, he'll get it himself. Guarantee we'll be dragging him out by his feet by the end of the night." He shrugs. "Or, at least someone will. I sure as fuck ain't staying that long."

You snicker. "What, got a hot date?" Nathan glares at you. "Oh don't tell me," you cup your hands to whisper, a secretive gesture, "homework?"

"Fuck no," He scoffs, and you can just barely see that he's a little more than tipsy now. His pale cheeks dusted with red, the tip of his nose ruby under the harsh lighting. It's also then that you realize he's a little more tense than usual, even despite the drinking. He's standing straight upright, his right hand gripping his cup like a crutch and his left now shoved hastily into his pocket.

He hasn't looked at you dead in the eyes yet.

"So what is it then?" You ask curiously. He shrugs and stares into his cup. You frown. "Bro, are you like, good right now? Do you wanna leave?"

For the first time since he'd wandered over, Nathan looks up at you. His eyes are unreadable, but his composure seems stressed. He shrugs again. Before you can even open your mouth to ask him about his state, he sighs and downs an entire mouthful of burning whiskey. It makes you cringe just watching him.

"Fuck it," He huffs. "Look I got some stupid ass dare to come over here and put the moves on you, okay." He sounds almost annoyed, like it's a hassle for him, or maybe embarrassing. You cross your arms. "I was dared to come over here and try to get you like, to fucking, you know, leave with me, but now that I'm over here I'm starting to think maybe that was a dumbass idea."

"Leave with you?" You say incredulously, a brow already lifting. "You were dared to come over here and try to sleep with me? By our friends?"

"No, no, fuck," Nathan seems agitated now, rushing. "Like a date sorta bullshit. Ask you out." He manages to get it out in almost the worst delivery possible, meanwhile you're just trying to pick out who would put him up to this. Hayden? Victoria?

A laugh forces its way out of you. "Aren't we a little too old for that game?"

Nathan shrugs. "That's what I said but they insisted. Fucking babies. At least make the dare a little more fun than just asking some bitch out. That's like elementary level shit."

Your eyes widen, you scoff. "Excuse me?"

Nathan sputters. "You're not some bitch, I didn't mean to-... Fucks sake, I'm clearly a little drunk right now okay, if you could cut me some fucking slack that'd be awesome."

"Hey man I didn't ask to be a victim of bullying," You tease, and he can't help but laugh. You soften. "Never expected it from you, though of all people. As ironic as that sounds."

"I'm not even bullying you, come on. Don't be a bitch. I even admitted it and everything."

You grin. "Yeah. Gotta say though, I'm a little disappointed."

"Oh what, you wanted to see my moves?" Nathan hums. "You wanted some Prescott action?"

"Shut the hell up." You shove his shoulder, an action that would be a mistake to so many others, but for you, it was welcomed. "I'm disappointed that it was just a dare. I'd probably have said yes if it wasn't. But, oh well."

Nathan doesn't answer for a long moment. First, he stares into his drink, processing. Almost like he hadn't heard that right, or like you were messing with him. It's rare to see Nathan Prescott stunned into a momentary silence. He's thinking, wondering what he should say next. Suspicious that you're just playing with him, hopeful that maybe you aren't.

And, you hadn't been. Truth be told if given the chance you would allow him to take you out for the evening. Show you fancy things, try out something a little more intimate than just laughter and poking fun at classmates together. You enjoyed his presence, looked forward to it at times.

A small part of you had hoped that he felt the same, maybe. Somehow. While grateful that he respected you enough to cut the crap before it even began, you couldn't help but feel a little... Disheartened at the prank. You'd saved your pride by denying him beforehand, but, if it had been genuine...

"So if it wasn't a dare," He began, quietly, barely audible over the booming music overhead. Eyes barely visible in the sea of vibrant lights crashing like waves. "You'd have said yes."

You shrug, trying to play it casual to save your own feelings, just in case. "Probably. I mean, we're already friends. We have fun so it couldn't have been that bad." He nods along to almost every word.

"Well what if we did it anyways." He blurts.

"Did what?"

"Go out tonight. Like, you know ditch this lame ass party and have some real fun."

"You love this lame ass party, and plus," You shake your head in feigned annoyance. "I'm not sleeping with you, Nathan."

He glares at you. "Fucking duh. I'm just saying we can go and hang out somewhere else. This party happens all the fucking time so it's not like we're missing anything."

"But, wouldn't that make me the butt of our friends joke?"

He shrugs. "Fuck em. It was a dumb dare anyways."

"Now it seems like you're trying extra hard to convince me to say yes." You state, and he's frazzled, running lines through his brain to try and save the absolute failure of asking you out. You decide to spare him, take a little leap of faith for yourself. "But, alright. I'm in."

Nathan gapes at you. "You're in?"

"Yeah, why not. I'm not busy right now and if you're not either than," You smile. "Why not. You better wow me though, Prescott. I'm talking a night to remember. Fireworks, dinner by candle light, a serenade. The whole package."

Nathan's eyes light up, but he tries to hide it, rolls those beautiful blues. "Well considering I've had like no fucking time to prepare how about we instead go to the roof and chill out."

You toss the idea around in your head for show. You already knew the answer the moment he asked if you were being serious.

"I mean I guess that would work," You say. "I was looking for fireworks but I suppose that will suffice. Feel free to go tell our buddies their joke may have backfired on them."

Nathan shakes his head. "Nah, don't even bother. They're all drunk and probably don't even remember daring me in the first place."

"Alright then," You push yourself off the wall, feeling your cheeks warm. A flutter takes wing in the base of your chest, your heart picking up just a little faster. You can't stop the smile that graces you as you say, "Lead the way, Prescott."

Nathan does lead the way. He takes your hand into his own, your fingers tracing over his boney knuckles as he drags you through the sea of bodies, out to the school hall and up winding stairs.

You giggle like a child when he struggles to find the correct key on the janitors ring he'd snatched weeks ago just in case, tease him when he almost spills his drink all over himself. Nathan's hands are almost shaking, but you chalk it up to the alcohol. You chalk everything up to the alcohol- his trembling fingers, his red face, a shy, albeit goofy smile resting upon his lovely, angular face.

The night was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the smoldering heat of the Vortex Party.

He looks amazing out under the stars, and underneath the scope of the vast, black sky dotted with trillions of perfect, twinkling lights, you feel at peace.

Looking at him, you feel like this may be the start of something you'd denied yourself the chance of ever even imagining.

Out there, alone but together, hearing the echoes of music mixed with the livelihood of crickets in the darkness...

it truly was a night to remember.

-----------

Days later, you sit atop your desk, feet tapping rhythmically on your chair, typing away at your phone.

"Love the top," A familiar voice pipes, and you glace up to find Victoria standing before you, books pressed to her chest. She takes in your shirt, a nicely fitted long sleeve with a rather low cut v-neck. "Why haven't I see that one before?"

You shrug and set your phone down. "Never got around to wearing it I guess. Not a big fan of V-necks."

"It fits you," She sets her books down at the table beside you and brushes a hand through her hair, making sure every strand is in line. "I'll have to get one myself."

"You know what, you can have it after today," You say, and she perks up in disbelief. "As a thank you for what happened at the party."

That disbelief soon turned to confusion. "...Meaning?"

"Y'know, making Nathan ask me out. He made a whole huge deal about it- said you guys were drinking and playing Truth or Dare of all things. Gotta say, I was a little surprised."

Victoria's brows knit. "We hardly drank at that party, and I wouldn't be caught dead playing Truth or Dare. That game is for kids."

It almost knocks the wind out of you.

They hadn't even been playing in the first place.

As the teacher walks into the room, the first period bell blaring annoyingly over the speakers, you climb off your desk and prepare for the day, hardly able to contain yourself. It hadn't been a dare, after all.

And, you and Nathan's official second date was merely a day away.

[twinklelilstarkey]

congratulations on 200 angel! sending a request for dad!rafe cameron where he is taking care of his little girl for the first time on his own 💕

A/N: Thank you, my love. Hope you like this.

On His Own - Dad!Rafe Cameron

Words: 3k+

Type: Fluffy

Warnings: I don’t believe there’s any swearing. Female!Reader. Mentions of college, and assignments (I really don’t want to awake anyone’s anxiety at their mention). Possible typos, I’m horrible at proofreading. Gamer!Rafe, Gamer!Kelce and Gamer!Topper.

Y/D/N (your daughter’s name)

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

“Babe, please don’t leave me” Rafe whines, stretching his hand your way as you stand by the doorway of the bedroom, backpack over your shoulder.

“Rafe, I can’t skip any more classes and you know that. I really need you to stay with her” You tell him, looking down at your phone in a small panic since you need to start making your way to college in 2 minutes.

“Isn’t there anyone that you could call to help me?”

“I’ve tried every single friend I have, and everyone is doing something today” You say, letting out a sigh as Rafe starts sitting up on the bed with a scowl on his face. You walk over to his side of the bed and press a kiss on to his lips when leaning over, “She’ll be asleep for at least 2 more hours, you have all the time in the world to start making breakfast and take a shower”

You try stepping away from the bed but Rafe stops you.

“But what if she wakes up before the 2 hours?” He asks, grabbing your hand before you could walk away.

“She knows where she can find you. She won’t get lost,” You say with a small teasing smile, “And all her favorite cartoons play in the morning, so you’ll be fine”

Rafe gives you a tight-lipped smile and you give him one back while giving his hand a small squeeze of reassurance.  

“Love you” You whisper yell on your way out of the bedroom and Rafe falls back on the bed.

“Love you more” He answers, voice back in his usual sleepy tone and muffled by the covers, making a smile stretch over your lips.

(…)

An hour later, Rafe brings himself up from the bed and drags his heavy feet over to the bathroom to take his morning shower. But before he went to grab his clean clothes from his wardrobe, he quickly wrapped his towel around his hips and ran over to the room down the hall, checking on his sleeping baby.

He walks back to the bedroom once somewhat relieved and starts to put on his clothes, which took less time than he expected.

Y/D/N will sleep until she hears something from the kitchen, or even, smells something, and until then, Rafe knows he’s safe to watch or do anything.

He quickly serves himself a mug of coffee before turning on his laptop, and looks over at the closed cabinets, thinking about what he could make for breakfast.

He doesn’t feel as nervous as he felt when you left the house. He knows that his daughter is way too sleepy and calm in the mornings for him to need any help, but he knows, for sure, that he will need that kind of reassurance once lunch time starts.

You had to go to class today, since you’ve been skipping a lot, and also to work on a group project with some of your classmates. And that meant leaving Rafe all alone with your 8-month-old girl that can quickly become the whiniest, clingy, and hyperactive little girl in the world.

Y/D/N can go from the giggly cute girl to a screaming and crying baby in a matter of 10 minutes and Rafe absolutely hates whenever his little girl cries.

You’re always able to make her calm down, yet Rafe always has a hard time because he never knows what to do.

Rafe pulls out Y/D/N’s breakfast (some sort of paste that he even cringed at the sight of) from the fridge and puts it down on the counter, looking for something else for himself.

Notifications from his laptop start popping up with Discord’s sound and Rafe looks over his shoulder to see the notifications coming from Topper and Kelce. They are overly excited for this morning’s talk, as well as, the whole afternoon that they’ll be spending basically gaming away on their pcs.

“Already?” Rafe questions out loud and looks back at the fridge, pulling out the leftovers from brunch of 2 days ago, “This will do”

The sound of a Discord incoming call sounds through the empty kitchen and Rafe ignores its first tones as he grabs his mug and takes a sip of his warm coffee. He lowers the volume and accepts the call.

“Whadup boys?!” Topper shouts, overly excited, making both Kelce and Rafe cringe slightly at him.

“Why this excitement?” Kelce asks before taking a bite of his avocado toast.

“Do you know for how long I’ve been waiting for all of us to be free and just play for a whole day?”

Rafe chuckles and takes his breakfast over to the table, putting it right next to the laptop.

Topper is quick to start a conversation between the boys, asking Rafe about his test from yesterday, but as well about you and your daughter, in which he got simple and quick answers about your whereabouts.

“I’m going to check on her now”

Rafe, as he said those words, gets up on his feet, taking the last sip of his coffee, and walks over to his little girl’s room.

He opens the door widely, making the morning sunlight shine through the small room, giving Rafe a better field of view.

Once he starts taking a few steps closer to the small bed, he’s met by Y/D/N with closed eyes but with her lips forming a wide smile.

“Look who’s awake” He says with his usual playful tone while leaning closer over the small girl.

He presses a kiss on her chubby cheek, marked by the blankets, and her eyes snap open at the feeling.

“Ready to have breakfast?” He asks, knowing very well that she won’t answer this early in the morning unless it is a babble that makes absolutely no sense.

The little girl’s smile widens as Rafe stretches his arms and pulls her out of her bed, making her wiggle her way closer to the warmth of his chest.

Y/D/N snuggles her face between the crook of Rafe’s neck as he walks over to her small window, in hopes to let some more light and fresh air into the room.

The girl hides from the harsh lighting and Rafe is quick to take her to the bathroom.

Once the girl’s face was washed, diaper was changed and as well as clothes, Rafe takes her to the kitchen quickly, knowing very well how hungry she must be.

As soon as the girl hears Topper’s and Kelce’s voices coming from the kitchen, she lifts her head in hopes to see them at the table, but her eyes only meet a laptop and her dad’s dishes. Which was honestly quite disappointing.

Rafe sits her on her highchair, right at the end of the table he’s sitting and turns his laptop her away, seeing her droopy eyes light up at the sight of her “uncles”, who are mindlessly talking about Kelce’s avocado toast.

“Look who it is!” Topper screams again as his eyes laid upon the baby sitting in front of the computer.

Y/D/N slaps the table in excitement as she hears Topper and her toothless smile makes the boys’ awe at her cuteness.

Rafe smiles down at his baby while petting the top of her head, feeling her soft hair. The girl looks up at her dad once feeling his hand and continues giving out her sweet smile and adoring look.

Rafe walks away from the kid and over to the counter of the kitchen and lets the boys look after her (trusting them and their filters to not say anything inappropriate).

He starts heating up slightly his baby’s food and her giggles start to fill the kitchen as soon as Topper starts to make the silly faces he knows that Y/D/N loves.

Rafe scrapes the food off to Y/D/N’s bowl and grabs her favorite spoon from the drawer, before turning back around to the table. The baby girl’s eyes widen at the sight of the bowl and as soon as it is close enough to her reach, she snatched the spoon off it and started giggling loudly with excitement.

Thankfully both you and Rafe decided to spend some money on those bowls with the suction cups at the bottom off of Amazon, because breakfasts always seem to be way too exciting for your little girl.

Rafe turns his laptop a bit to his side so the guys can, now, see him as well and Topper continues their previous conversation, letting the small girl eat alone in peace.

“I don’t know, dude. That guy has been annoying ever since he and your sister started dating” Topper says out loud as Rafe looks at the mess next to him.

“Wait, we were talking about John B this whole time?” Kelce asks.

“Yeah! He thinks he’s a kook now. All dressed up to events and always on the Cameron’s boat”

As the two men talked, Rafe found a new sort of amusement: his daughter and how happily she’s eating. Since it surely is better than hearing Topper bitch about his sister’s new boyfriend. He doesn’t care what is going back on the island, he moved for a reason. And he does not want to have anything to do with the Outer Banks anymore.

“What about you, Rafe?”

“What?”

“Are you and Y/N going to this year’s Midsummers?” Kelce asks.

“Nah” Rafe says, laying his arm over the back of Y/D/N’s chair.

“Why not?”

“I prefer to stay at home with my girls than go to an event in that island, thank you very much”

As his sarcastic end of his sentence sounded past his lips, Topper was quick to change the theme of conversation, not wanting to go into serious mode this early in the morning.

(…)

“Baby, don’t touch that,” Rafe says while sitting at his desk, muting himself on discord for the possible hundredth time.

Y/D/N looks over her shoulder at her dad and pouts slightly at his warning. She just wants to feel what’s on top of mommy’s bedside table.

The girl sloppily walks away from the table and goes sit back down close to her dad, where her toys are. Rafe’s eyes stay on the little girl as she holds a pout on her lips, visibly upset over being rejected such an exciting experience (feeling and, eventually, letting your alarm clock fall off the table).

“Don’t be sad, princess. I just don’t want you to get hurt” Rafe emphasizes but doesn’t even get a look from the girl.

He looks back at the screen of his gaming computer, still waiting for Topper or Kelce to revive him in-game, and sighs out loud as the two of them hysterically scream, “THERE’S ANOTHER TEAM! ANOTHER TEAM! PUSH BACK! PUSH BAAAAACK”.

“We’ll get you back, Rafe, give us one second,” Kelce says.

“Alright,” He says, unmuting for just that second.

Rafe leans back on his chair, eyes moving from his screen to Y/D/N and he almost freaks out when he notices the trembling of her chin.

“No, no, no, no” He says, taking his headphones off in a quick movement and throwing them to the desk before getting up. Y/D/N lifts her teary eyes over at her dad and stretches her arms up right away.

He picks up the girl from the floor and as soon as she was close enough, she hid her face on his chest as she let out some whiny sounds, close to actual tears and loud sobs.

Rafe takes back his seat at the desk and holds his emotional daughter with one arm as he puts his headphones back on, hearing both Topper and Kelce keep screaming right away.

“Why you crying, baby?” Rafe asks, moving his hand up and down the small girl’s back to comfort her, “There’s no reason to cry”

Those words were enough to worsen the situation. Y/D/N in that same second, stood up on her feet in her dad’s lap, little fists grabbing his shirt tightly and eyes filled with tears.

Probably as her way to show true frustration but failing as she keeps losing her balance.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, helplessly looking at the girl expecting some kind of sign that would show him her reasoning. “Do you really want mamma’s alarm clock?”

The little girl shakes her head violently and falls back onto her dad’s chest, letting a small sob escape her lips.

“Food? Do you want food? Are you hungry?” He asks before starting to move his hand on her back.

No answer, just a louder whine, sounding as she’s getting more frustrated.

“Sleep? Do you want to go to bed?”

Yet another no.

“Rafe, you there?” Topper asks, noticing the silence coming from his (possible) close-to-tilting friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here, just talking to Y/D/N” Rafe answers before muting himself back up.

Rafe looks down at his baby girl once more and she looks absolutely heartbroken.

Over what? He has no idea.

He presses a kiss onto the side of her head and the girl leans in closer once feeling it.

“Do you want me to call mommy?” He asks in a whisper.

Y/D/N lifts her head off Rafe’s shoulder right on that second and she quickly nods, with her pouty lips and red chubby cheeks, wet by her tears.

Rafe takes his phone out of his pocket in a quick movement and unlocks it in record time.

And even though he is being the quickest he could, for the little girl on his lap, it felt like it was taking the whole eternity.

As soon as Rafe starts calling you on facetime, he just starts praying that you’re not in class or occupied with something too important.

He turns the phone to his side on his hands so that only Y/D/N’s face was on the screen and the little girl seems paralyzed with her reflection for a quick second.

Once Rafe hears the sound of you answering the call, he almost gasps and sighs in relief at the same time.

“Oh, hi princess!” You say over the phone as you noticed the sad looking girl on your screen, “What’s wrong? Did daddy do anything bad?”

Rafe stares at the girl silently, watching her eyes lift up with happiness at the sound of your voice and the use of the teasing tone. A babble comes off her mouth, something you’re sure neither you nor Rafe understood, and her eyes start filling up with tears again.

“Oh, baby don’t cry” You say once noticing her small chin quivering.

Rafe decides to change positioning as soon as he notices the girl slightly sliding down his lap, and he positions his phone on the desk, making it stand up by some of your books, and making sure only the small girl and his chest appeared.

The girl turns to follow her mom’s face on Rafe’s phone and sits on his thigh while leaning back onto his chest.

“She said she isn’t hungry or tired” Rafe explains as you continue to look at the screen with a worried expression.

He notices that you must be sitting in a random bench somewhere as you look around you and the phone’s camera tilts a bit to the sky.

“Rafe, MOVE! You can’t be AFK the whole round!” Kelce says loudly, making Rafe take off his headset and setting it down on the desk.

“And I also told her to not touch your bedside table” Rafe continues the explanation while setting a hand at his baby’s stomach so she stops sliding down his thigh, again.

You start to think silently of what would’ve made your baby so upset but you just can’t think of anything.

She isn’t hungry nor tired, she’s getting her dad’s attention and has all her toys.

“Maybe she just misses you” Rafe says, making you snap back to reality.

“But she never is like this when we’re both out and she’s with the babysitter”

Rafe sighs once feeling his small baby grab onto his hand tightly, just like she does with her toys.

“What should I do?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” You start but stop for a few seconds to think, “Honestly, just try to make her watch some videos or one of her favorite shows. Maybe she’s just bored”

You two talk for a bit more before you had to finish the call and run to class, and Y/D/N sat through the whole conversation just watching you and Rafe.

Rafe decided to do as told and go grab your iPad (where every single cartoon episode is saved in) to try and entertain Y/D/N.

And thankfully, as soon as Rafe positioned the iPad on the desk next to his screen with his daughter’s favorite cartoon already playing, a smile spread over the girl’s cheeks and her eyes are no longer holding the sad stare.

Rafe readjusts the kid on his leg so that she can sit more comfortably, and puts his headphones back on, letting one of his ears out so that he can hear anything that Y/D/N says.

“I’m back” Rafe says, unmuting himself, and starts moving in the game again.

(…)

“What about this one?” Rafe asks his daughter and she shakes her head violently, almost choking in her own sob. “Okay…”

Rafe puts the snack back in the cabinet and stretches his hand in to try and look for something else that would satisfy the small girl.

“And this?” He asks, “Do you want waffles?”

The girl stares at him for a second and then nods, a smile growing out of nowhere.

“Can you even eat waffles?”

The girl doesn’t answer back as she grabs her toy from beside her and playfully slams it on the small table attached to the highchair.

Rafe drops the waffles in the toaster and pushes the button down before turning back to the girl.

She looks so carefree that it doesn’t even seem like she was just screaming her lungs out. Her cheeks are still wet with previous tears but the mention of food (and the sight of it) was enough to make her forget about everything.

Both of them patiently wait for the waffles to pop back up from the toaster and as they do, both Rafe and Y/D/N look over at the hallway at the sound of the front door of the apartment open.

That only means one thing…

Their savior (mommy) is home.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(Some bnha stuff I wrote a few years back)

Toshinori was beginning to suspect that his former teacher had some kind of plot afoot.

Barely a week had passed since the fateful encounter in the mall, and already the retired hero was exchanging almost daily phone calls with Inko. At first, his offer to let the Midoriyas move into his abandoned apartment building seemed purely practical. It was off the grid, more or less, and Gran Torino's hero pension was more than enough to keep electricity and internet supplied for the whole of the building. It looked like it had been condemned, but that just meant he had the run of it.

And at first, Toshinori had encouraged Inko to look into it as a possibility. Surprisingly, she got along well with the occasionally curmudgeonly hero, so he wasn't so worried about them being neighbors. 

But then Sorahiko had started not so subtly dropping hints about "now you'll have an excuse to visit more often", and Toshinori began to worry that perhaps the old man hadn't given up on his matchmaking scheme after all.

He'd almost considered bringing it up to Inko (to warn her, of course!) when he came over to help them pack. But surprisingly, two of his students had turned up looking for Izuku and had ended up staying to help. While appreciated, it did mean certain conversations had to wait.

[[MORE]]

"Whew!" Denki leaned back on his haunches and wiped his forehead. "Is that the last box?"

Tenya squinted at him from over a stack of chairs. "Kaminari, we've only packed away the dining room."

Izuku grinned at his classmate's dismay. He took down a framed photo of his first birthday from the wall and wrapped it in newspaper. 

"You know, you guys didn't, um, didn't have to come help us pack."

Tenya scoffed, as if personally offended by the notion. "But Midoriya! Many hands make the work light, as my brother says!"

"That's true," Izuku mused. "That is why he runs an agency with so many team members."

"Precisely!" Tenya said with a sharp nod. "Besides, as students representing UA High School, it is our duty to help those in need!"

Denki stretched out his aching back and tossed Izuku a roll of packing tape.

"Besides, moving is a hassle. It would totally suck if you had to spend your whole break before the training camp doing this."

