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mullet-mother · 9 days

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Eaten, Stuffed, or Mounted?

My first oneshot - ever

TW: Smut below the cut, MINORS DNI

I have a fun tidbit of information for you.

Did you know that when you crash your car the radio doesn’t stop playing?I was made aware of that lovely fun fact after swerving to avoid that damn deer.

I finally got my ass out of the house for the first time in months after persistent pestering and coaching from my friends to go to their New Years party. I wouldn’t say I was excited, but I was trying to be—hence the obnoxiously loud music blasting through my car’s speakers. I shouldn’t have taken that curve so fast—the visibility was absolute garbage with the snow. The animal jumped out so quickly; I reacted instinctively, and the black ice spun my wheels when I tried to avoid flattening the buck, sending me careening into the trees on the embankment. As I said before, the radio doesn’t stop playing when you crash. I hadn’t considered that my death would consist of me bleeding to death by myself on the side of the road with the speakers blaring ‘Party Rock Anthem’.

What a ridiculous celestial discharge.

When I opened my eyes, I was most certainly not in Kansas anymore. My eyes and nose were not prepared for the onslaught of stimulus they received. It was so, so red. The smell of rust and sulfur stung my nose and eyes. The sounds of screaming also did not help the overwhelming feeling of dread I started to experience.

While I wasn’t particularly shocked that I ended up in hell, this was also not what I had expected. So many religions have their own versions, most commonly the lake of fire and brimstone. I was not expecting the burning city, dead bodies littering the streets, porn on every billboard, and the twisted and exotic forms of the…residents. It felt like I had entered the most twisted version of ‘Grand Theft Auto’ that someone could have conceived.

It took only seconds for me to snap out of my shock, when I heard a shout in my direction. I scrambled to my feet and cursed, realizing I was in the insufferable heels and dress I decided to wear for the party. This also made me acutely aware of the difference in my body, but at the time I didn’t have the mental capacity to absorb what had changed, but the heels I wore made the hooves I now had nye-impossible to stand. A large bear of a man—quite literally—was approaching me with a grin that made my hair stand on end.

“Going somewhere all dressed up like that by yourself? Or are you just out to get fucked and your cute little tail pulled?” His disgusting maw was drooling and it had nearly made me gag.

It was made apparent that even in death I had no sense of self preservation.

“Go fuck yourself, you rip-off build-a-bear fuck stain!”

It had slipped out of my mouth faster than I could react, and our big furry friend was not pleased.

The growls that left his chest and the elongating teeth were not comforting. “You. Fucking. Cunt. I wanted to fuck you, but now I’ve got something else in mind.” His mouth seemed to grow wider, but it was the change in smile on his face that made me bolt so fast I nearly got whiplash as I kicked my way out of those god-awful heels.

I don’t think I’ve ever run so fast before, my hair whipped by my face, my legs burned, and the acrid air stung my lungs with each breath I gulped into my body. I heard him behind me, snarling, screams of other demons, and curses as he barreled them over in his pursuit. I leapt over bodies and pools of blood; I couldn’t remember ever having the ability to run like that. In hindsight, deer can be fucking quick. I could feel him getting closer and made a sharp turn around a corner in hopes to lose him.

I landed face first into what felt like a designer pillow. I looked up slowly as a pair of slender arms grabbed my waist to steady me. Mismatched eyes looked down at me with a face of shock, which promptly shifted to confused. I gaped up at the demon in surprise. His confusion shifted to a dazzling smile with a shiny gold tooth. He tried to speak but was quickly interrupted.

“Y’know I usually charg-”

“Please help me; I’m being chased; he’s going to kill me; please help me!”

The tears began to stream down my face before I could stop them, and I began to violently shake. I don’t know if it was the adrenaline or the fact that I hadn’t had a chance to even absorb my current situation, but I threw every ounce of trust into the stranger that had caught me.

The demon’s eyes hardened and the smile dropped to a grimace. His arms tightened around my waist, and he quickly ushered me into a limo waiting down the sidewalk.

He sat me down next to him and turned to look at me. The dazzling smile that he had before returned to his face. He slung his arm around me and pulled me right back up to the fluff on his chest.

“ Nice to meetcha; I’m Angel.”

Angel brought me to the hotel with him, but it was Charlie who insisted that I stay. While I wasn’t necessarily interested in redemption, Charlie was kind, and well…free rent. I was quickly introduced to the rest of the hotel, and became integrated rather quickly. I tried to help where I could, and soon joined the flow of cleaning, cooking, and helping to maintain the state of the hotel. I felt comfortable with the seemingly found family, including a certain Strawberry Pimp.

It was a shock after settling into my body with its new modifications. That fucking deer gave me a lovely parting gift on top of sending me into that tree. While my tattoos were still in their rightful place, the rest of my skin had faded to an off white, almost grey. Hazel eyes shifted to a black sclera and lavender iris. I gained soft ears and an unruly tail spotted with the same rainbow highlighting my black hair. The hooves were definitely an adjustment, no more pedicures for me unfortunately.

That was six months ago.

Angel became my best friend within hours, we began spending our nights watching TV dramas and bothering Husk at the bar. He also started to pick up on my attraction for the buck in the hotel. I couldn’t deny my interest, but I most certainly pretended to unless it was in the confines of Angel’s room at 4 AM after copious amounts of alcohol. But that’s all it was, attraction.

Alastor and I started out with a friendly disposition; we weren’t friends per-se but we bantered and laughed at ridiculous jokes when in the same company.

That devolved into sarcastic quips and jabs, hiding coffee cups, and constantly trying to get a rise out of each other.

It started when he refused to change the radio station. While I enjoy jazz and the classics as much as anyone—I need variety. “Alastor, please. I have asked you THRICE now—and very nicely I might add—to change the station to something else.”

He continued to ignore me and hum along to the song currently playing and it was starting to really, piss me off.

“Peepaw, I understand that you’re always reliving your ‘golden years—I get it! But if I have to listen to one more grainy, barely audible man groan about how he’s lonely, I might lose my mind.”

“My dear, I understand your lack of appreciation for culture and class, but I will not be changing this station. End of discussion.”

The fucker had the audacity to smirk at me.

“Class? I’ll show you class, you audacious, virgin, fuckboy!”

The radio began to whirl with the changing of stations, moving back and forth—glowing the same purple as my eyes. Then suddenly it stopped, and the most obscene music I could possibly think of began to blare from the radio. A classic - CPR by CupcakKE;

Want your dick soaked? Place it down my throat

Tongue tickle yo' dick but not telling a joke

Peddle in this pussy that's how you rock a boat

It get live in this pussy, I'm not talking Periscope

“What in the fresh hell is that?”

The disgust on his face was absolutely priceless. He demanded that I turn it off, change it. He tried to switch it back himself, but I very clearly said;

“My dear, I understand your lack of appreciation for culture and class, but I will not be changing this station. End of discussion.”

I then began changing the station whenever I damn well pleased. He got one request to change it and if he fought me on it I would put on my most devious hits, all outrageously filthy. This turned our little friendship to a sparring match.

Husker thus named me the resident ‘shit-disturber’, and ‘almost worse than him’. Both him and Vaggie were absolutely convinced I had a death wish.

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth. I just loved seeing his ears flatten out and his smile strain. During my inquiry into whether or not he bleats after the discovery that I have my own (albeit embarrassing) squeak, I thought his head was going to pop off with the crack from his neck. The radio-static was so loud I had to cover my ears—and it was so satisfying.

Angel teased me relentlessly and told me he ‘can’t stand the sexual tension’, which I denied vehemently, as much as I might have wished there was. While he and I constantly teased each other he was always a gentleman regardless. I also found the tall, dark, and creepy vibe rather sexy, but I’d settle for imagining that there’s sexual tension and pushing his buttons.

Which is exactly what I’m going to do today during breakfast.

As I come down into the dining area everyone is conversing amicably, Alastor looks content, casually sipping his coffee at the head of the table. Unfortunately for him, I had the most delightful thought last night, and I have been impatiently waiting to make it known to the group.

I quietly go to the kitchen and make my iced coffee; the excitement building in my chest. As I go to sit down I can feel the smile on my face spreading even wider.

“Good Morning Everyone!” They all turn their attention in my direction and the strangeness of my enthusiasm. I am usually…unpleasant if I’m out of bed before 10 AM, but I don’t believe anything could ruin my mood today; I could barely sleep with the anticipation of what’s about to transpire.

Alastor looks over his mug in my direction and it’s clear that he is suspicious of my jovial mood—and he should be.

“Alastor! As I was falling asleep last night I was thinking about Vox.”He inhales a sharp breath, and a new rush of excitement wiggles its way up my spine. “ His silly bit about you being venison or cooking you? I just think it’s ridiculous! You’re far too lean.”

Husk sits across from me with a look of abject horror on his face, and I can only continue with unbridled glee.“I mean, can you imagine? Deer are already gamey—with your figure, it would be far too tough to eat!”

The sound of his grip tightening on his cup and the beginnings of crackles in the air only furthers my resolve.

He responds with clenched teeth and a static filled voice. “Is that so, little doe?”

I nod my head with a determined look on my face - seriousness overcoming my smile. “In my humble opinion yes; I think it would be better to mount you on the wall instead. I’m personally a huge fan of taxidermy.”

Alastor is barely containing his rage at this point when he asks me;

“Maybe we should eat you instead, you’re obviously the better choice on the menu with your proportions, or would you rather be stuffed and mounted on the wall instead, hm?”

I paint an innocent smile on my face and finish the rest of my coffee out of my cup, making sure to slurp as obnoxiously as I can. I smack my lips and stand up from the table.

“Alastor, I want you to take one good look at this fat ass and tell me if it looks like I give a fuck whether I’m eaten or stuffed.”

For a moment there is only silence,

A quick look around continues to feed my giddiness. There are looks of horror on Charlie and Husk’s faces; Angel and Vaggie trying desperately not to choke; finally my gaze falls on the man of the hour.

I don’t know if I have ever made him so incredibly mad. His face is red, teeth clenched, smile stretched to its limits. His antlers are slowly growing larger, eyes flickering to radio dials, his body getting larger. The sound of radio static and crackling is nearing uncomfortable levels.

“Thanks for the lovely breakfast everyone! See you later for group activities.”

As I walk away, I can hear the sound of a mug shattering. On the way back to my room, I am nearly vibrating. The satisfaction of getting such a visceral reaction from both Alastor and the rest of the group was exquisite. ‘Resident shit disturber’ indeed. I’m not naive enough to believe I won’t face extreme retaliation, but I’m ninety percent sure he won’t kill me.

The rest of the day goes as usual, and I see very little of Alastor. While I’m still riding the high of this morning, I begin to get nervous. He doesn’t attend any group activities, and while that isn’t too far from the norm, it still has my nerves on edge. By the end of the day I’m ready to crawl into bed, get off, and sleep until noon.

I make it back to my room and slip inside when I hear the door lock behind me and the shadows in the room rising.

I am so, so fucked.

A squeak leaves my mouth when I feel myself dropping into what feels like nothing before landing roughly onto a carpeted floor. I lift my head and see a fireplace, small table, and the open expanse of what appears to be a bayou. The overwhelming feeling of both dread and excitement shoots through my body as I realize exactly where I am.

I attempt to get up to my feet, but am forced to stay on my knees by the large clawed hands squeezing my shoulders. Alastor is bent at the waist; he’s larger than normal, with a strained smile and antlers out; his clear red eyes are the only clue to his dwindling self control. He puts his face directly in front of mine and my skin prickles from the static.

“Hello little doe, are you pleased with your lovely little performance at breakfast?”

“Were you not? I thought it was excellent.”

“Why are you so intent on being a vexing little Brat?” He loses his static the moment he says ‘brat’. A clear voice filled with true frustration.

The sound of his voice causes my cunt to slick and my body heat to rise. My cheeks flush in embarrassment, and for once in my life, I have no response. I just continue to stare into the glowing red eyes that are searching mine for some semblance of an answer. Maybe Angel was right and it was sexual tension?

His right hand comes to wrap around my throat; his left finds my hip as he guides me up off of the floor. I’m now standing in front of him, having to crane my neck to look up into his eyes, his size dwarfing mine. I can feel my breathing getting heavier and my slick soaking through the fabric of my panties.

“Tell me, What would you prefer? Being stuffed, eaten, or mounted on the wall?” His eyes narrow as he squeezes the hand around my throat, and my mouth goes dry. I try to think of a proper response, but my brain is fogged with his eyes, his cologne, and the heat consuming every inch of my body.

All I can do is close my eyes, whimper and lean into the hand around my throat. I feel him squeeze, and I know he’s demanding an answer. I look up at him, and I can feel the tears gathering in my eyes; I can feel my heart pounding in my chest in anticipation.

“Anything Al; whatever you want.”

I feel a tongue slide up my cheek; he groans deeply, and I can feel his claws digging into my hip. His lips hover over mine and I move to close the distance but his hands stop me. He moves his hands to my cheeks and squeezes them together, my mouth popping open.

“Open your eyes, doe; look at me. You will get whatever I deem to give you. You will not cum unless I say so, you will beg for release and will not get it until I deem you worthy of such pleasures after your abhorrent behavior. Are we clear, Brat?”

I let out a soft moan as a response.

His smile widens and a soft phrase leaves his lips that turns me to mush. “Good girl.”

Another fall into nothingness, and my back is on soft sheets, any clothing I had gone. He’s standing at the end of the bed, studying my naked body and I’m suddenly shy being so exposed. I move to cover myself when I see the thick black t

entacles surge from behind him to grab and trap my arms and legs. My arms are pulled above my head, my knees bent, and legs spread. The hungry look on his face has me blushing and closing my eyes, which fly back open when I feel his long wet tongue slip through my folds. It pulls a high pitched moan from my throat and a groan from him.

“Maybe I should just eat you, little brat, keep you tied to this bed just for me.”

He continues to slowly lick and suck on my clit, just enough to bring me close to the edge, only to switch techniques and rip me away from it again, fucking me with his tongue, swirling it around my clit slowly, flat tongued laps through my folds. Tears prick at the edge of my eyes before I start begging.

“Al, Al, please; I can’t take it anymore; please let me cum. I need it; please, I’m begging you!”

He just continues with a torturous pace and keeps his smile in place.

“Fuck me; stuff me; I don’t care, please! I need to cum; I need it, please!”

He stops and brings his face to mine, a smirk there, his lips shining. “I want a nice, sincere apology from you, Brat. For your atrocious performance and disrespect today.”

“I’m so, so sorry Al; I promise I won’t ever do it again; I’ll be so good for you. Please let me cum; please fuck me; I’ll be good!”

As soon as I finish, his lips are on mine; they’re soft and bruising. This kiss is tongue and teeth and months of repressed sexual desires. My hands are suddenly released, and I’m instantly ripping at his shirt and pants. My hands can’t move fast enough. My mind is spinning, and my body is aching with need.

I finally feel his length hot and heavy on my cunt; it slides easily through my soaking folds and we both moan at the contact. He opens his eyes and looks into mine, always the gentleman. “I need to hear a yes, darling,” he moves his mouth down to my neck; I can feel his teeth gently scraping against my skin.

The softness of the question makes my heart swell in my chest, “Please, yes, Al; I need you.”

With one rough thrust, he stretches and fills me, his hips flush against mine. I’m so unbelievably full, his tip pressing and pushing against my cervix. He slowly pulls out, dragging his cock against my oversensitive walls before roughly thrusting back inside. I can feel myself gushing around him with each rough thrust in, soaking my and his thighs.

I’m babbling and crying out his name over and over. Begging him for more.“Please make me cum, Alastor; I want to cum all over your cock; I want to feel you cum inside me; I’m begging you!” My eyes are glassy and staring into his own.

He picks up his speed, ramming himself in and out of me roughly. He brings a claw down to press and circle my clit, then gently kisses my lips and whispers into my ear, “You’ve been so patient, little doe; such a good girl. Cum for me.”

One hard thrust, and a scream is ripping through my throat as hot thrumming pleasure surges through my body; I can feel my heartbeat in every cell of my body. Before I have time to recover, he continues his brutal pace, “One more, darling. I need you to give me one more.”

“I can’t; it’s too much I can’t!”

“You can; cum with me. I need to feel you milking my cock.”

He tilts my hips, and the position has him hitting that spot inside me over and over again. I can feel the tingling heat starting to grow in my abdomen once more. I tell him I’m getting close, and he doubles his efforts. Sweat drips down his forehead; I can feel his cock getting hotter inside me. He grabs my knees and pushes them to my chest, bending me in half. The position sends his cock even deeper inside me.

I’m screaming his name, no doubt the entire hotel hearing my cries of absolute bliss. His thumb returns to my clit and presses down firmly, rubbing those perfect circles. With his mouth by my shoulder, he commands me again,“Cum with me, now.”The moment I feel him spilling his hot seed inside me and his teeth in my shoulder, another orgasm sends electric waves through my body.

I slowly come back down and open my eyes; he’s back to his regular self, seemingly relaxed.

“Hey Alastor, I have a question.”

“And what is that, little doe?”

-“Do I just have to get you really pissed and you’ll fuck me like that again?”

Thank you so much to the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes for editing for me! You're amazing!

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor x you #tentacles #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut

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newfallstrangeleaves · 9 months

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Yandere with a unknown identity

A helping hand

Yandere policeman x F!reader Warning: Manipulation, mentions of not believing the victim. Summary: Right after your encounter with the masked man (This part), you head out and find yourself with an officer who strongly feels that he should be the one to help you.

The masked man had just left when it dawned on you what happened. Violated and angry you grab the money he left behind and hurry down to whatever garbage chute you could find. You had barely time to put your clothes on before you were out the door. It's late and only the sound of your footsteps can be heard.

It's first when you step outside of the apartment building and the cold air hits you that you come to your senses. Today has been horrible and it seems that your bad luck is not over yet. Considering your options you come to the conclusion that you don't want to stay and the walk to one of your friends' apartments is not long. You sigh as you know you will have to tell her what happened. Something you don't initially want, but what other options do you really have?

You dont walk for long before a police car spots you. You can imagine how odd you must look walking around with a stack of money and dressed in your pajamas.

The two officers consist of a tall rather young man and a middle aged plump woman. With the lack of anything else to tell them, you explain what has happened to you. The unfiltered truth as to where you got the money from and why you are out on the streets dressed so poorly. Both the man and woman listen intently to your story and when you are done the woman says.

“Okay, listen, we will solve this. I just have to make a call to the surrounding officers. But Kenny will keep an eye on you, understand?” The plump woman tells you before she returns to the car. Her face is turned away from the both of you as she talks into the comms. A minute goes by in silence. Then two. Then five and she is still talking. For every minute passing worry grows.

Then around the corner speeds another police car in and stops on the other side of the road. A young blond man jumps out, his uniform looks slightly untidy as if he had just thrown them on. He gives a nod to Kenny before he heads for the woman in the car. They talk quietly for a moment before he walks up to the both of you.

“I'll take over from here officer McCall.” I can't help but feel like Kenny is letting out a sigh of relief as he heads back to the car. Before they drive off the woman rolls down her window and tells you.

“If you need more help, ask for Officer Reese.” You nod to her before they drive off. The man beside you lets out a sigh and nods in the direction that they drove off at.

“Some officers truly need more than just reprimands.” He says and shakes his head.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm going to be truly honest with you. Officer Reese had not so good intentions regarding how to handle your little…issue. But I won't go into detail about that.” He takes a deep breath before he places a hand on your shoulder and continues. “And the other officers won't help you either, I know how shallow they can be. But I want to help.”

“Her, Officer Reese, she won't help me? I thought…”

“She just said that to make you feel better. In reality she was talking about the loony bin over the comms.”

Your stomach turns at his words and you have to turn away, just to gather yourself.

“But I will help.” He continues.

“You would?”

“Yes, but I think it's better if we keep it between us two, are you fine with that?” You nod and take a deep breath to try and keep your emotions together.

“Good, how about I drive you back to your apartment and you tell me in detail everything that happened.”

“I… I don't know if I want to be at home right now.” You say hesitantly.

“Don't worry, honey. I'm patrolling these streets and I'll make sure no man gets even close to you.” He says and places his arm around you. “Aren't you cold? Come let's continue talking in the car.” He says as he leads you to his car.

“Well, if you're helping, do you have any access to something that you could find fingerprints with?”

“Eh, sure, but what are you going to use that for?” He asks as he leads you over the street.

“For these, I thought maybe you could get his fingerprints, oh well, mine will be here too, but…” He laughs and carefully takes the money from you.

“If you don't want to use it for yourself then sure I can have a look.”

“Oh and by the way. I never caught your name.”

“It's Robert, Officer Robert Finch.”

#male yandere #yandere x you #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere police #yandere policeman

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uvobreakmylegs · 9 months

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Set Pattern

it has been far too long since I wrote for the trash clown

Hisoka x reader

Warnings: stalking, blood, mentions of death, depictions of violence, noncon

Word count: 8.7k

….. Was this really where you were supposed to go?

That was the question going through your head when you found what was at the end of the alleyway. Wherever the map was supposed to lead you, it seemed odd that it would lead you here.

Maybe you had messed up at some point along the journey here, perhaps by way of misreading the map completely and making a wrong turn. But when you looked down at the map you'd gotten from the man who you met when you came into port, the directions you had followed appeared to be correct: the route provided to you led to this spot.

But it couldn't be right. Why would the map lead to a dead end?

Looking back up to the area before you, you scanned over it again, trying to see if there was anything of note in the open area. All you saw were piles of garbage sitting next to a metal trash can that looked as though fires had been set in it regularly, and opposite that stood a large but flimsy sheet of plywood with a bit of cloth hanging over the edge as it leaned against one of the four stone walls. Aside from old cobbled surface beneath your feet and the small flight of stairs you had just descended, there was nothing else, and you once again looked back to your map, looking over the highlighted route and trying to figure out where you had messed up and where you were really supposed to go for the exam.

Once again, it didn't appear to be wrong. This was where the map had wanted you to go.

Sighing to yourself, you put the map into your hoodie pocket as you figured that you should at least investigate the area.

Though while your hand was in your pocket, you instinctively reached for the weapon you were keeping hidden in there, your hand brushing up against the hilt. Despite the feeling of apprehension that this spot was giving you, the knife in your pocket gave you some sense of security. Though you knew you shouldn't bring it out now in case someone was watching. Better to keep it hidden and not reveal your hand too quickly.

Now there was a lesson you had learned the hard way.

You shook your head, as if the physical action would send away those thoughts from the past – both past and recent – as you needed to be focused on the task at hand. A lot of time had been spent researching the Hunter's exam. You'd looked over discussion threads and testimonials from people who had claimed to have attempted the exam, and while there had definitely been a few entries where the authors had clearly either been greatly exaggerating or flat-out lying, the one thing you could say for certain regarding the exam was that you needed to be on your guard at all times.

So it was better to not focus on the unpleasant memories regarding your stalker.

You craned your neck as you took a step forward, trying to see around the round metal can without getting too close, though there was nothing to be seen outside of the piles of garbage and a few odd planks of wood. And when you looked to examine the wall behind you, there was nothing aside from the opening to the narrow alleyway and the stairs that led up to it. No doors, no windows, nothing.

Was this really a dead end?

Or was the door hidden?

Ah, that could definitely be it. This place certainly felt a bit odd – why else would an alleyway lead to an open space with seemingly no real purpose? Maybe it was meant to deter those who wanted to take the exam, make them turn themselves around and then get lost trying to find the “right” location, and while they were doing that, they missed out on the window to officially enter the exam and be forced to wait until the next year.

That seemed in line with what these examiners might do, if that ship captain was anything to go by.

Feeling a bit more confident, you began to walk towards the area in the space that seemed as though it was hiding something – the piece of plywood, and when nothing happened after taking the first few steps, you quickened your pace, hurrying over to the wall as you glanced up to the sky above you. It was late in the day, but not close enough to be the evening. The captain didn't tell you how much time you had to make it to the official gathering spot for the exam, but with how fast you had found the other examiner at the docks, you felt that you were getting through the stages at a decent pace.

That certainty increased when you pulled the plywood away and found that there was a door in the wall that had been hidden behind it. A door that was locked, but still, what else could a secret door be for? You probably just needed to find the key somewhere in this area, and then that'd be another part of the exam under your belt.

Another step towards the protection and security that had evaded you for a while now.

Now for the key.

Your eyes naturally went to the trash can and the bags around it, though you questioned yourself on that almost immediately as it felt too obvious. But if not that, then what?

You looked about the area again, glancing at the stairs and then at the cobblestones.

….. Could they have hidden it underneath one of those?

Within an instant you were on your hands and knees, pulling at the individual stone pieces in an effort to find one that was loose. This seemed right. This sort of trickery felt in line with the things you had read during your research. The Hunter Association didn't want just anyone joining them, so you needed to do more than just follow instructions and a map. You needed to have some brain power if you were going to get that license. That was fair.

You paused briefly after having that thought, focusing in particular on the word you had used.

'Fair'

…. No, it really wasn't. It wasn't fair at all.

There was nothing fair about the fact that you needed to go this far just to get some safety.

Your mood fell as those intrusive thoughts came to mind again, and this time you weren't able to push them away so easily.

It really didn't seem like the Hunter's Association did much good for the world. More often than not, it seemed as though the majority of those who worked for the association had joined just to take advantage of the protections that it offered. Before everything with your stalker had started, you had heard in passing about a few horror stories of the deaths of civilians at the hands of Hunters, and how those Hunters in question were rarely punished for it. It was only in the truly gruesome and egregious cases that made headlines where the association was forced to make a statement and do something about it, and those cases were few and far between.

So most of the time, all those Hunters would do when caught was flash that card of theirs and they were off the hook.

A sight you had seen all too often by now.

But it would be okay, you told yourself as you continued moving from cobblestone to cobblestone while prying at them with your fingers. You'd get that Hunter card, and then he couldn't do anything to you anymore. And sure, the exam itself would be tough, but you were confident that you could get through it.

Just keep your guard up and your mind focused.

It looked like you finally found what you were looking for when one of the stones in the middle of the open area moved when you pulled on it. Of course, it wasn't coming out easily, and in an effort to force it out, you changed your position and moved so your back was facing the alleyway opening. The stone came out a bit more when you tried from that angle, but it still didn't want to give.

You continued like that until you stopped to take a break, at which point you reevaluated your thoughts.

Was this right? Would an examiner really hide a key underneath the cobblestone? Was it something more elaborate? Or were you right earlier in thinking that maybe it was in the oil drum? Maybe you were overthinking things.

Fuck, maybe there hadn't even been a hidden key. Maybe all you needed to do was knock on the door and it would open. Maybe you had wasted a lot of time doing something stupid.

You sighed to yourself as you wished that you didn't need to be here, and you began to get up so you could check the door again.

“Is there a reason that you're trying to pull apart the pavement, pet?”

The sound of the voice combined with a presence that was suddenly standing behind you had you freeze in place, and after a few moments as reality sunk in, you felt your heartbeat starting to pound as you were immediately aware that you knew that voice. You knew it better than you wanted to.

There was no mistaking that disgustingly playful tone of voice.

That day he'd been waiting for you when you got home, and he kept quiet until you entered your bedroom, at which point he announced his presence by giving you a cheerful 'hello', like he was supposed to be there.

The sight of him lounging on your bed made you panic, and after a few choice words and demands that he leave which were all met with a flippant refusal from him, you pulled out your phone to call the police.

You weren't even able to put in the first digit before the phone flew out of your hand and straight into his.

Fear and confusion hit you then, while he told you not to be so dramatic.

In that moment, being around him felt far more dangerous than it had in those previous meetings, and all your brain was telling you to do right then was to run.

You managed to turn around and step out of the room-

But that was as far as you got, as something pulled you back in. And just like your phone moments earlier, you were pulled into his grip.

You tried to keep your breathing level in an effort to keep calm. Panicking never helped you when it came to dealing with him. It was hard, but you needed to do that much.

Although you didn't want to, eventually you managed to compel yourself to turn your head and confirm visually what you already knew the instant you heard his voice:

Hisoka had found you.

He stood at the top of the stairs, the signature star and teardrop painted beneath his eyes and clad in one of his usual gaudy outfits. He'd also changed his hair color since you'd seen him last, having gone from orange to back to pink.

Despite your sullen expression, he was as amused as ever when your eyes met his. Raising up one hand, he waved at you as he said “I saw that you were taking a trip to Begerosse, so I thought I'd surprise you.”

When you didn't reply, Hisoka continued with “well, pet? Aren't you happy to see me?”

He was smiling when he said that, knowing full well that you were currently the furthest thing from 'happy' whenever you saw him. And especially now.

No doubt he'd realized what it was that you were trying to do and was here to put a stop to it.

As easy as it would have been to admit defeat while falling into despair, you reminded yourself that you weren't helpless, not completely. For now, try to keep him talking while you figured out what to do from here. At least that part would be easy enough – Hisoka loved to talk.

“So you lied about going to Heavens Arena,” you finally said.

“I didn't lie,” he answered, “but there was nothing interesting going on, so I left early.”

He pulled out a deck of playing cards, and he began to shuffle them from hand to hand as he continued with “it's a good thing I did. If I hadn't seen you heading off to the port, you might be in a terrible situation right now.”

“It's hard to imagine that anything could be worse than being alone with you,” you responded flatly.

Instead of being insulted by your jab, Hisoka smiled. As usual, nothing you said was able to upset him. You could've spewed out the most hateful, vile words towards him (and you had a few times when you'd reached your limit) and he was only ever proud of the fact that he'd managed to get you that angry with him. Nothing ever phased him. Nothing that you were capable of, anyway.

A majority of the cards in his hand disappeared, and he was left with a smaller selection of around five or six. You weren't sure if there was any significance to what he was doing. You were inclined to doubt that there was; Hisoka wasn't one to stay idle for very long.

“Despite how you view me, I'm actually quite nice to you, pet,” Hisoka told you.

You scoffed.

“It's not very nice to stalk people,” you answered.

“And yet, it was quite good for you that I did just that in this instance.”

He pulled out a random card from the selection in his hand and turned it so you could see the face of the card.

Whichever card that was, you didn't know. You were more focused on the bright red blood spatter on top of it.

Somehow, for a few moments, you'd managed to forget that he used those cards as weapons. Though you'd never seen it in person, your curiosity had driven you to watch the recordings from the arena, allowing you to get a glimpse at what the clown was capable of.

“….. You killed someone?” you asked, to which Hisoka smiled while he put the card back with the rest and began to shuffle them again.

Your voice was far more quiet when you asked that, and it shook slightly despite how hard you tried to keep it steady. Truthfully, this scenario happening was one that had crossed your mind. While you had hoped that it could be avoided, it was ultimately wishful thinking that he wouldn't find out and confront you on the way to the exam site.

But it was the fact that he'd killed someone that rattled you. That he was willing to cut down members of the association just to keep you in this game of cat and mouse that he loved so much. That his obsession went that far.

“Won't you get in trouble for killing someone from the association?” you asked. Your voice was stronger that time.

He cocked an eyebrow at that, asking back “who exactly did I kill from the association?”

“One of the examiners.”

“You aren't at the point where you'd be meeting any examiners, pet,” he corrected, “until you reach the starting line, you're only in the pre-exam.”

“… Fine. One of the pre-examiners.”

“And what makes you so certain that I killed one of them?”

“The next checkpoint is right there,” you answered, pointing at the door as you said “if I'd gotten in there before you came, I could've continued.”

Hisoka stopped shuffling the cards as he looked to where you had pointed, staring at the door for a few moments before looking back to you.

And then he started to laugh.

You didn't really want to ask, but knowing that he likely wouldn't tell you on his own, you were compelled to ask “what's so funny?”

“You haven't figured it out? You still think you're in the running for the exam?” he asked.

Your brows furrowed as you answered “of course I am. I got the map from the guy at the port.”

“And that was where you went wrong, pet,” he began, “because you weren't supposed to get any map. The man who gave it to you wasn't working for the association.”

“And how do you know that?” you asked.

“Because the person you were supposed to go to was the woman in the crab boat at the other end of the port.”

“How do you know that?” you asked again.

“From the captain. I overheard him speaking to the three of the others who got off the ship with you,” said Hisoka.

“And he told them and not me?”

“Clearly he must have felt that you weren't suited to take the exam. And I have to agree with his judgment on that. You couldn't even see the obvious trap that you walked right into.”

“What trap?”

“Do I really need to go into that much detail, pet?”

His tone was mocking, and you hated it. And what you hated even more was that you were starting to believe what he was telling you as you thought back on the man you had run into at port.

He was tall and had an eye patch, and he had scared off another man who had approached you with offers to sell you the information you needed to get to the next point of the pre-exam. The man with the eye patch had been polite to you, handing off the map while telling you to be wary of people who were looking to take advantage of newcomers to the exam.

Had all of that been an act? Was that first guy in on it and only there so you would trust the one with the eye patch?

“Why did that guy tell me to come here?” you asked.

Hisoka hummed. He was having too much fun with this.

“Do you know how many people die or go missing during the Hunter's exam?” he asked in response.

“A lot,” you answered.

He nodded.

“On average the number is in the triple digits,” he continued, “and with so many people vanishing or dying around the same time, it's not much of a surprise that there will be those who try to take advantage of that.”

“And how was he going to take advantage of me?” you asked.

“His friends were going to kill you.”

You stayed quiet as Hisoka continued with “that man was part of a group that murdered would-be participants of the Hunter exam so they could sell the pieces of their victims on the black market. And if everything had gone as they'd wanted, the ones who were waiting here earlier would've jumped you the instant you walked down those stairs, and by now you'd be dead in that building while they scooped your organs out through your stomach.”

He clapped his hands together and pulled them away, revealing that the cards in his hands had disappeared completely.

Then he smiled as he said “luckily for you, I prefer that your insides stay where they are.”

… He could be lying, you reminded yourself.

“If these people were known to kill participants, why didn't the association do anything about them?” you asked.

“They likely hadn't found out about them yet,” Hisoka answered, shrugging as he continued “it's not as though they're the only ones to take advantage of the opportunity the exam creates. And I'd guess that they were smart and never took out too many at one time; the ones who get caught are the ones who get greedy.”

“Though they won't be continuing their operations anymore,” he added, “so you're welcome, pet. I saved you from a horrific death. I do hope you appreciate the things I do for you.”

You looked to the door before looking back to him.

“This really isn't the next point for the exam?” you asked.

“Would you like me to break down that door and show you the state those people are in now?”

After a moment, you shook your head; based on that response, it seemed pretty likely that he was, in fact, telling you the truth.

Which just made this whole thing worse.

You'd been tricked. In your desperation to get that license, you went with bad intuition on who to trust at the port, and because of that, you hadn't even managed to get to the true start of the exam before Hisoka found you. Hell, he was aware of what had happened at the port you'd gotten off at, so he'd been watching you for a while. He could've stepped in at any point, no doubt he just chose to do so when he felt that his entrance would be sufficiently dramatic enough.

It left a bad taste in your mouth that you should technically be grateful for him since he did save your life.

Though if he hadn't been the one to stalk and harass you, you wouldn't have even been here.

Hisoka brought your attention back to him when he called out to you.

“Well, pet? Don't I deserve some gratitude for my efforts?”

“….. Thanks for not letting me die.”

“You're welcome,” he cheerfully replied, before continuing with “now, how about we head off?”

“No.”

You finally pulled yourself to your feet while Hisoka watched, staying quiet for once. When you looked at him again, you told him “I'm going back to the port. I need to take the Hunter's exam.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he asked “what makes you think you still have a chance of taking it?”

“I'm sure I'll find that woman. It hasn't been that long since I left and it isn't that late.”

“Hm. I suppose I should rephrase that,” he said.

Those golden eyes seemed to pierce through you when he spoke again.

“What makes you think I'll let you go back?”

…..

You weren't sure what to say at first. When he asked that, there was an intensity in him that you weren't used to, and you weren't sure what to make of it. Was he upset? That would be a first, though since he'd let you go as far as you did, it seemed unlikely.

Maybe he wanted you to give up and go back quietly when he revealed himself to you. Realize that this escape route was just as much of a dead end as the others you'd tried. Go back to that house and let him feel like he'd won. Again.

Fuck him. You weren't going to give up that easily.

Eventually, you asked “what would be the alternative if I can't go back to port?”

Hisoka's more cheerful demeanor returned when he spoke again.

“I was thinking I'd take you back home,” he answered, “the exam simply isn't for you, pet.”

“I can handle it.”

He laughed.

“It's very cute that you have so much confidence in yourself,” said Hisoka, “but if you were to actually make it to the starting line, you would have a very harsh reality check.”

“I'll take my chances,” you replied, “it can't be any worse than living with you constantly breathing down my neck any opportunity you get.”

At that, he actually shook his head, saying “you're a tad delusional, pet. You always say such cruel things about me, but if you were to enter the exam, you'd find yourself at the mercy of hundreds that would have no issue throwing you under a bus if it meant they were one step closer to getting a license for themselves.”

“Some of them wouldn't even do it for the license,” he added, “some would do it just for their one amusement. So despite how you feel, I'm afraid that I have to put my foot down on this matter, as I have no desire to see you kill yourself by way of your own stupidity.”

Hisoka held out his hand towards you and said “now, lets head home.”

You looked at his outstretched hand and then back to him. And then you shook your head.

“I'm not leaving without taking the exam,” you told him.

There was a silence after you spoke, as Hisoka didn't say anything at first.

If he was really having enough of your stubbornness, then this conflict would be over quickly. Hisoka was far stronger than he looked and it took next to nothing for him to restrain you.

But that he hadn't felt the need to go that far yet.

That was at least something in your favor.

After several moments of that awkward silence continuing between the two of you, he spoke again.

“Tell me something; why do you want to take the exam so badly?” he asked.

“Why does it matter?” you asked back.

“Because I've never seen this desire to become a Hunter before,” he replied, “and I'm curious as to where this suddenly came from.”

“Maybe I'll tell you after the exam.”

“Mm, I don't think so. Like I told you pet, I don't want to see you kill yourself doing this.”

“Then I guess you don't get to know,” you said, before adding “I'm not telling you anything without you working for it first.”

That seemed to get his interest, as his eyebrows raised and he hummed to himself.

“You do know that I can just make you come with me if I really wanted to, don't you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, “but I also know that you wouldn't find that very entertaining.”

He laughed, and seemingly agreed with your statement.

Was this going in a direction where he'd let you go take the exam? With how adamant he was on you not being able to handle it, it was hard to think that would be a possibility.

And as much as you'd rather not do it, you did technically have a plan B if things were to escalate, though the thought of going through with it scared you even more.

You'd never heard of it happening, but it seemed likely that a civilian could get into a lot of trouble if they managed to kill a Hunter.

“It's been some time since I've seen you so determined about something, pet. I can't help but be intrigued about why you want to take the exam so badly,” Hisoka said.

You didn't respond. And in the moments after, it seemed that he had come to a decision.

“Since we seem to be at something of an impasse, how about this: if you can land a single hit on me, I'll take you to the true starting point of the exam.”

“Land a hit?” you repeated.

Hisoka nodded, adding “you can attack me for as long as you like, and it'll only end when you choose to give up. Or if you take so long that you can no longer be part of the exam, though I doubt you'd be able to hold out that long.”

He smiled then, asking “how does that sound, pet?”

The smart reaction would've been to refuse. You'd seen the videos from Heavens Arena – you knew how brutal he could be when it came to beating down opponents. Hisoka was strong. Far, far stronger than you. A true one-on-one fight between you two would be extremely one-sided and end quickly.

But if you wanted that Hunter's license, you needed to be a little tough, right?

For that reason, when you spoke next it was to ask a question.

“What kind of hit are we talking about?”

Hisoka seemed a bit surprised, given the way his eyebrows lifted some when you finished speaking. But he got over his surprise quickly and the grin on his face that formed after was one of excitement.

You didn't comment on that as you added “can it only be a punch? Or am I allowed the use of a weapon?”

“Any attack will count, as long as it lands. Weapons are allowed,” he replied.

“And what about you?” you asked, “if you get a hit in on me, does the fight end then?”

“Of course not,” Hisoka answered, smiling pleasantly as he said “it would be over too quickly if we did that.”

Disregarding the obvious provocation, you were about to agree to his terms when he spoke again.

“And one more thing,” he said, “when you give up, you'll need to tell me why you want the license so bad.”

“…. Fine,” you replied.

But I'm not giving up, you added in your head.

With a deal now in place, Hisoka made his way down the steps and into the open space, stopping a short distance in front of you. With his hands on his hips and an amused look on his face, he told you “whenever you're ready, pet.”

As soon as he said that you launched yourself at him.

You tried to punch him in the face but found your fist punching at the air, the clown taking a step back to avoid the hit.

You threw another punch, and that also ended in you hitting air as he took another step back.

When you threw a third punch was when he acted, stepping to the side instead of straight back. His foot then caught your heel, and because of how unbalanced you were, when he pulled his leg up, your leg went up with it and you fell backwards. In the split second you had, you clenched your eyes shut as you anticipated the impact from falling onto the cobblestone.

Instead an arm caught you.

You opened your eyes to see Hisoka hovering over you, his arm beneath your back as he held you up. He smiled at you, humming cheerfully when he saw you looking at him. He acted like you weren't trying to attack him and that the two of you were sharing a cute moment.

Asshole

When you tried to get a punch in from that position, Hisoka dropped you, and you let out a noise of pain when your back connected with the pavement. He stayed where he was, standing over you while you were in a rush to get yourself back to your feet. You were struggling, and of course the bastard needed to make some comment in that moment.

“I suppose that isn't enough to convince you to give up, is it?”

Still not on your feet, you tried to punch one of his legs.

He stepped backwards again, chuckling to himself as he said “guess not.”

The sun was steadily setting as the two of you continued like that; you, trying your best to get even the weakest punch or kick to connect with him, and Hisoka expertly dodging everything you threw at him with the barest amount of effort. At one point you grabbed one of the wooden boards that lay next to the trash can and used it as a bat, only for him to wrench it out of your grip with one hand and then throw it against the adjacent wall where it smashed into splinters.

Though you hadn't been expecting much when you grabbed it, there was something disheartening about that moment.

He was just too strong, too skilled.

But, you reminded yourself, he was also too smug for his own good.

And as the amount of time the two of you were at this increased and you refused to give in, you told yourself to just keep at it. You didn't need to be stronger than him to get lucky and get in just one hit. You just needed to wait for an opportunity when his guard was lowered enough that you could strike him with the knife that was still hidden in your hoodie pocket.

If you were able to do that, your problems would be over.

That moment felt like it would be coming when you had paused on your assault, hands on your knees and breathing hard while you glared at him. During this time, Hisoka pulled his card deck out again and was making a show of shuffling them, just to further express how little he was worried about you managing to do anything to him. Another slight towards you.

“It is cute how determined you are to win this, pet,” he said, “but you can't get through everything in life on determination alone.”

“Cool. I'll keep that in mind,” you breathed out.

You lunged at him again, this time at a speed far slower than when you had first attacked him.

He dodged it easily, and you collapsed to the ground after, still breathing hard.

At that, Hisoka frowned.

“Even I'm starting to feel bad about this. You should give up now,” he told you.

“I don't want to,” you stubbornly answered.

He hummed as you forced yourself back up to your feet.

A few more times you tried to connect any sort of hit, and a few more times your attempts resulted in nothing. Hisoka would always get out of way at the last moment, having put his cards away again. However, now the clown appeared to be less smug and more thoughtful.

Minutes later and you were on the ground again, your arms holding you up while various parts of your body were aching in pain from how often he had caused you to fall. It didn't feel like you'd be able to get up again.

Hisoka seemed to sense that as well.

His heels echoed within the space of the alley as he walked towards you, and then he was standing in front of you, looking down as he asked “don't you think you should stop wasting both of our times and put an end to this?”

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“Aw.”

The bastard then had the nerve to kneel down and pull you into his arms, holding you close as one hand began to caress your head. It was yet another way he humiliated you, the way he would act caring at a time like this, belittling you as he made it clear just how little of a threat he viewed you to be.

“There's no shame in giving up, pet,” he whispered to you, “I won't judge you for it.”

All you were able to get out in that moment was a sad-sounding noise, one that had him cooing at you despite how you were able to hear the smirk on his lips.

You just hoped to god that he couldn't tell how hard your heart was pounding at that moment.

When he pulled you up into his embrace, you had used that as an opportunity to move your hand back to your hoodie pocket, and now you were gripping the hilt of the knife.

You didn't even need to fully stab him with it.

Just one scratch would be enough to do him in.

Just one scratch.

You acted when he spoke next, when he said something else about you giving up. This was your best chance.

Grabbing at his shirt with your free hand, you pulled the knife out from its sheath and your pocket and aimed for his side.

Just one-

A hand gripped your wrist and you were forced to your feet as you were pulled upwards by your arm. Suddenly you and Hisoka were now standing and he was holding your arm high enough that you needed to stay on your toes to try and alleviate the pain the position brought you. The knife was still in your grip. You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, letting out a small noise of discomfort when you failed to do so.

Hisoka didn't acknowledge that, his eyes focused on the knife in your hand.

“Is that a Ben's knife?”

You didn't respond to his question as you continued to pull at your wrist.

This can't happen. He can't win.

Not again

When you failed to reply, Hisoka raised up his hand and pointed a finger at the blade of your knife.

Then he flicked his finger back and the knife was wrenched out of your grip as it flew towards him. He easily caught it, holding it up so as to inspect the design of the blade. And now that your backup plan was literally in his hands, you stilled, uncertain as to what was going to happen now.

“I'm not terribly familiar with these,” he said, “but would I be right if I were to guess that this was one of the knives that has poison on the blade?”

You frowned, and he hummed, looking back to the knife with some amusement.

“You must've spent a lot on this; I know enough about those knives to know that the poison-edged blades aren't cheap,” he added.

Hisoka smirked as he asked “are you that desperate to be rid of me that you want to kill me, pet?”

“How the fuck can you ask that after everything you've done?” you spat.

“Is showing you affection such a terrible crime?”

“That's not affection, you freak! That's just you ruining my life!”

He hummed again, and then let go of your wrist.

Right at that moment Hisoka moved.

And then something rammed into your ribs.

You were sent flying a few feet before you toppled to the ground, your side aching while you gasped for breath. The pain you had felt before this was nothing now, and as you tried to go over what had happened mere seconds ago in your head, the best you were able to guess was that he'd rammed his knee into your side.

Just how much damage had he managed to cause with that?

Your hand instinctively went to press against the area where you'd been hit, and you cried out the instant you pressed down on it. He had broken your ribs. You were sure of it, and the pain was great enough that tears were already starting to run down your face.

Hisoka stayed where he was, the Ben's knife still in hand as he watched you, taking in your cries of pain and how hard you fought against the tears that were falling, obsessively wiping them from your eyes while you struggled to get back to your feet. You were so desperate to not appear weak that all you were doing was hurting yourself. So desperate to fight him that all you were doing was delaying the inevitable.

He couldn't help but smile at the sight.

You noticed when he walked towards you, the heels of his shoes clacking against the cobblestone beneath his feet. Wanting some distance between you two again, you tried to pull yourself up and away from him, but the pain that burst through your side when you tried to move like that forced you back down.

He stayed standing this time, cocking his head to the side as he looked down at you.

“Like I told you earlier; it would be over too quickly if I were to fight you for real,” he said, “I hope you realize now that I wasn't saying that as a slight; there's simply too much of a difference in strength when it comes to the two of us.”

He chose to emphasize that point by pressing the heel of his shoe into the spot where he'd hit you, and from that bit of contact alone you felt the pain was great enough that you might pass out. It was a mercy when he pulled his foot away.

But now you were forced to face the grim reality:

You had lost.

Once again, your efforts to get yourself away from this man were in vain, and once again, you were at his feet, on the ground and sobbing as despair took over you.

You hated this.

It wasn't right.

You hated him, and you hated the people who sat back and let him do as he pleased.

If only the stupid Hunter association hadn't given this psychopath a license, you would've been able to get help.

You looked back up to him then, and found that he was still staring at you with that amused look while he loosely gripped the handle of the Ben's knife.

“Well, pet? How long do you intend to drag this out for?” he asked.

…..

… Ah. Right.

This would only end when you hit him or gave up. And it was incredibly clear that you wouldn't be able to land any sort of hit. Even if you could, you wouldn't be able to handle the Hunter exam after. Not with the condition you were in now.

Hisoka was sticking to the deal you'd made, and he wouldn't be doing anything until you gave the word.

“……. Alright,” you whispered.

“Alright what?”

“I give up,” you spoke, your voice even softer.

“Could you speak up louder? I can't quite hear you,” he told you.

You gritted your teeth in frustration, but you complied anyway.

“I give up,” you answered, adding “I can't hit you, so I give up. You win. Again.”

You didn't need to look at him to know how he was grinning at you in that moment. How wide that smile was across his face as he looked down at your fallen form, watching excitedly as your determination to win broke into a million pieces and was replaced with bleak resignation.

Just like the other times.

“I'm so glad you saw reason, pet.”

With that, Hisoka picked you up from off the ground and placed a kiss on your forehead after you cried out from the pain yet again.

“Lets get you to a doctor, and then we'll head home,” he told you as he began to carry you up the stairs and out of the alley.

Hours later, after a long hospital visit that had lasted well into the dead of night, the two of you were alone again, this time trapped in the confines of an airship cabin. You aimlessly watched the tops of the clouds through the window while you did your best to ignore how close Hisoka was sitting next to you. At first there had been a small bit of hope that he might not crowd you too much, given that this was the first time he had ever hurt you in a way that required a trip to the hospital after. But even with the state of your ribs – that had somehow only been fractured and not broken – Hisoka was determined to cuddle with you and stroke your hair during the long flight back.

Eventually you pushed his hand away, though that did little to stop him from bothering you.

“Sulking isn't very becoming of you,” he said.

“You cracked my ribs,” you answered flatly.

“And you tried to murder me,” he replied, “I'd say that makes us even.”

“Not really,” you said, “not after all you've done.”

“So saving your life counts for nothing?”

“I wouldn't have needed to be saved if you had just left me alone. I wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you,” you snapped.

“Oh?”

His hand returned to your hair, but when you tried to slap it away again, he grabbed your hand and held it while he did as he pleased with your hair. You huffed, but kept your attention on the darkened sky outside.

“That reminds me – you still haven't completed your end of the bargain,” he then said.

“What part of it?”

“You were supposed to tell me why you wanted the Hunter license.”

“…..”

When you didn't reply, Hisoka let out a soft sigh.

And then the hand that was stroking your hair was now gripping it. Hard. Your head was pulled back while he whispered “there's been so much needless pain today, pet. Do you really want to go through even more just because you don't want to answer my question?”

“…. No.”

He released the grip on your hair when you said that, and you sensed the way he stared at you expectantly.

No, there was no more point in continuing to defy him just to end up going to another hospital once the flight was over.

Better to give him what he wanted.

“I wanted the license so I could protect myself from you,” you told him.

At first he said nothing to your admission, and when he did, there was a tinge of confusion in his voice as he asked “what do you mean?”

“Hunters aren't allowed to kill other Hunters,” you began, “and although it isn't written anywhere, I figured that Hunters couldn't kidnap other Hunters, either.”

He understood what you were getting at then, and he chuckled to himself as he said “scared that I'm going to do something to you, pet?”

“Outside of everything else you've done to me? Yeah,” you replied.

You kept your gaze on the clouds outside the window as you added “if I had the license whenever you kidnap or kill me, at least then the association wouldn't be allowed to ignore it. If they're happy to protect you whenever you break the law, they should be fine with protecting me when I haven't done anything wrong.”

Your voice was trembling slightly when that last bit of your sentence came out, your mind going back to all the things that Hisoka had done to you and how no one would do anything about it.

It wasn't right.

Hisoka had made both his presence and his interest in you known early on, almost immediately after you met him for the first time. He had tried to win you over with flowers and gifts for a short while, and when that didn't work, he resorted to forcing his way into your life.

That horrible day where you'd found him in your bedroom, where he had managed to pull you towards him when you tried to run – something that you still couldn't wrap your head around – that had been the start of a long, stressful night that made you want to cry just thinking about it.

When he left in the morning, you'd called the police. Though there was little they could do in that moment, they took your statement and told you to call them if you saw him again.

You followed their instructions and did just that when he returned that next evening, waltzing in through the front door like he owned the place.

The moment where Hisoka had a pair of handcuffs slapped on him and was led away never came. Because when the officers that arrived approached him, all he'd needed to do was show them that Hunter's license and they stopped in their tracks. When they left shortly after, the only explanation that they gave was that they couldn't do anything for you.

So you spent a second night with Hisoka, this time even more confused and horrified at the lack of help that you needed so desperately.

Hunters get special privileges, you learned. Access to exorbitant amounts of jenny, an ability to travel to almost anywhere in the world, and no real consequences if they committed a murder.

Learning that last point had things make a bit more sense to you, because if law enforcement were willing to brush off a Hunter killing someone, then it was no wonder why they would do nothing for you, someone who was 'just' at the mercy of a stalker.

You weren't dead, so they didn't see it as even being that bad.

Calls to any and all lines of help resulted in nothing being done. You would cry and beg for anyone to help you, even getting down on your knees and debasing yourself as you pleaded to be saved from the man who had now forced his way into your life, and all you got in return was uncomfortable silence that was usually followed by a short “sorry”.

The police didn't come around anymore. Your employer let you go. The neighbors didn't talk to you. And when one of your friends wound up missing after having tried to defend you from him, everyone else had cut you off, too scared that just being in your presence would set off your stalker and they would also end up on the missing persons list.

All you had was Hisoka, who was always there to revel in your despair by holding you close.

There wasn't much else you could do but try to act like it wasn't as distressing as it actually was, leading to you putting up a brave front in front of Hisoka. Maybe if you acted like you didn't care anymore, he'd lose interest and move on.

That didn't work, and so you were forced to cope while you looked for any opportunity that arose for a way out.