Toshinori listened idly from the living room, where he was in the midst of taking down the television. It was a painstaking process, and one that would've been a little easier with One for All. But considering the whole point of the move was to draw attention away from the Midoriyas, that would have defeated the purpose. He had been a little afraid that his other students' spontaneous volunteering would bring up hard to answer questions, but so far neither had done more than greeted him politely. Iida-shounen had just seemed to accept his presence as completely normal. 

The boys had been more surprised by Gran Torino's presence, frankly. And the old man had been gleefully making life difficult for the boys until Inko fussed at him for making her job harder.

As Toshinori eased the television off the table and onto blocks of styrofoam, Inko came bustling through the living room with a spray can of air freshener. 

"Sweaty boys!" she lamented by way of explanation. "I thought I was used to it, but now there's three!"

Toshinori laughed. "They're working pretty hard!" he admitted. "I'll open the windows once they finish in the kitchen."

"Oh, thank you, Yagi-san, it's ripe in here," Inko sighed. "I think there's just the computers, clothes, and Izuku's room left, now. But of course, he insists we leave that to him."

Izuku, on cue, popped out of the hallway where they'd stacked the boxes and chairs. "Don't touch my room!"

He cringed.

"I mean, I mean...I can handle it."

Inko nodded sagely. "He's worried we'll mess up his collectibles."

"Mom!" Izuku yelped, looking a little pale.

As Inko and Toshinori fought and maneuvered until they'd managed to get the television back into its box, Toshinori looked up at Izuku and smirked.

"You know I've seen what your room looks like, right? It's not gonna shock me. I put your unconscious butt to bed when you were sick, remember?"

"Nooo!" Izuku groaned and covered his face. "Toshi-san, that's embarrassing!"

There was a faint thud from down the hall, and a small, plaintive, ow. Izuku forgot his embarrassment for the moment and darted away to make sure nothing was broken. Inko and Toshinori both chuckled at teenaged antics. Toshinori slid the boxed television to the wall, and Inko sprayed the air with the freshener once or twice. Then they stood back to take stock of their handiwork. 

"Toshi-san," Inko said thoughtfully. "That's new for him, isn't it?"

Frankly, she was surprised that Izuku was comfortable using a nickname for All Might like that. It really said a lot about how close they'd grown, and how much Toshinori had been able to coax her son out of his shell.

Toshinori glanced over at her with a shy smile. "Yeah. I like it. Feels more natural for...whatever we all are."

'A family,' came to Inko's mind, but it didn't seem appropriate to say that out loud just yet. Instead she asked, "Well, would you prefer if I called you that as well? Or should I stick to Yagi-san?"

The tall man's eyes lit up noticeably. "I'd be delighted if you felt comfortable calling me Toshi, or Toshinori," he said warmly.

"And nevermind about the suffixes," Torino interjected unexpectedly as he passed by the open doorway, "You'll make him blush otherwise."

He chuckled at their almost guilty jump and dusted his hands off.

"You want us to start moving all this to the truck?"

"Sir, we've been over this, you have to warn people before sneaking up on them like that!" Toshinori complained. 

Torino's smirk grew wider. "I was standing right there in the doorway. You just let yourself get distracted by a pretty face!" he scoffed. 

He shifted his weight -- and his attitude -- and turned to Inko. "The Quack Pack has already got the truck about half loaded with the heavier furniture. You want the boxes in there or nah?"

[trvelyans-archive]

something to look forward to

mari wiseman x gray black. 4k words.

Is there a piece of popcorn in your hair?

“Mari, are you listening?”

You snap to attention, finally glancing away from the mirror in the bathroom and rolling your eyes. “Yes, Dad, I’m listening,” you reply, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear while you tug your boots on. “You must not be, though, because I’ve reminded you more than once that it’s only a ten-minute walk to the train station and that I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I should just come and get you,” Nick says. It’s past midnight now – you had to stay after your shift ended, cleaning up a puddle of Pepsi on the floor that you found accidentally after kneeling down to grab some popcorn from under the seats – and no matter what you say, he insists that you’re going to run into trouble on the way home (even though you have the grumpiest face in the Chicago area – probably all of Illinois – and there’s probably very few people who would approach you because of it without even starting to consider the whole mind-blind thing). “Did you at least bring a hat?”

You pause. “Yes?”

“Mari –“

“Nick, it’s minus ten.” You zip up your jacket and straighten, reaching to grab your phone to make sure it doesn’t topple to the ground while you swing your bag over your shoulder. “That’s nothing.”

“Alright,” he concedes, sensing that you’re not going to budge. “But… call me if you see anyone acting - I don’t know, suspicious, okay?”

“Don’t you worry enough at work?” you ask, reaching for the bathroom door and pulling it open. “Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Button.” You can hear a smile in his voice. “I never get tired of you.”

You nod at the co-worker by the ticket booth as you wander through the lobby, your boots squeaking loudly against the floor. You don’t know how they didn’t dry in the eight hours they spent sitting in your locker – they’re still as wet as they were when you got here earlier today. Well, yesterday, technically.

Jesus, you’re tired. He should be more worried about you falling asleep on the train than he should be about you getting mugged.

Before you push open the front doors of the theatre, you pause and heave a sigh, remembering that he’s still waiting on the other end of the line. “I’ll call you if I see anyone acting suspicious,” you promise, hoping that you sound sincere. And you are sincere – even you don’t want to die by a mugging-gone-wrong. “And once I get on the train.”

“And once you get off the train.”

That gets a laugh out of you – not an entirely frustrated one, either, which is a feat to behold, at this hour and after this much badgering. While he can just tune into your thoughts whenever he wants to hear whether or not they’re ‘ah, that customer sucked’ or ‘ah, I’m being actively murdered’, sometimes – especially now that you’re an adult with a part-time job – he likes to let you pretend that you have some semblance of privacy (even though you really don’t). “Alright, before and after I get on the train,” you repeat. “Anything else?”

“Nope. Be safe, okay, Button?”

“Will do. Bye.”

“Love you,” Nick replies. “Bye.”

The call clicks off before you have a chance to say ‘love you’ back, and after spending thirty seconds deliberating whether or not you want to call him again to do so, you decide against it and brace yourself before pushing out into the night.

Thankfully, it’s snowing outside, and you take a minute to tilt your head back and let the snow hit your face. Most people might complain, but you like the snow. It makes everything in the city look pretty… dreamlike, almost. Still, after breaking yourself out of your reverie, you sigh and stuff your phone in your pocket, regrettably beginning to feel the tips of your nose and ears getting cold already. It’s minus ten, you remind yourself, gritting your teeth and dragging your boot-heavy feet down the sidewalk. And you’ve survived worse. Worse weather, and…

Well, worse.

You sigh a second time like a melodramatic dog that hasn’t yet been fed by its owner and glance up just in time for you to notice a man wandering down the sidewalk towards you. Late forties or so, with a leather jacket and slicked back hair – is he a mobster? He walks like a mobster, at least ones that you’ve seen in movies, and – it’s Chicago. He could very well be a mobster.

Should you call Nick?

You opt not to this time, but tighten your fingers around your phone anyway and hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, close enough that you’d probably be able to pick him out of a line-up if he tries anything, and then, in the span of about two seconds, he walks directly past you without even looking over, leaving you shaking in your boots for more than one reason and sufficiently not-mugged. (No word on whether or not you’re sufficiently not-frostbitten, though.) You’re almost disappointed – do you not look put-together enough to at least try mugging? – and then you remember that going unnoticed by as many people as possible is something you usually like, so you let your phone fall to the bottom of your pocket and keep walking. A little faster, this time, though - just to be safe.

Which is good, because it hasn’t even been a full minute when you hear footsteps behind you – quick, careful footsteps, too close for you to run away from.

Oh, well. It was good while it lasted.

“Mari?”

You frown and turn around – sure enough, Grayson Black is standing behind you, a package of toilet paper stuffed under one arm and a paper grocery bag hanging from his opposite hand, his golden-brown hair tucked beneath what looks like a hand-knit toque.

Great. Just your luck. He looks like he stepped out of a Whole Foods advertisement and you’re wearing a coat that’s about three winters old and smell like stale popcorn that someone put way too much butter on.

“Hey, Gray.” You smile at him, trying to pretend that you hadn’t convinced yourself you were within an inch of imminent death. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh – just walking home from the store.” He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Work,” you say, pointing to the theatre down the block. Grayson follows your finger and then sighs.

“Right.” He turns back to you. “Sorry, Nick told me you were working, I was just… surprised to see you out so late.”

“It’s okay,” you reply. It’s not like you have any friends to go clubbing with, so you can understand his confusion. “Uh – okay, well… See you later?”

“Are you going to the station?” he asks. Why is he still frowning?

You nod. “Yeah.”

“I’ll walk you,” Gray offers.

“I – what?” You shake your head. “No, it’s fine.”

“And it’s late.” He takes a step closer, but not close enough to break the unspoken barrier between you. “Besides… Nick will kill me if he finds out we ran into each other and I didn’t walk you.”

Of course he’s only offering for Nick’s sake. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t tell him.”

“Mari.” God, the way he says your name is a prime example of why every girl in Illinois has a poster of him of their bedroom wall. “Can you let me walk you to the train station?”

You stare at him for a second, sticking your tongue against the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too wide. “Okay, yeah, sure. When you ask so nicely.”

He laughs and moves closer until you walk side-by-side with the usual distance between you, though it feels much bigger tonight – actually, considering his arm is sticking out half a foot farther than it does most of the time because of the package of toilet paper stuck under it, the gap probably is bigger than usual. You glance around at the street while you walk, listening to the crunch of snow under your boots and the gentle hum of passing cars. God, you’d kill to be in a nice, warm car right now – you should’ve taken a cab.

Actually, no, you’re glad you didn’t. You’re probably safer (and happier) on the street with Gray than you are with a potential Ment cab driver.

“So.” You turn to Gray, and he turns to look at you before you even say anything. “Another late night run for Arizona?”

He laughs again, and you try not to let yourself feel too pleased with yourself about it, because he could just be doing it to be polite, right? “No, not this time,” he answers. “Just some… ah… dish soap. I’ve been out for a week, and…” He grimaces, and you get the sense he’d reach up to scratch the back of his head if he had a free hand. “I finally ran out of plastic cutlery tonight after dinner.”

“Mmm… Well, that’s a good reason for a midnight run to the grocery store if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Of course, a couple cans of Arizona just so happened to fall into my basket, and – it would be rude of me to say no...”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.” You smile. “That’d be downright heretical, and Fortitude has a reputation to keep.”

Gray laughs, louder this time, and you feel your smile widen. “Anyway, enough about me,” he says. “How was work?”

“Ah… it was okay.” You shrug absently, feeling his eyes on you while you do (even though he should be looking at the ground so he doesn’t slip on a patch of ice and fall on his ass). “Had to stay late and clean up, which was gross, but… According to Nick, I have some cookies waiting for me when I get home, so that’s nice.”

“Something to look forward to,” Gray agrees, nodding.

As if anything compares to this. 

“Yeah,” you say. “Something to look forward to for sure.”

“Are you getting excited for the Academy?”

You cringe. As thrilled as you were to get accepted into Aeon, the prospect of finally starting there is nowhere near as thrilling. Though it’ll be nice to have classmates that are strictly non-Ments – at least when you’re not working with Sally’s class – the idea of being back in any kind of school isn’t… well, that isn’t something to look forward to. Still… “Yeah, kinda,” you answer. “Not ready to go back to school, I think, but I also don’t want to be scraping gum out from underneath movie theatre seats for the rest of my life.”

He makes a face. “That sounds… gross.”

“Yeah,” you reply. “It is. But I’ve snuck into a couple movies so far and watched them for free, so… it’s an okay trade-off, I think.”

“Sounds like it,” Gray muses. He turns to you. “You’re really not excited to go to Aeon?”

“I said kinda!” you protest.

He smiles. “You shouldn’t be nervous, Mari.”

You’re the one to make a face this time. “Who said I was nervous?”

“No one had to.” He angles his head in your direction like he’s sharing a secret. “I can tell.”

“And Nick told you.”

“Nick… may have mentioned it.”

“I’m not nervous.” You’re lying, of course, because you’re nervous about everything. Right now, only half of your brain is tuned into the conversation because the other half is nervous that you’re going to slip on the ice and break your neck, which would both be not hot and so embarrassing that you’d have to write off your friendship with Gray entirely for the rest of your life and become a full-time hermit whenever he comes over for dinner. “I just… I don’t know…” You kick a block of ice and watch it skitter through the fresh snow in front of you. “I don’t want to disappoint Nick.”

“You could never disappoint him,” Gray responds. “You’re brilliant.”

“Psh. Not even Nick could get away with saying that.”

“He didn’t.” Gray adjusts his grip on the package of toilet paper. “I mean, I’m sure he thinks it. I meant that… I meant that I think you’re brilliant.”

Sure, that could be a really cute compliment Gray gave you, but you’re probably just being too optimistic, right? Like – sure, he’s nice to you and brought flowers to your graduation ceremony and sure, he gave you that cute teddy bear for Christmas and sure, he once brought over a 6-pack of Dr. Pepper for dinner because you were having a bad day and he knows it’s your favourite, but… “Gray,” you sigh. “British people say everything is brilliant.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if his cheeks are pink because of how cold it is out or – well, for other reasons that are so impossible that you don’t let yourself continue that train of thought. “That’s true,” he says. “But I mean it. From the bottom of my heart.”

You don’t know what to say to that, but you don’t say anything. Thankfully, you don’t think Gray seems to mind, because he doesn’t say anything else, either.

There’s a crosswalk coming up, and even though no cars are coming and you could easily get away with some perfectly safe jaywalking, you stop and press the button (ha) anyway and wait for the light to turn, figuring you don’t want to risk it if Gray wants to report anything back to Nick. (Because Nick could very well assume that you jaywalking is something to be grievously concerned about.) Although, on second thought, you’re not sure Gray’s paying very much attention right now – he’s glancing across the street with his eyebrows furrowed, a distant look in his eyes. He must be thinking hard about something, so you elect not to interrupt him.

Now that there’s a lull in conversation, you find your eyelids beginning to flutter. You stayed up late last night after falling down a Wikipedia rabbit hole – that’s why you shouldn’t watch documentaries at three in the morning, you think to yourself - and Nick had to wake you up at noon to make sure that you weren’t late for your shift, so… Yeah, falling asleep on the train sounds like a pretty likely scenario.

Gray shifts his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and once again adjusts his grip on the toilet paper package – as he does, though, it topples out of his grasp and lands perfectly in between your feet with a soft, snowy thump. You bend down to grab it the same time Gray does, of course, because you’re the two most awkward people in the world, and there’s a three-second pause before you finally reach for the toilet paper and scoop it into your arms because it would be too awkward now not to.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” you say before he can protest. “You have your… uh…” You gesture to his bag. “Hand full, anyway.”

He tries to protest anyway. “Mari, let me –“

“No, it’s okay.” You smile pleasantly at him. “You’re walking me, so I can… you know… take one for the team.”

He deliberates for a second before nodding – you think he might only do that because the crosswalk light has started beeping at you. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The snow is starting to lighten up, now – you can see the train station in the distance. It’s still a few blocks away, which means you more than enough time to make a sufficient fool of yourself. (Or perhaps, continuing the theme of the rest of the night, a not-fool of yourself?) “You know, uh, if you think I’m so brilliant…” You’d put air quotes around it if your fingers weren’t too cold. “Maybe we should have a Scrabble rematch soon?”

You, Nick, and Gray ended up playing a round last time Gray came over for dinner, but Nick stopped halfway through because he was getting bored and decided to go try mixing a new drink instead. Usually you would’ve complained – you like to wipe the literal board with him whenever you can – but it was hard to complain when you were sitting across the coffee table from Gray and splitting a plate of cookies like a couple of little kids. (It’s hard not to feel like a kid around Gray – shy and long-limbed and awkward. Like Bambi, but less cute because you’re a human and also, just generally, not cute.) “I still can’t believe you beat me...”

“Is now a bad time to remind you that I was my school’s valedictorian?”

“Yes, it’s a terrible time,” you reply, watching Gray grin out of the corner of your eye. “English was one of my best classes! I’m supposed to be good at Scrabble.”

“Well… maybe you’ll be better during our rematch.”

Okay. Keep it cool, Mari.

It only sort of sounds like you’re arranging a date with the love of your life and he’s not even taking a couple seconds to be weird about it.

“Oh, I will be better,” you say. “That’s a promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you work tomorrow?” He sniffles – he must be cold. This is what he gets for wasting his night walking you to the station instead of going back to his nice, warm apartment. “Maybe I could pick you up after your shift and train with you back to your house.”

“Oh, uh –“ You clear your throat. “Yeah, I work tomorrow! I think I get off at six?”

“Okay, great. Just let me know if – erm, that changes or… something.”

“Yeah, I will,” you reply, a little taken aback.

What in the world is happening?

Did you actually get stabbed by that maybe-mobster, and awkwardly making plans to play Scrabble with Grayson Black is your purgatory?

“Uh… I just – I hope I remember to tell Nick,” you comment. “Not that he’s ever bad when you show up on our doorstep unannounced and ask for dinner…”

“I – I don’t ask,” Gray stammers, “he offers before I can even get a word in, and – and I say yes because it would be rude not to!”

“Mmm… sure.” You shake your head fondly. “You’d probably eat Nick’s dinners every night if you could.”

“Yes, but for the company,” he says, smiling. “Not for the dinner.”

“Not entirely for the dinner.”

He laughs. “Alright, you got me. Not entirely for the dinner. But…” Clearing his throat, he adds, “Mostly for the company.”

You can’t exactly disagree. Nick could serve you a plate with nothing more than an uncooked chicken breast on it and you wouldn’t even care as long as Gray was there to get salmonella with you.

You’re nearly at your stop, you realize suddenly. You’re both disappointed and relieved – disappointed because you always hate to leave Gray, but relieved because things have gone too well so far and you’re starting to get suspicious. It’s just like you always say (to yourself) – you’re not lucky. You’re incredibly unlucky. If something is going well, it means that something incredibly unwell is going to happen as soon as possible.

You pause before you reach the stairs to the train platform and turn to Gray to say goodbye.

“Well… here’s my, uh… stop.”

Gray looks at you. “Here it is,” he repeats.

“Thanks for walking me,” you say. He tilts his head, almost in question, but you continue – “You really didn’t have to.”

“Mari.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch carefully as Gray raises a hand like he’s in a trance, reaching out to you like –

Like what?

Is he going to kiss you?

He blinks and the trance breaks, shattering into a thousand little pieces like a snowy sidewalk under a winter boot. “Oh, sorry,” he says softly, and you don’t miss the way he backs up a half-step. Did he really forget about the… well, everything? He never forgets. Gray drops his hand before raising it to his head again, moving it in little circles near his temple. “You have a –“

Following his movements, you reach up, and –

Of fucking course. There was popcorn in your hair the whole time! You make a note to guilt Nick about distracting you when you get home.

“Damn it.” You pull it out of your hair – how did it get so tangled in there? – and toss it onto the ground, hoping that he’s not going to call you out for littering. (Would that even count?) “Thanks.”

“Uh… you’re welcome.” Gray smiles at you again, and though it’s awkward and a little forced, it’s still a Grayson smile. “I should… let you catch your train,” he continues, running his free hand over his head before scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I should let you get back to – uh – doing dishes?”

He nods, laughing. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds right.” With one last lingering look, he smiles a little wider. “Goodnight, Mari. Get home safe.”

You smile back at him, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, you too.”

Should you watch him leave? No, that’s weird, right? You stand under the streetlight and consider it for several seconds before realizing that you’ve watched him for too long already, and then you shake your head, turning to the stairs and bracing yourself to trudge through the snow that’s gathered on top of them (as if you need anything else to be unnecessarily difficult today). The platform is relatively empty when you reach it, save for a couple of teenage girls and a man in a business suit looking entirely out of place at this time of night and at this weather, and you take a seat on a bench, settling in while you wait for the train to come.

You’re much more aware of how cold it is out now that Gray’s gone – even the sweat on your hands feels like it’s going to freeze – so to distract yourself, you look around the platform for something to entertain you. You manage squint at a weird-looking piece of graffiti a few feet away from you when you hear footsteps approaching.

Sure enough, when you turn around –

“Mari,” Gray says. “I’m sorry, I forgot the –“

He points to your lap, where you’ve diligently placed his package of toilet paper.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” you say, picking it up and holding it out to him from one end so he can grab onto the other. “I totally forgot.”

“No, that’s alright, I forgot too,” Gray assures you, because of course he does – when is he ever anything but nice and diplomatic? Once he’s tucked the toilet paper under his arm again, he chuckles to himself and continues, “Alright. Erm… goodnight again, Mari.”

“Goodnight,” you reply.

With the toilet paper returned to him, he gives you a short, stilted wave before he turns and heads for the stairs again. You force yourself to look the other direction, making a mental note not to stare at him whenever he walks away from you.

You make a couple other mental notes on the train home, too, though it’s mostly in an effort to keep yourself awake. You definitely need to get more than four hours of sleep tonight if you have a long shift again tomorrow, especially since Gray’s coming over; you probably shouldn’t wear new jeans to work in case you run (or, more accurately, sit) into any more puddles, and you might as well bring a hat with you next time you leave the house, because there’s a spare sitting on the shoe rack near the door, anyway.

You definitely make a note to double-check your hair for pieces of someone else’s half-chewed popcorn before leaving the theatre from now on, too - then, when you think about the possibility of running into Gray outside work after all of your shifts from now on, you decide that you should probably triple-check, instead.

[wreckofawriter]

Jelly Slugs

Pairing: Harry Potter x reader

Word Count: 2,278

Warnings: Swearing, a little angsty, still plenty of fluff

Song to Set the Vibe: broken ~ lovelytheband

Request: @mcluuvin666 hi could i request a harry potterxreader in which the reader & harry always seem to find each other in the hospital wing at the end of each year because of harry’s adventures & somehow she always ends up hurt in a funny/ironic way even though it wasn’t her intention to get caught in their messes if that makes sense? either way harry & the reader get really close throughout years of ending up in the hospital wing w the reader being frustrated w the trio bc they’re the “reason” why she’s hurt and she’s just kinda like “you lot are going to be the death of me” but harry and reader end up going out anyway. lots of fluff and maybe angst if you can? thank you so much!!

A/n: Once agian so sorry this took so long! It may not be completely edited, excuse typos, I wrote litteratly all of it tonight. I'm trying to burn through my requets, if u sent one I got it I'm just waiting to get to it

    At eleven years old you had already had far too many near-death experiences, for you that meant one. You hadn’t meant to do anything at all, well except grab some snacks from the kitchen after hours, but it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before. On your way back your ears had picked up a sweet symphony and you had grown curious. 

Turning a few unfamiliar corners you found the room, its heavy door ajar. You pushed it all the way open, a pastry still stuffed in your mouth preventing you from screaming. A large three-headed beast lay in front of you snoring loudly. Before you could turn and run your eyes found a small wooden trap door at its feet. The phrase your mother often scolded you with echoed in your head, Curiosity killed the cat. You about turned on your heel but then the ending of the saying learned from an equally mischievous classmate came to you, But satisfaction brought it back. 

You dropped the food in your hands and walked hesitantly towards the large dog. You then quietly opened the door, cringing as its hinges squeaked and peered inside being met with complete darkness. You were going to close the door retrieve your treats then head back to your dorm but as you turned you met a pair of brilliantly green eyes and you let out a yelp before stumbling backward and plunging into the hole with a scream. You were soon followed by three of your classmates almost as confused as you were. 

You ended up getting your arm broken by a giant chess piece on your way to retrieve something you didn’t fully understand and what you believed to be a curse began. 

You sat up in a cold sweat the image of a white stone queen drawing her sword waking you with a start. You rubbed your eyes only to find your left arm in a sling and aching a bit.

“Oh, good you’re awake.”

You turned to your right to see a little boy in round glasses smiling at you. “What happened last night?” you asked eyes wide.

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we have time.” He shrugged, “Jelly slug?” he offered holding out a colorfully wrapped package. 

“Yes please.”

Second year began as normal as it should have but it was soon strange and dangerous, pearlized classmates and strict rules making the school feel less and less like a home. Of course, your luck being about as bad as it got, you where the last victim of the basilisk. 