You thought you had a chance with this – you really did. When you read up on the Hunter bylaws and you saw that Hunters weren't allowed to target each other, you thought you had a way to end all of this. Even if just getting the license wasn't enough to make Hisoka stop on his own, if he continued to do anything after that fact, then the association would have to step in.

But none of that mattered now.

This was another loss for you, another hope of escape for you that Hisoka had made sure to dash thoroughly.

And just like he always did, he was now holding you after having pulled you up against him.

“It was an interesting thought, pet,” he began, “but ultimately, you really had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

So you keep saying, you thought to yourself.

“And wouldn't it have been a better idea to just use the knife on me instead of going to all of the extra effort to try for the exam?” he then asked.

“I wanted to avoid that, if possible,” you answered, “I wasn't sure what would happen to me if I did manage to kill you without the license.”

“Hm. Still seems like a wasted opportunity to me.”

“…. Whatever. You got all of your answers. Stop talking to me.”

“Don't be like that, pet,” he said, “after all, we have quite a few hours ahead of us before we get back home. I'd rather that we didn't spend all that time being mad at each other.”

He said that just as the hand that was holding yours let go in favor of sliding up your inner thigh.

“After all, I haven't been properly rewarded for saving your life,” he added.

The way his nails trailed up your leg combined with the way he said that sentence with such a sultry tone made it obvious as to where this was going, and your heart started to pound heavily in your chest as you realized that Hisoka was going to do what he wanted regardless of the state you were in.

“Please don't,” you began, your voice cracking as you said “not now. Not like this. I-I can't-”

“You'll be fine.”

Hisoka emphasized that by shoving his hand down the front of your pants, his fingers blatantly rubbing up against your sex.

Despite knowing what would happen, you tried to elbow him in the face in an effort to make him stop, only for both of your wrists to suddenly snap together. And no matter how hard you tried to pull them away, something invisible was keeping your wrists bound together.

Just like that, you were completely helpless.

With one hand still in your hair, Hisoka moved your head and forced you to look at him.

You were crying again.

And Hisoka looked even more excited.

“I truly can't get over it, pet,” he breathed, claiming your lips in a kiss after.

“There's nothing quite like the despair in your eyes when you've realized that you have no other choice but to give in.”

#reader insert #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere #yandere hxh #hxh hisoka #hisoka morow #hisoka x reader #yandere hisoka

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dduane · 2 months

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Salutations and good wishes to you. I am an Indie Author seeking to go Pro. Some good advice and guidance might help minimise the mountain of my anxiety about doing this. I know you got your start with fanfiction, but did you find a publisher/agent through that door? [lots sneer at these days. Still] How many rejections did you suffer before you found your place in the literary world? Thanks for your time and sorry for bothering you <3

Hi there! And don't sweat it: this is no bother.

I have to apologize in advance, because my own career arc isn't likely to serve as much of a good example. In terms of how I got into this business, I'm a serious outlier.

Quickest and easiest to discuss: my agent and I got together after my first book was already bought and published. (Which back in the day was seen as a good enough way to go forward, and then still entirely possible.) He was recommended to me by one of my editors, as—like me—he was just getting started in the business: a likely-looking newcomer then scouting new talent. We met up and chatted, and it seemed to both of us that we'd be a good fit for each other. After forty-odd years of working together, we still are.

About the fanfic: (Adding a cut here so as not to carpet people's dashes with wall-to-wall text...)

What writing all that fic did for me—from about age sixteen onwards—was give me a whole lot of practice in getting the initial garbage associated with a story written and out of the way. Best to admit it here: we all have plenty of crap writing in us. And yeah, even long-term professional writers do. Whether you're at the beginning of your career or right in the middle of it, this is what "zero drafts" are for. You tell yourself the story, first time out... and routinely at this stage a lot of what proves to be unusable stuff emerges, and can be discarded in rewrite. (Of course crap writing can also emerge without warning in the later stages of a project, but there are many reasons for that, all beyond the scope of this discussion.) And you learn even more from reworking the material after you've gotten rid of the dross.

During the period when I was executing what might have been, oh, half a million words of fanfic—Trek originally, and then LoTR—and while reading a whole lot of everything, as I'd been doing since I was first allowed to go raid the town library by myself at age eight—I learned a fair amount about writing without realizing it. Some of it was simply about writing inside a set of rules. (Which I hadn't been doing previously: between eight and sixteen I was writing original fiction, mostly fairy tales.) Naturally in fanfic you have to obey the laws of whatever universe you're working in... or even if you wind up flouting them consciously, you do have to be conscious of them. But this work also led me to something that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about: the concept that fiction writing as a whole had rules. I realized I'd better find out what those were.

The best stuff I found out during this period was what I picked up by direct example from other writers, whom I'd immediately start imitating and then sort of leave by the wayside when I found others I liked better; at which point I'd start imitating them. (This being a great way to learn and hone new skills, and to start getting a sense of what a writer's "voice" is and can come to mean. I think every writer does this, to some extent: because it's really, really tough to learn how to write without reading. And the more extensively the better.)

I have to emphasize here, BTW, that the fanfic that came out of me as I started slogging up this learning curve was all almost uniformly terrible. All of it, mercifully, along with my earliest original fiction, is gone now: long since burnt, shredded, composted under many layers of time. Trust me, it's just as well. Gah was it awful! Nobody else ever saw the stuff, for which I thank great Thoth every time I think about it. ...What's interesting, too, in its way, was that I didn't even know that what I was doing was fan fiction. I had as yet no contact with any kind of organized fandom, and it would be a long time yet before "online" was invented. I was working in utter isolation, unaware that anybody else might have been doing the same thing. (And it's difficult to describe the sense of astonishment and joy that hit me the first time I went to an SF convention, saw fanzines for the first time, and found out that I was not alone. All unsuspecting, I'd stumbled onto one of my tribes.)

But somewhere along the line, as the years went by—as I finished high school and went to college, and then from there to nursing school, and graduated and started working as a psychiatric nurse, and kept on writing—at some point, as I started writing original fiction again, as well as fanfic, the quality of the output began to improve. The combination of constant practice and voracious reading of better writers outside my chosen genre was slowly having an effect. Trusted friends who saw this later material started saying, "This isn't bad, you should try to get it published!" But since none of these folks were writers, I didn't pay too much attention to their opinions.

I did pay attention, though, when my good friend and mentor David Gerrold said something similar on reading my first novel in 1976. And when that was bought by the first publisher who read it, I had to admit he might have had something there.

This too, though, is unfortunately also a way I'm an outlier: I haven't had a lot of rejection. (Even in my TV work, where rejection is pretty much the rule rather than the exception.) Speaking very generally, just about anyone I've pitched something to in the prose market has bought it—or if they didn't like the idea I came in with, they've immediately said "But would you like to do this instead?" And often enough, what they've offered or suggested has been something that sounded like fun. That's how I wound up doing the Star Trek: Rihannsu books, for example: they were "instead of" a Romulan dictionary. Paramount essentially ringfenced an entire AU-area of Trek and gave it to me to play in, which struck me at the time as amazing. And continues to do so.

Now all this may make me sound almost unfairly lucky. But things do tend, slowly or quickly, to balance out. Over time the universe has made up for its relative kindness at the rejection end of things by making sure I knew plenty about the non-rejection forms of writer-career pain: projects from which I was not rejected but which went terribly wrong (wheels come off a huge deal just before signing, promised actors or directors fail to materialize...), projects where I did the work but didn’t get paid, or where I was brought on board and then got fired/ghosted unreasonably or for no reason at all, or sometimes (mortifyingly) for quite good reason. And let's not forget how, as what could seem a very pointed shot across my bow when my career-vessel was just pulling out of port, half the print run of that very-much-buzzed-about debut novel wound up being pulped in the warehouse because another, far better-established writer's new book needed the pallet space that mine had been taking up. (insert rueful smile here) Believe me, entropy is running, and will catch up with you one way or another. So make yourself as ready for it as you can.

I don't mean to increase your anxiety. Yet that said: you're preparing to enter a business in which, for a freelancer, at least some level of anxiety is more or less part of the basic ground of being. You are going to have to develop ways of dealing with the everyday forms of that to keep it from routinely derailing your work.

I find it helps a little if you can come to consider this as a modern form of Going On An Adventure. Good things will happen; bad things will happen; and all of these will be in service of building your career. Think of yourself as being on a quest.

Your job now becomes the business of suiting up with the best equipment and advice you can find (ideally not from outliers like me). The web is full of useful pages on subjects such as how to query and how to find an agent.

Here are links to some.

Compare these resources one against another to see how their different kinds of advice seem to stack up, and which ones are the most congenial for you.

Then use this data to start drawing your personal roadmap across the terrain. Get as clear as you can in your own mind about what you're trying to get out of being in this business: what kind of writing you want to do and what results you want to produce. Then set out, redrawing your road map as necessary as you keep moving forward through the new terrain.

And I wish you good fortune on the journey! (Because luck, as you can see from the above, can definitely be part of this... but fortune favors the prepared.)

Meanwhile, get out there and have a blast. :)

#writing #writing advice #fanfic #rejection

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soldat-buck · 1 month

Text

i had a vision while making coffee this morning

bg3 culinary headcanons: Companion Edition

- Shadowheart: absolute zero regard for contamination while cooking. kitchen habits of a permanent bachelor. licks the tasting spoon clean and keeps using it to cook. eats hot cocoa straight out of the container with a spoon. thinks pouring ranch over an entire head of lettuce and eating it like feral animal while holding it over the kitchen sink counts as "salad". if you can get past the contamination thing, the food she makes actually tastes pretty good, even if it's sometimes odd (she cooks like a stoner, despite being perfectly sober. she is just Like That).

- Astarion: perfectly capable of cooking, and actually can cook quite well. food may not taste the same after becoming a vampire, but his enhanced sense of smell tells him nearly everything he needs to know about how to season and cook food properly. he doesn't cook because he doesn't like to (washing dishes? by hand? no fucking thank you, being undead is harsh enough on the nails and skin. finding a good lotion for normal undead dryness is already impossible)

- Lae'zel: in the modern world, if her life took her in a chef direction, she'd be in a Michelin star restaurant as the world's best and most terrifying sous chef. she absolutely would throw a knife at you for fucking up her plating (she'd intentionally miss. the first time). no nonsense is ever tolerated in her kitchen, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's got temper issues (her coldness and lack of tantrums is what makes her terrifying). she'd put Gordon Ramsay in his place for his rage theatrics and then make him weep with joy after serving him the most competent omelet he's ever had in his life. if she likes you, you may address her as "Yes, Chef!" outside of the kitchen.

- Karlach: uses 4 pots to make ramen. not because she's doing anything fancy or elaborate with it, the first pot was too small and started boiling over (whoops). the second one was, oh hold on, that's a cast iron pan, maybe you're not supposed to use that for boiling liquids, huh? wait shit, can't use this one either, i'm not supposed to use metal spoons on nonstick, don't want to scratch it. There we go! this one is the right size! and if i scratch this one, it's fine! wait, where the fuck did the flavor packet go (you should definitely be concerned about leaving her alone for the weekend)

- Wyll: very resourceful cook due to his Blade of the Frontier days. can improvise a meal out of damn near anything. can identify every edible plant and mushroom and tell you how to use it in a dish. would carry an herb garden in his adventure pack if he could. would absolutely thrive on the show Chopped (he's actually banned from auditioning again because it's not fair to the other competitors to have him on). he could make you a dessert featuring rattlesnake and fresh picked clover, and you don't know how or why, but you actually like it

- Gale: approaches the kitchen the same way he approaches most things in his life - academically. knows the proper safe temperature to cook meats/etc to, knows how to brown an onion, knows what seasonings are typically used together for certain flavor profiles and how to match seasonings to proteins. knife work sucks because he uses mage hand for mise en place and his mage hand has shitty DEX, but he's scared of his chef knife from the one time he sliced his thumb open (he was cutting an onion with improper hand placement and the knife slipped)

- Minsc: would exclusively eat by dumpster diving if it weren't for Boo's disapproval. eats like a human garbage disposal. he will eat a n y t h i n g that fits in his mouth, he is the least picky eater you will ever meet. does not understand how food challenges in the show Fear Factor are supposed to be challenges

- Halsin: world class forager. very competent hunter. prefers to eat everything as raw as possible. understands but doesn't believe in strict food safety because obviously stomach acid kills germs (and anyway, a little dirt here and there never killed anyone; exposure to germs is good for your immune system). open-mouthed kissing him is gambling with your health. makes the best vegetarian salads but do not trust any chicken he has "cooked". people with weak CON might want to consider avoiding his food

- Jaheira: uses Talk to Animals to Cinderella/Ratatouille rodents in the kitchen. she commands them like she's in perilous battle and the entire world is at stake (also rodents are worse to direct than cats, they do not know the difference between left and right. there's a lot of "No! Not that cupboard, the other one! NO, the OTHER other one! Flank him, he's off balance!"). making a cup of tea is a convoluted, stressful process that takes 10 times longer than just boiling the damn water yourself

if you want more bg3 culinary headcanons, there's also: the Absolute Edition

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goodgirlofglory · 1 year

Text

Ambrosial / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 7,1k

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit content, mutual pining, scent kink, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, barely-there-handjob (like, not really at all), coming on clothes, a little bit of sweat kink? Sort of filth kink (not scat or anything like that but like, Bucky likes it messy), Bucky worshiping reader.

Summary: With his heightened senses, Bucky knows no peace when it comes to his olfactory system. Sweat, rotting food and sewage – the smells of the world surrounds him day in and day out. His only reprieve is the carefully curated space of his private quarters – and you, the sweet, new member of the team. With your unique, mouth-watering scent, it’s all he can do to not lose control around you. What happens when you unexpectedly cross that line between the two of you, and Bucky gets an opportunity to do more than just smell?

Note: My first Bucky fic eyooooo. He's a simp. It's weird, I feel like I'm so stuck in 2016 mcu. All I can picture is newly liberated-from-Hydra Bucky at the compound post civil war. But I reeeally liked this concept, and scent kinks really get me going. Anyone agree?

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to interact if the contents of the warnings upset you.

Minors not welcome.

My work is not to be distributed outside my blog.

Replies, reblogs, likes and messages are amazing<3

Coffee, petrol, rusty iron, wet dog, shit, blood and old toothpaste. For as long as Bucky could remember, he could smell really well.

All his senses were heightened. The serum that made him a super soldier saw to that. But of all the senses, smell affected Bucky the most. Whether it made him think of a memory, alerted him to danger, gave him pleasure or was a bother. Most often it was the last one. Garbage, old sweat, farts and rotting food was a constant discomfort to him, assaulting his poor olfactory system wherever he went.

And no one, save for Steve, seemed to get why Bucky preferred to keep his rooms in the compound so clean. He feared Sam would never stop laughing that time he found the scented candle in Bucky's bathroom.

"You're killing me here, Buck! Lavender and rose petals," Sam had choked out between fits of laughter, wiping tears while clapping Bucky's shoulder.

"First of all, don't call me that, and second, fuck off," was all Bucky could say to his own defence. Steve had given him a look of understanding sympathy, while you had only chuckled at Sam's amusement. Bucky let Sam have his laugh and kept the candle.

You were the newest addition to the compound, and though you and Bucky hit it off in a polite and respectful tone, Bucky didn't really know you outside your skills and specialties in the field (which he had mostly learned from reading your file - not actually talking to you). The two of you didn't seem to have much in common besides a shared love for food. Your rooms were just near the kitchen, like Bucky's, so whenever something good was cooking, you both would come sniffing.

So, Bucky didn’t really know much about you, except that you had the sweetest scent he’d ever smelled. Rich, slightly spicy, a mix of dried herbs and honey mixed with warm skin. It made him think of lazy mornings in soft sheets, quiet, content walks in lush forests, and sex. It was so appealing to him, he’d started to guiltily look forward to every time he got to smell it. He couldn’t ever let you know that, though. Couldn’t let you know how deeply he subtly pulled your scent into his nostrils at times, and how much it sizzled within him. How it sometimes made his cock grow half hard and sensitive in his pants. You smelled so good.

He was horrified by his own reaction, how he couldn’t control it. Bucky could control everything, held himself so tightly leashed he sometimes didn’t remember how it felt to react naturally to something. The semis you gave him were a direct threat to that control.

Bucky could faintly remember being quite the ladies man back in the day. No more, though. He barely knew how to talk to people these days, let alone women. Let alone gorgeous, cute, good-smelling women like you.

He had most of the scents of the compound down by now. Natasha's caramel lattes in the morning, Steve's burnt toast and black roast. Wanda's paprika dishes and Clint's cheesy pizzas. At noon every day the hallway would smell with the fresh sweat of the joint training sessions. Sam would enjoy popcorn on Thursday’s movie night and a strong, musky cologne on Friday's club nights. There would always be the smell of liquor in the air when Tony was around, and more often than not, the smell of smoke as Steve went to cool off on his bike soon after.

Only Vision had no smell at all except a very faint hue of fresh, clinical rubber. Eerie, Bucky often thought to himself. Sometimes it was the only reminder that Vision wasn't human.

There were rarely any new smells for Bucky to note. Rarely something he didn't know what was, until one particular evening. The compound was quiet. A larger group were off on a mission, and the rest had scattered away, some leaving the grounds for a few days leave. Bucky had left his room to scavenge for snacks when he turned the corner into the kitchen and bumped straight into you.

“Oh gosh! Hi Barnes! You scared me,” you said with a surprised smile after giving a little yelp, nearly dropping the bag of chips and steaming cup of tea in your hands.

Bucky felt his body flush, partly embarrassed that he hadn’t sensed your presence before nearly tackling you off your feet, and partly because you were standing very close. Closer than he’d ever been.. Then your scent hit him, and a new wave of warmth spread in his body. It was…heavier than usual. Richer, with an overwhelming tangy note - the warm skin and lazy mornings in soft sheets he’d mentioned earlier - and it coursed through him like a comb through wet hair, leaving him momentarily stunned by sensation. He swallowed the sudden excess of saliva in his mouth and fought to not close his eyes. You were right there, for Christ's sake.

Don’t be a creep!

Bucky pointed to the items in your hands and said “snacks”.

Stupid!

You looked down to where he pointed, momentarily puzzled before smiling and raising your cup in a small toast as you seemingly understood what he meant.

“Way ahead of ya,” you said, then you sobered and when you met his eyes your cheeks had gained a strange hint of color. “You haven’t been out tonight? I thought I was all alone here,” you said, and Bucky was almost too distracted by your scent to realize you were nervous.

“Ah, no. Not for me,” he said, and then added “going out on town and stuff,' cause his communication skills were truly atrocious.

“Oh. Yeah, me neither,” you said, smiling softly at him, looking up through your lashes in a way that had him squirming in his skin. Bucky let his gaze track down to notice for the first time that you were only wearing a huge, oversized t-shirt and fuzzy blue socks. He could see your bare knees. So cute.

Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard…

And then, as Bucky tried to will his cock not to swell in his sweatpants, he realized what he was smelling. It was arousal - your arousal. Or rather, that which came after your arousal. The smell of you post arousal. Bucky swallowed thickly again. You’d been masturbating. Or maybe you had a visitor. No, those weren’t allowed in the compound.

You’d been self-pleasuring then, while you thought everyone was away. Which explained the rosy cheeks and nervous tone of voice - and the slip of control that had blood rushing to Bucky’s cock right before you. He resolutely fought the mental images away with a proverbial stick, shook himself quickly from his stupor and stepped past you, running for the fucking hills before you’d notice the tent forming in his pants and be forever creeped out by him. You didn’t deserve that, fucking hell.

“Well, enjoy the rest of your evening,” he called over his shoulders and didn’t look back as he entered the kitchen. A long moment later you stammered out a “y-you too” before Bucky’s advanced hearing caught your feet slipping on the floor as you made your way back to your rooms.

Later that night, hot with shame, Bucky laid in his bed, hard and aching as he remembered your smell, the way it had lingered in the hallway, and the way your cheeks looked with that adorable blush. But he didn’t touch himself - refused to be that way, knew he wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes again if he did.

That scent haunted him from that day forward. Each time he passed your room he would automatically look for it, each time he passed you he would scrutinize the nuances of your scent, trying to figure out if you’d been aroused recently or not. Not able to help himself, he would try and decipher if you were wet right then and there, if your scent changed during the brief time you were in a room with him. This was usually during mission briefings or the missions themselves, so it wasn’t often he ever caught your scent marinated and warm and potent like he had that day in the hallway.

But then the day came where Steve, your usual sparring partner, was on a mission, and out of nowhere you asked Bucky if he could step in.

“It’s just, with the serum and all, you might be the closest to Steve in terms of the level of challenge we’ve been working up to,” you said, looking down, hands behind your back as you stood before Bucky where he sat on the bench, having just finished a bench press set.

He’d been resolutely not looking at you from the moment you unexpectedly stepped into the gym. Because he was concentrating on his routine, and because he was giving you space to concentrate on yours. But also because it was hard enough to keep his eyes reigned in when you weren’t sweaty and flushed, your compression shirt clinging to your toned torso, your tights hugging your thighs and oh god, plump, rounded ass perfectly.

Bucky felt at home in the gym. It was a safe space for working out his surplus energy and jittering nerves, and fresh perspiration was a hundred times better than the stank of old socks and musty boxers he got elsewhere. He always felt a bit grimy, a bit uneasy in his own skin, with the way his bulky body and gait moved him through the delicate spaces of the compound. In the gym, he could just be loud and forceful in his grimy skin and everyone else was too.

But now, with you so polite and sweet and shy before him, Bucky felt at a loss. He couldn’t damn well say no to you when you gave such a good reason for asking him. He didn’t want to be an asshole. You were supposed to be teammates. Colleagues.

“What she means to say is that no one else is good enough for her,” Scott Lang chimed in from the bench next to Bucky when Bucky remained quiet a second too long.

A familiar, rosy blush stole across your cheeks as you batted a hand towards Lang.

“Maybe if you spent half as much time working your biceps as you do your mouth, I would’ve asked you,” you retorted, and Bucky didn’t bother to quell his snort of laughter. It wasn’t often he got to see your sassy side, though Steve had told him about it.

You looked back and smiled a little at Bucky as Lang exaggerated a shocked gasp and got up from his bench.

“You know, you shouldn’t be so nice all the time, Y/N. I would like to see you being a little mean,” he said as he grabbed his towel and headed for the gym exit, smiling all the while.

“Try me, Bug-man.”

“I just might, ordinary human woman,” Scott threw back as he pushed through the doors.

You looked back as Bucky, who was still recovering slightly from the smile you’d given him.

“So, what’s it gonna be, Barnes?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah, sure,” he heard himself say, and almost immediately his heart kicked into gear.

This is a stupid idea, he thought to himself as he joined you on the sparring mat. Your scent, alive with your fresh, warm sweat, wafted in a trail directly behind you where Bucky followed, trying not to take too noticeable pulls of air. You stretched for a bit and Bucky did the same so he wouldn’t end up staring.

“So,” he started as he raised himself from a forward hamstring stretch, “what have you and Steve been working o- oof!”

His words were cut off as you launched yourself on him, landing a kick to his midriff that had the breath momentarily stealing from his lungs. Then his mind slipped into combat mode, and he lunged for you.

It seemed like hours passed as you sparred. You’d come a long way in your training, and Bucky found himself receiving quick punches and efficient kicks unexpectedly several times. You’d already been sweaty when you started, and it didn’t take long for your mixed perspirations to clog Bucky’s nose, adding a layer of distraction to the mix.

You wrapped your thighs around his head in a move eerily reminiscent of Natasha, and Bucky nearly blacked out as he came face to face to the source of that intoxicating scent. He might be gross, but he didn’t care. It smelled so fucking good.

And then, as he grabbed you by the hips and flung you to the mat, catching your head from breaking against the floor and lowering himself to his knees between your legs to dampen the impact, you let out a surprised little squeal that had him flushing for entirely new reasons.

You stopped short, panting furiously and looking up at Bucky with wide eyes, face red, hair clinging to the sweat on your forehead. You were utterly gorgeous, and Bucky was powerless. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. You were a dream like this, alive and blinding, so beautiful and so close. It gave him a sort of reverent pleasure just to be allowed to look at a woman like this. A lucky reward he was completely undeserving of.

You stayed like that. You on your back, arms limp on the mat over your head, legs loosely draped over Bucky’s thighs as he sat on his knees between them, metal arm bracing on the mat by the side of your head, the other, softer one, cradled between the back of your head and the mat under it.

And then the unmistakable, elusive scent of lazy mornings in bed, sex and spice hit his nose. Your arousal, mixing with your sweat to a lethal potion. Bucky couldn’t for the life of him stop the instinctual indraw of breath, feeling himself instantly getting a little dizzy of it. The appreciative sigh escaped him a moment later.

Your mouth parted slightly like you understood what he was doing, your eyes momentarily going wide before your eyelids drooped, pupils expanding.

Then, in a move Bucky would never anticipate, your head lifted off his hand, and you slotted your mouth to his, warm lips meeting his in a hard kiss.

Wait, what?

Even as Bucky’s thoughts scrambled to keep up with what you’d done, his body responded in kind, lips returning your kiss after only a beat of stunned shock.

Muscles rippling with lightning bolt of unleashed need, his body surged forward, pressing your head back into the mat, dragging his flesh hand up to cradle your jaw as he deepened the kiss.

You’d kissed him. He’d kissed you back. You were kissing. No, making out now, he thought fervently as your mouth opened to not so shyly pry your tongue against his, swiping slick and hot in a way that had his breath catching in his lungs.

Lust rippled through him, making even his bulky frame shudder.

With the cutest, neediest whimper that made Bucky’s blood rush in his ears, you grabbed his wrist with both your hands and brought his hand, the one made of flesh, down to cup you between your legs.

The surprised grunt that escaped him was entirely unplanned, and the one that followed was downright unhinged, escaping his control. Before his mind had completely caught up to what had happened, his hand had started to move back and forth on it’s own, rubbing you over and over, and fuck – you were wet, so wet it had soaked through the fabric of your leggings, making his hand damp.

Bucky’s breath burst out of him, and you suddenly wrenched away from the kiss, your head falling back with a dull thud on the mat. Your hands let go of Bucky’s hand and you covered your face with them.

“Oh God, sorry! I’m sorry, that was so thoughtless of me, what if you don’t want to, and I…and, maybe we should stop, I mean you don’t have to if –“ you rambled, shrill voice muffled by your own hands, and Bucky had to refrain from screaming in protest to this stopping. He brought the hand he’d awkwardly stilled between your legs up and pried one of your hands off your face.

You had the most adorable, crimson flush high on your cheekbones, and your face was all scrunched up from embarrassment. The sight of you being so small and vulnerable beneath him had a surge of protectiveness welling so fast in Bucky’s chest it physically pained him for a moment. He suddenly felt entirely sure he wanted to do, would do, anything to stop you from fretting, from worrying about anything ever again.

You were still mumbling faintly about not wanting him to feel pressured and how inaprorpriate it was of you to come on to him like this. Bucky would have none of that. Emboldened by his newfound emotion and almost panicked by the notion of this ending before he could touch you and kiss you just a little bit more, he lowered his face to capture your lips again, if only to shut you up. You whimpered into his mouth, eagerly reciprocating in contrast to your attempt at rationality.

Fuck rationality. Bucky was starving, had been starving for months.

When he broke away, he leaned his forehead to yours, trying to catch his breath, to get order to his thoughts, but they were a jumbled mess of possessive, filthy wants that had his self control ripping at the seams. And your scent, God, your fucking scent was tinged with fucking ambrosia, like an aphrodisiac designed specifically to make Bucky’s vision go all loopy and his damn civility to shrivel to dust.

“I want…I…fuck, you have no idea how much I want,” he blurted inelegantly, and then words escaped him all together, for there were no words to describe the profound ache that settled deep in his loins, the sheer carnal need to feel your skin on his, to touch you, to be the provider of every moan and keen of pleasure he could - to keep you wet and shivering and wordless from pleasure.

His mind short circuited as he landed on the mental image of hearing you come with his cock deep inside your weeping cunt, and he pounced on you without really meaning to.

His mouth sought out the soft skin of your elegant neck, and he licked it before giving it an open-mouthed kiss, covering it in saliva. He felt your body twitch and writhe as he latched his teeth and tongue onto it, moving messily down to the collar of your compression shirt. He wanted to pry it off you, to tear it to shreds with his teeth, to lather the skin of your breasts with the attention of his tongue and lips, to nip and bite and suck on your nipples till they grew hard and red and puffy for him. But that would have to be later, for he had one goal he was working towards, that spot between your legs where he had already felt how much you already needed him. He would not let you go another minute unsatiated.

Unceremoniously and frenzied, he kissed over your clothed torso as he crawled down your body. Your hands were in his hair, tugging and gripping as he went, the most decadent, breathy moans spilling from you panting mouth as he (rougher than he intended) manhandled your legs over his shoulders and then your hips off the floor, wrenching your leggings and underwear down so hard your whole body jolted, and fuck, he was telling himself to be more gentle, to not scare you away when you had given him this fucking gift of letting him get this far.

But he needed it; was desperate for it. Desperate to bury his face between your legs, breath in your warm, sweet scent where it was most potent, to taste you and feel your pulsate on his tongue. He needed you to come in his mouth, all over his face, so he would smell you there for days, lingering like the most illicit secret. Fuck, all his blood was rushing south so fast he felt almost faint.

You let him do what he wanted, laid down again naked from the waist down, so small and fragile and beautiful and Bucky wanted to eat you alive.

And then he was on his stomach between your legs, pussy inches away and it was glistening with how wet you were, your patch of dark curls wet too. Your whole body was shivering slightly, and your hands flitted about the mat for something to do, something to hold on to, a nervous gesture, or an excited one. Fucking hell, Bucky hoped you were half as excited for this as he was, and promised he would do anything to have you as addicted to his mouth as he already was to your scent.

It was baffling how magnanimous the moment was to him, to have the absolute honor of being allowed this close to your sweet pussy, to have you trembling and flushed on your back, allowing him, socially stunted, unelegant and most of the time awkward as hell, between your glorious thighs, allowing him to touch you, to try and bring you the most pleasurable experience you could have.

It had been a long time since Bucky was a religious man, but -

“Christ,” he muttered as he saw your pussy clenching under his gaze, more of your slick seeping out under his watchful gaze.

In a moment of unexpected (and impressing) clarity, Bucky looked up to find your gaze on his face.

“Is this okay? C-can I?” he asked, or rather rasped, for his voice was all husky, more growl than anything else. His cock was so hard in his pants, throbbing, and he had to push his hips down into the mat to alleviate some of the ache as he watched your face avidly, fearing for his life that you would do anything but consent enthusiastically. Suddenly he wasn’t sure how he would survive if you said no and he would have to tear himself away from you.

To Bucky’s relief, a needy whimper escaped you and you bit your lips nodding before gasping.

“Yes, please, please Barnes, I -”

Bucky didn’t let you finish your sentence. The minute he heard you say yes and oh lord - plead for him to do it - he surged forward and sucked your pussy into his mouth. He heard the air catch in your throat as he licked his tongue flat against you from weeping hole to your clit, the nub swollen and hard already. He flicked it with the tip of his tongue and your body jolted, a small sound escaping you.

He did it again, flicking your clit teasingly, the little nub growing harder and bigger under his attention. He was ravenous, wanted to work you until your whole body felt like one big overstimulated nerve, contracting and throbbing with every touch. He wanted you soaked in pleasure, so hazy with it you could do nothing but come back to him for more.

You let your sounds spill freely as he went, pretty, needy whimpers and unashamed moans.

God, yes, Bucky thought, hoping you always were so reactive, vowing to drag more sweet sounds out of you, his blood sizzling with how downright nourishing they were to him.

You were writhing so hard on the mat you nearly squirmed away from his mouth, and Bucky hooked his metal arm around your thigh as he draped it over his shoulder, securing you firmly in place as he lavished your whole dripping pussy with his spit, letting it mingle with your own slick and coat his chin and lips in it, probably dripping down onto the mat. Bucky didn’t care, he couldn’t get enough. You tasted even better than you smelled, and his vision went blurry with how ecstatic he felt buried in the hot, soft flesh between your legs.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, bullying it with his tongue as he peeked up at your sweaty face. He drank in the almost reverent look on it, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, drool at one corner.

Your hands still flitted about looking for purchase, for something to grab. He grabbed you gently by the wrist and led your hands to his hair, still working your clit with his tongue in rhythmic swipes, up and down, up and down. You instantly grabbed fistfuls of his dark locks in tight clasps and your eyes, blown and glassy, met his as he lowered his head to lap at your hole again. You whined, lifting your hips slightly to grind against his mouth and Bucky hadn’t thought this could get any better but the feel of you smearing your juices on his face, riding your clit mindlessly on his tongue, using him to chase your own pleasure - Bucky nearly came in his gym shorts and he couldn’t even be bothered by it.

He fit his hands on your hips, just resting them there as you grinded on him, your brows drawn together in concentration. Bucky groaned into your flesh as more of your sweet slick dripped out of you onto his tongue, and you jolted against him, whimpering so adorably as your hips sped up to frantic bucking.

Bucky started flicking his tongue to help you out, to drive the movement higher, faster, and you gasped hoarsely.

“Yes, fuck, just like that, oh my god Bucky!,” you exclaimed, practically screaming into the empty gym. And hearing his name like that, so intimately and fervently, desperately as you praised him. Bucky downright snarled into your pussy, and that seemed to drive you that last bit off the edge.

You threw your head back on a choked whine, whole body seizing tight, trembling like a leaf in his arms. Bucky kept his flicking licks on your clit, feeling it jump and throb as the waves of your orgasm rode your body.

He kept licking until your voice returned to you in jolting little squeaks, and tried to keep going even as you pulled his face away from you by the roots of his hair.

Bucky wanted to protest. Wanted to shake your hands off him and push his face into your cunt again. He wasn’t ready for it to end. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough of your addicting, heavenly taste. He kissed and licked over your thighs, smearing your slick and his spit all over them, nibbling on the soft skin and making you all messy, a preening sort of satisfaction settling warm in his chest at the sight. He wanted to see you come again, hear you come again, feel the way your muscles seized as you reached that pinnacle of pleasure. He wanted to make you come again. So he did just that.

With renewed, almost feral fervor, Bucky shot to his knees and hunched over your lower body. Easily prying your hands off his head, he pinned them to your sides on the mat as he pushed his tongue against your hole, lapping up the gush your orgasm had created. A rational, though very small voice in the back of his mind told him he probably sounded and acted like an animal, but he didn’t care. He pushed his tongue as far inside you he could and felt your walls throb and clench around the muscle, driving his fervor higher.

He kept your hands pinned to your sides a while longer, though it didn’t take long for your squeaks of overstimulation to turn back to sweet, needy whimpers of “fuck, yes, more, please, yes, God”.

Bucky wanted to feel more of you from the inside, and when he felt more secure in the fact that you would allow him more time between your legs, he let go of your wrist and brought his flesh hand down to your hole. His fingers trembled slightly as he swiped through your messy folds, coating them thoroughly before resting them just on your opening.

Your hand returned to his hair, carding through and then tightening.

“Pleeease,” you whined above him, and Bucky’s breath went short and puffy at how completely and ardently you submitted to him, gave yourself over and begged him. He wanted to hear you beg more, but he was too impatient to get inside you, if only with his fingers.

His cock jumped at the thought of getting inside you, too, but he ignored it. He wanted you to come, right now.

He pushed two fingers into you and groaned at the tight, wet heat that enveloped him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and if he used to do this sort of thing back in the day, he couldn’t remember it feeling like this.

Your back arched off the mat on a garbled gasp. Bucky took the opportunity to wrap his other arm under your back and practically drag you into his lap as he sat back on his haunches, getting his mouth back on your clit.

He flicked it fast, alternating with messy suckling, and curled his finger inside you to hook against the roof of your stretched cunt. He had no idea where all his moves came from. He hadn’t so much as seen a naked woman since coming to the compound and didn’t remember much other than fragments of his sexual escapades before the war. It must have been muscle memory, some hard attained skills locked deep in his mind. It seemed to be working well with you, and that was all that mattered to Bucky.

You were keening and whining under him, half in Bucky’s lap with your shoulders still on the mat. Your hands grabbed and scratched on his knees and thighs below you, and Bucky fucking loved it.

He was aware he was acting like a brute. No finesse, no manners, just a primal and instinctual need to get you off, to feel and hear and taste you fall apart from his touch and tongue. And have that heavenly scent of your arousal fresh in his mind for the rest of the day.

You came again quickly with Bucky’s fingers added to the mix, screaming his name as your legs went rod stiff, body spasming that same, incredible way it had done the first time. Bucky felt high on your juice, licking up the fresh gush with reverent licks.

He had the absurd urge to keep going when he felt your hand tap his thigh twice. Tapping out.

Bucky looked up your body, or rather down it where your bum was held up by his arm in his lap. You were panting, your eyes half-lidded and shining. You smiled at him, and his heart clenched weirdly in his chest. He was coming back to himself slightly, and suddenly wondered if he should prepare himself for embarrassment and horrified rejection after the unhinged way he’d just acted. But your hands, so gentle and elegant, reached for his face.

He bent forward to insinuate his jaw into the cradle of them, and slowly lowered your lower body back to the mat as you gently pulled his face to yours, kissing him on the mouth almost chastely after what he’d just done. He could feel himself tremble a little as he hovered over you, kissing you again and then again, deepening the kiss a little to slow swipes of your tongues. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his tongue, if you liked your own taste as much as he did.

Your head plumped back down on the mat and a trill of laughter flitted effortlessly from your mouth.

“Oh my fucking God, Barnes,” you said, eyes closed and a broad smile on your face. Bucky could feel himself blushing a little, though he liked it better when you’d called him Bucky.

Taking a purely selfish chance, Bucky quickly backed down your body to lay on his chest between your legs again, resting his head on one of your spread thighs. Your hand absentmindedly came to lay on his head, stroking his hair lightly. He stared at your pussy, swollen and pink and messy with the mix of his spit and your slick. He could stare at it for hours. He took another selfish chance and slowly leaned in to swipe his tongue over your slit.

You moaned, though a bit critically.

“If you don’t let me catch my breath, you’re gonna kill me,” you said, but you were still smiling.

“I don’t want that,” Bucky admitted honestly, and you laughed again.

“I’m glad.”

Bucky went back to staring at your messy pussy, taking in that perfect scent that had all his other thoughts muffling to a peaceful hum. He leaned forward, watching you to see if you would stop him, and took another slow, almost soothing swipe over your pussy. You jolted slightly, then hummed contently, eyes closing. He did it again, for he was an animal with no self-control, and this time, your thighs came up to bracket his face, stopping him half-way.

“Barnes,” you warned, and Bucky had to admit defeat. He crawled back up to hover over your body, hoping you would drag him back in for kisses, or just touches, or just some form of physical contact. His skin was prickling all over from the pleasantness of just feeling warm skin to his.

Luckily, you did, pulling him back down to kiss him again, and he let his body lower to lay splayed on top of you, making sure not to put too much of his bulk on you, but plastering himself to you all the same.

You gave a startled little noise and broke from the kiss, looking down with wide eyes.

Oh shit, Bucky was still sporting a raging hard-on, which he had unceremoniously pushed into your stomach as he laid down on top of you. About to jump away, Bucky again readied himself to reign himself back in when your hand snaked down, grabbing him over his gym shorts, keeping him put exactly where he was.

Your hand around him, even with the fabric between, drew a raspy gasp from him.

“Can I”? You asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

Bucky swallowed thickly, looking down at your dainty hand barely reaching around the bulge in his gym shorts, and his cock gave a noticeable jerk as his mind flooded with images of all the things he wanted you to do to his cock. He could feel his balls tingling, drawing up, his sack tightening in warning. He was already on the edge.

“I won’t last long,” he admitted, barely daring to meet your gaze again.

You smiled, biting your lip slightly.

“That doesn’t matter, as long as you want to,” you said. Bringing your other hand to draw his face down, he shivered as your hot breath tickled his ear. He was so overworked on sensation, he was surprised his arms hadn’t given out yet for how weak and sensitive he felt all over.

“I want to make you feel good,” you whispered huskily in his ear, and Bucky bit his lip to try and stifle the embarrassing sound crawling its way up his throat at those words. He wasn’t successful, and he sounded almost like a wounded puppy before giving up and pressing his flushed face into the crook of your neck, nodding rapidly. He hadn’t even given a thought to you reciprocating anything. He’d been more than happy to just use the memory of this as masturbation fodder for a long, long time to come.

“Yeah?” you asked in a honey sweet voice, God, you were just so fucking sweet, and Bucky melted against you. “Roll over on your back,” you told him, and like a tamed beast eager to please, Bucky immediately obeyed, rolling off you to lay on his back on the mat. You followed, moving swiftly to get on your hands and knees between his spread legs, one hand moving teasingly up his thigh to wrap around his bulge again.

Not able to help himself, Bucky rose to a sitting position to claim your mouth as you held him by the cock. He wanted you closer, everywhere. You kissed him while lazily touching him over the fabric of his shorts, sliding the tip of your finger up his length to the tip and Bucky jolted, grunting uncontrollably into your mouth. His breathing was picking up, his nerve endings spiking and sizzling.

While thrusting your tongue into his mouth, Bucky’s hands cradling your face like the most precious jewel, you reached inside his shorts and took his cock out, wrapping your hand around it and letting it just sit, rock hard and leaking generously, between you.

You broke the kiss, gave Bucky the most devilish smirk he’d ever seen, and licked your lips before lowering yourself to take him into your mouth. The anticipation burned like a lightning bolt straight down his body to his cock.

Bucky exploded before you even got your lips to his tip. Cum spurted out of him, spraying his t-shirt, some going as high as his chin, and some getting on your shocked face. Bucky groaned as the orgasm wrecked through him, riding through him in wave after wave, the most intense one he could ever remember having - and you hadn’t so much as jerked him without his clothes on.

Mortified and still trembling slightly with aftershocks, Bucky gathered the courage to look at you, and found you staring at his cum-covered chest. Your hand was still wrapped around his twitching cock, your knuckles shining with his spunk, and despite how Bucky had no clue where to go from here, the sight had hot satisfaction spreading in his chest. It was like he was marking you with his cum the way you had marked him with your slick (though that had mostly been Bucky marking himself by literally rubbing his face in it).

He watched with rapid attention as you brought your wet hand up to your face and licked a stripe of cum off your knuckle, sucking your own thumb into your mouth. You met his gaze, and Bucky swore under his breath as his dick throbbed with renewed interest at the sight.

Your mouth ticked up at the corner before you leaned in and kissed Bucky softly on the mouth. He shivered with excitement as you pried his lips open with yours to swipe his own taste into his mouth. Fuck, he’d never done that before. It was filthy and possessive and dominating and Bucky had never thought he’d be so fucking turned on by it.

You broke the kiss with a content hum that had Bucky’s blood rushing in his ears.

“That was really fucking hot,” you murmured, going back in for another kiss. Bucky felt his nervousness dissipating, replaced by a sort of ecstatic elation. A laugh bubbled up and out of him, and he kissed you back. Pulling you closer with his hands on your face, neither of you cared about the mess on his shirt as you laid down on top of him, kissing again and again, slowly, exploringly.

There was a calm inside Bucky, a sort of sated comfort he could scarcely remember feeling, and he knew it was all because of you, the sweet, wonderful woman in his arms. He could lay like this forever, simply kissing you, holding you close, smelling your scent and feeling your warmth against him, your grounding weight on his chest. His cock had other thoughts though, already starting to fill, lodged between the two of you.

You raised your head and cocked a brow down at Bucky, and he could do nothing more than shrug and blush. And then, as he started thinking about dragging you up to sit on his face, a booming voice came from the door to the gym.

“Please, for the love of all things good and holy, vacate the gym room now! You’re keeping it hostage at this point!,” Sam shouted, and Bucky glanced over your shoulder to see him standing outside, facing the other way as he held the door open to shout through.

Oh. Right, you were still in the very public gym of the compound.

You squealed as you scrambled off Bucky to retrieve the leggings and underwear he’d ripped off you and thrown to the side. Bucky got on his feet and in between you and the view of the door, trying to shield you from view while you frantically redressed - he could at least try to be a gentleman after having devoured you like a hungry animal and then cum all over himself and you.

You turned to face him once you were fully dressed, and your eyes bulged as you glanced down. With frantic, fumbling hands, you reached forward and tucked his cock, hard and proud and still jutting out over his shorts, back inside. Bucky grunted at the touch, seeing the lovely crimson blush on your face, stretching to the tips of your ears and down your neck. He grunted again, appreciatively, when he noticed the splotches of his cum still drying on your chin and cheek from when he’d busted in your face.

Bringing his thumb up, he gently wiped his mess off your skin, wiping his hand on the back of his shorts.

“Sorry about Sam and…” Bucky trailed, gesturing awkwardly to the mat and around the room. His communication skills hadn’t improved by the earth-shattering orgasm, then…

“It’s fine. It was I who jumped your bones, after all,” you said sheepishly, but you were smiling. God, so sweet.

Bucky was about to lean in to kiss you once again when Sam’s voice cut in.

“Don’t you dare start up again, I don’t have all day! And bring that mat with you. Matter of fact, burn it!” he shouted.

Giggling like teenagers, you scrambled to get your belongings and exit the room. Bucky gave Sam an apologetic look as he passed him, and though Sam was clearly pissed off, Bucky saw the way his mouth was ticking up at the edges, approval shining in his eyes.

You grabbed Bucky’s hand once you’d left the gym, and Bucky happily let himself be dragged along down the hall. He was already working on his plan to lure you into his room, and subsequently rub your scent on everything he owned. For though the intensity of smells were mostly a nuisance for Bucky, having a strong sense of smell wasn’t so bad when it came to you.

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hees-mine · 21 hours

Text

DESTROYED - L. HEESEUNG

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Warnings: bullying, violence, crying, cursing, mentions of smut, filler chap, barely edited.

Genre: 18+, smut, minors dni!

WC: 1,992k

⟱⟱⟱

About a week had passed after you so willingly let heeseung defile and destroy your precious body.

You felt dirty, you felt used, you felt disgusted with yourself.

But though all the above was true, the feeling you felt the strongest was confusion.

You were confused with the way he treated you.

You’re aware he doesn’t know you, but not even a stranger treats someone the way he treats you.

He used your body for his own pleasure and personal gain and just left you with no ounce of remorse or care.

And you wanted to know why.

You’ve never done anything to him, so why was it so easy for him to treat you like yesterday’s garbage and walk away without so much as even an apology?

All he did was threaten you and leave you there to help yourself.

You felt like you deserved an explanation from him after he took your innocence away from you. That’s the absolute least he could do for you.

You know he told you to never look at him or call him again but right now that didn’t feel like an option for you you were going to get the answers and the closure you needed from him even if you were going against what he told you.

You’ve had a crush on him for too long not to at least know why he doesn’t like you back and why he thought it was okay to walk away from you in your most vulnerable state.

You were determined to talk to him today once you entered the school building but that changed the instant you go there.

Sharing the same class with him wasn’t easy this past week even the sight of his back intimidated but you did your best to focus on anything except him cause he took up enough of your late night thoughts already.

The one time your eyes shifted from your teacher just so happened to be at the same time that he looked up from his notepad his stare was cold as ice his jaw clenched tightly with what you would assumed to be was anger and you quickly lowered your head to focus on anything else besides his agitated face.

Your heart raced in your chest, and you couldn’t believe that just a single look from him could evoke so many emotions in you.

Whether you liked it or not, you still had a soft spot for him even after everything he did to you, and that, on top of feeling sad and hurt, was the worst mix of emotions combined.

For the rest of the day, you did your best to ignore thoughts of heeseung, and you were doing excellent, surprisingly.

You had exited the school building, and you were on your way home. You decided not to bring up last week to heeseung, at least not today. You weren’t quite ready yet, especially after the way he glared at you in class. You wanted to take your time to calm your emotions and get all your thoughts together before you had that conversation with him.

You clutched the straps of your backpack walking in the opposite directions of all the other students you took the back way instead cause it was always a few minutes faster less people were back there but you never sensed any real danger you’d been taking this route for years and so far you were incident free.

But for the first time, you did feel a sense of danger or at least fear as you were pushed against the base of a tree in the middle of the woods. You tried to scream, but your mouth was immediately covered by a large palm. “What the fuck did I say?” Heeseung was now towering over you, his jaw clenched tightly the same way it was back in the class you shared with him.

Your screams were muffled by his hand, and no one was even close in the distance to help you.

You tried to push his hand off, but he was far stronger than you, and it was no use. You quickly lost all your energy, so you gave up trying to fight him. Despite the fear rushing through your body, you just didn’t have the strength to match his and fight back.

“You think I was lying when I said next time wouldn’t be like before?” Your eyes were flashing back and forth, looking in his to see some ounce of remorse or guilt, but you found nothing but pure rage in his eyes.

You shook your head no immediately, but he kept his hand still, so you couldn’t say a word.

“Then why did I catch you staring at me again when I specifically told you not to?” He uncovered your mouth, finally giving you a chance to speak, and instead of answering his question, you tried to scream for help.

“HELP!” Your first cry for help was your last cause. You were left speechless when a harsh slap landed against your cheek, the sting causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Shut the fuck up. You asked for this.” he pinned you against the tree by your arms as your eyes shook in fear.

“Pleas-“ Even your pleas fell on deaf ears as he slammed you against the tree, knocking the wind out of you.

You whimpered from the painful impact, and not even then did he stop.

“Don’t say please now you had this coming,” he seethed and slammed you against the tree again, his fingertips painfully digging into your shoulders as he gripped you tightly.

“Hee-“ your words got caught in your throat as his hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your air supply.

“Fucking hate when you say my name. I fucking hate you” he wrapped his hands around the entirety of your neck, squeezing until your airways were completely blocked off.

You kicked and clawed, trying your best to free yourself, but again, the struggle made you lose your strength even faster, and before you knew it, your vision was going black.

You grabbed at his arms, trying to gouge into his flesh so he would let you go, but the thick material of his blazer made it impossible for you to penetrate his skin, and now you were absolutely defenseless.

Right before you blacked, he released you, and you fell to the ground, choking and gasping for air as you trembled in fear, not daring to look up at him or yell for help.

He gathered a ball of saliva in his mouth and spat on you, neglecting your barely conscious body.

Just when you thought he would leave you alone like he did back in that classroom, he gripped your collar and yanked you up off the ground. “Let this be a reminder to keep your eyes off me,” he gritted through his teeth and threw you to the ground before he walked away, finally leaving you helpless in the woods.

You stood up on wobbly legs, your knees full of dirt and small cuts. Tears stained your cheeks as you lifelessly limped through the woods.

And after that incident, you didn’t care about anything; you didn’t care about getting closure; you didn’t care about why he did what he did to you.

You just know not to get involved with him anymore because it always ends with you feeling hurt and sad.

The next day, you did absolutely everything in your power to avoid Lee heeseung.

You didn’t dare walk in his direction and you kept your eyes glued to the ground you even skipped the one class you had with him just so you wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with him and upset him further than you already had.

You hugged the lockers in the hallways, always making way for him to come through, scared of what he might do to you if you ever crossed him again. You even left school late just to make sure he was gone so you wouldn’t have an accidental run-in with him.

Heeseung smirked when he saw you avoiding him.

So you’ve learned your lesson, he thought.

You should have known better than to go against his words to begin with.

If you had listened, your neck wouldn’t be bruised with his handprints, and you wouldn’t be wandering around with your head down like a meek little mouse if you had just left him alone and stayed the fuck out of his business, but maybe now your stupid little pea brain can comprehend to keep your eyes to yourself.

Maybe now you can understand he wants nothing to do with you.

Every day since that day he assaulted you in the woods, you always took the long way home, and you always watched your back just in case you did something that day to offend Lee heeseung.

You know, It didn’t much matter now after all the horrid things he’s done to you.

But to this day, you are still confused by him.

His exterior would never lead you to believe that he was the kind of person he is.

The kind of person that could so easily tear someone down.

Even as you dressed your wounds when you went home the day he nearly choked you unconscious, you still couldn’t believe it was actually done by his hands.

You didn’t want to believe it was him who did it.

One of the things that drew you to him in the first place was how good of a student he was he got the top grade every time.

He was always well-mannered. He didn’t have friends, but he was exceptionally nice to his teachers.

His outfit was always prim and proper, perfectly ironed and ready for any occasion.

And even past his physical appearance and personality, there was just something mysterious about him that drew you to him.

He was quiet and well reserved which was odd cause with a face like his it seemed like he’d be the popular kid and surrounded by a bunch of people but that’s just the thing he wasn’t and you think that’s what made him attractive to you.

He was smart, nice, good looking, and he didn’t have that typical cocky jock attitude that all the good-looking guys had in your school.

Maybe that should have sent off some alarms in your head, but it didn’t.

Although you should have known something was wrong because, honestly speaking, he was too good to be true.

Thinking about it now maybe it would have been better if he had taken on that persona cause to see the person he really is was something you couldn’t have ever imagined.

You’d take the cocky jock over the handsome harasser any day.

Even as time passed, what he did to you just didn’t feel real, maybe cause you wanted him to be different, maybe cause in your mind, you thought that you and him would live happily ever after.

Alas, that wasn’t the case. The reality was that he was just another bad person walking amongst many, and your luck happened to be the worst cause. Why, out of everyone, did you have to be attracted to Lee heeseung?

If you had never liked him, none of this would have happened.

You scold yourself for even thinking that you were to blame in this situation but that’s just how messed up you were after everything that happened.

You could go down the rabbit hole all day of the endless possibilities in a world where heeseung didn’t defile your body, in a world where he didn’t harm you.

But the truth is he did, and now you have to live with the uncomfortable consequences and seeing his face every day for the rest of your school year.

All thanks to Lee Heeseung, your year-long crush, your life was destroyed.

⟱⟱⟱

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours

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levyfiles · 1 month

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is it just me or is this kinda not a good idea?

I think it's a gamble. And like anyone who cares about something deeply, watching it take a high-stakes gamble can be terrifying.