You had been polishing trophies to serve detention which you got for supposedly bad-mouthing Snape although it wasn’t your fault Draco was a filthy snitch. You then saw a large pair of yellow eyes in the shining metal and everything went dark.

You woke up four days later body aching eyes feeling extremely dry as you blinked vigorously. You had a strange sense of deja vu as the hospital wing soon came into view. Head once again thumping as you tried to recall your memories. 

“Oh right, you're here.”

You turned your head to the right to see a wide smile, green eyes hidden behind round glasses as cuts riddled the boy’s face. 

“Merlin Harry, what happened to you?” You gasped taking in his battered form. 

He shrugged, “I fought Voldemort.”

You cringed at the name but said nothing of it to him, “Again?” 

He laughed, “Yeah, this time it hurt more though.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” You grinned at him.

His cheeks reddened a bit, “Yeah, I’m glad you’re okay too.” 

You fell into an uncomfortable silence before Harry reached to his bedside table and offered you a tissue-wrapped box, “Jelly Slug?” 

You nodded taking it from him

Third-year had been downright dreadful for you. You were finally a teenager which basically meant everything that had been easy and quick now seemed to take hours and far too much thought. Every little thing you did you were sure would be scrutinized, it didn’t help when a close friend of yours spread a nasty rumor about you and you found yourself skipping classes and opting to stay in bed. A serial killer being on the loose certainly didn’t help. 

The only sort of decent thing that happened was your friendship with Harry, after two times of healing in the hospital wing together you decided to be at least acquaintances. You held study sessions with the boy and occasionally his two best friends although all they did was bicker.  

You also happened to be outside reading when a rat lept on you and dove down your shirt leading to you being dragged into a tree by a dog who turned out to be a serial killer who turned out to be Harry’s godfather. But to be honest you didn’t really care.

You were absolutely livid, your leg was torn apart and for the third time in a row you had somehow been shoved into an adventure you most certainly didn’t want to take part in and you were bleeding heavily because of it. 

Oh yes, how could you forget? You were also almost killed by your professor, who had turned into a werewolf just in time to almost kill you again. 

When you woke up in the hospital wing with the golden trio surrounding you, you weren’t so pleasant.

A string of foul curse words, pointing fingers and yelling was shot at the three teens who apologized profusely insisting they did not mean to get you caught up in their business. 

You eventually calmed down and found out it wasn’t all that bad considering you got to see the suddenly very attractive dark-haired boy who made a point to spend all of his free time in the hospital wing with you as your leg healed. You shared a large amount of jelly slugs as you read muggle books and did your best to stay on top of studies.

Fourth year was much better than the last. You and Harry spent more and more time together and you felt a large crush on the boy who lived growing. Hermione knew about it instantly and Ron seemed adamant to tease both of you just for the joy of watching your faces flush. But good things never lasted.

You had a heart attack when Harry’s name came out of the goblet and found yourself taking his side in a sudden war between him and Ron. The bitch of a journalist Rita Skita also plastered you and Harry’s face all over the daily prophet when she caught you hugging him before his first task. You went with Harry to the ball although to both of your disappointment only as friends. And you ended up comforting Hermione in the hallway anyway. 

You also were almost drowned by your sorry excuse for teachers in the second task. Never one to back down from a fight you yelled directly at Dumbledor and Karkaroff saying how if your name wasn’t pulled out of that idiotic goblet than you shouldn’t have to almost die for the even more idiotic tournament. Of course, you did this with a very colorful vocabulary that landed you three weeks of detention. 

When Harry pulled Cedric from the maze you had cheered clapping along with the band until suddenly you heard the boy wail like a wounded animal. You raced down to meet him and helped pull him off of the elder boy’s body.

He was shaking the entire time and when you finally managed to drag him away he buried his head into your neck and sobbed. 

Harry was then dragged away by Mad-Eye and you were quick to follow, bursting in on the two just as Moody no longer became Moody. 

“Harry!” You yelled diving at the quickly transforming man who was holding him at wand point. 

Your body suddenly erupted in such harsh pain you thought you might throw up. 

“Y/n!” Harry’s yells fell on deaf ears as the unforgivable curse took all of your attention. 

By the time Harry was able to disarm the man, you had passed out from the pain. 

You woke up in the hospital wing three days later a disheveled Harry seated in a chair next to you his arms folded on your bed his head resting on them. 

When you tapped his shoulder lightly he jolted awake immediately engulfing you in his embrace sobbing out apologies as you pushed yourself closer into his chest. 

“I’m so so sorry y/n, I never meant for you to be caught up in any of this.” He choked out pulling away from you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“It’s okay Harry, I’m okay.” You spoke smiling weakly feeling extremely exhausted. 

“But he used an unforgivable cu-” 

“I don’t care, I’m just happy you’re okay.” You interrupted leaning into the soft circles his thumb was drawing on your cheek.

Harry’s eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion and suddenly his lips were on your own. 

The second they connected he backed away blushing so heavily you were sure he was hot to the touch.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I don’t know what I was thinking and I-”

You only shook your head and wrapped your hands around his neck bringing his lips back to yours. His hands ended up on either side of you as you leaned back down on the bed bringing him with you. He hovered over you, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you played with the ends of his hair. He tasted overly sugary with a hint of fruit, just like a jelly slug.

You were interrupted by a cough followed by a low chuckle and Harry immediately pulled away from you and you turned to see not only your headmaster but Professor McGonagal and Madame Pomfrey all staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide and you felt so hot you thought you might catch the sheets on fire. You stole a glance at Harry who had paled dramatically, looking sick. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better y/n.” Dumbledore chortled. 

You hissed in at the pain that shot through your ankle. Your head had also begun to pound causing you to squeeze your eyes shut and attempt to relieve the pressure by pressing onto your temples. Fuck Umbridge. You hopped that bitch was dead, as your eyes began to adjust to the sudden brightness of your surroundings you saw an all to a familiar sight. The hospital wing had become your home away from home and now in fifth year you, it made sense you ended up there once again. 

When your psychotic headmaster dragged you, your boyfriend and your two best friends out to the forbidden forest as she was attacked by a giant she managed to hit you with some sort of spell which effectively left you in your current state. Harry who was seated beside you wrapped his arms around your waist and placed a kiss on your neck.

“You okay?” He asked he seemed stressed, then again when wasn’t he?

“I’m fine.” You lied with a smile pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

“I think you should stay here y/n/n, I can’t have you getting hurt.”  He frowned. You then took notice of the group of teenagers was behind him. They were clearly about to leave. 

“I think history has proven that kind of unavoidable at this point.” You sighed standing up and drinking whatever was on your nightstand, it turned out to be a pain medicine that tasted the equivalent of dragon piss. 

“Y/n...” Harry spoke hesitantly.

You turned to look at your boyfriend, your face set in stone. “If you don’t take me with you I will find another way to that building.” 

Harry sighed biting down on his lip, “Fine. Alright, guys, let’s go.”

Your lips twitched into a smile just as you were about to leave the room you noticed a small half-empty bag on the table next to your bed, you stuffed it into your pocket and ran after the group you had fallen behind. 

You sat silently eyelids feeling so heavy you thought they might close at any moment. Your entire body ached, your headache coming back stronger than ever, but you didn't let onto your pain. 

Harry had his head buried into your stomach as you combed through his messy hair, his sobs were the only sound in the massive black room. Sand was scattered around you as you clung to your boyfriend your back up against a black glass wall as you stared blankly ahead of you. Dumbledore stood a few feet away, seeming almost as lost as you were. Part of you hated him for putting Harry through everything he had just been through, but you knew it wasn’t his fault. 

Harry adjusted himself so his head was buried into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. The movement caused something in your pocket to crinkle, catching your attention. 

You reached into your robe and removed a half-empty bag of candy. You smiled in spite of yourself. 

You tapped Harry on the shoulder whispering his name. He looked up at you his eyes rimmed in red, his face blotchy, the sight made your heart throb.

“Jelly Slug?” You asked your voice cracking.

The boy let out a mix between a laugh and a sob before lightly placing his lips onto your own. He tastes salty and bitter, like tears and blood. You found yourself wishing you were elven again when everything was simple, wishing that Harry still tasted like jelly slugs. 

Taglist:

(Realizing I forgot this last fic I posted, my bad)

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

Masterlist

[notasiren21]

#40 from the prompt list please and thank you!!!

I’m so sorry this took so long!!!

Someone You Loved

Rating: Mature for some themes

Pairing: fuckin’ Lukanette boi

Word count: 4,665

Prompt: (40) “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

Description:

Well, Luka sings a song and I pissed @macaknight off with this when I asked her to beta read the start of it. It helps if you listen to the song in the story, Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi. Enjoy lmao

She was around by his side long enough to engrave the little things into his mind.

He knew how it felt to have the soft strands of midnight blues through his fingers as he tangled them in her hair. To have her legs settle on either side of his as he trailed his hand up her small back and waist under her soft cotton shirts. The cheeky grin he grew to love baring up at him when his arms bracketed with her in between he picked her up at home.

How he didn't care for sweets but loved the way blueberry muffins tasted on her tongue and the taste of her mixed with raspberry jelly when it leaked from the corner of her pouty lips.

How the Liberty swayed under his feet against the small currents the wind brought on as they danced in the rain. The feel of his converse bracing both their weights as her drenched skirt blew in harsh waves between them. The first lightning strike reflecting off an anchor necklace he gave her on their first date.

When she kissed his cheek when he started humming absently with frustration as he tried to figure out the melody he wrote. Her small fingers pulling the pencil out of his death grip as she lent her forehead against his to calm him and decipher the jumbled notes he had in his head.

The way her face lit up when he played it back to her.

The way her face fell when she told him she loved him but they couldn't be together.

How her arms stiffly pulled away from his hug and the red of her eyes she showed up with.

How the airy taste of salt from the water didn't compare to the salt of his tears that trailed to his lips as he grounded the palm of his hands to his eyes roughy as sobs racked through his body when he collapsed to the wood of the ship.

The way it left him numb with hurt and he became too compliant with his happenings, too accepting.

Defeated.

Music was harder to hear and enjoy, he couldn't compose anything more than a haunting melody that brought any stranger to tears.

He wasn't sure he even felt the burn to his tongue when he drank his hot coffee as soon as it was handed to him. Or the rough jerk of his shoulder to turn him around as his guitar bounced off his back.

"Hey man, you look worse for wear." Théo, a former classmate of his that now ran the coffee shop, spoke as he eyed him critically. Luka shifted his thick blacks squared rimmed sunglasses up higher to cover his dark circles better. "I'd say it's great to see you, but..."

“Yeah, I’m just tired.” He offered the excuse at the ready, hating how well lying came with sadness.

“Ah, life of a famous rockstar.” Théo teased with a smirk. “No wondering you’re wearing a hat like that backwards to cover your hair and shades for those ‘oh so sexy’ blue eyes of yours.”

“Not famous,” Luka cringed at Théo’s words. “Just well known on the internet I guess.”

“Sorry for overplaying your popular cover videos man.” His old school mate laughed.

"It's fine. What's up?" He forced a smile that came across as genuine despite what he felt.

Théo crossed his arms and made a jerk with his head in the direction of the shop across the street, "New place has been stealing some of our loyal customers." Luka scratched under the brim of his black baseball cap he had on backwards as he followed the movement. "Lunch hour is about to hit and you know much we moved to stop by this part of town for break."

"Yeah, your aunt made good scones." He supplied.

He grunted in response, "Yeah. Well, girls frequent here more from school, and they keep going there," he roughly jerked his chin to the place again, "Just because there's an older guy who takes their order who is attractive, I guess. Or so I'm told."

Luka blinked at the shop before turning to his old friend, "What do you need from me then?"

"Observant as always, Couffaine." He snorted with a shake of his head. "I wanted to see if you -an attractive older guy- would give a small performance just as the girls come."

"What? Why?"

"Are you dense? With your face and body, and that 'sinful voice' of yours the girls cooed about back then and from your YouTube covers, I'm guaranteed to bring in more customers for today."

Luka tossed his half full coffee cup to the trash next to him. His own arms crossing as he wished he was in his cabin instead, laying on his bed while he stared up at the ceiling and trying to not feel the clench of his arm when he smelled Marinette's hibiscus shampoo and berry scented perfume on his pillows.

"I don't know."

His friend clasped onto his shoulder again, "Please man, you can keep 40% of the money you help bring in, I don't care. That shop is a dick and acting like we're not its competition."

“Man, you really don’t have to, I’ll just take a free coffee if you really need this.” Anything seemed better than just wallowing at home at this point, despite the incredible want to do so that swelled within him as he stood on the block he and Ladybug often frequented to patrol. “I mean it.”

Théo smiled, guiding him to a spot that he started clearing out near the cafe’s short fence that caged the outdoor tables and chairs.

“That’s okay, I feel bad to make you work without pay.” He straightened his back that had been bent forwards as he pushed tables, “Consider it repayment for that time you paid for my lunch.”

Luka stopped, “Lunch? When did I-,” he grunted. “Théo, that was four years ago.”

“Well, last Saturday had me thinking about all my debts and regrets when I thought I was gonna die. You came up.”

He flinched at mention of Saturday.

Saturday, the final fight against Hawkmoth who showed up in person with a struggling Mayura and an akumatized sentimonster of Lila. The combination of their powers as well as the wickedness that resided in the girl proving to be a difficult fight for them all when Ladybug and Chat pulled the entire team in.

Including a Chloé Bourgeois who was more than ready to help.

He could’ve sworn he heard Marinette screaming his name in worry when Hawkmoth closed in on him and hit into his side with his cane full force. But that was ridiculous. Because Marinette was Ladybug and Ladybug was Marinette. And Marinette wanted nothing to do with Luka since they had broken up without reason beyond her excuse of not being able to be with him.

He was a bit bitter about the whole ordeal.

Okay, he was more so lovesick and depressed, but his negative energy still stood.

“Yeah,” he flinched again when he heard his voice crack and he thumbed his bracelet -once silver, now a metallic black to hide better, “At least they finally caught Hawkmoth for good.”

“No kidding, now we can just focus on the heroes and the gossip your little girlfriend’s bestie posts.”

A knife. Through his heart. Twisting and gutting.

“Gossip?” He chose the safer option of the sentence, ignoring the onslaught of pitying questions and half-assed supportive promises that correcting Théo would bring.

“Yeah, like how that Ryuuko dragon girl and Chat are definitely dating and that Viperion and Ladybug totally have the hots for one another and the soft looks they give during patrols.”

A chainsaw. Just shredding his heart to pieces.

Luka Couffaine once thought he was a smart kid who made the right decisions.

How wrong he had been.

“Right.” He bit out, gripping the strap of his guitar case and scratching his baseball cap.

Théo shot up and loudly clapped with a whoop, “There we go! Now, I should grab the mic stand from open mic nights and just plug that in and some speakers, then we’ll be good to go.” Maybe Luka should’ve just left. “I’ll get ‘er done in five minutes, tops.”

Luka only nodded, watching as he ran around and set things up, then proudly presented Luka with the lone table he left set up to sit on.

He eyed his skeptically behind his sunglasses before hopping up, testing his weight on the surface before he crossed one ankle across his thigh and took his guitar from Théo who unzipped it for him. Théo pushed the mic stand closer to Luka and adjusted when he peered up at him.

“What do you want me to sing?”

His old friend shrugged with an easy smile, “Anything that comes to mind and draws that big crowd of hungry girls over.” Luka bobbed his head in response and tuned his acoustic guitar as Théo began backing up to inside the store and cheered, “Show off that sinful voice of yours, man! Woo!”

He let out a short chuckle and emptied his mind completely as he shut down, letting his fingers strum a few notes to a song that he began to resonate deeply with.

“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me,” he closed his eyes and mentally chastised himself for being so open with his feelings as they poured out of him through a popular song. “This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy.”

He could see Théo looking at him carefully when he opened before squeezing his eyes shut in pain. He hated that look of pity, but he already started singing this song and he knew he would have to see it through given that the customers at the shop had already turned their attention to him.

“I need somebody to heal

Somebody to know

Somebody to have

Somebody to hold,”

Did he growl at the end of that last line? He wasn’t sure but the audience seemed moved by it and how he didn’t go weak on the verbs. Maybe he could please someone for once by just following with what worked for him.

“It's easy to say

But it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain.”

He thought he saw the familiar flash of black with red accents that everyone knew as Ladybug’s new suit for a second up on the rooftops. The rooftops that she danced with Viperion on and let her laugh rang over the quiet town under the stars. He wasn’t sure if he was just hopelessly imagining her or if she was there, but he felt the pain bite all at once and his voice became wobbly in a way that the crowd seemed touched by. You’re kidding me.

“Now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

Weak. He felt weak and it wasn’t the kind where he felt weak at the knees like when Marinette smiled up at him or her nose scrunched in thought.

He always thought he could be emotionally strong to handle whatever came his way. He was so sure of it.

“I'm going under and this time I fear there's no one to turn to,” Guess he was weak for Marinette in every way possible after all, “This all or nothing way of loving got me sleeping without you.

“Now, I need somebody to know

Somebody to heal

Somebody to have

Just to know how it feels

It's easy to say but it's never the same

I guess I kinda liked the way you helped me escape.”

There was no blame to place, he knew that. It didn’t make it better or let him throw his anger at her to get it out, but he couldn’t keep punishing himself either.

He felt his eyes sting, shutting them as one tear slipped through and feeling grateful for both his dark shades and the sun beating down on his face past the patio table umbrella, hiding the evidence of his heartbreak.

“Now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all

I let my guard down,”

Who was he kidding? The heartbreak was the clearest part about him as he let the rough notes chip away at his throat and the growls making his voice artistically raw that he would have to worry about later.

His heart stopped painfully when he remembered the way Marinette’s face flushed all smitten like with a wondering look when Luka growled while singing and shot her winks, knowing how flustered it made her to see her calm and collective boyfriend with a soft and careful voice sounding so tortured for certain songs.

“And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.

How that came back to bite him in the ass.

He glanced up to blink away the tears and avoid the view of the large growing audience he couldn’t see from the sun.

He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of black and flecks of red again.

Fingers strummed harder and with more purpose and he let his soft voice fall back as the pain ripped through him and out in his voice.

“And I tend to close my eyes when it hurts sometimes

I fall into your arms

I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around.”

Fuck. He missed her. He missed her a fuck ton and wanted to hold her again and hear her whisper his nicknames of “Love”, “baby”, “handsome”, “Vipey”, whatever the hell she wanted to call him.

Even his damn name would be enough to sedate him for a year.

“For now the day bleeds

Into nightfall”

Dancing with her into the beginnings of a bad storm on the deck of the Liberty as they belted Cheap Thrills amist her giggles and his laughs he choked down to keep her beautiful voice going with his.

“And you're not here

To get me through it all”

Being curled up on her living room couch the next day with her cuddled into his side. Both sick with the cold, but unable to wipe the weak grins from their faces as Sabine amusingly disapproved of their actions the night before.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug”

Their first kiss when she got flustered at their first date and told him she wouldn’t read too much into it despite wanting to, and him effectively shutting her up for the first time ever with the crash of his lips to hers and hands tilting her head up to meet him in reassurance.

“I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

The first time she called him her boyfriend and the pleased giggle she let out when he gave a startled and flustered noise, his snack flying out of the package he ripped open before he blinked and asked her to repeat what she said as a toothy grin broke his shocked face.

“But now the day bleeds

Into nightfall

And you're not here

To get me through it all”

Did a camera just flash at him? Hard to tell with the sun in his eyes and the dark lenses of his shades. He couldn’t find himself to care either.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

He tried not to think about the fact that he forced himself to change his phone backgrounds to black, tried not to think if she deleted her phone screens of them napping together or the wallpaper of them dancing in the rain Juleka got of them as Luka dipped her over the edge of the stage they always practiced on.

The complete trust in her eyes and smile always made him melt in that picture. Her hands loosely holding her arms as her head titled back in a deep bellied laugh while he held onto her waist tightly with one arm and had the other behind him, the biggest smile that was only found on his face when Marinette was around.

“I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug

I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved.”

Luka still fucking loved her more than anything.

His drive, his inspiration, his happiness and safe space. His melody that always rang loudly in his ears.

Now it sounded just as it did when they were younger.

The numbness took over as he looked up, face contorted into a forced happy expression as he dipped his head in gratitude to see the very big crowd that gathered and was clapping with tears in their eyes. He excused himself to find Théo who ignored how exposed the song made his old friend, conversing with him briefly as he counted the amount of customers before Luka left and promised to give him the 40% the next visit he came and a free coffee.

He put up his guitar, tugging the case back over his shoulder as he headed back to the Liberty and tossed the faux leather casing to the bed, tossing his sunglasses to the the bed as well before heading to the deck and off to take a lap to clear his break up riddled mind.

The third block was a close achievement, before he felt the petite body rush into him and the all too familiar wrap of small and strong legs wrap about his waist with a black latex suit arm winding around his neck. He subconsciously fell back into habit as one of his own dropped to hold under her thighs and one around her own waist as black fielded his vision.

He barely got a curse out before the all too telling sound of a spiritually powered string to the famous yo-yo pinned against restraint and shot them upwards, his unmasked face burying itself in the crook of her neck from the force rush of air to his eyes.

His chest tightened to the smell of hibiscus flowers and berries, clutching her tighter for the first time in a long while. Half aware he shifted her higher against him to have her bring them closer.

Well fuck if he wasn’t the most touch starved and needy ex ever.

The familiar sound of a specific metal railing being bounded by the yo-yo was the only warning he got before the touched surface with his feet and she loosened her grip.

He barely heard the words of her detransformation before he could see the flash of pink through black and pulled back from her neck.

Terror shook through him, and his hands and body trembled against her as he couldn’t force himself to look up. Staring intently at the silver anchor necklace he gave her, bounded in a rope of small teal jewels.

Luka couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t look away from the necklace she still wore. He couldn’t let her go or put her down either.

“Breathe love,” her quiet voice spoke, soft and hesitant, breaking Luka as he dropped them to his knees and brought her closer than before.

An audible sob he hadn’t heard since she walked away from him escaped his lips and heaved for air as his chin rested over her head and he looked frantically in front of him. At her balcony, the plants that littered the space and the wood paneling they rested on, the little ladybug statue he bought her as a cute joke.

Seeing none of it through blurry eyes, forcing himself to drop his head to her shoulder as she quaked with tears and ran a soothing hand through his hair.

“I’m so sorry, love.” He couldn’t get words out as he just grounded his face into her. “I thought I was protecting you, I didn’t realize how wrong I was.”

She pulled his face up, ceruleans magnified as his pupils dilated to the sight of her in front of him once again and the tips of his ears flaring just by her touch for the first time in forever. She caught a steam of tears with her thumb, giving him a tight smile.

“My miraculous gave me the intuition that Hawkmoth would make his final move.” She paused for a second, closing her eyes and she breathed deeply. “I thought for sure I would die when he did. Either by his winning, or ours but I would end up a casualty or sacrifice. You guys weren’t even supposed to be there, but Adrien insisted for backup and I just...”

“You left me because you thought you were going to be killed?” Voice gravelly and sore from the coffee shop, he pressed on, fingers twitching at her back. “Why didn’t you tell me? Even if you had to strap me down just to bench me from the fight, you should’ve told me.”

“You’re right,” she rushed. “Absolutely right, and it was pure hell to leave to that day or say what I did. I’ve never been more miserable with my life than I’ve been since we’ve broke up. I hate it, I hate being away from you so much, Luka.”

“Be mine again.”

“What?” She blinked, choking on air.

He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into her touch when she held his face. “I don’t, I don’t fucking care if I’m being selfish anymore. It’s so hard not to be when it comes to you, Marinette. All these small details engraved to my mind, committed to memory and nothing to do with it.

“I keep leaving hoodies I casually wear on my amp for you to take, I keep putting that soft blanket you’re obsessed with folded on the edge of my bed for you to yank off and curl into as soon as you step into my room.” He forced his eyes not to open as he kept going, following the rhythm she provided and he struggled to find words for. “The minute I wake up, before I even open my eyes to see for the first time of the day, my phone is already in my hand with your contact open and a good morning text at the ready for you. Even good night texts when I reset my alarms. I keep leaving your spot open on my bed in case you visit while I’m asleep. Your favorite part on the couch for you. The last cherry popsicle of the package, and the cookie dough ice cream I bought out of habit are still in the freezer waiting for you to find them.