What I think people don't take into consideration is just how flooded their recent youtube videos have been with scammy sponsors and cheap fast-product get-rich-quick scheming vendors. Sure, their writers and producers made it fun by adding some really excellent characters to the mix, but I wouldn't touch a thing like Mistplay if you paid me as much as they paid Watcher for their video. However, the thing is, look around at all the youtubers you know who are up and coming. You can't make it on that platform without advertising trash to your audience.

With the vimeo OTT program, i believe there is a shared revenue and more incentive to promote more simple dedicated engagement; it's not ad sense clicks; it's just clicks. It's a soft start and there are going to be some kinks to work out but if they get to control their brand more and decide what gets made without needing some nu-venture, cash hungry sponsor to look at it, then I think they could change media online for the better.

Having said all that, the execution? Not their best. Watcher--listen, I love them so much--has had a consistent and terminal administrative problem and that means stuff falls through the cracks. From a communicative standpoint, when you're about to take your company in a controversial direction, you should know two things.

The backlash! You gotta get ahead of it. You need your PR team on the go a MONTH before launch

Always soft launch a big move. Get your feelers out for how people react especially if you don't have the kind of shark PR person who would know already that people don't respond well to paying for something they didn't used to pay for.

Watcher is still a baby company in so many forms and I will wholeheartedly support their move to do what they can to keep control of their creative content today and in the future. I'm not in their offices so I can't make as prescriptive a judgement as Twitter feels emboldened to about capitalism and greed or whoever they think their audience is however I can and will say that with any form of growth, the growing pains are going to show. i'll give them grace as they pivot and figure out how best to move forward especially with the volume of vitriol the internet loves to spew when they feel entitled to art forms that used to be free.

I'll say it again. At least we're no longer having garbage peddled at us regardless how much I crave Fabian Sax biblically.

#watcher #watcher tv #ryan bergara #shane madej #steven lim

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simplykorra · 1 year

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I think it's easy to forget just exactly what Ava went through. She was SEVEN years old and woke up in strange place, with cranky old nuns, only to find out she was paralyzed and that her mom had died. Not only that, but no other member of her family ever came for her. Nobody was looking for her, nobody wanted her and suddenly she's all alone and dealing with the loss of her mothre and her independence.

You'd think, oh well maybe she has a support system in the orphanage? Nope, they treat her like shit, like the burden she believes she is. As someone who has been in a wheelchair their whole life, let me tell you, feeling like a burden is an everyday thing. You’re not, and having people who remind you that you’re not and make you understand that you’re not is beautiful, but Ava didn’t have that. She had Sister Frances, who went out of her way to tell Ava she was worthless and I doubt anyone else there was much better.

So it's no wonder Ava was a sarcastic, snarky little shit to the nuns in the orphanage - they made her that way. Being bratty to them was the only thing she could do to feel some semblance of control.

Flash forward to Ava's death, where she was literally murdered because nobody cared and there was nowhere for her to go. Ava spent twelve years in a personal hell of being trapped in her own body, was then killed like someone taking out the garbage. Empty, alone and tossed aside.

So when she was revived by the halo, with her legs suddenly working and freedom to do whatever she wanted, of COURSE she wanted to be free.

That's the entirety of Ava's character arc - SHE WANTS TO LIVE! She hasn't been able to for so long she barely remembers how to do it.

It's not that easy, of course, the halo carries a ton of weight and Ava fights it and runs from it and resists it as much as she can, and who can blame her? She finally gets the chance to be alive, to be free and enjoy life and all these strangers (who are everywhere becuase Ava is completely alone in the world) are pushing and pulling her in every direction. She's constantly told that she doesn't deserve the halo. Doesn't deserve this chance.

Despite ALL of that, Ava's heart is strong and her passion for life overshadows all the darkness she's been dealt. She isn't just full of life, but love. She's spent years not having anyone to love her, but more than that, she's never been able to give anyone her love and I think that's very important to her. We see it so much as the show goes on. Her softness with Mother Superion when she finds her halo scar, and the way she connects with Mary, Camila being sweet to her, little things like that.

Then of course there's Bea.

Beatrice, who never sees Ava as someone that needs to be replaced, but as someone who can be taught, trained and shaped into what they need. Who sees that Ava, the human being, has value and that she's worth protecting. They connect and share and for the first time, Ava has someone who actually accepts her as a person. Not a burden or a vessel for the halo, but Ava Silva, the girl inside that's been so alone for so long.

I think that's why Ava is so bouncy with Bea, falls for her so easily, because Beatrice saw Ava's zest for life and her need for love and embraced it. Saw it as something worth fighting for, beyond the halo or duty, Beatrice liked HER. Probably the first person who felt that way since her mother was taken from her (outside of Diego, but he was so young it couldn't have been the same).

Anyway, this long winded post that probably doesn't make any sense is just my way of saying that I love Ava. I love her joy and her humor. I love that she has had so much pain dumped on her and still chooses to smile. Given the way she was treated and the power she was given, Ava could have been a villain. She could have carried a hatred for god or the world and everyone in it who forgot about her but she didn't. Instead, she found the life and love she desperately wanted and gave up everything to protect it.

#ava silva #avatrice #warrior nun #this is my long overdue ava silva appreciation post #sometimes you just find characters that hit different and she's that for me #i'm not sure i'll find one i enjoy more than her #save warrior nun #alba baptista #she deserves all the awards for her performance of ava #she's INCREDIBLE

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ineffable-endearments · 6 months

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Crowley and His Plants in Season 2

I've got this complicated post about Aziraphale and the bookshop brewing, but I want to give Crowley and his plants their own post.

It's really important that Crowley hung onto his plants for juicy characterization and symbolic and thematic reasons. It's a major character development portrayed with relative subtlety, an excellent example of Showing, Not Telling, and I think it's a thrilling sign for Crowley's character development.

Before having a chance to think about it, I thought keeping the plants in his car was a funny and odd - but sweet - detail to include. In fact, it was so sweet that it was one of those "felt like fanfic" things!

In Season 1, and in the novel, the plants were very much there for trauma reenactment, for Crowley to vent his hurt and fear and anger and betrayal onto. In a sense, they seemed to be Crowley's way of roleplaying with himself, if we assume they were only sentient because Crowley thought of them that way. Through the dynamic of yelling at his plants, which he assumed could understand him, Crowley could emotionally act out both the terrified, powerless plant (subconsciously) and the big scary entity threatening it with destruction (consciously).

If we take everything at face value, we can also guess that Crowley disposed of plants that he no longer liked because of their imperfections, which would seem to imply he didn't have much of an attachment to them. Where they went doesn't matter that much to this particular line of theorizing. He could have given them to his elderly neighbor, he could have plunked them in a community garden, he could have left them on a doorstep, he could have shredded them in the garbage disposal. In any case, they were gone from his kingdom.

And after Season 1, I wondered if he would care to keep the plants if he wasn't using them to act out trauma anymore.

But in Season 2, the plants are in fact the ONLY thing from the flat that Crowley has hung onto as he moved into his car. Sure, it's possible that he has other possessions squirreled away somewhere and he just carries the plants around because they need sunlight, but most of the other possessions go unmentioned, so we have to guess that the plants are specifically important. They're also important enough to follow him into the bookshop and back to the car instead of just staying in the car for the trip to Edinburgh.

We also don't see a single instance of Crowley berating the plants in Season 2, but they do still express his emotions somewhat (shaking when he's afraid). He still has whatever subconscious connection to them he was experiencing before. Notably, there's at least one scene where a brown spot is visible on a plant, so whatever Crowley's doing, he's not getting rid of the plants like he used to.

This seems like an obvious example of Crowley's attachment to Earth condensed into a handy symbol. Crowley has started to admit to himself that he cares about these helpless living things, that he just likes them for their own sake. They're not a sign of a job well done for Hell. They're not a memory of Aziraphale. They're not a tool to make life easier or numb the pain. They're just Life On Earth and Crowley likes to have them.

Crowley has gone from using his plants as a tool for trauma reenactment to holding onto his plants because he has a genuine attachment to them. And, for a character whose arc I believe is going to involve forming more outward connections to others, that's a big deal.

Crowley's still got a ways to go. He's carrying these plants around, but the Bentley can't be an ideal environment for them. The whole process of driving them around, not to mention bringing them in and out of the bookshop, has to be kind of awkward for Crowley, too. It's very reminiscent of a character whose attachment to Earth is ambivalent, but who is moving in the right direction.

I wonder what'll happen next. His progress could be relatively linear, wherein he just goes off and forms more connections to humans on Earth after Aziraphale goes back to Heaven.

My suspicion, though, is that he will return to Hell with the specific goal in mind of thwarting the Second Coming and possibly trying to bring the entire system crashing down. In this way, Crowley experiences a massive setback in his position (he wants to be on Earth, not in Hell!) but is actually demonstrating a redoubled dedication to Earth and humans, so what he's doing is not backsliding. Compare it to Season 1, when Crowley is charged with delivering the Antichrist and complains, as late as the Antichrist's 11th birthday, that he didn't want to be involved, that Hell shouldn't have chosen him - when Hell choosing Crowley was the only reason he was ever in a position to try to thwart Armageddon.

But that's a lot of speculation. The point is, the plants are a meaningful connection to Earth and Crowley is taking care of them.

#good omens #anthony j crowley #good omens spoilers #go s2 spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #Yeah the gif is Crowley baby talking the Bentley #But they are holding the plants #And I wanted a happy picture with Crowley and the plants instead of a scared or sad one #And I also can't help but think maybe his more open affection toward the car is relevant too

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odinsblog · 13 days

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I know you’ve heard about Harrison Butker by now, and his embarrassment of a commencement speech at Benedictine College. You’ve probably seen the NFL kicker roasted six ways from Sunday for his misogyny, hypocrisy, and regressive nonsense. People have already written about his stupidity, everyone has memed his nonsense, and conservatives have applauded him for advocating for a return to the 1950s. That is exactly what he was doing, unashamedly. Butker delivered countless awful lines, saying, “Things like abortion, IVF, surrogacy, euthanasia, as well as a growing support for degenerate cultural values in media, all stem from the pervasiveness of disorder.” Which is an ugly mix of law and order rhetoric and sexism, a mix that makes no logical sense but scratches a certain itch in the mind of his conservative audience.

I just want to briefly add to the criticism of this Super Bowl winner, who will probably run for office before too long. Specifically, I want to highlight the inane variety of patriarchal bullshit running through his speech, and his apparent approach to the world. Butker and men like him are trying to sell us a load of hot garbage, and get men to be the worst version of themselves. They’re trying to make us see ourselves as victims, and encouraging us to use that false belief as fuel to go out and hurt other people. We can and should reject that directive.

We should reject it for countless reasons, but I think the place to start is to look at this guy telling us we’ve been oppressed by society and so we should stand up and be real men and tell women to be homemakers. He makes four million dollars a year to kick a ball, he’s won the Super Bowl, and he’s still a miserable person pretending to be a victim. All that wealth, all the success, and he’s going to speak at a college to tell young women, “I would venture to guess that the majority of you are most excited about your marriage and the children you will bring into this world.”

As they’re graduating college to go out into the world, he’s telling them to stay home and be mothers. He’s theoretically reached the American dream, and he’s spending his time telling college girls to be “homemakers.”

Oh and in the days since his speech it’s come out that his mom is an accomplished physicist. But nevertheless.

(continue reading)

#politics #harrison butker #republicans #white grievance #toxic masculinity #christian nationalism #benedictine college #misogyny #fragile masculinity #victim complex #homophobia #terfs dni #victim envy #patriarchy #victim mindset #victim mentality #religious reich

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year

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Cabur

Summary: Twelve years ago the animal representing your soulmate appeared in your home. You finally get to meet him when his battalion arrives to help defend your planet from the droid army.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, injuries, brief mention of animal injury but it's not serious, a bit of angst, reader is a BAMF but it doesn't really get shown cause I'm garbage at action scenes, some mentioned PTSD at the end.

A/N: Sooooo this may be my sign to stick to only writing for the Bad Batch boys cause this is garbage. Turns out I'm not good at writing other clones. Also I wrote the smut before eating breakfast so if it's entirely indecipherable please forgive me.

Also Mide is pronounced Mee-deh.

MASTERLIST

It’s become a sort of legend within the GAR.

The clone who rides into battle on the back of a Nexu.

It’s a bit ridiculous. He doesn’t ride the Nexu. But, they are never far from each other.

No one ever dares to ask.

Most of them already know.

The others are too scared.

The only one that had asked was the General, which was forgiven since he probably didn’t expect his second in command to be closely trailed by a Nexu when they met for the first time.

His soulmate link, Wolffe had explained to his General. One of the rarest, where each soulmate is accompanied by the animal that represents their soulmate. The Kaminoans had been rather shocked when shortly after he was taken from his growth chamber, a fully grown Nexu appeared in the room. The feline had been entirely tame, until the Kaminoans had tried to separate them because clones were not allowed to pursue their soulmates due to some of the early clones deserting for their soulmates.

Separation hadn’t worked, as the Nexu proceeded to rampage through the halls of Tipoca City until she was reunited with Wolffe. Only Wolffe could seem to control her, and so the Kaminoans begrudgingly allowed the Nexu to stay.

She learned quickly, coming to Wolffe’s defense even during training. It didn’t take long for Wolffe to teach her how to fight, and how to take down droids. She never hesitated, even after the war started, fearlessly following him into even the ugliest battles.

He had spent much of his free time thinking about his soulmate. They’re obviously a fierce fighter, given the predatory nature of Nexu. Strong and brave. He often wondered what kind of animal they have that represents him.

***

The last thing you had been expecting twelve years ago was a loth-wolf pup to show up in the middle of your home.

It had appeared out of nowhere, startling both you and your parents. You hadn’t known what it was at first, until a quick search had directed you to the supposedly extinct loth-wolf. Why it had appeared suddenly in your home...that was another quick search.

Your soulmate link.

You had always wondered what it might be, seeing as you had no mark or strange dreams, or any of the other typical links between soulmates. Developing this late, though, was confusing. You didn’t think much about it, though. Fate was not something to question. Everything would make sense eventually. Your people believed that fate drove every decision, every event in your life. Everything happens for a reason, all directed by fate’s design.

Already twice the size of a tooka, the pup grew quickly, outgrowing your parents hut. It grew big enough to ride within a couple years and you often did. When you moved into your own hut, you built it big enough to fit you and your wolf comfortably.

You often wondered about your soulmate. Who they are, what they’re doing, what kind of animal they have. You wonder how you’ll meet. Will they come here? Your people don’t leave your planet often. Aside from the few who show great prowess for politics and get sent to represent you in the senate, not many else leave. Your people prefer simple, quiet lives. Though you have technology, most of your food is grown or hunted, and your medicine is a practice that’s been passed down for generations.

You had thought perhaps you were meant to leave, that you would meet your soulmate somewhere else. Your strength, however, was not in politics. You were a natural fighter. So instead you stayed on the planet, defending your village and hunting to provide food. Maybe you weren’t meant to find your soulmate elsewhere. Perhaps your soulmate was in one of the other villages.

You think that, until the war starts.

Your planet is mostly untouched for two years. There was no strategic reasoning to invade your planet, other than simply being part of the Republic. It keeps your planet untouched, at least until the Separatists begin to get desperate.

Word reaches you one morning of a droid army approaching one of the neighboring villages. It had landed two days ago and it was slowly burning its way through village after village. They had already reached out to the Republic for assistance, but they were already stretched as it was.

You don’t give up hope.

You’re right not to.

Two days after the message had been sent, they arrived. The roar of gunships is loud as troops drop in at the next village over from yours. You were already there, preparing defenses for when the inevitable attack began. They’d already burned through the village to the North. You had scouted over the hill earlier, and had spotted the dust cloud kicked up by the army’s movements. Fighters from surrounding villages have gathered, but it’s not nearly enough.

The clones arrive like a blessing from the Maker.

You’re glad to see them, even if some of them stare and whisper as you pass. You know they’re not staring at you. They’re staring at your wolf. Loth-wolves are supposed to be extinct, so actually seeing one would be a bit shocking. Even more so, seeing one outside of Lothal.

You had been called to the village leader’s hut, which was being used for battle planning. The village leader had chosen you as her second in command, since you were one of the best fighters. You were also one of the few still alive that had seen battle before.

Not every village on the planet was as interested in peace as the others. One such village had decided to attack a neighboring village out of nothing but greed shortly before the galactic war started. Fighters from across the planet had been called to aid in the fight, and you had been one of them. The most battle you’d seen back then had been on hunting trips. Though you were skilled, you’d never actually fought before.

It had been terrifying, but you had quickly proved your skills and your ability to stay calm under pressure. You had made a name for yourself, and had carried that still to this day.

Most of the more experienced fighters had been sent ahead to try and aid other villages, but it had been fruitless. The droid army had wiped out both the fighters, and some innocent villagers caught in the crossfire.

This village had been evacuated, and it was going to be the last stand against the droid army. If they couldn’t be defeated, then the planet was lost. The arrival of the clones to aid you had renewed hope in the possibility of securing your planet and its safety once more. There would be a lot to do, a lot to rebuild after, but now there was hope you would get to do so.

You make your way towards the hut, your wolf running ahead. It’s strange, usually he never left your side unless you told him to. He had been acting strangely all day. You had blamed it on the nervous energy in the village, and the approaching army. Everyone had been a bit on edge, and being an animal, he could likely pick up on it more than anyone.

You hear a commotion as you approach the hut, finding your wolf cornering one of the clones. Your eyes widen, thinking the worst, and you hurry over. Some of the clones are laughing by the time you reach them, and you realize your wolf is licking this clone.

“Mide,” You pull on the fur at his neck to try and get him to stop. His tail is wagging, creating a breeze behind him. “Mide, stop.”

The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, a loud growl reaching your ears. You turn, eyes widening as you stare into four red eyes and a wide mouth full of sharp fangs.

You scramble back, the Nexu following you. You’ve never seen one in person before, only read about them. They’re not native to this planet, so how did this one get here? And why doesn’t anyone else seem afraid of it?

“Cabur.” The stern voice of the clone reaches your ears. “Cabur, stand down.”

The Nexu doesn’t respond, crouching as it prepares to pounce. Do you run? You can’t outrun a Nexu. Why isn’t anyone trying to help? Why isn’t Mide helping?

The Nexu pounces, knocking you off your feet. You close your eyes, preparing for those teeth to sink into your skin, rip away at your flesh until you bleed out.

Something wet and rough drags across your skin from your shoulder to the top of your head. Your eyes snap open in surprise. Is the Nexu...licking you?

It licks you again, leaving a wet, gooey trail along your skin.

“Easy, girl.” The clone pets its head, trying to nudge it back.

It steps back reluctantly, its own tail swishing back and forth as it watches you. A hand appears in your line of sight and you take it, the clone hauling you to your feet easily. You brush the dirt off, wiping the Nexu spit from your face.

“Sorry about her.” The clone says. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her today.”

“It’s alright. Mide has been weird all day too. He’s never run away from me like that before.” You stare up at him, taking in his face.

His face is stern, pinched a bit in focus. There’s a scar stretching from his forehead to his cheek, his eye having been replaced with a cybernetic one. He’s handsome, as you assume all the clones would be.

“Is she yours?” You ask, breaking the silence between you.

“It’s my soulmate link.” He says. “I’ve had her since I came out of my growth chamber.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking in surprise. “Mide’s also my soulmate link. Appeared about twelve years ago.”

“Really.” He says, giving you a strange look.

Before you can continue the conversation, the village leader and who you assume is the Jedi General approach you.

“I see you two have already met.” The Kel Dor says.

You glance at the clone for a moment as the village leader introduces you to General Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe.

“Come,” The General says. “We have much to discuss, and little time to do so.”

***

“What’s her name?” You ask as you and Commander Wolffe make your way into position. His Nexu is walking beside you, trotting along happily. Mide is walking beside Wolffe, looking perfectly content.

“Cabur.” Wolffe answers. “It’s Mando’a. It means guardian or protector.”

“Fitting name.” You say.

“She’s saved my life a few times.” He pats Mide’s side. “What about him?”

“Mide. He’s a mythical warrior who protected our people. He rode to war with the sigil of a wolf on his helmet.”

The corner of Wolffe’s mouth lifts. “Aptly named.”

You both stop, having reached the point you have to go separate ways. You mount Mide, looking down at Wolffe. “See you when the battle’s done?”

Wolffe nods, patting Mide’s neck. “Take care of her.”

Mide huffs out a breath, nodding his head just slightly as if agreeing. He would, even without having to be asked.

You know. Even without having to say anything you know. Just Mide’s reaction was enough to tell you. The link is so rare, and to have someone else with the same link suddenly appear on your planet like this...

It’s not just a coincidence.

Mide runs to your position, and you watch as the cloud of dust that the droid army was kicking up gets closer and closer, flashes of blue and red gradually disappearing as dust envelops the valley.

***

You’re covered in dirt, but you’re alive.

With the help of the clones, you had stopped the droid army from advancing much further, protecting the village. It had been a long battle, lasting into the night. The stars are out by the time you return to the village, weary after a long battle unlike any you’ve ever been in.

No squabble between villages will ever compare to that.

You had seen Wolffe shortly after your return to the village, nothing more than a passing glance across the fire as you’d helped both injured villagers and troopers. You’re both alive, you’re both alright. You had spotted Cabur slinking around the village, unharmed due to her training in fighting droids. Mide’s white fur is streaked with dirt, his feet and nose scratched from the droids, but he’s otherwise uninjured.

You’ll give him a big, juicy cut of meat later.

You’re cleaning the cut on his nose when you hear the footsteps approaching. Mide’s head lifts, ears perking and tail wagging as he sees who it is. Something brushes against your side, Cabur purring as she makes herself comfortable next to Mide. Wolffe approaches you, and you take a moment to look him over. His armor is streaked with dirt, but he’s otherwise uninjured.

“Good to see you.” You say, smiling softly.

He steps right up to you, gloved fingers grazing over the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“It’s just a scratch.” You say, skin tingling as his fingers continue to trail down your arm before dropping back to his side. “We’re not used to fighting droids.”

“You’re, uh...quite the fighter.” He says. “I think a Nexu was the perfect choice.”

Your cheeks warm a bit. You think the ferocious Nexu might be a bit of an exaggeration. It’s a compliment, though, that he thinks your skills are worthy of that representation. The loth-wolf is the perfect representation of him. He has the same dangerous gaze as Mide, the same fierce loyalty. The stern and serious battle-ready commander.

“Us clones...it’s forbidden for us to initiate the soulmate bond.” He says.

Your stomach clenches a bit at his words. You hadn’t even thought...you hadn’t even considered. You hadn’t had time to. Everything had been happening so quickly. You had never given consideration to the idea that your soulmate might not want you. Much less that he might have to reject you. All those daydreams, all those thoughts about what your life could be like with them...they’ve been nothing but fantasies and they might never be anything but.

“Most of us don’t agree.” He continues. “We all have an agreement not to say anything, not to report anything.”

“But...what if someone finds out?”

“We have to be careful so no one does.” He takes your hand, slipping something into it. “We’re preparing to leave. We already have our next orders.”

Your shoulders sink a bit. Of course they’re very busy. The war has been taking a turn. The attack against your planet is just proof of this. Having time with him right now is just another fantasy.

You walk with him to the gunships, taking your time as troopers load up around you. He turns, patting Mide on the nose as you reach one of the ships. Mide lets out a quiet whine, his ears falling.

You squat in front of Cabur, petting her head. “Take care of him, yeah?” She lets out a quiet sound, licking your cheek once more. You stand back up, facing Wolffe. “Come back? When the war’s over?”

He nods once and you stand up on your toes, kissing his cheek. He stares down at you long and hard for a moment before stepping away, sliding his helmet on. You watch as he boards the gunship, following it with your eyes as long as you can as it disappears into the sky.

You open your hand, looking down at what he’d slipped into it. A smile tugs at your lips as you stare at the item.

A comm device.

***

It’s been almost a year since the battle, since you met your soulmate. You’ve spoken as often as you can through the comm device, but for the last three months it’s been very quiet. You’ve gone stretches without speaking, but never this long.

You try not to worry.

The war had ended three months ago, around the time you had seemingly lost contact. You suppose with the restructuring of the Republic into the Empire and the sudden end to the war, things have gotten complicated for the clones. It could just be he hasn’t had a good time to step aside and secretly contact you. Despite your attempted reasoning, you can’t help but feel nervous about the sudden silence.

You’ve been keeping yourself busy helping the survivors from the destroyed villages resettle with other villages. While the army had been destroyed, the valley had become a wasteland of destroyed droids and the remnants from the battle. New huts were built and families integrated peacefully into new villages. The Senate had sent some relief, but it could only do so much. Homes could be rebuilt and crops replanted, but lives couldn’t be replaced.

You’ve buried far too many dead.

You try not to think your soulmate may be one of them.

He’s not. You know he’s not. You would have felt it. Mide would have died with him. Still, the thought haunts you. How easily he could be taken from you, and you barely got to know him.

Fate will make it work in the end. You try to remind yourself of that.

***

You’re out hunting when it happens.

Nearly four months since the end of the war, a year since you met your soulmate. You had been scouting the hills when you’d heard it. You’d moved your binocs to the sky, watching as a starfighter streaked across the sky like a smoking comet straight towards the trees just a few meters away.

The crash is loud, the trees shaking with the impact. Mide immediately takes off, darting into the trees. It’s not like him, still always sticking close to your side.

“Mide!” You call, immediately running after him.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It couldn’t be...could it? You hadn’t seen any identifying markers on the ship, the smoke too dense around it to see. It could be anyone, or anything.

If it wasn’t, Mide wouldn’t have run off like that.

You duck into the undergrowth, following the path broken by your wolf. You freeze instinctively as a low growl reaches your ears. You know that growl.

Your breath catches in your throat. “Cabur?”

The Nexu steps out of the bushes, tail swishing as she looks at you. It’s her. You know it. You drop to a knee, patting her head as she greets you.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Mide breaks through the bushes, dragging a limp body with his teeth. He drags the body over to you, letting him go gently. Wolffe’s body lays limp on the ground. There’s charred marks on his armor, likely from the crash. You push him over onto his back, staring down at his helmet. You trace the markings with your fingers, the same markings you remember.

A sob threatens to tear from your lips as you slip your fingers under the edge of his helmet, tugging it off. You cup the back of his head, lowering it gently to the ground.

He’s unconscious but still breathing.

Mide lays next to Wolffe, looking at you sadly. Cabur nudges his foot, letting out a quiet whine. He’s injured, likely worse than it looks if he crashed a starfighter. You need to get him back to the village, and soon.

You’re sweating by the time you maneuver him onto Mide’s back, climbing on behind him. You hold him as Mide runs through the trees and back up the hill towards the village. Cabur keeps pace easily, miraculously mostly uninjured from the crash.

You guide Mide into your hut, easing Wolffe off his back and onto your bed. You begin the tedious process of removing his armor, figuring out how to get each piece off and carefully stacking it in the corner. You peel the body glove off next, revealing his chest covered in bruises.