“I’m fucking broken without you.” He rasped, ceruleans meeting baby blues, “I’m missing you emotionally, figuratively, mentally, physically. How the hell am I supposed to be okay when you’ve become such a big part of me? When you’re my literal other half?”

She nudged his button nose with her small one, “I,” she gave a dark laugh that he felt in his core. “I keep airing out my room whenever my sewing machine leaves behind that electrical smell your nose scrunches at so much.” She giggled when she felt him do it at the mention of the scent. “I let the popcorn cook for half a minute longer to get it a little burnt like how you like. I sleep in your hoodies to leave behind the smell of my perfume and shampoo the way you said you like your hoodies to smell when I give them back. I play with my necklace when I grow nervous and can’t talk to you. I can’t go more than five hours without hovering over your contact name or looking at our pictures.”

He sat back on his knees, letting her adjust herself out of habit and moving her hair away from her face. The smile he gave was tight but reassuring.

“I missed you, doll.”

“I missed you too, Luka.” She paused for a second, “Hey,” she started cautiously.

“Hm,”

“Luka, you know I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you, right?”

The glint that quickly came to his eyes didn’t waver like his abused voice did, “I kinda figured from all the times you’ve blushed and stuttered. The times you tripped when I caught you off guard with a flirtatious comment or wink. And the times you kissed me like it was the end of the world.”

He looked up to see her set a false murderous glare above him as he ran his thumb over the teal gems in the rope around the anchor of her necklace, a smirk he hadn’t felt making way to his face as one of his naturally slightly pointer canines became visible to express his pure happiness.

“I forgot how much of a jerk you could be,” she huffed, looking away and sniffing.

“I’m sorry, doll.” He made her look at him, eyes still shining with unshed tears as the stared into hers. His grin was pure radiance, “I love you.”

She let him pull her down to a kiss, feeling those soft pouty lips he loved so much back on his again. “I know,” she replied between kisses, causing him to huff and pull away with his own pout. She held alone his jawline, “I’m kidding, kinda. But, I love you too.”

Her giggle when he let out a happy and short hum was pure music to his ears as her melody finally fell back into the correct time signature and key. Even as he parted with a pant and hugged her close, stroking her hair.

“Just, don’t leave me in the dark again.” He started, seeing her phone that fell out of her back pocket light up with a text from Alya.

Alya: So did you kiss and makeup, or not? I have Nino on the edge of his seat.

Alya: no really, he keeps asking and refuses to do ANYTHING until he finds out.

Alya: for fuck’s sake, answer and let me get laid

He hid his smile in her shoulder from the texts and the fact that she never changed her screens from them. Letting him see her cheek smushed up against his chest and her arm lazily thrown around his waist while his held her close.

“Never, not again. I’m not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice like I once was.” He snorted at the reference to her old crush on Adrien years ago. “But we do have something to talk about.”

He pulled back, eyeing her cautiously. “Did I do something?”

“Yes,” his heart fell and he was ready to beg for her forgiveness. “You know how many girls have your picture now? Videos of you singing a song in such a beautifully tortured way with those growls, and the rough notes and the, stop laughing Couffaine!”

“I’m sorry,” he muffled his laughs behind his hand. “I forgot how much fun I had just by talking with you and your small bouts of jealousy.”

“Oh, I’m bad? Says the boy who sang a song that people keep covering for heartbreak.”

“I’m getting paid for doing it.”

“How much?”

“40% of the customers I brought in by drawing a crowd and a coffee on the house,” he let a smile spread across his face. “You know, I might be able to change it. Can I treat you to a free mint hot chocolate, a date as well maybe?”

She considered him for a second.

“With whipped cream,” he added for extra measure to his small sweet’s addict. He dimpled up at her with a scrunch when she kissed his button nose.

“God, I love you, Luka.”

“I love you too,” he kissed her slowly, “Mari, just don’t let me sing like that again, my voice is killing me.”

“Got it, never leave you again.”

“Pretty much.”

“Hey, you look cute with your baseball cap backwards like this.” She winked, pulling his black hat from the balcony floor where it fell off and back on his head.

“I’d respond with a witty comment, but it hurts to talk now.”

She grinned, “Hm, I love you.”

Luka still smiled despite flinching from the rawness of his throat, “I love you.”

[animefinatic]

Fire Force: 1st thoughts/impression

Okay so I’ve been hearing some murmurs about this anime for a while but because I weird I move slow when it comes to new anime for some reason, mainly because I want something to binge. But since getting Hulu recently I’ve been watching a lot of nostalgic shows (Digimon s1-3 and Yuyu Hakusho along with some old school nickelodeon and cartooonnetwork shows) but I’ve decided to finally get around to watching something new for a change. I’m not done with season 1 (episode 12)yet so I’m just going to give some 1st impressions on a few characters. Just some general thoughts, I’m sure overall feelings will change as i finish what’s currently out so don’t get bent outta shape if I don’t like someone or mention someone. Also be respectful if you’re a manga reader.

World building: The whole people turning into infernals at the drop of a dime and killing other people and the rest of humanity seems to have all been clustered in some small ass piece of japan lowkey put me in the mind of AOT (humanity being behind walls, the monster being humans all along type shit) I went into this thinking the protagonist is some sort of form of internal with that logic.

Shinra: Sharp teeth. I’m not into the whole teeth thing (Rin from Free, Soul from Soul Eater, Kirishima are swell in their own way but i was never a fan of their teeth) I like his little ‘smile in tense situation quirk because bless his heart i know when he’s nervous or tense about something. He’s a good kid all the same and he lowkey gave me Izuku vibes because they want to be a hero but he also gives me Rin (Blue Exorcist) vibes because he gets a bad rep and being called Devil even though he’s really sweet and has a good character. Seeing him in action I can’t help but think how would he do in the my hero universe (he’d kick so much ass) Has a typical shonen protag tragic backstory about his mother and brother and so has a reason to be in the fire force, I like the drive to be a hero from that kid dream he had, I look forward to him finding the answers he seeks while also not looking forward to seeing him fight his kid brother (I fucking swear if he has to kill his own brother I will fucking scream)

Akitaru: Oh my god fucking hot, fucking cute that's my husbando right there. When he called Shinra’s smiling quirk cute I fucking melted. The Dad (and daddy) of this squad I see him looking out for the other and providing a solid foundation of justice. a swell guy that has the whole groups trust and respect and I just hope nothing happens to this man. When Joker gave Shinra a reason to doubt the fire force i was a little nervous but so far so good team 8 seems to have been formed for a specific reason bc the other teams are lowkey shady.

Hinawa: stereotypical glasses character, annoyingly strict, and give the mc a hard time. In comparison to captain he annoyed me, by putting down my boy Shinra without giving him a real chance, (it wasn’t Nighteye lvl of annoying  but still) but overtime I’ve warned up to him, I tend to like the glasses characters too (Kyoya...I blame Kyoya) so by this point I see he’s a caring individual in his own way, what sold me is when he pulls Shinra aside to check on him and ask if he was ok...also mans can cook so bonus.

Maki: Mikasa vibes, just a woman with some muscle but she seems very insecure about it. I like she’s such a romantic maiden at heart though. I like her Sputter flames, so cute it made me think of calsifer from Howl’s moving castle.

Iris: I took one look at her and went: a sister. oh fuck religion is going to be a big influence in this show. Ignoring my own personal bias feelings of religion it seems she serves the purpose of praying for the souls of those who turned nothing too special about her, she’s sweet even though she has her tragic backstory with everyone but her and Hibana watched the whole damn church burn. 

Arthur: Annoying. I thought he was gonna be some sort of edgy rival for Shinra since they seem to fight on sight. However he’s kinda this cute idiot. But his knight at the round table schtick is kinda aggy he reminds me of that one classmate in my class that took Shakespeare too seriously. Maybe he’ll warm up on me later he has got to be more than the idiot blond (maybe at some point they’ll drop a back story on him)

Tamaki: Adorable, her powers make her look like a twin tailed cat (I not sure but I think there is like fire yokai so it works for the fire theme of this show) and I love cats so she's adorable. However this trend of her being clumsy af all of a sudden and becoming undressed and/or being groped or touched by Shinra accidentally only for her to hit the hell out of him is a trope i kinda want to die already like it’s not even funny. I’m an elder weeb so i’m not new to this but idk if it just my old age but I’m kinda over it. So even though I found her so cute earlier she’s almost annoying me even though its not her fault its the creator. 

Hibana: Bad bitch, she had dudes as her chair and had dudes lined at her feet like a red (in this case orange) carpet. Love seeing a black woman thrive (she’s brown skinned or whatever so I’m claiming her as black until further notice).Stunning, only I hate the oddly shaped eyes (it works given her power is flowers and her eyes are in a shape of a flower) but it was jarring to see it. It reminded me of Nia teppelin (Gugrren laggan) did she make me wanna stomp her for messing with my boy Shinra? yes. But I kept wondering why was I so awed by her I looked up her VA and it made sense, fucking Riza Hawkeye and Erza Scarlett (I am watching it dubbed, blame Hulu for not letting me have an option for sub but its whatever I’m committing to the dub for now) and well I respected her more. Also love how she wasn’t actually into that religion stuff even though she was taken in by the sisters. Now her moment with Iris after she got her shit rocked, sweet, adorable, so cute. Also her sudden affections for Shinra going forward is cute not sure if I ship anyone at this point but adorable is adorable I can not deny that.

Rekka: My stars that annoying. I also cringed because it reminded me of (yagamiyato’siida if you know then you know) And again with the weird ass eyes its not missed on mean that Hoshi is means star and its a part of his surname. But he went from 0-100 real quick once I realized he’s who Shinra is looking for and once again  me being wary over religion is validated through the white coats or Evangelist running around turning people into infernals on purpose (once again we back on some AOT shit) this man is bat shit crazy but he somewhat succeeded I wonder what it means for that kid who happened to be compatible with that bug thing (and of course Shinra is special bc the bug reacted to his fire) anyway what I learned from this character than religion got this universe all the way fucked up and the direct result of this is that religion has a firm hold in government and I know this is not finna be good.

[ruminativerabbi]

What I Saw on Mulberry Street

At first, I was slightly amused by the whole brouhaha that followed the announcement last week by the estate of Theodor Geisel, a.k.a. Dr. Seuss, that it would stop republishing and selling six of the famous author’s books, including such classics as And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street, If I Ran the Zoo, On Beyond Zebra, and McElligot’s Pool.  I know all these books; they were classics of children’s literature so long ago that I remember reading them when I actually was a child and enjoying them immensely. We all did. Dr. Seuss was part of the children’s canon back then: read by all, touted endlessly by librarians and teachers, and considered controversial—as far as I recall—by none. Just the opposite, actually: if there was one children’s author from back then whose whimsy was deemed charming and fully acceptable, it would certainly have been Dr. Seuss.

But times have changed. And there is no question that illustrations in all the books in question feature caricatures of various minority groups, particularly Asians (depicted with slanty lines for eyes, pigtails, and conical coolie-style hats) and Black people (shown shirtless, shoeless, and wearing grass skirts). On the other hand, Dr. Seuss himself was a powerful enemy of fascism who published more than 400 wartime cartoons savaging Hitler, Mussolini, and the Japanese leadership. And some of his books were thinly veiled anti-fascist parables: it is widely understood, for example, that Yertle the Turtle (1958) was meant as a direct attack on fascism (apparently dictatorial Yertle originally sported a Hitler-style moustache) and that Horton Hears a Who (1954) was meant as a kind of encouraging parable about the American occupation of Japan. More to the point for Jewish readers is that The Sneetches (1961), a book that the estate will continue to publish, is a focused, double-barreled attack on racism and anti-Semitism and was understood that way from the time it was published. Nor was this imputed meaning—the author himself was widely quoted at the time as saying formally, that The Sneetches “was inspired by my opposition to anti-Semitism.”

So we are left with an interesting dilemma. Geisel, a life-long Lutheran who actually suffered a bit of anti-Semitic discrimination in college when he was mistaken by some bigoted classmates for a Jew, was a proud anti-fascist, a virulent opponent of racism and anti-Semitism, and a true American patriot. And he published some books that featured images which feel—at least by today’s standards—racist or at the very least inappropriate for books pitched at impressionable children. The managers of his estate solved their problem the easy way by deciding simply not to republish six of the man’s books, thus ending the controversy by eliminating the problem. An alternate approach, of course, would have been to re-edit the books, eliminate the offensive imagery, and bring out versions that feature the original text with illustrations tailored more precisely to suit modern sensitivity. And speaking specifically as a Jewish American, the fact that there aren’t any Stürmer-style caricatures of hook-nosed Jews holding huge bags of money in these books shouldn’t be a factor in our evaluation of the evidence: if anything, the thought of Black parents cringing when they come across racist caricatures of Africans should be more than resonant with Jewish parents able to imagine being in exactly the same position and feeling exactly the same level of hurt and outrage. And that brings me to the question that feels to me to be at the heart of the matter: should works deemed utterly non-offensive in their day be altered, either slightly or dramatically, to suit evolving standards with respect to race, religion, ethnicity, gender, etc.? It’s an interesting question, one that goes to the heart of the question of what literature actually is and what role it could or should play in society.

There are, of course, lots of examples of books that have been successfully revised to suit modern tastes. Agatha Christie’s book And Then There Were None was originally published in the U.K. as Ten Little Negroes (and the third word on the cover was specifically not “Negroes”). That was deemed offensive here, so the publisher just made up a different title. (The English publishers eventually did the same and brought the book out under the marginally less offensive title Ten Little Indians.) In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a favorite of my own children years ago, Roald Dahl originally depicted the Oompa-Loompas who worked in the factory as African pygmies and the depiction was basically of them as slaves and certainly not as dignified, salaried employees. A century earlier, Dickens himself was prevailed upon to tone down Fagan’s Jewishness in Oliver Twist, which he did by halfheartedly removing some of the references to Fagan’s ethnicity. Of course, when the author himself makes the revisions we are having an entirely different discussion: surely the actual authors of books should feel free make whatever changes they wish to their own work. The question is whether the world should “fix” published works to make them suit issues that were on no one’s radar, or hardly anyone’s radar, when the book was written and published.

Some readers will recall that one of my pandemic coping exercises last spring was embarking on a re-read of Mark Twain, a favorite author of my younger years. I was surprised how well many of his books stood the test of time, but I found myself most engaged of all by my re-read of Huckleberry Finn. Widely and entirely reasonably acclaimed as an American classic, the book is basically about the relationship of Huck and Jim, who is almost invariably referred to as Negro Jim. (Again, that’s not the word that appears in the book.) Of course, Mark Twain was writing about Missouri life in the 1830s and he himself was from Missouri and a child of that era. So he certainly knew how people spoke and I’m entirely sure that that word was in common use to reference Black people. Today, that word is anathema to all and is considered unusable in normal discourse, written or oral. But what about the book itself? Should it be “fixed” by having the dialogue altered specifically to reflect a dialect of English spoken in those days by no one at all? Or should the book itself be dropped from high school or even college reading lists as something too offensive to allow, let alone to require, young people to read? Huckleberry Finn is an interesting book for many different reasons, not least of all because Jim, a slave, is depicted sympathetically as a man of character, virtue, and strong moral values—a fact made all the more poignant by the fact that he is depicted as almost wholly uneducated. Indeed, Jim is a grown man with a wife and family, while Huck is a boy of thirteen or fourteen and the clear implication is that while the white world has failed utterly to make Huck into a decent adolescent, Black Jim, an uneducated slave, is quite able to bring him to the threshold of decency by showing him how to behave in an upright manner. So the book is hardly anti-Black. Just the opposite is far more true: in many ways, Jim, not Huck, is the hero of the book. And yet the constant use of that word is beyond jarring. Editions have been published for use in school that simply omit the word or change it. Is that a rational compromise? Or does that kind of bowdlerization deprive the book of its essential honesty, of its ability to depict a society as it truly was and not as moderns vaguely wish it had been? It’s not that easy to say.

When I was deeply involved in the research that led me to publish my translation of the Psalms, I became aware—slightly to my naïve amazement—of the existence of Christian editions of the Psalms from which all references to internecine strife, violent clashes between opposing groups in old Jerusalem, the corruption that led at least some poets to condemn the Temple priesthood, and the deep alienation from God with which at least some psalmists struggled—that the psalms depicting all of that challenging stuff had been nicely excised from the book so as to create a book of “nice” poems. (This parallels a Christian edition of the Old Testament I once saw from which the entire book of Leviticus had been omitted, presumably lest readers be offended by the notion that animal sacrifice and the safeguarding of ritual purity were essential elements of the covenant between God and Israel.) Those editions of the Psalms struck me as ridiculous and precisely because the resultant book was specifically nothing like the original work and gave a totally incorrect impression of the original work. But would one of the Dr. Seuss books under discussion really have been substantially altered by some of the drawings of black or Asian people replaced with more respectful images?

My feeling is that the Dr. Seuss affair is indicative of a larger issue in society. Obviously, changing a few drawings in a book is not such a big deal and is something that I’m sure happens without fanfare in the world of publishing all the time. But this specific issue seems to have struck such a chord with so many precisely because Dr. Seuss is deemed, not entirely incorrectly, as representative of a simpler world—by which term people generally mean one in which it wasn’t deemed necessary to care what smaller groups in society felt or thought. We’ve come a long way since then, and rightly so. The Seuss estate could certainly have felt justified in commissioning some new drawing to avoid going against modern feelings about ethnic or racial stereotyping. The books themselves would have been substantially the same. Once that line is crossed, however, and the book no longer is the same as it was—“fixing” the language in Huckleberry Finn, for example, or eliminating Shylock’s Jewishness from the play or Othello’s blackness—that is missing almost entirely the reason literature exists in the first place: to stir up emotion, to challenge readers’ preconceptions, and to educate—in the literal sense of the world: to draw the reader forward to a new level of understanding of the world of the author…and of the reader as well.

[atinytokki]

The Windy Road

vi. The Folded Bluebird

The three month anniversary of the Song family’s arrival in town passed without incident to Mingi’s great relief.

Since that first week in the new house things had calmed down and started looking up.

His parents had a stable trade business going, Minseok had a job serving drinks at the pub he spent so much time at, and Mingi and Bosung played after school just about every day. 

A couple of months in, Mingi had been holding his breath, waiting for the day his parents sat them down and explained that they’d be moving again, just like they always did when the weather got cooler and the term was halfway up. But each day came and went with not even the faintest notion of packing and leaving, and on their three month anniversary, Mingi felt assured enough to put away his suitcase.

It was a momentous occasion.

“We haven’t stayed in one place that long in at least the past five years,” he explained to Bosung as they walked home together, swinging their school bags carelessly and kicking colourful leaves out of their way.

“I’m sure you did when you were a baby,” Bosung pointed out. “Travelling with a three month old doesn’t sound very safe.”

“Well, of course,” Mingi scoffed. “But I don’t remember it. The longest I remember staying somewhere was that strange little farm town west of here. The bugs were huge so I mostly stayed inside.”

“You’re such a scaredy-cat,” Bosung giggled at him and linked their arms as they approached their street. “Are you coming to help finish the building project? The Heo family is moving in tomorrow and some things still need to be finished.”

Something else that was different for Mingi— other new people moving in. Being even newer than the Song family was a feat given how often they relocated, and Mingi was having a lot of mixed feelings about the idea.

Still he nodded as the pair passed by both of their cottages and stopped at the end of the street. It was where a brand new house was being built, everything fresh and shiny for the family moving in. Some tiles needed to be fixed on the roofing before it was deemed ready, so both the boys carefully made their way up to where Bosung’s father was already working.

“You know how to handle the tiles properly, right Mingi?” The man asked as Bosung immediately got to work. Being the son of an architect came with its perks. For a fleeting moment, Mingi was jealous.

“Of course!” Mingi lied quickly. “I’ve definitely done this before.”

If the man saw through his dishonestly, he didn’t say, but Mingi noticed the way he slowed down his work speed so Mingi could watch and copy what he was doing. 

By sunset the work was finished, and the boys sat, satisfied, on the newly tiled roof and looked out at the stunning view of the sea below them.

Mingi always thought of Hongjoong when he saw the ocean.

It had been a few weeks since he’d seen him, but most of the time if they saw each other it was at the beach.

Part of him felt guilty about neglecting the older boy, but really it was no one’s fault.

Hongjoong had a lot of responsibilities placed on him by his relatives and little time to play, and Mingi was busy with school and Bosung, so Hongjoong naturally fell through the cracks.

Mingi cringed as he thought back to last month when he’d tried to get the two to meet before learning they already knew each other from when Hongjoong used to attend school, before Mingi’s arrival. They had been neighbours and classmates, even though that wasn’t the case anymore.

It was easy to see that living with his extended family at Jangwon Hall changed things for Hongjoong and kept him cooped up there much more than he’d like, so Mingi felt relieved when he found him at the beach every once in awhile, free for a chat or a picnic.

“I heard one of the Heo family’s children is our age,” Bosung broke into Mingi’s thoughts casually.

“Really?” Mingi perked up. Three whole friends at once? That would be nothing short of a miracle. “I hope they’re nice.”

“Me too,” Bosung sighed contentedly. “We’ll be the three neighbours and friends.”

“But nothing will change between us, right?” Mingi asked after a pause. He hated to sound desperate, but he’d gotten invested in this friendship against his natural instincts, and he’d hate to see anything destroy it. “We’ll still be best friends.”

“Of course!” Bosung laughed, punching him lightly on the shoulder. “We’ll always be best friends.”

...

Mingi heard her before he saw her.

As he neared the schoolhouse, a laugh rang out and immediately caught his attention. It wasn’t a laugh he recognised and it was quite loud for so early in the morning, when he was practically still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

A new girl sat a couple of seats away from his, with a pretty red ribbon in her braided her, laughing at something Bosung told her.

The pair perked up when Mingi entered and made their way over to him as he dropped his bag on his desk. 

“Mingi!” Bosung called. “This is Heo Dahye. Dahye, my best friend Song Mingi. He’s the one who lives a couple of houses down from you.”

Heo Dahye.

The new neighbour, a classmate their age... and somehow, Mingi hadn’t considered that she’d be a girl or that she’d be this pretty.

“Here, I made you this,” she broke into a smile and pulled something out from behind her back, shoving it into his hands. It was a little paper bluebird, crafted delicately from folding paper and decorated with colourful ink. It was cheery and pleasant— just like Dahye.

“Th-Thank you,” Mingi finally got out, returning a shy smile and setting the bird on his desk so it was facing him. It was like a little treasure. “Welcome to Panhang, by the way.”

“I got one, too!” Bosung interrupted, breaking the spell as he waved a red folded bird in Mingi’s face. “Isn’t she talented? I suggested she try making a sea turtle next.”

Dahye chuckled again before becoming distracted by the school mistress’ appearance and rushing off to give her a special folded bird of her own.

“She seems a lot more excited about moving here than you were,” Bosung prattled on as he took his seat. “Anyway, I asked her if she wanted to go sailing some time next week, just the three of us, since she’s never been on the ocean before. You can handle the boat, right?”

Mingi suddenly blanched and thought back to his first day at school. He still hadn’t come clean about his complete inability to sail after that first conversation with Bosung, and it looked like now he was finally being tested on it. But now that Dahye was involved, he couldn’t just fess up and let someone else go with them in his place.

“Y-Yes, I can do that... if you can find a boat for us to use...” he smiled weakly and opened up his textbook as class began, panicking internally.

Now he had Dahye and Bosung to impress with his famed boating skills, and if Bosung was looking to show off as much as it seemed he was, there was no way he’d rent them a small, easy-to-use, canoe type vessel.

Mingi spent all day chewing his lip and looking for a solution before remembering— Hongjoong’s parents had been fishing when they died, which meant he most likely knew how to fish too, which meant he most likely also knew how to sail.

Suddenly, Mingi had a plan. 

While the three of them walked home, he peeked at the cliffside and hoped Hongjoong would be there. After making a flimsy excuse about needing to study, Mingi waited until Dahye skipped off to unpack and Bosung was gone to run down to the beach and pace in the sand at the place Hongjoong usually met him.

It was almost an hour until the older boy appeared, surprised to see Mingi waiting for him.