You head to your kitchen, grabbing herbs and a bowl, beginning to mash them into a paste as you’ve done a hundred times. You mix a tonic as well, moving back to his side before spreading the mixture across his chest, making sure to cover each bruise. You place bandages over each spot, letting the herbs do their work. You cup his neck, lifting his head a bit to help him drink the tonic. You can feel it, the pulsing energy from where your fingers are pressed against the skin of his neck.

He’s really here, right in front of you. Crashed right out of the sky, practically into your lap.

Mide curls up on his blanket, Cabur making herself comfortable beside him. You sit by Wolffe’s side, tending to him as you let the medicine work its way through his body. You only leave to make dinner and feed the animals before you’re sitting back at his side.

You grab his pauldron, tracing the image of the wolf with your fingers. The grey paint around the edges is slightly worn, more than it had been the last time you’d seen him. It’s hard to believe he’s really here. After four months of nothing, no sign that he’s alive and alright, no word on what’s happening aside from what was broadcasted on the news...four months of thinking the worst.

You trace his face with your fingers, allowing yourself to feel him. He’s really here. He’s real.

You stay by his side through the night, changing out the herbs as they dry. You nap a few times, trusting the animals to alert you if something happens.

He begins to stir around sunrise. You’d been checking his wounds, already mostly healed. You put a gentle hand on his shoulder as he shifts, his eyes cracking open.

“It’s alright.” You say, tracing gentle circles on his skin with your thumb. “You’re safe.”

He breathes your name like a prayer, his eyes slipping closed for a moment as he relaxes.

“I’m here.” You whisper, sliding your hand up to cup his cheek. “I’ve got you.”

“I said I would.” He murmurs, turning his head to kiss your palm. “I said I’d come back.”

You shush him gently. “And you have.”

You get him sitting up, leaning against the wall. You feed him some soup after both Mide and Cabur greet him happily. He tells you about everything that happened since the war ended. He tells you about the Jedi and the inhibitor chips, deserting the Empire and getting his chip removed. He tells you about his fight to get here, and almost not making it.

You try not to think about it, relishing in the face he did make it. He is sitting here with you. You can see the pain in his eyes, the guilt. You can practically feel the sadness radiating from him. Your heart aches for him. He’s lost so much, and so much has changed so quickly. You can’t even imagine what it must have been like. What it must feel like for him.

You hold him, wrapping yourself around him. His bruises are almost completely healed, his strength returning as he holds you, his face pressed against your chest. Cabur creeps her way over, stretching herself out across your laps. Wolffe chuckles, patting her head. You tangle a hand on her fur, holding Wolffe with the other.

***

Wolffe settles into life in the village easily. He’s welcomed, not only as your soulmate, but also as a hero who helped save many lives. He accompanies you on hunts, learning as much about your culture as he can.

You settle into life with him easily too, adjusting to his presence like he’s been there the whole time. You’re glad your hut is on the edge of the village, as you’re both also rather insatiable. You have a year to make up for. A year of yearning and longing to make up for.

And you certainly do.

A body presses against yours as you finish loading the dishes in the sanitizer. You can feel him, every bit of his body through his thin shirt and soft pants. He’s softened a bit from the hardened soldier that had crash landed back into your life. You won’t complain. After the things you’ve heard, you’re happy he’s finally healthy and well taken care of.

You can also feel how hard he is against your ass.

His arms snake around your waist as you toss the dish towel on the counter. His lips trail up your neck, dragging along the soft skin.

“Miss me that much?” You ask, pressing back against him teasingly.

“Always.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss below your ear.

One of his hands snakes under your shirt, slowly sliding up your stomach, straight towards your breasts. You’re glad you ditched your breastband earlier as his warm hand cups your breast. He hums against your neck in approval, skilled fingers plucking at your nipple as he paints your skin with marks from his teeth.

“Wolffe,” You sigh his name as he switches breasts, giving the other one equal attention.

His other hand slips down your stomach, dipping into your pants. You’ve been wet in anticipation since his arms wrapped around you, his fingers gliding through your slick folds. Your legs tremble as he slowly circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers.

“So wet for me, cyare.” He murmurs against your neck, slipping two of his fingers into you.

“Yes,” You breathe, tilting your head back against his shoulder. “Only for you.”

He growls quietly against your neck, pulling his hands free. He tugs your pants down before lifting you onto the kitchen counter. You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor. He tugs your hips closer to the edge, kneeling in front of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, still kept in the regulation cut. He sometimes lets his stubble grow out, and you’re still trying to convince him to grow a beard just to see how it would look.

He licks a stripe up your clit, hands pressing against your thighs to keep them open for him. His tongue swirls around your clit, his eyes lifted to stare at your face. Your lips part in a moan as he closes his mouth against your clit, sucking hard. Your free hand grips the edge of the counter, holding on as he eats you out.

Your first few times together had been awkward and fumbling as you tried to figure each other out. It had taken lots of practice, and many laughs, to learn each other’s bodies. What you like, what you don’t, what he likes. How to make him putty in your hands. He’s still just as stern and dominating as he had been as a commander, but you know deep down he sometimes needs someone else to take control, someone else to give the orders. Someone he trusts.

Your legs are shaking around his head, your own head thrown back in pleasure as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. The noises are absolutely obscene as he slurps at your drenched pussy like he’s gone days without water.

He pulls away before you can cum, making you whine in protest.

His chin is slick with your juices, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You reach forward, yanking his shirt over his head. Your fingers trail along the soft curves of his body, lips pressing kisses against his skin. His hands undo his pants, letting them drop to the floor.

You bite your lip, your hand wrapping around his hard length. His hands drop to your thighs, resting there as you pump him. You meet his gaze, staring into his eyes as you guide him forward and into your heat. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him all the way in. A moan tumbles from your lips at the stretch, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold him as close as you possibly can.

His arms wrap around your back, lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You both breathe for a moment, enjoying being so close, so connected to each other. You bury your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Musky and sweaty from being out in the warmth of the day working.

He adjusts his grip on you, holding you up as he begins to move. You meet his thrusts, tilting your head up to kiss him. It’s slow and soft, quiet moans passing between your lips. You hold onto him like you’re afraid he might disappear if you let go, like you might suddenly wake and find this has all been a dream.

His own fingers indent your skin, sharing your same fears. You know he’s here, you know it’s real, and he knows it’s real, but still, neither of you can forget the year you had been separated, the many times he could have died, the many times he could have been ripped from you.

“‘M close.” You murmur against his lips, nails breaking the skin of his shoulders.

“Gonna cum for me?” He growls, snapping his hips into yours. “Show me how pretty you look when you cum?”

Your head falls back, lips parted as you cum around his cock, moaning loudly. He watches you, memorizing your face. He’ll never forget it, but he commits it to memory every time.

A few more thrusts and he’s cumming with a growl, snapping his hips into yours a final time as he releases inside of you. You hold him against you, both of you riding out your highs together.

His hold around you is tight, clinging to you. You’re both breathing heavily, breaths mingling as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands gently rub his shoulders, working your way up his neck and into his hair.

“You’re right here.” You whisper, lips brushing his. “I’m right here.”

He exhales shakily, fingers tightening their grip just slightly.

You press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ve got you.”

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons, @ladytano420 @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu

#star wars #star wars fic #clone wars #clone wars fic #commander wolffe x reader #clones #clone trooper wolffe x reader

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reallydumbdannyphantomaus · 9 months

Text

The Apocalypse Club

(ao3) (art 1) (art 2)

Valerie, Kwan, and Paulina find out Danny's biggest secret while Amity Park is invaded by a strange new ghost. Now, all four of them have to work together to save the day. ...If they can stop fighting each other first.

Hey!!! this is my @invisobang piece for 2023!!!! it hits in at about 15k words and i got to work with @minnowmarsh and @trolithfoxyflint for the amazing art that comes with it! now you crazy kids have fun reading :D

----------------

“How,” Valerie said when she could talk again.

Danny shrugged and looked away. His face was tinted green, though whether from nausea or the swirling portal on the wall of the lab, she couldn’t say. Kwan didn’t look much better, ashen gray, hair sticking up in all directions from how much he’d been pulling it. Paulina’s eyes hadn’t left Danny’s face since…

Well, since.

“Is that the most important question right now?” he said, rummaging in the desk.

Yes, she wanted to scream. But it wasn’t, and she knew it wasn’t, just as much as she knew that he was avoiding the question.

But she was a professional. She’d worked with… Danny… before. She could put aside her personal feelings until they were safe.

“What’s the plan?”

“We need allies,” he said, still not looking at her. “The only place left to find them is the ghost zone.”

“What?” Paulina said. “You want us to—to go in there?”

“What about our families?” Kwan said.

“Isn’t it super dangerous in there?”

“Look, your families’ best chance is if we get help. And you don’t have to come with me, but I think it’s more dangerous to sit here and wait.”

Valerie rolled her eyes. How was she ever friends with these two? Here they were, whining about danger, when they were missing the most obvious issue with this plan. “Where are we going to get allies in the ghost zone? The whole thing’s just full of ghosts!”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but for a moment his eyes flashed acid green. Her hand snapped to the ectogun on her hip. “You’ve worked with ghosts before, Val.”

“No, I’ve worked with you before, and who the hell knows what you are.”

The words spilled out her mouth like poison, acid. She didn’t know if she meant them or not, but she did notice his full body flinch.

(She filed away the sore spot for future reference.)

“Jesus, Val,” Kwan said, running his hand through his already messed up hair.

She looked away. “Sorry.”

“Look, I have allies in the ghost zone. Even some enemies who, push comes to shove, will help me out if only so they get to kill me themselves. I’ve never seen or heard of this ghost before, okay? If it’s this powerful, and I’ve never heard of it, that’s a really, really bad sign. We need all the help we can get and we can’t afford to be picky about where it comes from.”

Valerie stared harder at the wall. Her skin crawled at the thought of making nice with ghosts. “Easy for you to say.”

“I’m working with all of you, aren’t I?”

Valerie’s eyes snap to meet Paulina’s, then Kwan’s. She’d forgotten, somehow, that Paulina and Kwan (and she, once upon a time) had always treated him and his friends like garbage. She’d forgotten that for all that Phantom was her enemy, she’d once used his cousin (or whatever that relationship actually was, who the hell knows anymore) as bait to capture and torture him.

“Fine,” she said. Deliberately, she dropped her hand from her gun. “So how are we doing this?”

The ghost zone was a lot… greener than Paulina expected. It made sense, in retrospect: green was the color of ectoplasm after all, but in her head she always imagined it to have more of a Sam Manson aesthetic. Black. Maybe some purple. But deep and dark and depressing.

(Last time she saw Sam Manson, Manson’s eyes were totally black and she was clawing at Paulina’s face, spittle flying from her mouth. Not a totally unexpected reaction, she had to admit, but there was no intent or reason, just pure feral violence.)

“So,” she said, “where exactly are we going?”

“The Far Frozen,” Fenton said, hands white-knuckled on the steering. “I have friends there.”

“It, uh, sounds cold,” Kwan said. “I didn’t bring my jacket.” More like a swarm of zombie-football players had tried to drag him down by his collar and he’d only escaped by letting his letterman jacket slide off.

“Frostbite’ll have coats.”

“And what is Frostbite?” That was Valerie, still glaring at Fenton like he’d pissed in her Cheerios. Paulina really didn’t understand what her issue was. Sure, Paulina was shocked to find out that Fenton was her beloved ghost boy, but she was more awkward than angry. Valerie seemed to take the whole situation personally.

“He’s a yeti.”

“A yeti? A dead yeti?” Paulina crossed her arms. “Are you telling me that yetis are real?”

“Look, not all ghosts were once alive. Sometimes, they’re the ghosts of beliefs or ideals or stories. Things we used to think about and believe in. Pandora’s here, too, along with a lot of pantheons, but they won’t tell me if they were ever alive.” Fenton’s lips curled up in a little smile and his face softened. “I’ve been trying to weasel it out of them for months.”

They lapsed into another brief silence before Fenton spoke again.

“Look, if you have any other questions… now might be the best time. It’ll be a bit before we get to the Far Frozen, and I don’t know if we’ll have any time after that.”

Paulina had a million questions, but she couldn’t think of one she wanted to ask right now. How? Why? When? That could all wait until after the day was saved. Her nerves were still twitching and she dug her fingers into her wrist to stabilize, remember the now and not two hours ago, watching Star, black-eyed and snarling with one arm bent out of shape, leap for her throat. She said nothing.

“Are we… just gonna stay in the For Frozen?” Kwan said. “Like, while you save the world?”

“Far Frozen, and yeah. That was the plan.”

“I’m not staying in some frozen wasteland so you and your ghost buddies can fuck up saving the world.”

Paulina couldn’t help staring at Valerie. What the hell was she talking about? Phantom—Fenton—Danny had saved the world plenty of times before.

“I was talking about Kwan and Paulina, Val. I know you’d never stay out of it.”

Valerie curled her lip. “Just so we’re clear. I have to keep an eye on you, anyway.”

“What is your deal, girl?” Paulina said. “If you two are our best shot at saving the world, being pissy at each other isn’t going to help.”

“Stay out of it!”

“The world is ending! We don’t have time for you to be stubborn.”

Kwan shrank back at their raised voices. “Uh, I don’t think this is a good time to fight, either.”

“Of course you don’t. Since when do you ever think for yourself?”

“Hey!”

“Shut up! Just be quiet, all of you. Jesus.” Danny turned around to glare at them, his eyes flashing green. “Valerie and I have worked together before even though she hated me. We can do it again.”

Paulina wasn’t so sure about him using “hate” in the past tense there, but Valerie was nodding.

“I can put my personal feelings aside to save the world, and fuck you for thinking anything different. But then, I guess you never thought much of me, did you?”

“What are you—”

“Seriously? You have to ask?”

Paulina bit her lip. When Valerie’s dad lost his job, Valerie lost everything. Including her friends. Like Paulina. No, she thought after a moment, I suppose I don’t.

Danny groaned from the front. “I changed my mind. No more questions. Let’s just… be quiet.”

Paulina had to agree.

The Far Frozen was, in fact, cold.

Kwan shivered in just his black t-shirt, but truthfully, his letterman jacket would’ve only helped so much. This was a bitter cold, a deep-winter cold that took three blankets, a hot chocolate, and fuzzy socks to banish.

Kwan really hated the cold.

“Great One!” the yeti in front of them said, arms (one of flesh and fur, the other of ice and bone) spread wide like he was offering a hug. Was it some kind of yeti cultural thing?

Fenton jumped up and embraced the creature. Apparently, it was just an offer of a hug.

“What brings you to my domain?” the yeti said once he put Fenton down. “And with such strange company as well!”

Fenton rubbed the back of his neck. “We need your help, Frostbite.”

Kwan’s teeth started to chatter. Valerie and Paulina’s arms were dotted with gooseflesh, alongside his own. How was Fenton not fucking freezing?

“Can we have this conversation inside?” Paulina said, rubbing her arms.

“W-w-w-with jackets?” Kwan’s chattering teeth brought out a stutter. Embarrassing. “Ma-y-be a f-fire?”

“Of course!” the yeti said. “Your fragile human bodies require excess warmth to survive. Please, follow me.”

The yeti, who introduced himself as Frostbite, led them to a cave where they were each presented with a delightfully warm coat, almost thick enough to banish the cold from Kwan’s bones.

(Almost.)

Valerie spent the whole trek glaring at Frostbite like she expected him to turn around and start biting the second she took her eyes off of him. She kept one hand on her blaster the whole time. Kwan couldn’t imagine going through life with that kind of paranoia. It must be exhausting.

The cave itself was almost cozy. It was decorated, had furniture and artwork and books like it was someone’s office. With a jolt, Kwan realized that it was an office. Frostbite’s, most likely. On the wall, there was a portrait of Phantom (Fenton?) standing victorious. What the fuck.

“What’s with the whole ‘Great One’ thing, by the way?” Kwan said.

“It is demonstrative of our unending love and gratitude for the Great One, who saved us all from subjugation at the hands of the villainous Pariah Dark!”

Valerie snorted. “‘Villainous.’ Like you’re not.”

Frostbite tilted his head in confusion. Kwan hated to admit it, but it was kind of adorable. “I am unsure what your meaning is. I assure you that we denizens of the Far Frozen have no villainous aims with any friend of the Great One.”

“I’m not gullible enough to believe you.”

Frostbite opened his mouth to reply again, but Fenton cut him off.

“Just ignore her, Frostbite. You’re not going to change her mind and we don’t have time to argue. A new ghost is attacking Amity Park, and we need your help.”

It all happened so fast.

All four of them escaped by sheer luck. Kwan managed to dodge the football team and hide in the bleachers next to Paulina, who’d nearly been bitten by Star and Sam in the bathroom. Valerie put on the Red Huntress suit as soon as she realized what was happening, giving her some protection against the spreading infection. And Danny?

Well, Danny could fly.

Danny stumbled upon the other three by chance, checking through the school for anyone who’d managed to avoid the plague, though he didn’t have much hope. He’d found Kwan, Paulina, and Valerie—two useless people and one who absolutely hated him.

Still, he couldn’t leave them there, unprotected. He grabbed Paulina and Valerie hoisted Kwan on her hoverboard and they’d raced to FentonWorks.

He’d intended to stay in ghost form the whole time, but he hadn’t realized that the infected were still capable of reason, at least on some level. That their attacks weren’t mindless. That his mom could hit him with an ectogun that would short out his powers, however temporarily.

And now three new people know who he is.

Three new people who he can’t trust in the slightest.

(What if they tell people? His parents? The school? The Guys in White?)

But he can’t worry about that, because the world is ending.

“I see,” Frostbite said after Danny had explained the situation. “This is… worrisome. If it escaped—”

“It? Frostbite, do you know what this is?”

“Mm. It sounds like Pestilence.”

Danny frowned. “Like… pesto?”

Paulina scoffed and whacked Danny on the head. “No, idiot. Pestilence. Like disease and stuff.”

“Yes. Considered by certain branches of Christianity to be one of the four Horsemen that herald the apocalypse.”

“One of four? You mean there’s three other horse-guys?”

“Indeed. The belief in this specific end of days has largely died out in the modern day, so the Horsemen became ghosts. However, they were so dangerous, so suddenly, that we ghosts banded together three hundred years ago to seal them away. If one of them is out…”

“...then the others might be out, too.” Danny rubbed at his forehead. “This gets better and better. What are the other three?”

“War, Famine, and Death,” Paulina said, counting them off on her fingers. Valerie raised an eyebrow at her. “What? Everyone knows that.”

“You are correct, Delicate One.”

“Um, my name’s Paulina.”

“None of those sound good.” Kwan scratched his head. “Also, why is Death separate? Don’t War and Famine and Pestilence all kill people? Does Death extra kill people or something?”

Frostbite shrugged. “How should I know? I’m already dead.”

“Can you be dead if you were never alive?”

“In any event,” Frostbite said, “your best chance is to put Pestilence back before any of the others break free.”

“And how are we supposed to do that, ghost? We barely escaped in the first place!”

Valerie had a point: they knew what they were fighting, now, but it didn’t solve the problem of we can’t beat this guy. Danny rubbed his temples. Maybe if he could get Skulker to work with them, Skulker would help convince the rest of the Ghost Zone and they might actually have a shot.

“Your best chance is finding the Panacea.”

Danny scrunched his eyebrows. “The what?”

“Panacea is, like, a mythical elixir thing that can heal any disease.” Danny, Kwan, and Valerie stared at Paulina, who was tapping on her phone. She looked up at them and rolled her eyes. “What? Everyone knows that.”

“Okay, so where’s this Panaderia at?” Valerie said.

“Patience, Suspicious One. Allow me to explain.”

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“The Panacea is hidden in the far reaches of the Ghost Zone, near Pariah’s Keep.” Frostbite pulled out the Infi-Map from his desk and rolled it out on the desk. “Legend tells that Pariah wanted it for himself, but could never get through its protections.”

“Protections? Like—ghosts and shit?”

“Not quite. The story goes that there are three trials one must overcome to obtain the Panacea. The first is a trial of courage. The second is a trial of compassion. And the third is a trial of truth.”

Valerie threw her hands up in the air. “What the hell does any of that mean?”

“The legend does not specify.”

“Of course,” Paulina said, “because when the world’s at stake, you want as much ambiguity as possible.”

“Quite.”

Courage, compassion, and truth. Well, Danny was decently brave. He spent half his time fighting ghosts, at least, and protecting people. It had to count for something. Compassion… he could probably work on that part, but he did care about people. That’s why he protected them. Truth?

That was a little stickier.

He lied, all the time. It was for a good reason, but he wasn’t sure the trials would see it that way. Maybe he would just have to tell the truth in the moment? Ugh, this whole thing was so complicated.

Maybe Valerie would do better at the truth thing. Though, she also had a secret identity. Whatever. They’d figure it out.

Lost in his thoughts, Danny didn’t notice Valerie approaching him until her hand wrapped around his arm and she pulled him away.

“Woah, what are you—” Danny squeezed his eyes shut as he was yanked back into the bright light of the outside. The snow sparkled in the glow that permeated the Ghost Zone almost like sunlight, but half as warm.

“If you and I are going to do this, we should have a plan.”

“A plan for what? We don’t even know what these trials will look like.”

Valerie’s hand tightened around his bicep. “So you just want to fly in blind? Hide behind me and let me figure it out so you can swoop in and ‘save the day’ or some bullshit?”

“That is not remotely what I—”

“Save it! You’ve been lying to me this whole time. For years. And I—I actually thought that you cared about me, which is the really stupid part.”

“I do care about you, Val.” Danny reached for her arm and she flinched back. He sighed and stared at the ground.

“No, you don’t. You can’t. Ghosts don’t care about anything or anyone. You just like the attention. You like the praise. You may have everyone else fooled but I see what you are. No more tricks, Phantom.”

Danny choked out a laugh. “And you wonder why I lied to you.”

Valerie sneered. “No, actually. It all makes perfect sense, ghost.”

His eyes stung, which was stupid. They really didn’t have time for him to go cry in a corner because Valerie didn’t like him. But his feelings didn’t care about the facts, and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“Whatever,” he said, and he tried to ignore how his voice cracked. “Let’s just get through this.”

“Yeah,” Valerie said. “Let’s get through this and then never talk to each other again.”

He’d really thought he could talk to her, if she ever found out. He’d really thought he could convince her. That hurt the most, he realized: he’d always known she’d be mad, but after what happened with Dani, there should’ve been room for them to be friends as Valerie and Danny and as Red Huntress and Phantom.

He was the stupid one, it turned out.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

Valerie turned away. “It is what I want.”

“Okay.”

They fell into awkward silence.

“So—”

Distant screaming cut Danny off.

Somewhere along the way, wires had gotten crossed in Danny’s brain. Screams of terror and pain were usually a sign that people should stay away. If some did get closer, it was usually out of curiosity and panic would take over once that curiosity was sated. Danny, of course, ran straight for the danger every time.

So he wasn’t surprised, exactly, when one of the yetis, eyes dripping black, lunged for him. He’d run into enough fights that ducking out of the way of her claws was second nature. Beside him, Valerie blasted the infected yeti away. Of course. Valerie was just like him: she ran into danger.

“We need to get out of here!” She fired again at another yeti, snarling in the snow.

Danny reached for the electric cold in his chest, but it was still weak and flickering from the gun his mom had used. He was powerless.

“Danny!” Before he could blink, something slammed into him and he was speeding away from the yetis on Valerie’s jetboard.

“Wait—Wait!” Struggling to stand on a fast, open-air vehicle, he pulled himself up using Valerie’s shoulder and she shot him a withering glare. “We can’t just leave them there!”

“Us getting infected doesn’t help anyone, and you trying to play hero to get on my good side won’t work anyway.”

“I’m not—” The jetboard tilted to avoid a leaping yeti. “Why won’t you listen—”

“I did listen to you! And you lied. So I’m done with that.”

Valerie angled down to the cave entrance where Kwan, Paulina, and Frostbite were and jerked to a stop. Danny couldn’t stop his momentum and tumbled off onto the floor of the cave, landing at Paulina’s feet.

“Um, hi?” Paulina said.

“We have a problem,” Valerie said.

Apparently the “problem” was a horde of zombie yetis right on Valerie and Danny’s tail. Paulina thought “problem” was underselling it a bit.

One black-eyed yeti burst through the opening, only for Frostbite to slam his flesh arm into it, knocking it into another oncoming yeti. He then hit a panel on the wall and sealed the cave shut. Panting, he lumbered over to Danny, green goo staining his pristine white fur, grabbed the map-thing off the desk, and thrust it into Danny’s arms.

“Great One and friends, you must take the Infi-Map and find the Panacea.” The yeti looked down at the goo (his blood?) and groaned in pain. “I fear I shall soon turn as well.”

“Frostbite…” Danny said, reaching out one hand like he wanted to comfort him. And wasn’t it weird, to think of a ghost needing comfort?

“Great One, you do not have time to worry about me. Help me by bringing back the Panacea and saving us all. You must go now, before I lose my rationality and attack you as well.”

Danny squeezed his eyes like he was staving off tears. “Okay. I—okay. I’m sorry.”

Paulina felt bad for the dork (hero), really, but they so didn’t have time for this. She latched onto his arm and yanked him away from Frostbite, who was starting to snarl. “Thank you, Mr. Frostbite,” she said. “Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Everybody hang on,” Danny said, opening the map. Paulina tightened her grip as Valerie and Kwan grabbed on. “Take us to the Panacea.”

Frostbite jumped at them, teeth bared, and the map whisked them away in a green light. Paulina wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this was not it. The sudden acceleration stole a scream from her throat, and the rush of air brought tears to her eyes. The last thing she saw was Frostbite’s icy arm, outstretched, and then she could see nothing but motion.

There was nothing to do but hang on for dear life, then all of a sudden they were standing again, in a cavernous hall. Paulina wobbled on her feet, then vomited.

A hand rubbed at her back, and she turned to see Kwan, awkward half-smile on his face. “You okay?”

The hall was massive and crumbling, stone pillars in pieces. A mosaic pattern tiled the floor, and she looked up to see a perfect reflection in the roof, except for a couple of holes where the swirling Ghost Zone peeked through.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Except for, you know.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, that.” She bent over and spat a couple times, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. She’d lost her water bottle sometime in the multiple life threatening situations they’d been in in the past 4 or so hours, so saliva was her best option. “We weren’t supposed to be here. We were supposed to just sit there in that frozen wasteland and be safe. I can’t do this, Kwan.”

“But you have to, now,” Valerie said. Her voice was firm, but not unkind. “We’re all here, and there’s no half-assing this like you half-ass school, alright?”

“Excuse you?”

“We both know you could do just fine in school if you tried, Polly! You’re smart, girl. And we need smart on this mission, not smart trying to be stupid.”

Paulina stared for just a moment, then laughed. “Girl, that was the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever heard.”

Valerie rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile. “At least it was a compliment.”

“Setting our bar real low here, huh?”

“Paulina, when my dad lost his job, you all dumped me as soon as you heard. I lost everything, and then I lost all my friends. You’re damn lucky I’m not just cussing you out.”

The words were almost humorous, but there was a bite to Valerie’s tone now. Paulina couldn’t blame her.

“Listen, I wanted to say—”

“Guys!” Danny's voice echoed through the chamber. “I found something!”

Paulina swore as Valerie and Kwan both ran over to where Danny stood in front of a massive double door.

“Is that—”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I think it’s the entrance. The trials are probably through here.”

“So,” Kwan said, pushing on the giant stone doors, “how do we—”

As he spoke, the doors lit up and slowly, slowly, rumbled open.

“Huh,” Kwan said.

It was dark inside. The glow of the Ghost Zone seemed to come to a complete halt, swallowed by whatever was beyond the threshold.

Paulina didn’t like it.

“Let’s all go through together,” Danny said.

Paulina nodded, grabbing Danny and Kwan. She couldn’t speak, her mouth suddenly dry. Why was she here? She wasn’t ready for something like this. She couldn’t save the world! Oh god, she needed to get out of here—

As one, they stepped through the door.

Kwan blinked.

“What?”

It was the Casper High cafeteria, except the Casper High cafeteria should be overrun with Pestilence’s zombies right now. But there was Dash and Paulina and Star (wasn’t Paulina back—where—what—what… day was it? Tuesday? Right, right. They had an essay due in Lancer’s class. Of course. Kwan had stayed up all night writing about… writing about…)

“Dude!” Dash said, waving Kwan over. “You ready to pummel Brantford tonight?” The last part of his sentence became a shout, directed at the whole cafeteria. Students applauded. Dash stood with one leg on his seat and one on the table, a true showman. Over in the corner, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, and Tucker Foley rolled their eyes. Dash threw his milk carton and beaned Fenton (Danny?) in the head. Milk splashed down his head.

Something twisted in Kwan’s gut.

Dash let out a roar and ripped off his shirt, tearing it in half. The cafeteria screamed in approval.

Kwan grinned up at Dash. For all his flaws, Kwan loved this guy.

(black, black blood dripping from his mouth and eyes, Dash snarling, reaching for Kwan—)

Kwan jerked back and tore his eyes away. Dash didn’t notice as his best friend looked for the exit. Kwan’s heart pounded. It wasn’t real. Not real. Just a bad dream. Or was this…?

In the background, Valerie (his friend? not his friend? no, no, they’d dropped her because she’d lost everything, right? but no, no that was cruel, too cruel even for Dash and Paulina, that couldn’t be right) was sneaking out the door just as Danny Fenton gasped and rushed in the same direction.

Something wasn’t right.

“Hey dude,” Kwan said, “I gotta run to the bathroom.”

Dash didn’t acknowledge him. He was leading the cafeteria in the Casper High fight song.

Kwan ran after Valerie and Fenton (Danny), bursting through the cafeteria doors just in time to see them turn the corner. “Wait!” he said, sprinting toward their shadows. Rounding the corner, he saw the Red Huntress and Danny Phantom (Valerie and Fenton—Danny, Danny, it’s Danny, Danny wants to be called his name, remember that he has to remember that—it was Valerie and Danny behind the heroes, he knew that, though he wasn’t sure how he knew) fighting a ghost.

It was massive and ugly, all claws and teeth and glowing fur. Kwan couldn’t see any eyes, but he’d learned after years of dealing with ghosts that that didn’t necessarily mean that it couldn’t see. It had six legs and two jaws that opened in concert to let out an earsplitting screech.

Glowing green spittle flew out of its unholy maw and landed on Kwan’s letterman jacket. Gross.

The ghost slammed Danny into a locker with one leg and used another to pin Valerie to the ground. It lowered its face to Valerie’s, ready to take a taste.

“Hey!” Kwan said, throwing the first thing he could grab—his phone—at the ghost. It bounced harmlessly off its head, but startled the ghost enough that Valerie was able to slip out of its hold and Danny was able to knock it down. A flash of light from Danny’s thermos, and the ghost was gone.

“Are you okay?” Kwan said. Valerie’s suit retracted and Danny transformed back into Fenton. Both of them were bruised, Danny cradling his ribs, but they were upright.

“We’re fine,” Valerie said with a glare.

“Hey,” Kwan said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Yeah, right.” Danny snorted and looked away. Kwan could still see milk in his hair.

Kwan frowned. “Look, I know it wasn’t much, but I’m just a guy! I did what I could!”

“Yeah, you did. Probably saved our lives with that phone.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“You only care because we’re heroes!” Valerie got in his face so he could clearly see the bruise lining her cheek. “You wouldn’t care if we were hurt because your bestie decided he wanted a punching bag. Helping the Red Huntress and Danny Phantom isn’t a risk to you. It makes you a hero! You’re so cool for helping to save the day. But you’d never help Valerie and Danny because what if someone saw ?”

“That’s not…”

“Face it, Kwan. You’re a coward. Always will be.”

Then they were gone, and Kwan was alone in the middle of a destroyed hallway.

“Kwan,” Dash said, “we need you to be on your a-game for this. They’ve got a real beast on their D-line, and you’re the only one with a chance of keeping him off me. I don’t wanna spend the whole game with my ass on the grass, so I’m counting on you, okay?”

Kwan blinked. They were huddled on the field, in full pads. Dash was giving the pre-game directions. It was gametime. Wasn’t it lunchtime? Or… was he… what?

“Kwan!”

“Uh, yeah! Yes. I’ve got it. Big guy, coming right at me. Yep.”

Was he going crazy? Something was wrong. Something other than what Valerie and Danny had said to him.

(And it was wrong, it had to be. He wasn’t a coward. He faced scary stuff all the time—a hazard of living in Amity Park. He couldn’t be a coward.)

The nameless d-lineman stared him down, eyes black as pitch behind the grill of his helmet. Kwan took a deep breath as he lined up against him. He could do this. This was easy. He was made for this.

A flash of green in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned his head just as Dash hiked the ball, and his mark blew right past him, laying Dash on the ground while Kwan stood, dumbly staring at the green he knew had to signal another ghost attack.

“Kwan!” Dash ignored the hand offered by one of the other offensive linemen. “What the hell, dude?”

Kwan jerked back. “What?” He took in the scene: Dash, with a clump of grass stuck in his helmet and dirt on his jersey. The ball, being moved backward by the referee. His teammates, glaring at him. “Oh. Oh, sorry. Just—I think there’s a ghost over there?” He pointed at the green light.

“So?” Dash said. “There’s always a ghost. Leave it for Huntress or Phantom to deal with. We’ve got a game!”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Danny and Valerie could totally handle it. They were heroes. It’s what they did. And football was what Kwan did. Division of labor and all that stuff.

And the thing is that Kwan was really good at football. He was the best left tackle in the state, easy. His coach said he could be the next Tony Boselli—though, hopefully without the injuries. With his mind on the game, no one got even close to Dash before he’d thrown the ball.

The forest glowed again. Kwan ignored it. There were eight minutes left on the clock for the second quarter.

A piercing scream floated over the field. Kwan turned to see Valerie, in her Red Huntress gear, slam into the ground head-first before being dragged back into the woods like a limp puppet.

“Oh shit.” This was bad. Valerie was hurt, bad. She wasn’t half-ghost like Danny. She was just a person. She needed medical care, and fast.

Could Kwan help?

Should Kwan help?

Kwan shook his head. Head injuries were no joke; he’d heard it from Coach often enough. Valerie needed help, and she needed it now. There was no time to wait for someone else to realize the problem.

He turned to leave the field.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dash said, catching his arm just as he reached the sideline.

“She’s hurt,” Kwan said. “She needs help.”

“We have a fucking game to play.” Dash’s fingers curled in the grill of Kwan’s helmet and jerking him around so their helmets clacked together. This close, Kwan could see the faint line of Dash’s eyelashes, the bright blue of his eyes. He thought about apologizing. He thought about kissing him.

How long had he been in love with his best friend? More importantly, how long had he let his best friend be an asshole because he loved him?

“I’m an idiot,” Kwan said.

“You don’t hear me arguing! Now get back on the damn field.”

“No.” Kwan almost continued, almost listed everything wrong with Dash, all the times he’d put everyone else around him down, all the people he’d hurt, how he’d hurt Kwan, even, but Dash would never, ever hear him. He knew that now. “I’m outta here,” he said instead, ripping off his helmet and sprinting toward where he’d last seen Valerie and Danny.

The world vanished.

Kwan blinked, and he was back in the chamber, staring at Valerie, Danny, and Paulina. “A test of courage…” he said to himself.

It was just like the room they first came into: a little more together, more whole, but otherwise almost identical. Across the room was another massive set of double doors. He turned around and saw the door, the first chamber beyond it. He’d barely stepped inside. It couldn’t have been more than a second or two.

“Yeah,” Valerie said with an eye roll, “that’s what we’ve been say—”

Kwan cut her off by sweeping her up in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that I never stuck up for you. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry that I was too scared to help you even when I knew it was wrong.”

Valerie froze, stiff in his arms. “What?”

“You were right, this whole time. I was a coward and a jerk and I’m sorry.”

Kwan could feel Danny and Paulina’s eyes on him, but for right now, all his focus was on Valerie.

“What the hell are you—”

“I was a really terrible friend to you. We all were. You were hurting and we all made it worse.”

Valerie pulled back. “You’re serious. This… you mean this.”

“Yeah. I mean it more than anything I’ve ever said to you before.

“You—do you think I’ll forgive you? Just like that?”

Kwan let her go. “No. You always could hold a grudge.” He looked her in the eye. “I still needed to say it.”

Valerie nodded, a rough jerk of her head. “Okay. Just so we’re clear. Not forgiven.” She looked off-balance and confused. It figured, since Kwan had very much just dropped this on her with no warning. Whatever vision he’d received, it seemed like it was limited to him and only him.

“That’s okay. Let me know if it changes?”

Valerie stared at him for a long moment, brow furrowed, before it smoothed and one corner of her lips curled in a smile. “Whatever.”

Kwan grinned. “I’ll get there.”

Paulina coughed. “Uh, not to break up a tender moment, but can we save it for after we get the magic potion?”

“Unfortunately, Paulina’s right,” Danny said. “Not that this isn’t great, but we need to figure out the test of courage. We’re running out of time.”

Kwan was pretty sure he’d already seen it, but he didn’t even know where to begin with explaining. Instead, he said, “Danny! You, too! I was also a jerk to you, when you didn’t deserve it and I knew you didn’t deserve it. I’m so sorry about that. I wanted to be liked but I—”

“Woah woah woah,” Danny said. “I… appreciate it, but we really don’t have the time right now, dude.”

“No. No, see, this is exactly the time. I think this is my test, okay? Well, some of it. Part two, or whatever. Part one was this weird vision thing that I had to go through like some kinda fucked up dream. And I think part two is—well, bringing it into the real world.” Obviously, he couldn’t bring the ghost attack and the football game into this real world, but realizing he was wrong? Taking responsibility?

He could do that.

“How is apologizing to us a test of courage?” Danny said, head tilted in confusion.

“I was scared of… something really fucking dumb, now that I think about it. And I hurt people because of it.” Kwan glanced at Paulina, who was looking anywhere but his face. “I’m not going to let it control me anymore. And I’m sorry that I ever did.”

Silence for a moment, like the room was holding its breath, then the entire chamber began to shake. The doors at the end of the room swung open and revealed another pitch black unknown beyond them.

“Wait. That was it?” Paulina said. “You’re telling me the Ghost King couldn’t get through these trials, but Kwan did it by saying I’m sorry?”

“Woo!” Kwan said, pumping his fists in the air. Take that, Mr. Lancer’s final exam. Who was going to achieve nothing in life now? Not Kwan, he passed the Trial of Courage. Official and capitalized. Helping to save the world and all that shit.

“Well, let’s not look this particular gift horse in the mouth. Are we all ready for the next chamber?” Danny said.

Paulina coughed. “Hang on, does anyone have a breath mint? My mouth still tastes nasty.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kwan fished in his pocket and held out a stick of gum.

“Thanks.”

“Ooh, can I have some?” Danny said.

“Sure, dude!” He grabbed three more sticks of gum, handed on to Danny, who grinned, stuck one in his mouth, and held out the last one for Valerie. “Val? You want in on this?”

Valerie stared at the gum like she thought it might bite her. “Yeah,” she said after a moment. She took the gum with her thumb and forefinger, delicately. “Yeah, okay. Thank you.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s get a move on.”

As they headed for the inky blackness at the far end of the room, Kwan felt something grab his arm. He whirled around to see Danny, hand curled around Kwan’s elbow.

“Thank you,” Danny said, “for, y’know.”

“The gum?”

“No. Well, yes, but that’s not—I meant for apologizing.”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah. Honestly, should have done it forever ago. Just kept coming up with excuses, y’know?” Kwan laughed. “An apology was really the bare minimum.”

Danny let go of his arm and started walking again. “You’d be surprised. I can’t remember the last time anyone apologized for hurting me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Dude, that’s messed—”

They crossed the threshold.

Paulina was much more confident going into the next chamber. These trials were easy! If all Kwan had to do was apologize, then compassion was probably something like saving a kitten and truth was something like—well, she was less sure about that one. Maybe just telling a secret? Or something?

Except—something was different. Last time, they’d walked in and immediately the chamber had brightened. Kwan apparently had some weird vision as part of his trial, of course, but none of that happened.

Instead, it was still pitch black, and she could no longer feel Valerie’s arm where she’d latched on, or Kwan’s hand. “Guys?” she said, and her voice was swallowed by the void. “Hello?”

“—see her haircut?—”

“—the look on his—”

“—honestly thought I liked her!”

Paulina’s voice, first a whisper, then louder and louder until she couldn’t hear her own thoughts. Her laughter, shrill and piercing, reverberated through the space. She pressed her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to block out the noise. Her head started to pound and hot tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!” She was sure she yelled the words, but she still couldn’t hear over her own laughter.

“Why? Why should I stop?”

“It hurts. It hurts!”

“Aw, but that’s never stopped you before!”

It was so loud. A sudden, sharp pain in her ear and she could feel warm liquid on the hand covering it.

“Please! Please! I’ll do anything!”

Suddenly, silence. Paulina fell to the floor with relief. She pulled her hands away from her head; the right one was wet and smelled of metal. Liquid dripped from her ear—had it started to bleed?

“Anything?”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Entertain me!”

“I—what?”

In front of her, stark against the black of the room, Valerie appeared, then Danny, then Mikey, then Sam Manson, then Tucker Foley, more and more and more of her classmates, standing and blinking in confusion at her.

But she was with Valerie and—or was she? But Manson was definitely not—this couldn’t be real. Was this real? She stared at her hand. Was she real?

“Paulina?” Valerie said. She sounded like she was underwater. The black of the room turned into a hallway. Casper High. It was—Friday. There was a football game she had to cheer for. She needed total focus for that. If only the stupid voice would leave her alone.

“I said entertain me!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Valerie stared at her. “It’s your name, girl. Are you okay?”

“Make jokes! Like you always do. I gave you your material and everything!”

Material? Paulina looked at the crowd, and realized that all of them were… well, losers. The voice just wanted her to make fun of them?

Nothing she hadn’t done before.

“I’m better than you, apparently,” Paulina said, ignoring the pit in her stomach. “What were you thinking with that outfit?” It was a dumb, dumb comment. Low effort. It was just—in that moment, Paulina couldn’t think of anything to mock. Nothing about Valerie seemed worth jeering at.

Valerie looked down at her—admittedly, fine—shirt and frowned. “Jesus. What is your prob—your ear’s bleeding!”

Sure enough, pus and blood painted the palm of Paulina’s hand, and she could still feel something rolling down her neck.

(“Still”? When did this happen?)

“We need to get you to the nurse’s office,” Manson said, crouching down beside her. Why was Paulina on the floor?

“Oh,” she said. Manson offered her a hand up, and she took it. “Thank you. Sorry, Valerie. Your shirt’s fine.”

A piercing screech, metal on metal, filled the air. Paulina doubled over, hands back over her ears.

“That wasn’t funny, Polly!”

She could feel hands on her arms, but her eyes were squeezed shut and she could hear nothing but the voice and its (her) hideous laughter.

“You just want me to be mean!”

“Duh! Mean is funny, right?”

Paulina opened her eyes just enough to see Valerie, Manson, Foley, and Danny in front of her, concern in the lines of their faces. Danny’s mouth was moving.

“Look! It’s the little tech weirdo. He names all his phones. Like, unironically.” Foley stood up and directed other students away. Danny moved past her to do the same on the other side of the hallway. “Or the ghost kid. His parents were already freaks, and now he’s an extra special kind of freak. Easy money.”

“Please. Please just stop.”

“Entertain me, and I will. Tit-for-tat, babe.”

Paulina felt a sob jump out of her throat. Why wasn’t she just doing it? It hurt so bad. She’d do anything for it to stop.

So why wasn’t she doing this?

“I don’t want to!” she wailed. What she must sound like. What she must look like. Surrounded by people who had every reason to hate her, bleeding and crying and talking to nothing. “Pick something else!”

“But you do it all the time.”

“I change my mind, then!”

Was it that simple? All along? Could she just—change her mind? Be a better person?

“No you don’t.”

“I don’t want to hurt people anymore!”

The noise, somehow, got louder. Paulina vomited. Something wet trickled from her other ear. She wanted this to end. But she didn’t want to hurt people to do it. Why did she only get two options?

“So you’ll get hurt instead?”

“No!” She curled in on herself, falling back to her knees and closing her eyes again. “You’re choosing to hurt me. You could choose not to!”

“And, what? That’ll make it better? You’ll forgive me and we’ll be best friends?”

If Paulina could think clearly, if she could do anything beyond speak the first thing that sprung to her lips, she might have lied. She might have said “Of course I’ll forgive you” so the stupid voice might listen to her. This, however, was not a choice she had the brainpower to make right now.

Instead, she said: “Of course not! You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Then why should I?”

“Because I’m a person and it hurts!”

“You’re a little late to that realization, querida. Wasn’t Valerie a person when you ditched her? Do you think you can be Valerie’s friend again after this? That you can prove yourself to her or something?”

“I can’t fix it! But I can stop making it worse!”

The noise stopped. Blessed silence returned.

Paulina looked up through tear-blurred eyes and saw Valerie, Danny, and Kwan crouched over her. She couldn’t hear past the ringing in her ears

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat ached. She must have been yelling, before. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

The exhaustion hit her all at once. Her ears pulsed with pain as she continued to babble apologies. The ground shook beneath her and Kwan caught her before she could topple over. A hand rubbed at her back, soothing circles, and she curled into Kwan’s chest.

“Think ‘m gon’ sleep, now, mkay?” she said, and then she was out.

“Holy shit,” Danny said, collapsing next to Paulina and Kwan and brushing the hair out of her face. “Is she—is she okay?”

Kwan held his fingers over her wrists. “I think so. Her ears are bleeding, though.”

“What happened?” Valerie said. “Your trial wasn’t anything like this!”

“I don’t know! It’s not like I’m an expert.”

“Stop yelling,” Paulina said, shifting against Kwan’s chest. “I can’t really hear you anyway.”

“Polly!” Kwan said, naked relief on his face. “Are you okay?”

Paulina pointed to her ears. “I can’t hear you, querido. My ears—it was really loud. In the trial.”

Dried blood still stained her neck. Danny had a feeling that “really loud” was an understatement.

In halting sentences, Paulina explained her trial. The voice, the laughter, the deal for making the pain stop. Danny was impressed; he wasn’t sure he would have withstood it, in her position. He could understand, now, how Pariah wouldn’t have made it through the trials.

They asked questions throughout, which Paulina couldn’t hear. It got a little better when they spoke slower and enunciated, but it would be a struggle until her ears healed, Danny feared.

“Let’s go over what we know,” Danny said, counting off on his fingers. “One, in both of the trials, only one person was picked to do the trial. Two, neither of you remembered it was a trial while it was happening, right?”

Kwan and Paulina both shook their heads, though Paulina winced as she did it. “It felt real,” Kwan said. “Like—I knew something was wrong, but whenever I tried to focus on that wrongness, it vanished.”

“I knew it was a trial at first,” Paulina said, throat scratchy, “but when it got too loud, I couldn’t really think straight. Then I was in school, and I completely forgot about the trial thing, even though the noise was still there. I forgot it wasn’t supposed to be there.”

Danny wanted to apologize to Paulina, for getting her involved in this, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t exactly appreciate it. She looked rough. Dried tear-streaks on her face that she hadn’t wiped off yet, hair a mess like she tried to rip it out, blood trails from her ears. They were pretty sure she’d burst both eardrums during her trial.

(It was a little over-the-top, Danny thought, to torture someone in a trial of compassion. Paulina had her flaws, sure, but that didn’t mean she needed to be hurt to learn a lesson. Kwan’s trial had really lulled them all into a false sense of security.)

(He could see, now, why Pariah Dark could never make it through.)

“Three, the trials seem to pick people on purpose.” His eyes slid over to Kwan and Paulina. “I think it picks based on those who… struggle the most with the thing the trial is all about.”

“Huh?” Paulina said. Right. She could only kind of hear right now.

“He said the trials picked us because I’m a coward and you’re mean.”

Danny winced. “That’s not—”

“Oh. Well, duh.”

“So, if truth’s next, it’ll be you, right?” Valerie said, looking Danny up and down.

“Hey!”

“You’re the one with the big secrets here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you forget that you have a secret identity, too?” Danny felt like Valerie was probably right, all things considered. His secret was, ultimately, way bigger than hers.

Still, she was getting on his nerves. He’d known she had a grudge against ghosts, especially him, but this was getting ridiculous. For fuck’s sake, she’d worked better with him on Skulker’s island, when she thought he was a full ghost.

“No, but my dad knows all about it. And so did you, apparently, though you lied about that, too.”

“Oh, wow, two whole people. Except that I told your dad, not you. And you never told me anything! I happened to find out on my own.”

“Uh, guys?” Kwan said.

Valerie rolled her eyes. “Okay, yeah. But we broke up because I didn’t want to endanger you. And now it turns out you can take care of yourself just fine!”

“Oh, so if you knew I was half dead, we’d still be together? That’s my fault now?”

“Of course we wouldn’t. But I lied to you to protect you. You lied to me to protect yourself!”

“Yeah! I did! Now think for, like, two seconds about what I needed protection from!”

“Guys!” Kwan said. “Could you stop?”

“You know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe it will be me. But not because I lie more than you. Maybe these tests are meant for humans only.”

Danny felt his eyes flash green. “So that’s what this is about? You hate me because I’m a freak?”

“I hate you because—”

“Okay!” Kwan said, jumping between them. “I think this conversation needs to stop immediately, before you both say… even more things you will regret. Valerie, dude, I know we’re just now trying to maybe be friends again, but as your maybe-future friend: you’ve gotta lay off.”

Danny stared and blinked at Kwan a couple times. Was Kwan… defending him?

“You’re taking his side?”

“Yeah, I am. I think you both need to cool down, but you’re wrong about this. And I think you know it, too.”

Valerie huffed. “I’m not wrong.”

Danny was so, so tired. “Okay.” He turned away and walked over to Paulina, who was still on the ground, and offered her a hand.

She stared up at him before grabbing on and pulling herself up. “She is wrong. She’s just… stubborn.”

Danny sighed. “You heard all that?”

“Bits and pieces. I got the gist. Hey, do you think the Panacea will fix my ears?” Danny opened his mouth to reply, but Paulina kept talking. “Never mind. What I mean is: sorry you had to hear that. I know you care about her, you know? It must really suck to hear this stuff from her in particular.”

“Yeah, I knew she wouldn’t take it well, but I didn’t think she’d take it this badly. I mean, she was okay with Danielle!”

“I’ll be real with you, I only caught like half of that, but, uh, who’s Danielle?”

Oh, duh. Danny smacked himself in the face. “Right, sorry. Danielle’s my half-ghost cousin. Well, we call each other cousins, but technically she’s my clone. She’s her own person, and all that but—yeah. Anyway, the guy who cloned her is also a giant asshole and he was planning to melt her down to study her remains, but Valerie helped me save her.” This time, he spoke a bit louder, and made sure to enunciate so Paulina could try to read his lips too.

“Dude. You have a clone?”

“Yeah.”

“Someone cloned you?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?”

Danny laughed. “Yeah, that’s about right. He’s a real fruitloop, that Vlad.”

“Hang on—not Vlad Masters?”

Danny laughed harder. “Yep!”

“What the fuck, babe!”

“You’re telling me.”

“Why?”

Danny started to answer, then thought better of it. It was, after all, a long story, and he had a feeling that, although she was great at faking it, Paulina was still only catching parts of what he said. “I’ll tell you when your ears are better,” he said, tugging on his own then pointing at hers to make his point clearer.

Paulina rolled her eyes. “Fine. But I’m holding you to that! This is some juicy, juicy gossip”—Danny flashed her a panicked look—“that I will take to my grave and never speak of again.”

Paulina kept talking as they rejoined Kwan and Valerie. Mostly jokes about how he should change his ghostly outfit (“Seriously, querido, you’d look great in a crop-top!”) or about him out-gothing Sam (“You went and died! Manson will never be that hardcore.”).

Maybe he and Paulina could be friends after this.

Valerie was sure she was right.

She was sure she was right as she and Kwan waited in stony silence for Paulina and—for the others to join them. She was sure she was right as they walked in a group, the other three linking arms while she refused Kwan’s hand. She was sure she was right as they crossed into the black.

She was less sure when the room stayed dark.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” she said. She worried at her lip for a moment, then yelled, “I’m the Red Huntress! Is that the truth this thing wants?”

“Uh, yeah,” Danny said. “I already know that, Val.”

Valerie grinned, just a little. It wasn’t like anyone could see her, and the fact that he was here, too? Vindicating. “Well, look at that. It’s both of us!”

“Yeah? It’s both of us. Together. In some strange room. In the dark.”

“Okay, well I said my big truth. You say yours.”

“What? Why?”

“We need to get through this trial, dumbass!”

“Trial?”

“Yeah, the truth trial. Obviously we’re both in it—wait. You don’t know it’s a trial! Ha, then this is totally your trial and I just got pulled in for… reasons. I knew it!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why is it so dark? Where are we?”

Valerie waved him off, though he couldn’t see it. “Oh, that’s not important. What is important is that you need to tell the truth. Probably to me, which is why I’m here.” Yeah, that made sense. He needed to tell the truth about how he’d hurt her, how he’d hurt everyone, how he’d played hero to earn his fawning fans. He needed to stop pretending to be something he wasn’t. And she was here because she deserved to hear it directly from him.

“What truth? Again, Val, what are you talking about?”

“Stop calling me Val. We’re not friends.”

“What do you—”

“Did the trial make you forget? I know you’re a ghost.”

“Oh.”

“I destroy ghosts.”

“But… But I’m also a human.”

“You’re a liar, is what you are.”

“For good reason.”

“No, I’m a liar for good reason. You’re just a coward!”

There was a long moment of silence where Valerie could only hear her own heaving breaths. Then, softly: “Wouldn’t you be?”

“No!”

“Really? You wouldn’t be the slightest bit afraid that people would try to kill you?”

“No one would kill you.”

“You said you know I’m a ghost and then immediately threatened to destroy me.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Oh? How was I supposed to take ‘I destroy ghosts’ then? A joke?”