Mingi wasted no time, grabbing him by the arms and whispering in a low voice, “Hongjoong, I need you to teach me to sail by next week or my friendships are over and my reputation is destroyed.”

“Oh...” Hongjoong whispered back, removing himself from Mingi’s grip before looking around. “Why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know, I’m just nervous,” Mingi whined, pulling at his hair. “Why did I have to tell Bosung I was good at sailing, and why did he have to remember it and bring it up to Dahye...”

“I take it something happened?” Hongjoong ventured hesitantly, watching as Mingi flopped down in the sand.

“This new girl moved in and she’s amazing but Bosung decided to be a show off and offer up my nonexistent sailing skills to impress her. I can’t believe I singlehandedly ruined my own life. Unless...”

“You want me to help you?” Hongjoong summarised for him, sitting down along side him. “You know, it takes more than a couple of days to become an expert.”

“Teach me how to fake it then?” Mingi squeaked, embarrassed. Here Hongjoong had probably been hoping they could catch up and play around for the first time in awhile and Mingi was begging impossible tasks from him instead.

Predictably, Hongjoong’s eyes dropped and he pulled his legs up to his chest with a sigh, gaze on the water as usual. “Mingi, I... don’t want to go back out there.”

It made sense. These waters were dangerous at times and full of particularly bad memories always.

“But you’re always here on the beach,” Mingi pointed out. “Haven’t you been out on the water since... that night?”

Hongjoong shook his head vehemently and inhaled a tremulous breath. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a pause. “I just can’t.”

Mingi swallowed the guilty lumps bunched up in his throat and nodded in understanding.

“However,” Hongjoong continued, turning to face him again. “I can teach you what I know from on dry land.”

A smile slowly grew on Mingi’s face and he leaned forward with expectation. “Do you mean it?”

Hongjoong nodded and beamed as Mingi tackled him in a hug. “It won’t be easy, but as long as you don’t sink, you should be fine.”

Mingi gasped and pulled away. “Don’t joke like that!”

Hongjoong ignored his comment and got to his feet. “Alright, listen up. Lesson one is starting now.”

Mingi grinned from ear to ear and raised an arm in mock salute. “Yessir!”

...

When the day arrived, Mingi felt like his heart would pump out of his chest.

“My parents said not to go too far out,” he prefaced as he inspected the boat, recalling the names and functions of all the sheets and ropes he had spent day and night studying about. It wasn’t just an excuse either, his mother still worried when it came to the sea.

“That’s fine by me,” Dahye chirped agreeably, peeking out from under the rim of a cute little sun hat, decorated with her trademark red ribbon.

Mingi let Bosung do most of the entertaining as soon as they were out on the water, focused on keeping them afloat and checking the weather.

There were a thousand and one things to be on top of and the time passed by quickly, gathering clouds sending them back to the beach when their afternoon was spent.

Relieved and resigned never to lie again, Mingi walked home with his friends and paid special attention to the way Dahye smiled at him in thanks.

“You did well for a first-timer,” she nudged him slyly as soon as Bosung had broken off when they reached his house.

“Wh-What?” Mingi spluttered, glancing around. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re the first-timer, not me.”

“Actually, I only said I’ve never been on the ocean. My father owned a riverboat service in the town we came from,” she giggled. Their pace slowed down as they neared Mingi’s cottage. “Besides, I saw you practicing on the beach with that other boy. I don’t remember seeing him in class, what’s his name?”

Pretty, talented, and smart. Mingi could feel his cheeks getting warm the longer she stared at him.

“Uh, um, right, that’s Hongjoong. Kim Hongjoong, he lives at Jangwon Hall up the beach from here. Actually he used to live in my house— well, it’s a bit of a story.”

“I’ve got time,” Dahye smiled warmly and clasped her hands behind her back as they sauntered up the path towards her place.

“I’ll walk you home then,” Mingi offered eagerly, feeling something flutter in his chest.

He didn’t quite know what it was, but it was the start of something exciting.

...

A/N: Hey guys! It’s been awhile since updating this one and suddenly we’re halfway through it?! (According to the outline that I may or may not follow, anyway) Well, I hope you liked it and don’t forget to give some love and have a nice day :)

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[celestialinent]

Learning Curve

“Good morning. Call me…”

Persephone stared down at the phone, eyes wide. He’d texted her this morning, while she was on the train to school. She’d been delighted to hear from him after the disaster of their second date.

It hadn’t been the worst date in history, Eros assured her on the phone afterward, but she had absolutely no reference point, and setting the table cloth on fire seemed like a pretty tremendous failure.

Still, he was texting her, that was a good sign.

Or it had been. Then she’d actually read it. What did that mean?

Good morning. Call me…

Persephone hadn’t had a phone for very long, only a year, but she understood subtext. If conversations with Artemis and Eros weren’t enough, it had turned out that most of her classmates were avid texters themselves. No one phoned anymore. Or so it had been explained to her.

She went into her first class feeling anxious, and even though he’d asked her to call her, she held off. Her Botany exam was today, and even though she was fairly confident she’d ace it, she would rather wait until after to be broken up with.

Gods. They’d only been on two dates. But obviously he knew she was unworthy now. She was clumsy and young and why would the King of the Underworld want to be with a stupid little village girl?

“Perse?” Tori prompted. She startled, turning to see him holding out the exam sheet. He sent her a confused look, not unkindly. Their relationship had its rocky patches, but after she’d forced Hades to give his roommate the eye back, they’d settled into a nice polite acquaintance.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” she murmured, taking the exam with an anxious smile.

He blinked. “Nervous? Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

She smiled a little wider, touched that he would try to reassure her. “Thanks…just, you know, normal test jitters.”

Turning back and placing the exam softly on her desk, Persephone tried to banish any doubts from her mind. Now was not the time to mourn the death of her fledgling relationship. She had a break at lunch. She’d probably cry then.

The test went swimmingly, as did the debate in Godly Law, and the reading discussion in Epic Poetry. Class was not the issue.

When her break finally rolled around, Persephone took the short walk to the center of campus and found a nice secluded tree to sit underneath. She wanted privacy if she was going to handle whatever the hell that text meant. What she really needed was Eros, but ever since he’d found Psyche she hated to interrupt their happy couple bliss with her convoluted thing, or whatever it was, with Hades.

Swallowing thickly, Persephone drew her phone out of her pocket, thumbing at the screen and staring down at the tiny red notification over the text app. One. She opened it, staring at the message through narrowed eyes.

Well, it hadn’t changed in the hours since she’d received it.

She thought back to last night, searching for any glaring offenses, other than the table cloth. It had seemed to go well, all else told, and he’d driven her home after and given her a very polite kiss to the cheek.

So she’d knocked over a candle? Who still ate by candlelight anyway? Gods, were they living in the Titan Ages?

They’d been dancing around each other for months, and the first date had been a literal dream. Maybe she’d been arrogant to think they’d gotten past the worst of it, gotten past all the awkwardness and the self-doubt. Being with Hades felt right, it felt exciting and satisfying. Persephone thought he felt the same new rush of eager joy, but maybe she was wrong.

With a deep and sorrowful sigh, she swiped up and started tapping at the keyboard.

just got out of class. free to talk?

His response was immediate

           All clear..

What the hell did that mean? With a frustrated huff, Persephone called him, leg bouncing as she fretted. The phone rang for a beat too long, and she worried that he was playing some kind of cruel trick on her. Then he picked up.

“Hey Sweetness!” he chirped. She smiled involuntarily.

“Hi!” she practically cooed, cringing internally at the huskiness of her voice. Gods, she was a goner.

“I assume you got my text?” he asked, and her stomach dropped.

“Uh, yeah I did. Is everything okay?” She hated how small her voice sounded.

His concern was apparent even through the phone. “No. Why, is everything okay with you?”

“You sounded angry,” she admitted.

“I sounded—Persephone it was a text!” he sounded outright confused.

“Yeah, and it sounded angry. Good morning. Call me? That sounds very ominous!”

“What? I was saying good morning, and I wanted to hear your voice,” he explained, still sounding quite baffled.

“You put a full stop! And the ellipses? Very ominous!” she insisted. The relief was there, surely, but now she was frustrated. She’d worried all morning that he was going to crush her heart, and the whole thing was a simple misunderstanding?

“Ellipses?” he asked, voice getting distant for a moment, he was quiet for a moment. “Oh,” he said, voice returning. He sounded bashful. “I didn’t mean to do those.”

“Hades!” she snapped. “I was terrified!”

“Terrified of what?”

“I was—well I was afraid you were…” she couldn’t bear to say it, squirming with discomfort. Persephone was so thankful he couldn’t see the full-bodied flush she was suffering from. All of this, a total and complete misunderstanding.

“Kore,” he murmured, suddenly serious, “I had an amazing time last night, table cloth and all. I was actually going to ask if you wanted to have dinner again Thursday.”

Persephone gasped, taking the phone away from her ear for a moment so she could flail around a little bit. She felt like she might jump out of her own skin, she was so excited. “Yes!” she exclaimed, bringing the phone back to her face. “I’d love to!”

“Good,” he replied, and she could hear the wince through the phone. Oh. Too loud.

“Good!” she agreed.

“Hades,” a voice barked from somewhere in the room with him. It sounded like Hecate. Persephone grinned, imagining the goddess sitting through the peculiar one-sided conversation.

“Sorry Sweetness, duty calls,” he grumbled.

“It’s okay!” she reassured him. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Stop laughing!” Persephone snapped. Eros was laughing so hard he had stopped making any sound, and Artemis looked to be on the way there. The pair of them were slumped against each other on the couch, eyes closed in mirth. Psyche was sitting in the armchair, looking incredibly confused.

“S-Sorry Perse, but- but that’s- that- Gods!” Eros clutched his stomach, trying to reign himself in.

“Can I see it again?” Artemis asked, hands reaching out to grab at Persephone’s phone. The pink goddess glared, tucking the phone back into her pocket.

She’d asked to have dinner with the three of them in order to ask for some much-needed advice and catch up with her friends, but they were now spending about twenty minutes laughing at the whole situation.

“It’s not funny!” she grumbled. “I was really worried!” “I really am sorry, sweetheart,” Eros wheezed, composing himself after a few more moments of laughter. Artemis was too far gone at this point. “It’s just…you’re dating an absolute old man.”

“Stop!” she whined.

“Does he always text like that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I never noticed it before. I guess.”

“Is it quite impolite?” Psyche asked. She was new to Olympus level technology, and she’d just gotten her first phone last week.

“It’s funny,” Artemis snorted. “That’s how my mom texts.”

Persephone made a face. “Mine too.”

“Oh, is she finally texting you?” Eros asked.

“A little. I’m gonna give it another week before she finally stops trying to make me change my mind.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Artemis asked. She’d finally sat up, although her skin was still flushed from the exertion of her laughter. She was finally winding down. “Your boyfriend texts like a dad!”

“You should really teach him not to do that,” Psyche said.

Eros turned to stare at her. “You’re one to talk! I can’t even get you to text me!” “I don’t understand why I would. We spend a lot of time together. And when we don’t I’d much rather phone.”

Artemis, eyes wide, pointed an accusative finger in Eros’ direction. “You too! Both of you are dating grandparents!”

“Pardon me!” Psyche gasped.

Persephone’s phone dinged just as Artemis started laughing again and Eros rushed to explain their friend was only joking.

Hey…. How are you….

Persephone groaned, turning the phone around so her friends could see Hades’ latest text. “Tell me what this is supposed to mean.

The laughter went on for hours.

[spongeekat]

Life as a Super Powered Omega Sucks (Chapter 1)

read on ao3

Masterlist Here

Summary:  Peter just got invited on his first lengthy Avengers mission, one that will prove whether he's fit to continue operating as a hero on the streets of New York. Unfortunately, he's also an omega disguised as a beta, and on the week of starting his heat. Unable to miss out on the mission for the sake of his future, he goes anyways, equipped with a dangerous quantity of heat suppressants and an optimistic outlook. However, he wasn't prepared to end up spending most of his time with Alpha and long term friend Wade. Will he survive the mission and get back in time to spend his heat at home? Or ruin his health and suppress his heat long enough that he can prove his worth to SHIELD and the Avengers?

Peter Parker wasn't exactly ashamed of being an omega. Sure, he hid his status like the plague- masking his scent with an artificial beta spray, using heat suppressants at any given chance, only going off them when it was guaranteed he had a free weekend to spare, and wearing clothes that highlighted his un-omega-like toned arms when he was feeling particularly insecure about it- but it wasn't out of fear of being seen as such. But if you needed a picture painted of why he chose to hide his biological assignment in lieu of presenting himself as neutral, the one word he could begin to create it with was ‘Alphas’.

Alphas secreted dominance with them wherever they went, leaving their cocky, charismatic scent all over public spaces. School was no different. From the days of 7th grade and up, when puberty started hitting Peter's classmates and kids were presenting left and right, the alphas took total control of the hallways. Big man Flash was the first to show clear signs of an alpha, and the rest of his crew of alphas and wannabee-betas fell right in line behind him. With the rise of Alpha-Beta and Beta-Beta relationships being accepted in society, omegas were far and few. Male omegas were even rarer, making up just 25% of the omega population. History taught the extremely fertile gender was previously discriminated against harshly by those that believed them to be nothing more than baby-making machines, and nearly eradicated, as only Alpha-Omega relationships could produce omegas. However,as the omega population went down, closely followed by birth rates, everyone had begun to realize the necessary role omegas played in re-population. As such, omegas were presently celebrated and respected; lusted after and worshiped by alphas and betas alike.

But that was mostly in their later years. Before alphas started to develop their sexual drive, they reveled in the chance to show their power over others, and omega girls tended to be their target. Peter saw kids shoved into lockers, thrown in trash cans, and pushed around on a daily basis. He’d only known 2 omega boys in his life, and the teasing had gotten so severe they eventually moved to homeschooling. Luckily, he hadn't presented, and when he reached 14, he was officially declared as a beta by the school nurse, giving him a pass to fly under the bully's radars at least a tiny bit more effectively.

Unfortunately, being born as the child of a purebred omega and a groomed Alpha such as Mary and Richard left you more susceptible to presenting than other children. So when Peter awoke when he was 17, a few years after he'd taken on the Spider-Man persona and met Mr Stark, sweating and clawing at his clammy skin mid-heat, he knew the universe was doing whatever it could to fuck him over. Besides just school bullies being an issue when it came to his identity, another major reason he had to conceal any evidence of his omega status was the fact that he was Spider-Man. Not only would he most definitely be looked down on by his enemies or perceived as weak, but with the Avengers hardly taking him seriously as it is, and police on high alert searching for an alpha with superhuman strength, he didn't want to risk losing any more respect from the public. He wasn't totally popular at the moment. Besides, being known as an omega, especially a male omega, publicly would narrow down the search quite a bit. What was he, one of 20,000 in all of New York City? Luckily, he'd been pretty successful in hiding it so far, even on days such as today when he was on the week of his heat and could feel the hormone changes already. There was some big-name-but-secretly-evil private investor from some big-name-but-sketchy company that had been quietly investing in illegal technology on the terrorist level, or at least that's what Peter had gathered so far. He always did have some trouble figuring out what Coulson was actually saying, especially when he was distracted by...everything. Particularly a shiny-- "And we can count on you for that, right, Spider-Man?" Oh yeah. That was him. "What? Yeah, yeah, of course." Peter flashed his biggest grin to show he had definitely been listening and not spacing out like the 20 year old kid he was, but Coulson obviously couldn't see it through the spandex of his mask. All intimidating and slightly patronizing pairs of eyes turned back to stare at him, and he felt himself melting into his seat in guilt. Coulson drew a long sigh, rubbed his temple, then turned back to the map projected on the screen. "So, to repeat for Spider-Man, this point of investigation on the building will be a stealth mission. We'll send Natasha and Steve to the ground floor to  take out the heaviest of the security, and once they take notice of you, Spider-Man should have plenty of time to access the elevator shaft and descend to the bottom floor unnoticed. Once you're there, you need to find a way to get Tony in so he can disable the bombs placed on each level. That way, our agents can effectively infiltrate the premise with as little resistance as possible, end the weapons trade in Cabo, and place as many of the workers under arrest as we can.” Now Peter was a little confused, mostly by how he had spaced out all the way from the Russia plans to Mexico, but he was at least a little too proud to raise his hand and ask.

“We already have your escort ready for your portion of the mission, Spider-Man, so don’t worry about that piece. We’ve already made contact and he shall be there tomorrow when you depart.”

“I need an escort?” Peter earned an intense frown for his comment, and he shut himself up right away. “I mean, yeah. A-Okay with Me.”

“Intelligence gathering will begin tomorrow. Meet here at 4 for your flight. Yes, Clint, 4 in the morning. Don’t be late, and don’t forget to bring any supplies you may need for a mission that may take up to two weeks. The majority of your time in Russia will be spent on hold as back-up, in case something goes awry, until we make our move on their transportation facility once we’ve acquired enough data. Keep that in mind when packing. ” With that, Coulson officially ended the meeting and began to gather up what he had brought over. Peter was happy to escape, until he realized what exactly Coulson had said. Two weeks? No, there was no way he could be gone that long. His heat was due sometime around Friday, maybe Monday at latest. Tomorrow, Tuesday, at earliest. He couldn’t go on a trip with the Avengers when it was so close. That would be a story he would never live down.

“Yo, hey, Mr. Stark.”

“Kid.”

Peter side-stepped Captain America as he shuffled past, ending up in front of the man who had brought him into this line of business in the first place. He wasn't aware of Peter's omega status. Mr Stark hardly trusted him enough to allow him to be an Avenger in the first place, so Peter had hacked into Karen's programming with Ned's help to keep her from relaying omega-related health information to anyone else but himself. "Hey, uh, he said this mission was going on for 2 weeks?”

“Yep.” Mr Stark answered as he shoved his expensive tablet into its case, depositing it in his bag. “Homework standing in your way?”

“No, no, that’d be totally uncool.” Peter mentally crossed that off his list of excuses he had prepared. “I just don’t know if I can like...keep my cover that long. I have a lot of people that expect to see me every day. I don’t think the flu will work again.”

“Then use the Stark Internship papers I signed.” Mr Stark sighed thickly, turning to face Peter with an impatient expression. Peter internally cringed, able to see the extra stress he’d been under reflected on his face. He was five seconds from being scolded. He could feel it like a truck about to run him over. “Tell them you’re going on a school trip. Use my card and book hotels for proof. Figure it out. You’ve known since yesterday it was this long.”

“I...you’re right.” Peter relented. Guess there was no helping it, then. He’d just have to make sure to make the mission went by fast. And bring as many heat suppressants as possible, no matter how ineffective they were on him. “Sorry. I’ll get it sorted.”

“Good. This is your chance to prove we can trust you as a part of this team.” Mr Stark continued, walking past Peter and towards the door. Peter kept up with him easily, shadowing him through the hallways of the tower. “You’re young, and that’s kept SHIELD off your back for years. Don’t let this mission be the reason you have to give up everything you’ve worked towards.”

“It’s that important?”

“It’s that important.” Mr Stark repeated back.

Peter hadn’t even begun to consider this may be some sort of test to allow him to continue to operate in New York without proper jurisdiction. However, that made sense. Why else would an entire important section of the mission be dedicated to him? Or at least he assumed it was important. He wasn’t paying attention during the rest to find out what anyone else was doing. In fact, what was the goal of their mission again-- ?

Mr Stark’s shoulder came up close to Peter’s face too fast,and he realized too late he had stopped walking. He barely managed to catch himself before he rammed into the taller man from behind, taking an uncomfortable step back. Mr Stark turned to face him with a suspicious expression, slight worry maybe-possibly mixed in there somewhere. “You’ve been acting weird since yesterday.”

Peter swallowed. Pre-heat brain. But he couldn’t say that. “I guess so? It’s probably just because I’m around all of you guys and-”

“Cut the crap. What’s up? Why are you so determined not to go?” Mr Stark eyed him, as if he could see through his facade if he stared long enough. “Are you hurt?”

“What? No, I’m fine. Totally good.” Peter insisted, only realizing his missed opportunity once it was too late. “I think I’m just tired. I’ll make sure not to stay out too late tonight for patrol.”

“Maybe stay home and sleep the entire night. I’m sure New York will survive for a night.” Mr Stark still didn’t look like he believed him, and Peter almost preferred being ignored.

“I’ll think about it.” Peter agreed, though there was no way that was going to happen when he was already going to be gone for an extensive period of time. “Anyways, thanks for the talk. I should really get working on my excuses and alibis and stuff.”

“Right. Try to take it easy.”

“Will do.”

Peter peeled out of the conversation before Mr Stark could press it any further. He sprinted through the hallways of Stark Towers, pushing on each window until he found the one that was actually able to be opened at this height, indicated by a small rush of wind detectable only to his sensitive ears. His gloved hands pressed lightly on the surface, letting the glass pane swing out after some resistance. Peter crawled up onto the sill, his path home highlighted between the numerous skyscrapers littered along the streets. The cars honking below gave a rise to his adrenaline, and then he was falling, leaping from the building to give himself enough distance not to hit the wall, but free-falling like a bullet through the wind. 10 stories or so down he finally caught his fall, webs shooting out from both wrists with a distinct thwip . His arms jolted at the end of his dissent, before he was soaring again through the air, waiting until the last second possible before he would let another strand sail out and grip onto a pole or a ledge. All the while, calculations of heat suppressants and calendar days ate through his brain. He was sure this mission was just going to last a couple days, and the 2 weeks warning was just precautionary. They’d be in and out within a few days, and he’d be home and in bed by Saturday at the latest. They were the Avengers! It didn’t take that long for these kinds of things.

Probably.

"Hey Karen?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Falsify a good health report if Mr Stark tries to check on me. Also, can you tell me how much is in my bank account? Suppressants are pretty expensive."

"Of Course, Peter." Karen responded, making Peter smile as he felt slightly less alone. "I believe you have about 3 doses remaining at home, and can afford a pack of 12 from the budget pharmacy in Northwest Queens."

Shit. "Thanks, Karen." Peter would just have to make do somehow.

--

Peter was not awake, by any means, the next morning.

He had followed Mr Stark’s advice and passed out before midnight. However, that still meant he only got a few hours in before he had to be up and packed by 3. He shoved a few days of civvies into a bag, rolled up tightly to conserve space, basic toiletries and underwear, and of course packed the rest of the space with necessary tools in case he got unlucky enough to end up in heat; a week’s worth of heat suppressants (enough for a normal metabolism to last a month, but he was unlucky enough to burn through a day’s worth in a few hours), 2 bottles of faux scent to mask his, and anti-anxiety medication to take the edge off if he was in a difficult spot. With that, he snuck a quiet breakfast and left Aunt May a note, before taking off with toast in his mouth towards the hangar he was told to meet in.

Peter was surprised to find himself to be the only one in full uniform. Mr Stark had his suitcase in hand but had made no attempt to wear it even partway, Steve had on sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, in similar style to Sam, though his wing containment unit was in his arms, Clint hadn’t even changed out of his pajamas, but he did wear his bow over his back, and Natasha was in her bodysuit without any of her normal accessories layered on. They were still waiting for Peter’s supposed stealth mission escort, as well as Scott Lang, but otherwise Peter felt quite out of place.

“Don’t tell me you’re a morning person, too.” Clint walked in front of Peter, eyeing his suit with a yawn that made him look half-asleep still. “Sam and Steve exhaust me even thinking about waking up this early. I can’t be the only one thinking this is ungodly torture.”

“I’m running on pure adrenaline right now. I only got a nap in last night.” Peter admitted in a low voice, stretching to work the soreness out of his muscles. Usually he could sleep in short spurts and still have some energy for the day. Today, however, his body decided to try to shut down every 5 minutes and force him into a coma. “Honestly, I hope this plane ride is long enough to get a couple extra hours in-”

“I KNEW OUR LOVE WOULD PREVAIL.”

“Oh no.” Peter blanched, and didn’t even dare turn around. “Please tell me it’s not who I think it is.”

“No one told you?” Clint tsked, giving Peter a pitying look. “Yeah, sorry. He’s the only one we felt complimented your skills enough to be your escort.”

“Spidey, we’re finally official teammates! Or I guess I’m more like your babysitter. That just takes all the sex-appeal  out of it. Ooh, wait. I’ll be the professor, and you can be my favorite student I give after school lessons to.”

“Please tell me this is a joke.” Peter swallowed hard, able to smell the alpha behind him from where he stood. Apparently he was the only one that noticed how intense of a scent the man carried with him, as no one else seemed as repulsed by the air.

“Sorry, dude. Can’t always get what you want.” Clint threw Peter a grin that was so smug he wanted to wipe it off his face. However, he made a mental note not to try to attack any of his teammates no matter the situation, and turned to face his battle head-on. Clint passed by the red-clad newcomer with a short, but crisp, high five, and gave the spider one last wiggle of his fingers. What a jerk.

“Heeeey, Deadpool.”

“I thought they were kidding when they said you were on this mission.” The mercenary - or ‘in the process of retiring from murder’ mercenary- crossed the distance on the roof, standing inches above Peter. He wasn’t intimidating, however. More like… a giant, annoying man-child.

Who Peter also happened to be sort of really good friends with. Like, to the point they played video games maskless at Wade’s Manhattan safe house and split pizzas when on patrol. And Deadpool knew his name and face. But he wasn't Peter's first pick to accompany him on a mission Peter was trying to prove that he was mature enough to be on.

“Ouch.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with you, Pumpkin. But you gotta admit, if I get asked to join in on missions before you, something seriously needs to change about your job performance.”

“Pretty sure they only brought you along as a bullet shield. So you could distract the bad guys with your giant mouth.” Peter shot back, though all in good humor.

Wade made a dramatic gasp, one gloved hand shooting up to cover his lips in true theatrical fashion. “I guess it’s good my kink is getting used.”

“That’s...A weird kink to have.”

“Does it turn you on?”

“Not at all.”

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

“Hey, Tweedledee and Tweedledum.” Mr Stark’s voice sounded behind Peter, jarring them both from their banter. “Get ready to board.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Wade saluted in response, then glanced back down at Peter. “You’re sitting by me, right?”

“Definitely not.”

“Awww, Spidey!”

“Let’s go.”  Natasha ordered, her head peeking out from the corner of the craft.

Wade threw out his hand with a gentlemanly “after you.” Peter, unable to resist a moment of humor and making Wade laugh, half-courtesy’d in return and made his way towards the short ladder leading into the plane.

The inside of an Avenger’s aircraft wasn’t anything like Peter had pictured. Being sponsored by a billionaire apparently didn’t reap the benefits of travelling in style; rather than being filled with alien tech, or super advanced spy technology, or even genuine leather seats, the inside of the plane was rather bland. It featured a cockpit illuminated with buttons and levers that Peter hadn’t the slightest clue their true intention, only slight privacy given to the designated pilots at the front. Behind that rested a computer Peter had to resist the urge not to immediately ask to study, as well as spaces in the sides for weapons and storage. The seats were spaced so that there were 8 passenger seats, stretching along the length of the plane. Peter situated himself in the back, close to the hatch they used for for entering. Somehow, having an escape route made him feel more secure than the claustrophobia he would feel trapped between two well-respected heroes. Or maybe he was just self conscious. Either way, he sat himself down as far from the others as he could get, and shoved his backpack in his lap.

Wade decided to take the spot right next to him, despite 3 other seats remaining open, and Natasha -looking as judgemental as ever- took the space across.

“The Itsy Bitsy Spider ran up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out!” Wade apparently became quite the comedian under pressure, pulling out his katana Bea - or maybe it was Arthur- to start sharpening the length. Both the spider-themed heroes gave him an irritated look, Peter a bit more disbelieving he would bother one of the scariest members of the team, before Natasha cleared her throat.

“I’m sure I could find a way to make sure you don’t come back from death, if you keep this up the entire ride there.” The ginger commented dryly, crossing her legs in a way that Peter felt he was a second away from witnessing Wade’s true demise

“That would be my lucky day, cupcake.” Wade grinned back, sliding his katana back into its holster. Despite his cool exterior, Peter knew he thought Natasha was hot shit that could beat him to a pulp. “I’m quaking in my suit. I don’t know if I’m scared, or excited, but probably both.”

Scott swiveled in the chair placed just in front of the computer he had claimed, the metal loudly squeaking to catch their attention. “I am not dealing with you two arguing for 12 hours.”

“15 hours.” Bruce mumbled, though he remained primarily focused on a notebook filled to the brim with incoherent scribbles.

“I am not listening to you arguing for 15 hours!” Scott corrected, folding his arms in a fatherly fashion.

“I don’t even remember you being invited, LadybugBoy.” Natasha’s subtle but annoyed comment instantly sent Wade into a fit of laughter, jolting her from her anger. The change of Wade’s attitude was just enough for her to relinquish her dangerous atmosphere for a moment, and she settled calmly back in her seat.

“It’s Ant-Man.” Scott mumbled indignantly, which only served to make Wade laugh harder. The ex-convict turned back to his computer to rest his head, and for once in his life Peter saw Natasha crack an expression similar to a grin.

The conversation seemed to settle their nerves, as well as at the 4 AM call time, because the Avengers grew completely silent within the hour. Clint dozed off first, followed by Bruce (after he injected himself with some tranquilizer he often kept with him), and Natasha dropped into some weird relaxation that was close to sleep, with her body still tensed and at the ready to fight at any time. Scott was still sulking by the time Peter felt himself start to fall asleep, a yawn being the first sign of his body begging for a nap. Wade seemed to notice immediately despite the mask, because a gloved leather hand wormed its way to the top of Peter’s head to try to pull him in to his shoulder. Peter didn’t budge, giving Wade a deadpanned look. “Dude.”

“What?” Wade asked innocently, his arm retreating back to his side.

“I’m not sleeping on you.”

“I am the best goddamn pillow you will ever use.”

“We’re on a plane with the Avengers.” Peter said in an awkward whisper as if it wasn’t obvious, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“You don’t have to be shy about our secret relationship, Spidey. I’ve already told everyone you’re my lo--”

“Friend.” Peter cut in, groaning and sitting back in his chair with a huff. He had to admit, the seats weren’t very comfortable, and his stomach was tight with anxiety. Talking with Deadpool was easing at least a little bit of the pressure.

“Friend with benefits. Just as exciting without the emotional attachment. I like your style.” Peter didn’t really have the energy to argue against Wade’s ramblings, so he just let his eyes slip shut and tried to focus on staying awake, figuring he could just rest his eyes for a few minutes. Eventually his body grew numb enough he was a little more comfortable, and the rest was doing wonders for his scattered brain and anxiety.

His eyes shot open again when they hit turbulence, and he realized he had been passed out for an extensive period of time. Long enough that nearly everyone was asleep, including Wade, who was passed out on Peter’s arm. Peter stared at him for a few minutes, trying to decide whether to push him away and save himself the embarrassment of anyone seeing, or let him continue to slumber to make up for the nights he’d let Peter stay over on his couch and eat his fridge dry.

He ended up choosing the latter after an extensive internal debate, though most of it was because his arm was completely asleep under the weight of his large head and leather mask, and he didn’t have the strength in it to push him away. It worked out fine in the end, once Peter had grown tired enough to fall back into sleep, when Wade’s head created a hard pillow for him to drop his cheek on. And that was how they spent their flight, until Wade roused and immediately started teasing Peter for falling asleep on him, to the point he got up and changed seats out of annoyance.

There was a reason Peter had said no to sitting by Wade. He was an asshole. Comfortable, but still an asshole.

[sugaxjpg]

04 | blank check; m

⤷ “Let me get this right, okay? You threw my name in as your fake girlfriend because you needed to prove yourself to your empty-headed friends, and now you need to fix it. Still,” you paused, raising your eyebrows, “your way of fixing is not to disclose it as a lie, but to cover it up with an even bigger and riskier one. Is that correct?”

⤷ PART 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | Co-written with @pantaemonium

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Fuckboy!AU & FakeDating!AU

✓ Filed under: smut, tragic comebacks

✓ Words: 6,892

Author’s Note: And here it is... whatever this is. Laura and I are sorry. Also, Part 5 will be a bit longer than the ones we have put out so far, so pls be patient!! It’ll come :,) 

Your debate class had its intense, hair-pulling moments in the past — from the dichotomy of the current political climate to philosophical dialogues about Descartes’ universal doubt — but, every once in a while, even your professor would get stressed at the constant bickering of his top 10 students and, instead, would chose a dumb theme that the class could find some sort of humor in. After some time, even that showed itself to be an obstacle, since most of your classmates had their head so far up their own ass that they forgot what the sun looked like, even less what it was to have a chill, borderline comical, conversation with another human being.  

And that was where you and Namjoon came in.

If you were to be completely honest, you could say without a shadow of a doubt that the two had a constant veil of bitterness floating between you. What could you do? Both of you were a bit more competitive than you should be, and the prospect of academic validation was far too tempting for you two to just let it slide. But, damn. If Dante Alighieri had the misfortune of meeting Kim Namjoon throughout his life, you were absolutely sure he would have added the man somewhere amongst his circles of inferno — because, Jesus Christ, was he a pain in the ass when he took things to his personal side.

“In synthesis, professor, I must conclude,” Namjoon started, leaning against the tall surface of his table. The copy of the discussed book was placed before him, and you could see that he had highlighted — and color-coded — at least half of it. “Bella Swan should have picked Jacob instead of Edward. The amount of danger she faced was ridiculous, and perfectly avoidable if she had chosen the one that was always there for her and, quite frankly, much more attractive.”

Subtle. Always so subtle.

With his feet over a nearby desk, your professor hummed, and used his cup of coffee to hide the smirk that creeped up on his lips. From your peripheral vision, you could see the other students exchanging animated glances, waiting for your turn to defend Team Edward. “Alright. Very good, Kim,” he praised, then turned to you. His mop-like moustache was stained by the brown coffee, and it looked more disgusting than it should. “What do you have for us, defense?”

You pushed your shoulders back and, without a missed beat, spoke your truth. “I disagree with Namjoon’s conclusion, professor. Edward Cullen cared about Bella Swan much more than Jacob ever did. He was only angry because he was thrown into the friendzone, and did not get his desires fulfilled by his best friend.” Your eyes darted towards Namjoon as you verbalized those words, wishing you were just as subtle as he had been — that is, not at all. “Edward protected Bella since the start, was patient, and didn’t force anything on her. With all due respect, professor.” You turned back to the class. “Jacob had no free-pass to Bella’s black lacy underwear just because he had been there for longer.”

“That’s irrelevant to this debate, come on!” Namjoon defended himself, blushing from the tip of his ears to — not that you had been looking before — the place where his tan skin disappeared under his shirt. The buttons opened, that would’ve gotten him a warning in high school—but in college it was the average cool dude uniform.  “Jacob was not as simple-minded as he’s thought to be. He may be a werewolf but he’s not stupid—”

“Well, I have to disagree. As you may have read — and I’m sure my opponent highlighted this part too—, in the fourth book of the saga Jacob imprinted Edward and Bella’s new-born baby, under the justification that, and I quote, everything he was—snip, snip, snip—floated up into space when he met the baby’s eyes, which are coincidentally very similar to Bella’s who happened to be at the moment, dead.”

“It is explained within the Twilight universe that werewolves often link themselves to their partners for life.” Namjoon barked back, although there was no confidence left within him when he opened the book, and started looking through his notes, wondering how he could’ve left the imprinting-the-baby topic out. What a mess.

Poor Namjoon had surely been very busy dreaming of your black underwear to finish preparing the debate and that, good for you, meant you had won — for once.

“My shaking jerked to a stop; heat flooded through me, stronger than before, but it was a new kind of heat — not a burning,” you read, trying to occult behind the pages the wicked smile invading your features. At the back of the classroom, your classmates started laughing enough for Mr. Moustache to turn around and shush them. Namjoon was paralysed. His projection into the Jacob’s character was not as funny anymore. “Around five minutes before he falls in love with the half-vampire parasite, he’s hugging Bella’s flailing body, forbidding her from dying. He’s not what I call… consistent with his feelings.”

Namjoon opened his mouth to talk, but all of the present souls knew that his chances of coming back from that annihilation were practically zero. With a smile and a resonating laugh, Professor Pornstache turned around to the class. “Alright, children of the corn, you all know how it goes,” he started. You had no idea how he hadn’t noticed the soaked mess that his upper lip had turned into, but that’s what botox injections can do to your overall sensibility, after all. “Write on a piece of paper who you think won, and then let’s do this as democratically as we can — even if we all know that the final word is mine.”

You rolled your eyes at your professor’s attempt at being Cool With the Kids. Mussolini over there — Mustachelini? Nah — constantly tried to sneak in references of popular movies into his every sentence, which explained his constant obsession with reviewing young adult novels. Next one up, according to him, would be something from Cassandra Clare, and you really didn’t think you’d be able to endure another painfully awkward love triangle discussion, even less the hidden incest.

With a few chuckles and guilty gazes crossing, the classroom was quick to pass the papers off to the front row, where the teacher’s personal pet — Jisoo? Achoo? Bless you — could organize and count the votes. You were lucky she was great at her job, for it took her less than five dragged-out, silence-filled minutes to have an answer.

With a grin that seemed to come out straight from a Monopoly live-action movie, your professor looked down at the winner’s name. “Oh, look at that,” he said. “Seems like we have a new name to pay attention to. Namjoon…” he dragged out his speech in a way that you swore the air had been sucked out of your lungs. Next to you, the boy leaned forwards, chest filled up with pride. “Better luck next time, kid. Y/N got the trophy. That’s ten points to gryffindor, and a nine for Team Edwards.”

With the weight of defeat dragging his shoulders down, Namjoon retreated to the back of the classroom, where the bad boys — you almost cringed thinking of him as one of those — sat and gnawed gum loudly trying to make the world believe their attitude would get there somewhere in life except, perhaps, jail. He plopped onto his chair, and let out a defeated sigh. If he couldn’t win a Twilight debate that meant his career was over, his reputation on the floor. It was a tragic defeat, one he had never expected.

Part of him, you thought, should be happy that it had been you the one to conquer the first place. It could have been someone else, like the guy from second row who carried an anime figurine around and ate his boogers when he thought no one was watching; or maybe, the resident weed-lover, who would probably rant for five minutes about the necessity to legalize marijuana, and avoid altogether the mundane problems of two-hundred year old bloodsucker hottie number 1; and very white, very anodyne Bella Swan.

“So, tell me, what kept you so busy that you couldn’t finish the assigned reading?” You questioned, rubbing — as they would say — salt over his overabundance of pride wounds. It was petty, but it was the funniest part of defeating the smarty-pants in the room. “Anything on your mind? Do you need a pep-talk? My therapist’s number, perhaps?”

Namjoon crossed his arms over his desk and laid his head over them, hoping the earth could just open up and swallow him alive. It crossed his mind that Jungkook probably didn’t even know which elements that are inside the Earth’s core — nickel and iron, for the ones wondering — even less which layer was liquid: internal or external. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe you wanted someone that was more than brains, or maybe you could be searching for someone so dumb that would make you feel more confident at your own IQ — yeah, that was probably it. You wouldn’t pick anyone but Namjoon if that wasn’t the case.

But he needed to control the flux of his thoughts before it got the best of him, and he made the mistake of being a little bit more honest than he should. What could he do? His pride was completely shattered — over a Twilight debate, for fuck’s sake — and he was struggling to seat down after the catastrophe that had been that pizza. Never underestimate the enemy. Never underestimate cheese left out to rot for too long.

And, most importantly, never underestimate Jeon Jungkook.

“So, Y/N,” he started, raising his head from the desk. Two other students had already moved to the front of the class to start their debate on the powers of some of the secondary vampire characters, but he didn’t care about it — that one, he could win it in his sleep —, for his eyes were completely glued to your own. “You ran away from us that night at the party. Care to say what happened between you and your misunderstood knight?”

And god bless your winner high for not making your face crack under the sudden question. Even if the image of Jungkook rubbing his cherry splitter came back in a hormonal rush throughout your body and mind, the smirk in your lips lingered, and your inner despair did not drip through your words. “Nothing happened, we are perfectly fine,” you lied. “In fact, he invited me to go to Jimin’s pool party next weekend. Hope you don’t mind my company.”

It was ephemeral, but you saw the way Namjoon’s eyes widened for an instant — he was a mortal man, with simple mortal needs. Seeing glimpses of your black underwear? That was nice. Seeing you in full bikini? That was a miracle, and Kim Namjoon wasn’t someone to disregard a message from the Lord.

He cleared his throat, and looked towards the front of the class, where the debate was starting to heat up. One of the students claimed that vampires having weather-controlling abilities made no sense, for it was Twilight, and not X-men. He had to agree with that one. “That’s… something to consider,” he spoke. It was getting hot there? It was either you or the intestinal cramps from that forsaken pizza — how many days would it take for it to leave his system? God. “Never thought of you as someone who enjoyed… the outdoors.”

“I’m not the sun’s biggest fan, that’s true,” you acknowledged, “but that’s what relationships are about, you know? Making sacrifices, spending time with your boyfriend’s friends. All that.”

Namjoon, once again, lost his space to speak. As his eyebrows twitched together in a sign of his disbelief — and a bit of jealousy, let’s be honest — and his plump lips parted in a silent exclamation, the screen of your phone lit up, a loud ding! ruptured the attention of the class. From the front row, Pornstache asked for you to turn the device off.

“Won’t you look at that,” Namjoon complained, watching your fingers as you quickly placed your phone on silent mode. “Edward Cullen is here to save the day.”

There was a tinge of agony in his voice, that you interpreted as a silent hope that he could someday become the one to disrupt the class to send you, perhaps, a corny I miss you, let’s meet at the library after class, or a more saucy — and god knows you hate that expression — I’d love to be in bed right now, doing you-know-what. Namjoon didn’t strike you to be one to send a I’ll fuck you raw against the wall only because he would understand the physical limitations that would come with such statement.

“Edward Cullen is just trying to know if I’ll be going to your match next week, I think,” you lied. The phone vibrated against the table, insistent. It was like having Jungkook behind your back, saying whatever nonsense he had come up with that same morning. “Don’t you have something useful to do? I don’t know, start reading Cassandra Clare’s failed incest fanfic attempts or something?”

“Nah, you know what? I’m going to the bathroom. That pizza is still kicking my intestines, and not in a good way.” He smiled, and it was dashing. “See you later.”

“When you finish pooping.”

“Yeah.”

With raised eyebrows and the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips, you watched as Namjoon made his walk of shame towards the front of a class, then quickened up his pace suddenly. If you could go back to the night of the party and tell him about the consequences of his ridiculously high cheese consumption, you wouldn’t. It was too funny to just let it pass.

Your entertainment, however, was short-lived. As soon as you turned your gaze back to the device on your hands and actually read through the previews of Jungkook’s messages, you could tell that something was wrong.

Jungkook’s only neuron: [incoming video]

Jungkook’s only neuron: SHRIIRSHIT

Jungkook’s only neuron: NO DONT OPEN THAT PLEASE DONT

Jungkook’s only neuron: THAT ISN’T FOR YOU BABY NO

Jungkook’s only neuron: IM SO SORRY OMHFGF NPONONOONO

Jungkook’s only neuron: i want to die please dont download the video please i will do anything i will buy you milkshakes for the entire week plea...

But it was too late: you knew Jungkook was terrible at finding compelling arguments, but that was just too much. He knew you were curious, and his overwhelmed texts only increased your sadism to prolong his suffering. Of course you were going to see whatever the hell he had sent you, and of course you would make sure to tease him for it until the end of time. It was what he deserved after dragging you for yet another acting gig.

So, you unlocked your phone, and went straight to his conversation. Nothing could have prepared you for what you were met with — but one thing was for certain: you were so happy that you had brought your earphones that day.

Curiosity started to carve a hole within your chest. It started as a mere tingle, just below your breastbone, when you plugged in your earphones and starting downloading the video. Had Jungkook been a bit smarter that day — or just more technology-conscious — he would have remembered there was an option to delete his video. It would erase it from the face of earth, and with it the shame it would bring along. It was useless now, because by the time he understood the power he had allowed to slip away you would have already saved the thing in your phone. For blackmail purposes only, of course.

With absolutely no expectations, you pressed play. The condemnatory piece of evidence Jungkook had sent by mistake started playing on your screen, a vastness of black pixels and an eventual flash of light. It must be something huge, for him to panic — while sober — on the chat-room. And huge it was, although at first the image was without form and void. Darkness invaded the screen, like there was a towel or a shirt placed in front of the camera, and the only remnants of light that managed to filter in were through holes in the cotton.

Maybe Jungkook had finally lost his mind, and he had recorded one of those confession videos with huge cards. You are perfect to me, could have been read in one of those, scribbled with a Sharpie in his terrible handwriting. But Jungkook was not the romantic type so that would not be the case, he had a reputation to hold — surprisingly, he had not destroyed it yet.

And so the dumbass said “let there be light”, and there was light — and the most horrendous pink tiles covering the bathroom floor. He appeared into focus, clad in grey sweatpants and a tee shirt that you recognized immediately as part of the training gear for the volleyball team.

“Oh, god,” you muttered to yourself, watching him seat cross-legged before the camera. You had watched enough porn in your life to, at least, sense where this was going, but you were not prepared. Not at all.

When the boy — Jungkook, it was fucking Jungkook and you knew it — moved backwards on the shot, the entire scene came into focus, presenting you with the image of what you presumed was his bathroom. You would recognize that pink abomination anywhere, even if, the last time you witnessed it, you had not payed attention to the disgusting fact that the tiles were also a pallid tinge of roseate; the same color of the heat that painted the boy’s cheeks, all the way to the tip of his ears.

The image was slightly blurred still, but you could tell that he was sitting on the floor, back pressed against a bathtub. Jungkook had moved down on the shot enough so you could see up to his nose, but his eyes were still out of frame. It didn’t matter: you knew it was him, and you could not stop looking at the way his swollen lips were parted, glistening with the thin layer of his saliva. From in between them, came the weak, shy sound of a moan, and his body shivered in expectation.

Before you could even take hold of your actions, your gaze was already shooting downwards, past the droplets of sweat on his tan neck, and the obnoxious colors of his team shirt — for fuck’s sake, he was clearly not the brightest of minds, but, if he wanted it to be a bit harder to figure it out who it was, he shouldn’t have worn that. Dumbass. The hottest fucking dumbass you’ve ever laid eyes upon. Not the point.

Then, you saw it, and your mind went blank. Jungkook had one of his veiny hands placed over his hard member, its outline vaguely visible through the thick fabric of his pants. And, shit, that wasn’t the only thick thing in sight. But anyways. He was caressing it slowly, up and down, then rolling his palm against it slowly, dragging out the whines that broke upon his lips. Through your earphones, you could hear the fragile inflections of his voice against your ear, and you swore you could feel his raggedy breath hitting your skin at every new exhale.

On the upper part of your screen, another message popped up: I can tell you’re online!!!! it practically yelled, reeking of desperation and pheromones. You ignored it. There were more interesting things happening. Bigger things.

Jungkook pressed his palm down on his cock one, twice, but soon grew impatient at the lack of sensibility it provided. You tapped on the video and saw that it was three minutes long, which told you just how much he was eager to get straight to the point; and, much to your inner satisfaction, your hypothesis was quickly proved.

Almost timidly — who would’ve thought Jeon Jungkook could be any shade of timid, for fuck’s sake — the tip of his cock was released from the constriction of the elastic. He had been dripping enough to wet the fabric, and it elicited a thousand questions amongst which the idea of Jungkook cumming in his pants, unable to stop himself was primordial and very much overwhelming.

With more tenderness you had ever imagined he would be capable of, he pressed his thumb against his crown, smearing his slick all around. It ripped a long-drawled groan out of his throat, as he threw his head back and against the bathtub. Sweat started to pool in hollow of his clavicle when he dared move again, hand encircling his length.

That was the moment you understood the situation was serious in more than one way because a) Mr Pornstache was still doing whatever he believed was teaching, b) Namjoon had just crossed the classroom threshold and was about to return to his place by your side; and c) your panties were wetter that the goddamn Nile and it was Jungkook’s doing.

Way to start the week.

Then again, miracles can present themselves every once in a while and, for you, it was the fast-thinking that suddenly overtook your senses. Even if every fiber of your being begged for you to do otherwise, your fingers were quick to pause the video, block your phone, and shove your earplugs inside your jacket’s pocket before Namjoon’s gaze even casted itself in your general direction. Usain Bolt who?

You cleared your throat — was it hot in there?  “There you are,” you whispered as he sat down next to you. Namjoon looked one shade whiter and many years older. “Had fun?”

He rolled his eyes. “What kind of question is that?” You did not know. You weren’t thinking straight. You could barely recall your name amongst the echoes of Jungkook’s moans inside your mind, and it was driving you insane. “Anyways,” he started, “did I miss something important? Any big arguments to take into consideration?”

“The biggest argument I’ve ever see— I mean no, nothing,” you were quick to correct yourself. Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest that you recalled every medical drama you’ve ever watched, the movement of the defibrillators and the anxious screams of the doctors — charge it to 200; to 500… There’s nothing else we can do, we lost her. Jungkook strikes again. “You know what? This reminds me, I should go to the bathroom as well— To do… to… take care of lady stuff.”

Taken aback by surprise, Namjoon leaned back against his chair and raised his eyebrows in expectation, trying to predict where that was heading towards. He was clearly doubtful of your actions, and Mr Mustachelini was far too enrolled in the superpower debate to care about the way you roughly moved to your feet, almost knocking the desk over as you did so. Thank the heavens above that you didn’t wear a skirt that day, because the situation in between your legs was reaching critical levels.

“Lady… stuff?” he repeated slowly. There it was: the man you learned to fear in debates and in the court, with those piercing pupils and the expression that told you that there was no use in lying, for he already knew the secrets that you hid underneath your tongue. “Did something happen?”

You laughed nervously. “Absolutely nothing happened,” you lied. He could tell. Somehow, he just could. “I just have to leave, it’s gonna be really quick just… okay, bye.”

Namjoon moves around very slowly. The commotion of your sudden leave had probably pressed a slow-mo button he could not turn off. It was like all his energy was being redirected towards his brain, aimed at the gears you could almost hear rumble. It was just a bathroom escapade, it wasn’t that deep. But Namjizz was keen on discovering the secrets you were not skilful enough to conceal — at least not with the image of Jungkook’s swollen dick in his pretty hands still engraved in your brain.

“Bye,” you repeated, waving him farewell. Still perplexed he muttered something along the lines of: are you sure everything is alright? That you never responded to. All you could picture was the girls’ bathroom at the end of the corridor, the cubicle at the far left — the one less transited.

You had some dignity left inside, so you didn’t run. Instead, you walked as fast as your legs allowed. In hindsight, it was a ridiculous image, but you could only feel the weight of your phone growing heavier in your pocket, the wires tangling like serpents as some sort of cosmic punishment for your unspeakable crimes. As if it wasn’t enough that you had fallen for the local cliché; that you had been tempted by the one character in the comic you had promised you would only treat with disdain and, perhaps, some well-founded superiory.

Jungkook was an overused trope, that was clear enough —  thanks brain for the painful reminder! — but fuck, did he make you wet with only a few seconds of his blurry, leaked sextape.

Despite the late hour, the bathroom was deserted. You had been hoping to find someone there, someone disagreeable and nasty who would kill your libido with just a look. Coco would’ve fit the role. But there was no one around, and the cleaning lady had just polished the tiles till they shone like diamonds.

Weren’t you the luckiest girl in the entire university, huh?

Giving it no more thought, you locked yourself inside the cubicle. Your phone vibrated again, this time in your hand.

Jungkook’s only neuron: please Y/N  i didn’t mean to send that to you. it was a mistake. come back and call me a pig BUT DO SOMETHING. THIS IS LIKE POKING A STONE WITH A STICK

Jungkook’s only neuron: if you didn’t see it as I BEGGED YOU TO PLEASE FORGET I EVEN SAID THAT

He continued to rant into the group chat, monologuing about the many reasons behind your silence. It was — truth be told — abnormal of you to skip a chance to roast him, but there were more important matters to attend to. With a quick swish of your finger you silenced him, and with it the guilt that could come.

In movements far too quick to be your own, you plugged in the earphones in your ear, checked that they were well connected to your device — the last thing you needed was to interrupt the chastic beauty of that recently-cleaned bathroom with Jungkook’s devilish moans — and moved back to the video. The recording started over, but you were quick to move back to the time stamp you had stopped in — 1:38, precisely and, yes, you had memorized.

Now, that was when your morning started to go downhill, because it was when you decided to, as you had mentioned before, defenestrate the rest of your pride, and do the dirty work. Kind of: you were a bit out of your senses, but not enough to finger the baby maker in the middle of a public bathroom, no matter how clean it was.

So, you settled for the second best.

As the video resumed, you noticed the wetness that had spread between your thighs, only increasing as those lust-filled images flashed before your gaze. There was something alluring about the idea of the Great Jeon Jungkook playing with himself, allowing for his hips to roll against his hand as temptation overtook his senses; his legs so weak that he could barely move in that gruesomely pink bathroom floor. He was edging himself, that you could tell from the continuous biting of his lower lip, and the quivering pants that left his mouth, and he was adoring every second of his self-inflicted torture.

Moans and curses poured from his chest like ambrosia, and your other hand was quick to undo the buttons of your pants. You could see him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed, as his parted lips groaned for release, his muscles clenching again and again; cock throbbing in his hands. Perhaps, in an instant of patience, he would rub himself through his underwear until he was hard enough, or maybe he would grind against his bed until he could no long take the pleasure that monopolized his carnal desires.

Not that you were far away from that fate.

Hastily, you placed your hand in the space between your jeans and your underwear, finding your clit instantly. Your fingers traced circles over your sensitive spot, but the numbed feeling was awfully frustrating to endure. Just like the fucking video before your eyes was; the rise and fall of Jungkook’s abdomen as he reached for his own orgasm; the teasing of his thumb against the top of his member; the weak, whimper-like moans that infested your mind like a damn egyptian plague. Everything about that situation was frustrating, and it was tearing you from the inside out.

As he so tenderly caressed his length, you wondered at the rubor that had conquered his neck, the toned expanse of his chest. Jeon Jungkook had lost the intimidating arrogance that seemed to envelope his entire being. There was no arrogance in the curve of his mouth when opened his mouth in a whimper that broke before it could be captured by the microphone of his phone. There was no pride in the way he tilted his head back, fingers tight around his cock as he fucked himself relentlessly.

Despite the lack of friction, the sole image of his muscles tensing as he approached his release was enough to have you trembling. The memento of his hands roaming your waist was clear in your mind when you pressed your clit just a bit harder, wishing it was him the one to tease you with the same cruelly he was teasing himself. The wonders his fingers could do, his tongue. As his moans became louder, your movements turned erratic, almost desperate. It threatened to break you, but you could not find reason within yourself to stop.

Still, Jungkook wouldn’t be Jungkook if he didn't find a way to ruin your fucking day.

The vibration of your phone in your hands made your heart jump inside your chest and, for an instant, you swore you had seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and the angels calling you to join them above. But no — it was the human-shaped devil named Jungkook and he was, quite literally, calling you.

With a stressed-out groan, you barely thought about your actions before sliding to answer his call, his previous moans being immediately replaced by static. “What the fuck do you want, Jungkook?”

From the other sound of the line, you heard a shuffle. “Oh great, you picked up,” he spoke. You couldn’t tell if his voice was permeated by annoyance or by relief and, quite honestly, you didn’t give a flying fuck — you had your hands pressed against the soaked mess that had become your panties in a public bathroom, and the last thing you needed was to psychologically characterize his timbre based upon the inflections of his tone. “We have to talk.”

Honestly? Fuck it. The guy had already ruined one rub-out session for you, and he wouldn’t do the same thing again; not when the only detail you could think about had been the ridiculously hot video he had sent you. “No we don’t,” you threw back, breathing growing sharp as you continued your motions — slower this time. “This is not the time, and you have nothing—” You paused, biting back a moan, then masking it as a cough. Okay, you certainly didn’t think that through. “You have nothing to justify.”

“You know I do.” He hesitated. “It’s about the video.”

“Of course it’s about the fucking video,” you interrupted, throwing your head back against the wall. You were starting to get close, and you knew it. “Are you narcissistic enough to jerk off to a video of you... jerking off? This is the weirdest case of inception I’ve ever seen.”

Jungkook paused on the other end. “Inception? But that has nothing to do with my family.”

Good god, have mercy on your soul. “Inception, Jungkook.” You groaned. “Not incest.”

“Not the point, smart ass,” he was quick to reply and — fuck Jungkook and his honey voice — you could have sworn he had almost stuttered. There was no way you could have known for sure, for your own mind was wandering elsewhere and you were barely containing the tremors of your own voice. “I really need to see you and explain, so tell me where to go and I’ll be there.”

“Jungkook,” you called, and your brain thought it was a great moment to bring the images you had been trying to avoid, of Jungkook in-between your legs licking your wetness away as you whimpered his name. At the end of the line there was only static to match your error, so you rapidly added. “There’s no need to explain. I really have no interest in seeing you beat your meat to whatever Arctic Monkeys song you chose as your sex jam, so I don’t really care about your reasons—”

“It’s very normal to do something like this, okay? Some guys do it all the time. I do it all the time to, you know, see how I perform and everything.” You had long lost track of his explanation. The murmur of his voice was just an echo at the back of your head, for you had never stopped pressing your fingers against your clit, trying to subdue the sweet pain threatening to take over. Your brain was overworked — and overwhelmed — and Jungkook blabbing his way out of shame was not annoying enough to stop you. “It’s like monitoring yourself, and It makes me a better lover. A better partner, if you want. Y-you should be glad I’m doing this—”

As Jungkook ranted on, you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him, for you knew the moment you tried to speak only a moan would emerge from your throat.

Jungkook, however, took your silence as a punishment. “So you really watched it, huh?” He chuckled, humorless. “Guess I fucked up again—”

For fuck’s sake not now. The way he hesitated — just for a second — before he spoke and his voice refused to come out untainted but in a rough whisper, was the last thing you needed to complete your descent into Dante’s nine circles of hell.

Before you could notice, the faintest whimper dripped from your lips, a broken chord that sounded like his name.

Well, if you wanted to stop Jungkook from blabbering, that was the way to go.

Maybe if you had been a little more in your senses, the realization that you had just moaned out the fragmented syllables of his name would have seemed like an apocalyptic forewarning for the chaos that would ensue. But no: you were far too gone to care, and it had fulfilled your initial purpose of silencing the annoying insect buzzing in your earphones.

But of course, Jungkook wouldn’t let it go so easily.

On the other end of the line, he cleared his throat. “What… are you doing?” He paused, seeming to take in all the details he had ever so naively overlooked aforetime — the vague panting that departed from in-between your lips, the eagerness in which you rushed to finish your sentences. Something odd was taking place, and even his one living neuron could perceive it. “You sound like you just ran a marathon. ”

“It’s a debate class, genius, things got… heated,” and that had been the perfect word to use. “I’m not doing anything.”

There was a second of hesitation before he spoke up again. “Isn’t Namjoon in that class with you?”

“Yes. Congrats on the goldfish memory.” You breathed out — okay, you could maybe hold yourself back. You were getting close, for your legs were already shaking, and you could barely keep your eyes open for longer than a couple seconds and, if you had holden tight for that long, you could do it again. Just no more moaning. Not in front of him. Later, maybe.

“That’s weird,” Jungkook spoke. Fuck his voice, fuck the way his whimpers and cries for release still echoed inside your head; fuck the delicious sight of his head thrown back, and his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. Fuck him. Fuck you. Hopefully. “I just texted him and he said that you left to go to the bathroom. For lady pro—”

“—It’s a different Namjoon.” What kind of answer was that? You were barely thinking. “Listen, Jungkook, I’m not in the mood to talk, so maybe you could just… call later?”

“There’s only one Namjoon, and we both know his lame lactose-intolerant ass.” Jungkook could be sharp if he thought very hard. Maybe the ruptured thoughts crossing your mind, the weakness spreading all over your body, was what he had needed to fight on equal ground — and somehow you knew he would be very proud of this victory. “You received the video, and then went to the bathroom?” He was trying to organize the timeline of your befall, and for once his solitary neuron was cooperating, while yours were just running around, screaming like hippies high on acid. “Did you go to the bathroom… to watch it?”

“Jungkook, just drop it.” You whined, the sound needier than you had ever intended. “Let’s talk later, okay? I need to go back to class now. Call me later if you want and we’ll talk about the stupid party or your rampant narcissism, whatever you want.”

“I’ll wait for you after class—” He didn’t sound convinced. The raggedness of your voice was a good reason to be puzzled, but the guy was apparently too idle to hang up and do something useful. “We can go somewhere to discuss the party details if you’re up. You know, like a business meeting but in like a café or something.”

“I have a test tomorrow.” Holding to the last threads of rationality, you understood it was time to end the conversation. “Nice talking to you, Jungkook. Bye.”

Jungkook would have questions, of course, but you could only think of him, his hands, his soft lips against your own. Your hand returned to torture your clit, this time unrestricted by his presence on the phone. It was ridiculously easy to find the right pace, to bring back the memory of his weights pressing against your own, his tongue discovering your mouth. Jungkook could mess your existence even in your imagination and that was something you had to confess you had never expected.

Call ended, you allowed yourself to suspire in relief, dwelling in the absence of his frequent interrogations, and the pleasure that was overtaking your senses. The silence, however, was short-lived: you forgot you still had the video playing in the background.  

Now, some things in life are beautifully synchronized: the fly of birds as the sun sets; your favorite sad song playing while you’re driving in the rain… Jungkook’s dragged-out moans echoing inside your head the same instant you found your high. You know, the simple stuff. The kind of stuff that makes you lay awake at night in horror.

Your legs trembled when you reached your orgasm, waves of heat running up and down your thighs as you fought to suppress a prolonged whimper. On your hands, the device called for your attention, and your parted eyes barely got the glimpse of a smaller, digitally edited Jungkook covering his abs with the white strands of his own relief; hips rolling against his palm as his mouth, open, cried out in sheer alleviation. You loved that sight, and it pushed you even further down your decay into inferno.

But, of course, the video didn’t stop there. It didn’t fade into black, as you had expected, because you deserved a plot twist to end the day. You had depleted your luck reserves long ago — probably during a math exam — so it was highly unlikely that the guy would just finish the deed and turn off the camera.

No, instead Jungkook continued teasing his cock until his thighs trembled with the excess of his own caresses; limbs flinching under the tides of his exaggerated stimulation. He could not bite back he suspires of despair as he rode a second orgasm and muttered an unintelligible prayer.

Wait, scratch that. You rewinded the video, to listen for a second time. In this occasion you closed your eyes, because his fucked-out face was far too distracting for your brain to keep up with so many stimuli.

It was, actually, very intelligible.

Jeon Jungkook was not praying, but moaning your name.

That, nevertheless, was a secret that would die with you. Or so you hoped.

[purpleillusn]

Returning After the Reveal

Phic Phight attack 3

Prompt: “A post Phantom-Planet (or post reveal, if you hate PP that much) fic in which Danny is getting used to his new fame and recognition as a superhero. His teachers, classmates, and even former bullies are all suddenly treating him differently, and Danny’s not quite sure what to do with that.” - @love-ly-ish

Words:  7143

Danny pushed his crutches down again, supporting his weight as he made his way over to the X-Ray room. He was pretty sure that he could have walked, but doctor’s orders said he couldn’t, hence the crutches.

Whispers erupted as he traversed the labyrinth of corridors. Onlookers either appeared to be in awe, admirers and fans of his Phantom persona, while others scowled, moving out the way, many fearful of the teen in front of them, or rather his powers. He supposed he hadn’t been expecting anything different, the world probably hadn’t been ready for the existence of halfas, but had been introduced to them anyway.

A mother pulled her child away and close to her chest just as he’d tried to go up to Danny, attempting to shield the boy from him. Danny sighed and his mom placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They entered the room, and Danny lay on the table as per the previous X-Ray, while Maddie joined the radiologist further away. If there was one thing Danny was grateful for in this great big mess of a situation, it was his parents’ unwavering support. Without them kicking up a fuss it would have been entirely possible for the GIW to cart him off to their labs, labelled as an ecto-based threat, while he was unconscious and wounded. Danny suppressed a shudder at that idea.

“Danny, you can come over here now,” called the doctor, a kindly old man who looked somewhat like a walrus.

On the computer screen was Danny’s leg, his tibia and fibula completely intact, just as expected. “Jeez you heal fast, kid. Most people would take months to recover from that,” commented the doctor, clicking into the image to zoom in. “Not even a hairline fracture anymore.”

Danny cringed - he’d had one hell of a compound fracture. On top of that apparently they had to pick fragments of bone out of his leg. Nope, he was not going to imagine that. The surgeons had been slightly freaked out even after he came around post-surgery, his healing factor having caused problems with treating his injuries.

“Does this mean I don’t need crutches now?” Danny asked hopefully, lightly kicking the leg in its brace.

“Yes, you’re free to go. Just don’t go breaking more bones on us,” the doctor chuckled, his belly shaking as he did so.

“No promises,” Danny responded, flashing him a smile before sitting down to phase the cast off his leg. “Uh, so, what do I do with this?” He waved it in the air. This was nice, being able to use his powers around others without having to fear exposure.

Maddie took the cast from him and placed it in the appropriate bin as they left the hospital. “Well, that went well,” she said, trying to maintain an optimistic mood despite the countless pairs of eyes on them, passing their own individual judgement.

Danny muttered something under his breath and Maddie asked him to speak up.

“I’d have preferred for none of this to happen in the first place,” he said barely loud enough for her to hear properly. “I should’ve handled the attack better.”

Maddie sighed. “You can’t be perfect, Danny. I wish you hadn’t got hurt like that, but it’s all we can do to move on from it now. You saved a lot of lives that day, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.”

“So I’ve heard,” Danny said spitefully, immediately resenting himself for taking that tone with his mom. “Sorry, I just-” He trailed off.

“It’s been a stressful few days, hasn’t it?” she said, unlocking the car and opening the door.

Danny mirrored her in opening the door on the passenger side, slipping into his seat. “Yeah.”

They backed out of the parking lot, the sound of tacky pop music coming from the radio while Danny picked at the fabric of his jeans. “Mom? Do you ever have times when you feel you could have done better?”

“Of course I do. Regrets are part of life, and no matter what you do, there’ll always be that nagging voice in your head,” Maddie said as she turned onto the highway.

“How do you deal with it?” Danny enquired.

Maddie glanced at Danny, then cast her eyes back to the road. “I remind myself that my mistakes are in the past, and I can’t change them. Plus focusing on the positives helps, like people you helped and ways you can do better in the future.”

Danny contemplated her words for a few seconds. “Thanks, mom.”

They were now approaching Amity Park, which did not have its own hospital due to the risk of ghost attacks. Craters, Danny-shaped and otherwise, marred the landscape and they passed a sign reading ‘Amity Park: A nice place to-’ The rest of the sign having been destroyed by ectoblasts, leaving it illegible.

Maddie cleared her throat. “But even I have regrets I can’t forgive myself for.”

“Oh,” Danny said, knowing full well where this conversation was heading. They’d had this conversation once already, in which Danny adamantly defended them, though admittedly he had been pretty drugged up then, so he couldn’t blame her for talking about it again. “I still don’t blame you for anything. I chose to lie to you- I shouldn’t have, and there was no way you could’ve guessed that your living son was a ghost.” He breathed before continuing. “You can’t change the past.”

Maddie conceded and continued the drive without bringing it up again, instead choosing to talk about space and recent developments in astronomy and astrophysics.

They stopped in the driveway of the Fenton house, now with a metal fence to fend off rabid reporters, fans and those who despised Danny and his entire family. They’d probably have to upgrade the security system at some point soon, but for now it would do.

The house was a lot cleaner than the night of the ghost attack, but was still somewhat disheveled, albeit without fragments of glass around the place now. “Good to see you Danny-boy!” Jack engulfed Danny in a one armed hug, his left arm being covered in bandages. “Can’t keep you down, eh?”

Danny chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Speaking of which, Danny, we’ll need to do a check up on your core,” Maddie interjected, catching Danny off guard with how naturally the words came from her mouth. They seemed to be adjusting about as well as one could to the revelation that their son’s half ghost, going so far as to lock up their most powerful weapons and program all of the inventions they could to ignore Danny’s ectosignature, including the ghost gabber, much to Danny’s delight. Sam and Tucker had managed to convince the Fenton parents that separating Danny’s ghost and human halves would be a terrible idea by explaining the Fenton ghost catcher incident, that and it didn’t take a scientist to know that ripping away part of someone’s body wasn’t good for them. If Danny was healthy and happy, that’s all that mattered to them.

The core check-up went similarly to an X-Ray, just in the lab, and with a different machine.

Danny pulled his t-shirt over his head, ignoring the fact that his hair was now even more messy than usual, and walked over to the computer screen displaying the scan.

A look at the display wouldn't mean much to someone without knowledge of ectobiology, but both the Fenton parents and Danny could see that it had thousands of tiny marks of damage, like the tears that form in a muscle after excess exertion.

“It looks like it’s healing. See? Snowfang was right,” said Danny.

Snowfang, the head doctor in the Far Frozen, had assured them that it would heal with time, as long as Danny did not overexert himself again.. Naturally the Fenton parents had still been worried, and coming up with ways to aid healing.

His dad grinned at him, while his mom had an unreadable expression of thought.

“You’ll still have to drink ectoplasm until you’re better,” she ordered, before quickly adding, “but maybe don’t bring it to school tomorrow.”

Crud. School. Danny cringed at the thought of his phan club following him around. “I’m not sure if I want to go back there. I mean, what if people…”

Maddie crouched slightly to be eye to eye with Danny. “It’ll be fine, just give it a try, okay? And if it’s too much for you, or you get bullied, we can always look into home education.”

Danny nodded, eyes downcast.

The ring of the doorbell pierced through the quiet and momentarily drowned out the whir of machines from every angle of the basement.

Jack was the first to reach the door, opening it only to remember that there was also a tall metal fence and gate between the street and the living room. “Jazzypants! Elle!” he bellowed as he opened the gate, letting two girls in. Elle gave him as much of a hug as her short arms could manage, channelling some ghost powers to jump up. Jack patted Danielle’s back and closed the gate. Danny’s face lit up at the sight of his adoptive sister, now dubbed ‘Elle’ both to avoid confusion and due to her sense of individuality, still clinging onto their dad as he came back into the house. The adoption would be going through quickly after they’d ‘convinced’ Vlad that it was best to let them adopt her and for him to leave her alone. It hardly seemed like she’d only lived with them for less than a week, yet that was undeniably the truth.

Elle, grinning broadly, dropped to the floor. “Hey, Danny, you’re all better?”

Danny made a more or less gesture with his hand. “Pretty much.”

Jazz announced her presence by dumping a large bag of books on the floor with a thud. “Well, that’s book shopping done.”

Danny glanced at the bag, stunned. “Did you buy the entire bookstore?”

“Ha, ha,” Jazz deadpanned. “Elle’s starting Middle School in September, that’s only five months away, so she’ll need to catch up on any material she missed out on by then.”

Elle was less excited by the idea of school, and instead pulled out a book titled ‘How much poo does an elephant do?’. “I got to choose some books I wanted too.”

•     •     •

Sweat poured from Danny’s brow as he tried his best to hold up the beams of a near-collapsed building while the last inhabitants ran for safety. After the last person escaped, guided away by Maddie and Jack Fenton, he intangibly passed through the building, letting it collapse through him, and turned his attention to the gruesome ghost currently being shot at while trying to chase down the Red Huntress. She looked worse for wear, her suit not repairing the scratches in it like it typically did. The fight had been drawn out for too long, and everyone knew it, but the ghost just didn’t seem to have a weak spot, all shots ricocheting off its armored skin. And worst of all it had a fire core, leaving the pavement melted under it with each step it made.

“Oi! Ugly!” Danny shrieked, a lot more shrilly than he than he originally intended. The taunt had the exact effect Danny wanted, all of the dozen or so eyes of the beast turning towards him and narrowing. Its nostrils flared, and it made a beeline for Danny, stomping down anything that stood in its way.

Calling on the power of his own core, Danny sent out a blast of ice, which encased the ghost for mere seconds before melting under the extreme heat of its flaming breath. Danny created an energy shield, doing his best to block the attack, his palms burning as the fire was redirected around him and into the building, exciting the embers floating in the air and on the ground.  

The flames stopped abruptly as yet another fighter flew into the fray, blasting the beast in the side. “Leave my cousin alone!” Elle yelled, unleashing another energy ball, which knocked the creature back.

It was then that Danny saw something, a weakness, an opening. The ghost opened its mouth and Danny took this opportunity to shoot a beam on ice into it, giving the ghost the worst possible case of brain freeze experienced by any being. Without hesitation, Danny tackled the ghost to the ground, glancing up at Valerie who was pulling out her thermos.

Unfortunately, Danny really should have kept his attention on the ghost, as it grabbed him by the leg in its vice-like grip and hurled him into the rubble of the building he’d been trying to hold up just a minute earlier. A sickening crunch of bone shattering could be heard as Danny’s body crashed against the hot concrete and brick. He tried to climb to his feet, only to realise that one of his legs was practically snapped in two, and instead hovering weakly. Elle flew over to him like a rocket, putting an arm under his shoulder to support him, seeing his exhaustion.

Danny evaluated the situation, noting that the ghost appeared to be much more sluggish, cracks showing in its skin, revealing what looked to be swirling magma underneath.

“Cover your ears! Now!” he shouted and unleashed an unearthly wail, rippling through the air, peeling through the armor of the ghost with each wave that came its way.

Danny collapsed, ears ringing, desperately fighting back white rings while Elle held him just above the ground.

A blue light engulfed the magma ghost in front of them, and the Red Huntress landed, hoverboard retracting into the soles of her shoes, now-full thermos in her hand. “Phantom? I just wanted to say thank you, both of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Danny offered her a tired smile before falling into the black, a ring of light passing over his head as he dropped like a rock.

Danny awoke with a start, glancing at the time on his alarm clock: 6:45 am. Could be worse. Of course he’d just had to have that dream, that memory again the night before school. The universe was simply unkind to halfas - not even permitting them to sleep until their alarm would have gone off.

He dropped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, figuring that if he was going to face his possible doom today, he might as well be presentable while doing so. The cold shower was nice - just another reminder that he was weird. Jazz always complained that he’d left it on the cold temperature when she went to shower.

Speaking of Jazz, she was already downstairs when Danny entered the kitchen. “Ready to go back to school, little brother?”

“No, not really” Danny sighed as he poured a bowl of cereal for himself, reminding him of the day when he’d almost told his parents his secret early on after being picked up by the ghost detector.

“I’ll be with you when we go there,” Jazz comforted. “Take deep breaths and try to focus on what could go well today.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Thanks.”

The Fenton parents came into the kitchen soon after, one from downstairs, and the other with a very grumpy looking Elle - apparently she was not a morning person. Maddie guided the sleep deprived halfa to the table, and she immediately brightened up at the prospect of breakfast, inhaling a bowl of Cookie Crisp.

“Remember your ectoplasm,” Maddie said to the half ghosts, placing a glass of the glowing green liquid in front of each of them, much to Danny’s chagrin. It wasn’t that it tasted bad, it was just weird, like sweet tasting batteries that prickled his tongue with its energy.

Elle seemed not to have inherited Danny’s dislike of the sensation, and downed her glass like orange juice. This was just one of the many differences between them that she had embraced, along with her love of toast.

Danny sipped his ectoplasm, reminding himself that it was just filtered from the atmosphere of the zone.

“What does it taste like?” Jack asked, like a curious puppy. He knew better than to try and drink some himself - ectoplasm was decidedly not suitable for human consumption. The only reason halfas could drink it was because their biology was different to a human’s on the molecular level.

“Kinda like honey charged with electricity,” Danny answered before taking another gulp of it.

“It’s nice,” Elle chimed in. “Danny’s just not used to it - that’s why he’s scared of drinking it.”

Danny shot her a playful glare and glugged the rest of the glass, which she cackled at.

The energy rippled through his core, like a concentrated energy drink, which wasn’t actually far off the mark as a description of it.

Jack hummed, and began tinkering with an invention he’d been working on on the side for the time Danny had been hospitalised. It was a small plastic wristband, with a glowing green light and small amounts of exposed circuitry where he’d unscrewed a panel on it. It was slightly rough looking, but for something thrown together over just a few days, it was impressive.

The band was a failsafe, in case the school had concerns about him harming other students that could not be remedied by their word - it suppressed Danny’s powers, namely his ectoblasts. It wasn’t great, but if worst came to worst it at least wouldn’t hurt Danny.

Pocketing the band, Jack and the rest of his family, including Elle, who was still worried that Vlad might come for her, clambered into the Fenton family RV (Maddie was driving as it was decided that property damage would not make a good impression).

They reached the school too early for Danny’s liking, and he wiped his clammy palms on his jeans before exiting the vehicle.

Mr Lancer was waiting outside, visibly surprised that nothing had been destroyed while parking until he noticed that Maddie had been driving. He shook the Fenton parents’ hands, and guided the family into the building.

Danny noticed the news van was parked in the road by the school, evidently not allowed onto school property, but figured it was best to ignore it - he’d honestly expected far more people following him around, but apparently he’d passed out of the news with the next big thing.

The early students gawked as the group passed them through the corridors on their way to Mr Lancer’s office, but Danny once again did his best to ignore it.

The office door was agape, and Principal Ishiyama was sat in a small plastic chair next to Mr Lancer’s desk. Mr Lancer closed the door after the group, sitting down in his worn padded chair and indicating to the plastic chairs arranged by the entrance. He surveyed the odd group as they lowered themselves to their chairs, eyes lingering momentarily on Elle, taking in the unfamiliar, yet familiar face.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, there has been protesting against Daniel returning to school,” Mr Lancer began, voice steady and calm, as if talking about any other issue at school, “however, we, as a school, and as people, will not discriminate against an individual based on their, biology. I am glad to see you healthy Daniel, and would like to make it very clear that you are welcome at this school.

“Your teachers, myself included are prepared to give you leeway and accommodate your ghost hunting. We do expect that you work hard to keep up with class work, and attend extra sessions if necessary, but you will not be punished for leaving lessons to deal with ghost attacks. I’m well aware that you are capable of doing well, and all you need to do if ask for help whenever you feel that you’re falling behind.”

Danny was ectatic. This was too good to be true! “Thank you Mr Lancer! I will.”

Ishiyama took this moment to interject. “But, we do have some restrictions we would like you to follow.”

Of course. There was always a catch.

“You are not allowed to abuse your privileges, and if it is found that you have been skipping class without a good reason there will be appropriate punishment. Additionally, you are not allowed to use your abilities to cheat or harm others. We do not take this lightly, and doing this could get you expelled from the school.”

Danny flinched imperceptibly at the mention of cheating.

“We will not stop you from using your powers altogether though. You may use what non-destructive or harmful powers you have as you feel comfortable with, we trust that you can use your judgement as to what is appropriate.”

“That sounds reasonable,” said Danny, relaxing slightly. “I promise I won’t hurt others, and I definitely won’t cheat.”

This seemed to satisfy the Principle, who smiled at the family. “Well then, enjoy your day. I believe lessons will be starting in fifteen minutes. Please ask myself or Mister Lancer if you have any questions.”

And with that Ishiyama pardoned herself from the room, leaving the family with just Mr Lancer, who shuffled a small stack of papers.

“One last thing, Daniel,” Mr Lancer called out to Danny as he went to stand up from his chair. “My door is always open if you need to talk about anything.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer!” Danny smiled up at his teacher, and left the office with the rest of his family.

“That went well,” commented Maddie, and Jack nodded enthusiastically. “We should really go home now. See you later, you two. I know you both find kisses embarrassing, so have a good day.”

“Bye,” both Danny and Jazz chorused.

“Enjoy your day of hell!” Elle shouted after them, a grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

“Same to you!” Danny yelled back as she rounded the corner and out of view.

Jazz and Danny said their goodbyes and went off to their respective lessons early. Waiting outside the science lab, Danny couldn’t help but keep an eye on every face that passed in the mass of students getting to class. His face lit up when he saw Sam and Tucker approach him through the crowd, their faces brightening an equal amount at the sight of their friend healthy and happy.

“Yo, how are you?” Tucker greeted, giving Danny a high five.

“Good. I’m all healed, and the school seems to be okay with me being here,“Danny replied. “What about you?”

“Pretty good. How’re your folks taking the reveal?”

“Great. They’re happy I’m going into ghost hunting, and they seem to have accepted my ghost half. They even adopted Elle!” Danny was practically bursting with joy, and it warmed the others through.

“Oh yeah, we saw her with your parents on the way in. She looks really happy - I guess she’s settling in well,” said Sam, smiling far too brightly for her goth aesthetic.

“Excuse me,” a small voice came from the right, and the trio turned to see Mikey, a small red haired boy, standing there timidly, with his nerdy friends behind him. “I, uh, I wanted to say thank you - for all the times you’ve saved us.”

Danny was dumbfounded. People knowing his not-so-secret identity was going to take some getting used to. “Um, no problem. I just did what anyone would do.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, how do your ghost powers work?” Mikey asked rapidly. “Are you a ghost? Does this mean you’re dead? You’re not dead, right?” He looked slightly horrified.

“Of course he’s not dead!” Sam said abruptly, the guilt of the accident gnawing at the back of her mind. The nerds flinched.

“What Sam said, I’m not dead, or at least I don’t think I am,” Danny spoke. “I’m not entirely sure how my powers work, we think I’m half ghost - um, when I got my powers, I think ectoplasm got bonded to my DNA or something.” Danny didn’t want to go into specifics of how he got his ghost powers. The memory was slightly traumatic, and he really didn’t want to risk others attempting to repeat it - that was dangerous, and painful.

“Woah, that’s so cool! Is it like a comic book origin story?”

“That’s enough.” Sam cut Mikey off, and he shrunk back.

The teacher soon emerged from the classroom to shepard the students to their seats. Mrs Bray, the strict, rule-abiding chemistry teacher, with a glare that could melt concrete, sat in her chair, back straight as the pole that was probably stuck up her butt. She read out the register, each student replying with a ‘yes miss’, until she reached Danny’s name and mutters broke out among the students. Her eye twitched, but she continued the register after Danny confirmed his presence

Once the register was over, she stood before the board, and took a breath before her lecture.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr Fenton has been revealed to be somewhat of a celebrity, however, I would like you to respect his privacy, and there will be no discussion of him or anything of the sort in my classroom. I expect you to focus on your work, and nothing else while you’re here. Am I understood?”

“Yes miss,” came the drone of thirty or so students brought an odd sense of relief to Danny. In her own way, his teacher was showing her support, preventing others from pestering him during class. Unfortunately, she could not stop the glances that were sent his way throughout the lesson. Dash in particular seemed to be staring the most, a guilty expression on his face. Oh, Danny was probably going to have an awkward conversation after class, unless he turned invisible to escape, but that would probably just draw more attention to him.

Valerie, on the other hand, appeared to have a swirl on emotions passing behind her eyes as she occasionally glanced at Danny, as though wanting to talk to him, which she of course did. Okay, so that was going to be two awkward conversations after the lesson.

As the teacher told people to pack up, Danny psyched himself up for what awaited him out of Mrs Bray’s classroom. Valerie was aggressively stuffing her bag, and Danny feared what she’d do once they were out of the classroom. Scenarios passed through his head, each of them involving a way in which Danny’s life, or rather the next few minutes of his life, could go wrong.

The instant they were out the classroom a hand grabbed Danny’s arm and dragged him to the janitor’s closet. Valerie stood there, somehow seeming sad, worried and majorly pissed off, all the while managing not to scream. Sam and Tucker burst in, quickly tailing after the ghost boy. “Hey, Valerie, don’t do anything rash,” Sam implored, “wait, are you crying?”

Pearlescent tears were trailing down from Valerie’s eyes, and she wiped them away with her arm. “Tell anyone I’ve cried and you’re dead!” Valerie snapped.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” placated Sam. “Do you want us to leave so you can talk to Danny?”

Valerie shook her head. “No, stay, please.” She almost pleaded towards the end, the emotional strain from the past week bubbling to the surface.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For hunting you, for blaming you for everything that went wrong in my life,” Valerie cried quietly.

“It’s fine, Val I’m sorry for lying to you for all this time.” She looked up to see Danny putting a hand on her shoulder, ice blue eyes radiating comfort. Valerie shook her head again, a lot more violently than she intended to.

“I didn’t exactly give you much choice, did I?”

Danny just shrugged. The bell telling them lessons were starting chose that moment to go off, and panic quickly spread through the group before they conceded themselves to their fate of being late to English.

“Y’know, now would be a great time for a ghost attack we can blame for us being late to class.” Danny tried to lighten the mood, but quickly regretted it when his ghost sense went off - his face falling as the blue mist swirled into the air in front of him at the same time as Valerie’s ghost detector going off. “Okay, I was kidding, but I should probably take care of this.” He suddenly looked nervous. “Want to team up on this one, Val?”

Valerie looked taken aback. “What? You trust me just like that?”

“Well, yeah. You are my friend - our friend.” Danny corrected himself seeing Sam and Tucker opening their mouths to correct him on that point. “Danny’s right,” Tucker said, leaning against the closet door to listen out for the ghost attack.

Sam continued, “as much as I may have been reluctant to admit it, you have become a friend over this time. And by the way, we’ve known about your ghost hunting since the beginning - at the park. You might want to consider getting something to mask your voice if you want to keep a secret identity.”

Valerie felt a blush flush into the cheeks. “You got it,” she said, checking the radar on her ghost detector as she did so. “It’s by the sports hall. I’m new to this teamwork stuff, what do you three do about ghost attacks?”

“Uh, do you two want to handle this one?” Tucker’s hand clasped the door handle. “We can go tell Mr Lancer why you’re late.”

“I’m guessing you want us to keep your ghost hunting a secret Valerie,” Sam asked rhetorically. “We can just tell Mr Lancer that you’re helping Danny out or something and leave it at that.”

“Sounds good to me,” Valerie said, activating her suit, covering her face last. Tucker gave a low whistle at the show of electronics, and glanced to Danny, who seemed unfazed by her suit. Of course he was, this kid had seen it all before.

Seeing that Valerie was comfortable enough in his presence to activate her suit, Danny went ghost, rings of blinding white travelling across his body. Valerie’s mouth was practically on the floor - this much was evident even with her mask. Danny Phantom floated opposite her, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

“Ta-da,” he quipped, and Valerie collected herself enough to notice that Sam and Tucker were snickering at her reaction. They quickly scampered off to Mr Lancer’s lesson, and Danny extended his hand to Valerie.

“Wanna try navigating like a ghost?” he asked, eyes twinkling like stars.

She took his gloved hand, and screamed as she was whisked along through the wall. A feeling like being submerged in icy water sent a shiver down Valerie’s spine. Noticing her reaction, Danny landed on the other side of the wall in an empty classroom. “Sorry, I really should have warned you about that.”

“No, it’s fine - just felt cold,” Valerie tried to quell the expression of guilt that had wormed its way into Danny’s face. It was still weird seeing Phantom as Danny, even if his reveal had been caught on camera and broadcast on live TV. There was something innately wrong about seeing your friend as a ghost, and the odd glow he had to his skin didn’t help make him look like the human Danny Fenton she’d known., illuminating his features oddly and making him appear almost as a completely different person.

“Oh, yeah.” Danny fiddled with the hair on the back of his neck. “I kinda forgot - Sam and Tucker are both used to it, and I don’t normally make others intangible.”

“Really, it’s fine. Let’s go find that ghost before it hurts someone,” Valerie insisted.

Danny nodded with renewed determination, and took her hand again tentatively before turning them intangible again and speeding off towards the gym.”

This was certainly different to flying on a hoverboard, Valerie thought to herself. A hoverboard at least somewhat obeyed gravity - ghost flight, not at all. She could somehow feel the movement while at the same time not feeling anything at all, but it was fun nonetheless.

They arrived at the gym’s storage room in a matter of seconds, and another plume of blue mist emerged from Danny’s mouth, indicating that the ghost was near.

“BEWARE!”

The Box Ghost was levitating a crate full of footballs in the air, features alight with  menacing glee. He hurled the contents of the crate at the pair of ghost hunters, not realising that Danny had yet to drop his intangibility. Valerie flinched, Danny grinned, and the balls flew right through them. “Want to do the favors?” Danny indicated to the chubby ghost in front of them, now lifting a box of rackets.

“With pleasure.” Valerie activated a moderately sized gun that materialised in her hand, hitting the Box Ghost square in the butt.

He yowled and spun around just in time to be caught in the beam of the Fenton Thermos. He looked like a fat spider being sucked down the plughole, and the onlookers were torn between pity and entertainment at the sight.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,”Danny stated, landing firmly next to Valerie on the floor of the storage room, avoiding the balls scattered across it. “Should we tidy up the mess?”

Valerie looked surprised, recalling the copious amounts of property damage and mess both of them had created in the past.

Reading her expression, Danny explained. “I’ve been wanting to test out a new power, and this is a small enough scale that it should be fine.”

“You have a tidying-up power?” Valerie asked, eyebrow cocked, not that Danny could see it all that easily with her visor.

Danny chuckled, picking up on the heavy sarcasm laced in her tone, and his aura seemed to spark, every one of the balls in the vicinity gaining a bright green aura of their own and lifting into the air. He concentrated, eyebrows knitting together as the footballs drifted into the crate, all but one landing neatly inside it, which then lifted up as well and placed itself in its usual spot on the floor.

“Woah,” Valerie stood next to him stunned while he panted. “Was that telekinesis?”

Danny’s breathing went back to a more normal pace, still considerably deeper than usual. “Yeah. It’s something that most ghosts can do, but I only learnt it recently. As you can see…” He picked up the remaining football with his hand. “I need more practice, but it could be really useful.”

Valerie hummed. “You could use it to get people out of the way of debris, or stop the debris in midair.”

“That’s exactly why I want to perfect this skill.”

Valerie’s mind flashed back to Danny supporting the collapsing building, and she understood fully how important learning this new power was to him.

The two entered the classroom after a somewhat leisurely flight in the direction of the classroom and a stop in a closet to change out of their suit, and into their human form respectively. Mr Lancer stopped his lecture as the door opened, and every head in the room swiveled round to face the late duo.

“Mr Foley and Miss Manson already explained,” Mr Lancer said. “You can speak to me after class if there’s anything you need to catch up on that you missed in your absence.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer.” Danny kept his head down as he made his way over to his seat, which of course had to be practically in the middle of the classroom. He could feel almost every eye in the room boring into his head as he settled down and brought out his books and pencil case. Chatter erupted amongst the students, and Mr Lancer sighed in defeat, knowing that having a ghost hunting ghost as a classmate had not lost its novelty with all the news coverage.

“How’d it go?” Sam asked, leaning over from her seat, taking advantage of the sudden stop to the lesson.

“Fine, it was just the Box Ghost,” Danny dismissed.

“And Valerie was fine?” she hissed, barely over a whisper.

“Yeah, she seems fine with the whole Phantom thing,” Danny replied in a very slightly louder voice, if only so Sam could hear him (she didn’t have the luxury of super-hearing). “She was kinda shocked by the feeling of intangibility, but it’s not a big deal.”

Sam shivered involuntarily. “I can understand that,” she said, still wary of the ghost hunting girl but willing to put aside her hostility and protectiveness for now.

The lesson continued as per usual after Mr Lancer managed to get control of the class again with a cry of “The Adventures of Huck Finn” and continued with his lecture. They didn’t actually finish all the work from that lesson before lunch, but it was good going considering the circumstances.

Lunch was a whole other challenge for Team Phantom, and the trio chose to bag lunch it outside out of fear of being mobbed.

“Dead Teacher 2 is still the best,” Danny said, leaning against the tree they were sat under, mouth half full.

Sam quickly chastised him for talking with his mouth full, before arguing to the contrary, saying that the 1st movie was the best without a doubt.

“I’m with Danny,” Tucker contributed to the conversation, “the second movie was really where they perfected it. Oh, hey Valerie!”

“Hi,” greeted Valerie, walking towards the group, lunch bag clasped close to her body. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Sam and Tucker shuffled around to allow her into their circle, and she seated herself on the grass. “So, uh, what’re you guys talking about?”

“Which Dead Teacher movie’s the best,” Sam supplied. “These two think that the second’s the best, even though the first’s obviously better.”

“I haven’t watched the latest ones, but the first one is definitely better than the second.” Valerie opened her bag and fished out a sandwich.

“Betrayal!” Tucker exclaimed, mock fainting with his arm to his forehead.

Sam punched him lightly on his lowered arm, which prompted a cry from the boy. He rubbed his arm and shot her a playful glare, which she returned, complete with a grin.

Valerie observed their antics, somehow feeling like there was more of a sense of unity between her and the trio now that their secrets were out in the open.

“Oh, yeah, Val,” Danny said, sitting up straight. “How’d you like to join Team Phantom?”

“That’s your team name?” She raised an eyebrow and Danny just shrugged. “Sure, but that’ll take some explaining as to why I’m working with you.”

Danny waved off her concerns. “It’ll be fine. We can just say we talked if anyone asks.”

Valerie shook her head mockingly. “How the hell did you keep your secret for as long as you did?”

“We’re pretty sure it was just dumb luck,” interjected Tucker, “emphasis on dumb.”

“What was dumb luck?” an obnoxiously loud voice came from the direction of the school building, and Dash Baxter and his cronies approached them.

The trio tensed, ready for a confrontation, only for Dash to raise his hands in a sign of peace. He suddenly looked a lot smaller, nerves showing through his veneer of toughness.

“I’m sorry, for everything I’ve done to you. If I’d known I was bullying my hero…” Dash’s eyes remained fixed on the ground, inspecting the blades of grass with a pitiful expression, like they’d personally killed his family, which in Amity Park wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’d happened.

“We’re all sorry, dude. We couldn’t’ve known that you were-” one of the cronies was cut off by Danny.

“I forgive you, but you should bully anyone in the first place.” Danny folded his arms, looking at each of them in turn with a forced hard expression. It really looked odd on his baby face, but Dash and co seemed intimidated nonetheless.

They muttered between each other, before turning to face Danny again with guilty expressions. “We’ll try not to,” Dash said, and Danny unfolded his arms.

“Can you leave us alone?” Valerie demanded, not even trying to hide her hostility.

The bully gang exchanged glances before returning to the main building.

“I can’t believe you’d forgive them just like that. You know they only apologised because you’re Phantom, right?” Val scolded, and Danny looked like a wounded puppy at her words.

“I know, but I don’t want to be a douche,” Danny shrunk back from her.

Sam snorted. “What he’s trying to say is that he doesn’t hold grudges, even when he should, and forgives far to easily, like he’d trying to be some sort of paragon.” Danny scowled.

The rest of the day passed largely uneventfully, if you ignored the frequent whispers, nervous faces and admirers coming to apologise to Danny, thank him, or ask how he got superpowers - something that he declined to answer fully, leading to word quickly spreading that people should stop asking about that because it was rude to ask how a ghost died, which wasn’t entirely wrong, just not the whole reason for why it was a touchy subject for Danny.

All in all, it wasn’t half as bad as Danny had been expecting. It was actually somewhat anticlimactic in his opinion.  

He sent a brief text, saying that he was going to talk to Mr Lancer because he missed some of the lesson, to his parents and knocked on the classroom door.

Mr Lancer answered the door, smiling at the halfa. “Daniel. Can I help you?”

Danny shuffled his feet. “Uh, I kinda wanted to catch up on the stuff I missed at the start of your lesson. Why did Arthur Conan Doyle have a recap at the start of the chapter?”

His teacher smiled, and invited him into the classroom, where Danny seated himself at the front of the empty classroom. “The Sherlock Holmes stories were initially serialized in magazines, each chapter in a different magazine, before they were compiled into complete books, so he would frequently recap the story for the sake of readers who may have forgotten the events of the previous chapters.”

Danny nodded, and took notes in his workbook.

“Is there anything else you wanted to ask?” Mr Lancer continued as Danny put his book back in his bag.

“No thanks,” Danny said, zipping up his bag. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all, Danny,” Mr Lancer replied. “How was your first day back at school?”

“A lot better than I expected. I think I’ll be fine here.”

“That’s certainly good to hear.”

Danny made for the door, only to stop when Lancer called out to him. “And remember, my door’s always open if you need to talk.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer.” Danny radiated a cool warmth from his beaming features. “Bye, see you tomorrow.”