“Stop trying to turn this around on me. You’re the one who needs to tell the truth!”

“What truth? You already know the secret!”

“I’m talking about the rest of it! How you lie and manipulate people, how you fake being a hero, how you ruined my life!”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes.”

“Is that really what you think?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Gah! It’s impossible to talk to you about this shit.” There was a rustling sound, like he was walking away.

“Hang on! You can’t walk away; you still need to complete your trial!” She ran to where she heard him moving, tripped, and then she was falling, falling, falling…

…and landing with a thud in the same black void.

“She’s a ghost! And I destroy ghosts.”

“But she’s also a human!”

Was that… her? Back when they had been talking about Danielle. Danielle, who was human and ghost and just a little girl. Valerie and—they had saved her from Vlad, who was also human and ghost.

“Was this a trick, too? Was Danielle a liar, too?” she yelled. No answer. “Where the hell did you go? We aren’t done here!”

“Valerie?”

Valerie twitched. That voice—

There, bright and glowing against the blackness of the room, was Danielle.

“Valerie!” Danielle said with a grin, flying forward and giving her a hug. Valerie returned it with stiff arms.

“Hey, you… Uh, I’m looking for your… cousin. Do you know where he is?”

“Danny? No, I haven’t seen him in ages. I’m kinda off exploring the world, y’know? Anyway, how’ve you been?”

“I’m—good. Look, I really need to find him.”

Danielle floated up and shrugged. “Well, he’s not here, but I can help you look.”

Valerie nodded. “Thanks, kid. And, uh, would you mind changing back to human?”

“Huh?” Danielle landed on whatever passed for the ground in this featureless void. “Why?”

“It’s just—uncomfortable, is all.”

Something strange passed across Danielle’s face.

“Oh. Well, I mean, I’ll be a lot faster if I can fly.”

Valerie clenched her fists. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

Danielle’s answering smile was tense as she lifted herself through the air. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Wait, if you leave how will”—Danielle zoomed away with an impressive burst of speed—“we find each other. Great.” Valerie groaned and slumped to the ground. “They just keep running away, huh?”

“Yeah,” Star said, “I wonder why that is.”

Star and Valerie were on a hill, watching the stars. Star was really good at finding constellations, seeing connections where Valerie saw points, seeing a picture where Valerie saw light pollution, so stargazing was always fun with her. She’d always loved space because of her name, she said. She wanted to know all about what she was named after.

The moon was full and bright. Valerie could see Star clearly, half-swallowed by the long grass. It was a cool, pleasant night. Peaceful, in all the ways Valerie was not.

(She was looking for someone. To do… something.)

“It’s ‘cause they know I’m right,” Valerie said.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you need to be less sure.”

“What are you—”

And Valerie was falling again.

Detention with Lancer. Never fun, not even when he kicked his feet up and fell asleep. She and Phantom had both gotten it for skipping class to fight ghosts. The ghost himself was sitting in the back of the class, balancing his pencil on his nose and staring out the window.

After a long moment of silence, Phantom said, “You don’t have any questions for me?”

“Already know all the answers.”

“Oh yeah? Then why’d I fight Pariah Dark?”

“For attention.”

“I thought I would die.” Phantom’s tone was light, conversational. This isn’t a big deal to him, just a fact. “Like, all the way. I thought that suit was gonna kill me if Pariah didn’t kill me first.”

“You’re lying.”

The pencil fell to the desk with a clatter. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Whenever I say anything you can’t argue against, you just claim I’m lying.”

“It’s because you’re a liar,” Valerie said without thinking.

“See! There you go again. Not addressing my actual point, just deflecting.”

Valerie opened her mouth to refute again, then paused. Calling the ghost a liar had become reflex. She didn’t have to think about anything he said if it was all a lie, after all. Then again… “But you did lie to me.”

“Yeah. I’ve been lying to everyone for years now.”

“So why should I trust you?”

Phantom shrugged. “Have I ever hurt anyone?”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t start.”

“You could say the same thing about literally anyone, though.”

“You ruined my life!”

“You told me you liked being a ghost hunter. That you like your life as it is right now. Was that a lie?”

Valerie grit her teeth. “No.”

“Then why are you so upset with me?”

“Because you lied!” Valerie yanked her hair in frustration. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Not because I’m a ghost?”

“No!”

Valerie gasped even as the word came out of her mouth. Lancer grumbled in his sleep at the front of the classroom and shifted to the side. Phantom grinned at her, showing off the fangs in his mouth.

“Wait, no, that’s not… I’m also mad because of the ghost thing! Ghosts are evil.”

“Am I evil?”

Yes, she wanted to say, but her lips wouldn’t form the word.

“Is Danielle evil?”

Danielle, screaming, dissolving into goo, and Valerie put her there—

“No.”

“Are you angry? Or are you using anger to cover the hurt?”

“I—I’m not—”

And Valerie was falling again.

“One of these days, ghost,” Jack Fenton said, shaking his fist, “I’m going to catch you and rip you apart molecule by molecule!”

“She’s a ghost!” Valerie said. “And I destroy ghosts!”

“Ghosts are nothing but the imprint of a human consciousness manifesting in ectoplasm after death,” Maddie Fenton said, shocking the ghost on her table as it screamed. “They don’t actually feel anything.”

And then—

Frostbite slammed the door closed, even though he got infected. Even though he was a full ghost and shouldn’t have cared about them at all.

And Danielle flew away, young and eager to explore the world. A child, who’d never really been free before.

And Danny—

Danny laughing with her. Danny hiding with her from Dash and Nathan. Danny forgiving her for being mean in school. Danny begging her to help him save Danielle (a child, who’d done nothing wrong and Valerie had given her away to a man who would destroy her). Danny, just as invested in protecting that stupid flour sack for their grade. Danny, revealing her to her dad, smug little grin on his face. Danny, who could’ve died that day and no one would have ever known what he’d done for them.

Something ached in her heart.

“No,” she said, choking on a sob, as the scenery around her changed again. “No, I can’t be this wrong.”

She was in a lab, now. Jack and Maddie Fenton stood to her left. To her right stood two GiW agents. On the table in front of her, strapped down, was Phantom.

Was Danny.

“Ms. Gray,” one of the agents said, “we were so pleased when you brought us your capture. Such a unique specimen will fuel our research for decades.”

Valerie swallowed. Danny stared at her, uncanny green eyes boring into her own. He didn’t say anything.

“Decades?” she said.

“Of course! We’ll take it slow; we wouldn’t want to destroy it before we’ve learned everything we can. Not like some people.” He looked over at Jack and Maddie, who rubbed their heads sheepishly.

Decades. Decades as a test subject. If Danny was just a ghost, it shouldn’t matter. He couldn’t feel anything.

Right?

Valerie couldn’t look away from his face. He looked scared.

“No,” she said. Her fingers clenched into fists

“Hm?” the other agent said.

“No, I won’t let you do this. It… This isn’t right!” With every word she spoke, she became more sure.

Danny was afraid. It wasn’t a lie or an act. He was really, truly afraid.

“Valerie?” Maddie said. “Dear, you know it’s not a person, right? It can’t actually feel.”

“You’re wrong!” She stepped forward, pulled out her gun, and blasted away the restraints holding Danny down. “I’ve been wrong, too. This whole time.”

“It’s out!” one agent said, pulling his ectogun and firing. “Recapture maneuvers, now!”

“What did you do?” Jack grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Danny flew around the room, avoiding the ectoblasts from the agents and Maddie. “What did you do?”

“The right thing,” she whispered. And she knew that, this time, she was correct, and it hit like a bullet to the chest.

Then she was soaring, ripped out of Jack’s grasp, flying through walls and agents until she was outside the building, in Danny’s arms, free.

He set her down on a rooftop across the city. “Thank you,” he said. “I couldn’t—”

Heaving sobs burst out of her. “I’m sorry! God, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I—Huh?”

Fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “I just didn’t want to admit it. For so long, Danny.”

“Are you okay?”

Valerie laughed. “No. I’ve been convincing myself that I was right and ghosts were all evil all the time because if they weren’t… if they weren’t, then what was I even doing?”

Danny’s face, inexplicably, softened. “Val—”

“And then I found out your secret, and all I could think was that you lied. That you didn’t trust me. And I knew why! But if I acknowledged it, then I had to acknowledge everything. All the—all the ways I hurt you. What if I hurt other ghosts that did—didn’t deserve it either?” Valerie hiccuped. “I—oh, God, I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster. You’re human. This is the kind of mistake that humans make. Me included.”

“I would have let Vlad destroy Danielle if you didn’t talk me out of it. I would have been fine with it!”

“But you didn’t. Don’t torture yourself over things you didn’t do. It doesn’t help anything.”

Valerie’s throat was sore, aching with each new sob, but she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I made you a liar in my head so I could keep lying to myself. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Danny’s arms circled around her, and she let her head hit his shoulder.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

Kwan didn’t expect Valerie to come back crying.

He’d kind of figured she’d get the trial. She’d been so sure it would be Danny that Kwan thought it had to be her. Like, cosmically or whatever. And after Paulina’s… whatever that was, he knew it would more than likely be intense. But ever since her dad had lost his job, Valerie had lost her softness, too. She didn’t cry when she was upset anymore. Instead, she got angry. She got even.

But when the light flashed on, Valerie was huddled on the floor, hugging herself, sobs heaving from her chest. Her face was dark and splotchy, dark stains of mascara trailing down her cheeks. Time was Kwan would have run to her, put his arms around her, rocked her back and forth. But this wasn’t that Valerie, and he wasn’t that Kwan.

He walked slowly, and knelt beside her.

“Valerie?”

“Oh God,” she said, choking through her sobs. “I—I really messed up.”

Kwan couldn’t help but turn his head and stare at Danny, holding Paulina up across the room. If she meant what he thought she meant… well, he couldn’t exactly argue.

“Yeah,” he said. She looked at him, tears still dripping from her eyes. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Valerie lifted a shaking hand and wiped at her eyes and cheeks and chin. “Ugh, nasty.” She looked tired more than anything. “Yeah. Yeah, I gotta do something, right?”

“You should probably start with walking. I don’t think he’s gonna come to you.”

Kwan stood with her, holding her elbow as her knees started to tremble. He glanced over her real quick, looking for any injuries like Paulina’s, but whatever had messed her up seemed to be more mental than anything.

That didn’t stop her from almost collapsing when she took her first step, grabbing on to Kwan’s hand at the last moment.

“Val!” Danny said, making an aborted gesture like he wanted to come over to help.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Just give me a sec.”

Kwan didn’t quite buy it, but she was determined. He kept his arm out, just in case she fell, but with each step she became steadier, almost normal by the time she reached Danny and Paulina.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wrong about you. About everything. And I knew it, see, but I didn’t want to face it. So I just kept lying to myself. And I hurt you because of it. And I’m sorry.”

Danny froze, staring at Valerie in disbelief. “Oh,” he said.

Kwan looked over at the door at the far end of the chamber. He awaited the tell-tale rumble, the sign that they’d finished the last trial and the door was opening, but nothing came. Confused, he stared at Valerie, who shook her head.

“I don’t think I’m done just yet,” she said, sitting down in front of Danny. “I’ve done a lot of talking since this started. Said a lot of things… things that I regret. I haven’t listened, much. I think I need to listen, now.”

“Listen to what?” Danny said. “Like, what am I supposed to say?”

“Anything you wanted to tell me.” Tears spilled over her eyes again and her voice broke. “I’ll believe you. I swear.”

Danny laughed, just a little. “Even if I said the sky was green?”

Valerie pointed at one of the holes in the ceiling that revealed the swirling Ghost Zone outside. “Isn’t it?” she said.

Kwan couldn’t help but laugh at that, too, just as Danny and Valerie fell into giggles. Paulina mostly looked confused, but Kwan didn’t really have a good way to explain it to her right now. He waved her off.

“Well, I guess—Vlad’s a half-ghost, too. I thought you should know that.”

“Oh, uh, I already did. Know that, I mean”

“You did?”

Kwan held up his hands before they could get any deeper into that discussion. “Wait, wait—the mayor?”

“Yeah. He wants to kill my dad, marry my mom, and make me his evil half-ghost apprentice. So. It’s uncomfortable at best but sometimes I egg his house.”

“You egg his house?”

“After he cloned me, I figured all bets were off.”

“He cloned you?”

“Jesus, is that where Danielle came from?”

“Who’s Danielle?”

“My cousin. Well, technically, yes, she’s my clone, but that’s weird so we just call each other cousins.”

“Yeah,” Kwan said, feeling faint, “that makes the situation much less weird.”

Danny shrugged. “It’s just my life, dude. You get used to it.”

“Hang on,” Valerie said. “I don’t think we can gloss over the fact that Vlad Masters wants to murder your father, marry your mother, forcibly adopt you, and clone you, and the proportional response is egging his house?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “It’s not proportional but I’m not rich enough to do much more than be petty. If I reveal his identity to anyone then he’ll reveal me, too. Mutually Assured Destruction, and all that. Only so much I can do outside of that.”

“Okay. Okay. Shit. This is crazy. I hate this.”

“Tell me about it. How did you know Vlad was a ghost, anyway?”

“Oh, uh, I flew back to check on him after Danielle. And he was. Monologuing.”

Danny laughed again. “Of course he was. He’s such a little loser. You know his cat?”

“Yeah, Maddie—oh shit, that’s your mother’s name.”

(What the fuck, Kwan thought. What the fuck the mayor was so creepy.)

“Yeah, heh, well, the cat was my idea.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I told him he was so lonely and pathetic that he should stop trying to get my mom to love him since she never would and instead fill that hole with a cat. I still can’t believe he listened to me.”

They broke down into laughter again. Kwan thought it sounded a little hysterical, but he figured they deserved to go a little crazy.

After they calmed down a bit, Valerie wiped at her eyes. “What else?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, is there anything else you want to say to me? Stuff to tell me?”

(Kwan actually wanted to spend a little more time on the whole the mayor is an evil ghost thing, but this wasn’t his show.)

And Danny talked.

He talked about walking into his parents’ portal, thinking it was broken. About turning it on while he was still inside. About how much he sucked with his powers to start. About Ember McClain (she’s a ghost?) and Spectra (she’s a ghost?) and the Lunch Lady. About how scared he was, fighting Pariah Dark. About how much fun it was to fly. How funny it was to mess with Vlad.

Sometime, in the middle of all this, the door opened. Kwan and Paulina both felt the rumble, both looked at the door, but Valerie and Danny were too engrossed in their conversation to notice. Paulina opened her mouth to say something, but Kwan shook his head. The fate of the world didn’t rest on them moving immediately. Thirty more seconds wouldn’t matter.

After another minute, Paulina raised her eyebrows at him, jerking her head at the door. Kwan bit back an instinctive retort. She wouldn’t hear it anyway, and she wasn’t wrong. They couldn’t wait forever.

“Uh, guys?” he said, when there was a slight lull. “Not to interrupt, but the door’s open.”

Valerie and Danny’s head whipped around. “Oh,” Valerie said. “Right.”

Kwan winced. They’d been having a good time! Getting along! He’d been hoping for that since the beginning of this mess and now that they were there, he had to break the tender moment up. Unfair.

Necessary, but unfair.

“We’re done, right?” Danny said. “I mean, this last one should be the Panacea?”

“Should be,” Valerie said. “Unless we fucked up somehow. Or that legend was wrong.”

Kwan peered beyond the opening, but just like every other time, it was pitch black. They’d only find out for sure by walking in.

“Hang on a sec,” Danny said, eyes squeezed in concentration. Before Kwan could ask what he was doing, a bright white light engulfed the room.

When Kwan could see again, there was Danny Phantom, standing in place of Danny Fenton.

“Woo! Finally!” Danny said, floating up and doing a couple flips.

“Wait,” Kwan said, “could you… not do that before?”

Danny laughed. “Of course not, dude, or I’d’ve been in ghost mode the whole time. Ghost Zone is dangerous and all. That gun really knocked the wind out of me; I only just got the connection to my ghost half back.”

Kwan had been kind of avoiding thinking about Danny’s ghost half because he wasn’t really sure what to think. He didn’t have a problem with it, not like Valerie did, but it still felt… weird. How could someone be half-dead? Wasn’t it, like, painful?

Watching now, the grin on Danny’s face as he unleashed a bright explosion of ectoplasm like a firework over their heads, he knew there was nothing to worry about. Danny was half-ghost. Danny was happy about it.

It was good enough for him, Kwan decided.

He glanced over at Valerie. A smile played around her lips. Paulina was cheering beside her, elbow resting on Valerie’s shoulder. In a moment, they’d all link arms and walk through the last door, a truly united front.

Kwan cheered with Paulina as Danny landed. Valerie’s almost-smile became a grin. Danny bowed, a huge sweeping motion.

He could get used to friends like this.

“If we walk through this door and there’s another trial,” Danny said, looping his hands through Kwan and Valerie’s elbows, “I’m gonna be so pissed.”

Kwan and Valerie laughed, but Paulina groaned. “I can’t wait to find this stupid Panacea so I can stop missing all the good stuff! Stop being funny while I can’t hear!”

Danny couldn’t help laughing again as they stepped over the final threshold.

Immediately, the room lit up. Danny raked his eyes over the other, making sure none of them were shaken up or hurt like they’d been before, but they all looked the same.

“No trials?” he said, just to be sure.

“No,” Valerie said. Kwan shook his head.

Paulina rolled her eyes. “I still can’t hear you.”

Danny gave her a thumbs up, then pointed at her, and shrugged.

She giggled. “Okay, yeah, I’m good. No trials or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

With that settled, Danny examined the room for the Panacea. At the far end, raised on a pedestal on a dais, was a white, crystalline bottle, glowing just slightly.

The Panacea.

Kwan whooped and raced toward it. “Wait!” Danny said, afraid of another trap.

Kwan made it to the dais, but stopped at Danny’s shout. “Sorry! I got excited.”

“Yeah, I get it, but we need to be careful.” Danny floated up next to Kwan, Valerie and Paulina right behind him. “Maybe… Maybe you should all step back.”

“What?”

“Danny, no!”

“What’d you say?”

“Listen! I’m faster than any of you. If something gets triggered I’m more likely to be able to get away.”

“But—” Valerie started to say.

“Am I wrong?”

“No—”

“Look, I appreciate it. Really, I do, but I think it’s best if I get the thing. Just in case.”

Danny couldn’t exactly explain why, but he was absolutely certain that he needed to be the one to grab the bottle. Everything he said was true enough, but there was something else niggling in the back of his mind that said he was the only one who could do it. He couldn’t let anyone else touch it.

“What’s going on?” Paulina said to Kwan in what she probably intended to be a whisper but was loud enough for everyone to hear. Kwan pointed to Danny, then to the rest of them, then pointed to the other side of the chamber.

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help,” she said, “but thanks, querido.”

“Are you sure?” Valerie said, steady gaze meeting his own.

Danny swallowed. “I’m sure.” He wasn’t sure why he was so sure, but he was.

She bit her lip, then nodded and stepped back, pulling Kwan and Paulina with her. That trial really had changed things; just ten minutes ago, Valerie would never have listened to him like this.

Once they were far enough away, Danny took a deep breath and grabbed the Panacea.

It came off easily, but before they could take a moment to celebrate, a bright green box formed around him.

Of course it did.

Danny reached out to touch the green wall, and a painful zap had him yanking his hand back. So no walking through. Ugh.

“Oh, come on!” Paulina said, tearing at her hair in frustration. “We passed your stupid trials! Just let us save the world!”

“Don’t worry, dude!” Kwan said. “We’ll get you out of there.”

It hit Danny all at once, a certainty that he knew exactly what needed to be done.

Valerie had already run up to the trap, Kwan and Paulina close behind, and was examining it. Probably looking for a way to get rid of it.

She couldn’t, though. Not like that.

“Val! Take the Panacea!”

Valerie, sharp as ever, narrowed her eyes at him. She’d already caught on. “We aren’t going to leave you here, Danny.”

“You have to.”

“No way!”

“What’s happening now?”

Kwan pulled out his phone, typing something before showing it to Paulina. She gasped. “Are you stupid? We’ll figure something else out. Don’t go playing martyr on us now.”

“No, listen! You have to. This is my trial, okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Every trial picks something that we suck at, right? Well, this one picked me.”

Kwan frowned. “I don’t—”

“It’s trust. I—look, I’ll be honest, you three are not high on my list of people to trust with my secret. Or, at least, you weren’t.”

Valerie opened her mouth, then winced. “Okay, yeah, that’s… fair.”

“But how can this be a trial? No one else’s trial took place in the real world!” Kwan stopped himself, furiously typing on his phone to show to Paulina. “This is the real world, right?”

“It’s real,” Danny said. He knew it like he knew he needed to grab the Panacea, like he knew exactly what needed to happen next. “This trap won’t go away until we put the Panacea back. But when we put it back, it’s gone forever. We’ll never find it again.”

“So, if we get you out…”

“We lose the Panacea.”

“No, no, no! We’ll figure something else out. There has to be another way.”

“Guys, guys, chill. You just have to bring it back when you’re done, okay?” Danny held out the Panacea through the force field. It passed through just fine. “I’m not offering to stay here forever. Just until you get back.”

None of them moved to grab the bottle. “But… but how are we supposed to fight the ghost without you?”

It was a fair question, and Danny wasn’t sure how he would have answered it yesterday. But the Panacea would be Pestilence’s ultimate weakness. And they’d faced plenty of stuff on their own today.

Danny wiggled the Panacea. “You’ll figure it out. I’ve got faith.”

(He was lying, just a little. But this wasn’t the truth trial, and what was faith without a little doubt?)

Valerie hugged herself. “I don’t know that we can,” she said. She straightened. “But we have to anyway, right?”

“Pretty much,” Danny said with a laugh.

“Do you have, like, snacks? For while you wait? Do you even need to eat?” He opened his mouth to respond, but Paulina shook her head. “Never mind, I can’t hear you anyway. Just… be careful?”

He couldn’t do much else, trapped as he was. He smiled and gave Paulina a thumbs up.

Kwan reached out and took the bottle. “How come you get to know it’s a trial, anyway? I didn’t know what the hell was going on.”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Fair.” Kwan started to move away, then paused. “We’ll figure it out. Promise.”

“I know,” he said. (Did he?)

“See you soon.”

Danny’s palms were sweaty under the suit. “See you soon.”

And they left.

Waiting sucked.

He was more bored and more anxious than he’d ever been in his life. Sure, he’d talked big about trusting the others. He even meant it. But he’d lost his phone somewhere in this whirlwind of a day, so he had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? Two hours? A day?

Okay, it definitely hadn’t been a day, but still. He worried. Valerie could hold her own, and Kwan could throw a decent punch, but was that enough against a veritable army? Even with the Panacea?

He wasn’t used to sitting aside and letting other people save the day.

(It was the right choice. It was the only choice. He hated it.)

He drummed his fingers on his knee. He tried a few breakdancing moves, fell, and laid on his back for ten minutes. His bladder started to ache. He thought about pissing through the barrier, but he couldn’t risk the chance that it would instead ricochet. He squeezed his legs together. He sang Billy Joel songs at the top of his lungs until his throat started to hurt.

“Jeez, you are not a singer, my guy.”

Danny’s head jerked up at Kwan’s voice. There, crossing the threshold, were Valerie, Paulina, and Kwan, hair and clothes a little messed up, but looking perfectly fine.

“You’re back!” He stood up and attempted to meet them, only to slam into the barrier, zapping himself once again. “Ow.”

“Of course we are,” Valerie said, a smirk in her voice. “Never a doubt.”

“This Panacea stuff is amazing.” Paulina pointed to her ears and wiggled the bottle. “Fixes everything. I love hearing and sound.”

Danny laughed, relief tingling down his spine. It worked. They did it. They won.

“Thank fuck,” he said. “Now get me out of here.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Paulina said, tapping at her chin and frowning. “This stuff is pretty cool.”

Before an icy hand of fear could grip his heart, Kwan and Valerie were already yelling at Paulina.

“Polly!”

“Come on, girl.”

Paulina giggled, waving her hand. “Sorry, sorry. Wrong crowd.” She passed it through the barrier.

He snatched it out of her hand and placed it back on its pedestal. The barrier fell, and the room rumbled once again. As Danny stumbled to his friends (yeah, they were friends, weren’t they?), the chamber collapsed in on itself, leaving just the four of them, floating alone in the Ghost Zone.

“Guys,” Danny said, “I have to pee so badly.”

And they collapsed on each other, laughing. It didn’t help the burning in his bladder, but he could wait a minute or so more.

All four of them had split with little fanfare, exhausted from the day's events. He'd sent a quick text to Sam, Tucker, and Jazz, promising to explain everything tomorrow, and promptly fell asleep.

Jazz drove him to school and he gave her a rundown on the way. She smiled at him. Patted his shoulder. Said she was proud of him for making such a hard choice.

“Wasn't much of a choice,” he said with a shrug.

“That still doesn't mean it was easy. You did good, Danny. And now maybe you've got some more people, too.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe.”

The thing was, Danny had watched The Breakfast Club once, with Sam and Tucker. At the end, Sam looked over at him and said, “Bet they go back to school the next day and never talk to each other again.”

Tucker blew a raspberry at her. “Boo!” he said. “You're no fun.”

“Yeah,” Danny had said at the time, “They're all friends now. They aren't just going to give it all up to go back to how things used to be.”

“They spent one afternoon together in detention,” Sam said. “How life changing could it be?”

Danny pointedly did not think about that conversation as he walked up to Casper High the day after Pestilence's defeat. He didn't think about it as he pushed open the front entrance. He didn't think about it as he opened his locker. He definitely didn't think about it as he saw Dash shove Mikey to the floor.

Business as usual.

“Hey.”

Danny jumped, smacked his head on the locked door, and turned to see Paulina standing behind him.

Paulina giggle. “You good, cariño?”

“Don't sneak up on me like that!” Danny rubbed the stinging at the back on his head. “You'll give me a heart attack.”

“Can you get a heart attack?” Paulina tilted her head. Danny thought for a moment: his heart didn't actually beat in ghost form so theoretically...

“...Don't ask me that.”

“Hey, Fenturd! Leave Paulina alone.”

And there was Dash, looming behind him like Skulker, but only half as scary. Danny managed not to flinch as he turned to face him.

“I started talking to him, Dashie.”

Dash blinked in surprise. “Well,” he said, “he still shouldn't bother you.”

“He isn't.”

“Oh.”

Dash stood for a moment, mouth open, like he couldn't believe any of this. Danny could hardly believe it himself. But then Paulina rolled her eyes and said, “Seriously, Dash, that's enough. You can go now.” She punctuated her sentence with a dismissive wave.

“I—what?” Dash shook his head. “No, no, this doesn't make sense. Polly, are you—are you still possessed?”

Still possessed. Did Dash think that Paulina had been under Pestilence's spell? Or did he think she was somehow under Danny's spell? What exactly did everyone else think had happened yesterday?

“Just because I want to talk to Danny and not—”

“But he's a loser—”

“Don't talk about him like that!”

Dash's mouth flapped like he wanted to speak but no words came out. “I—you—what did you do to her, you little freak?” He turned on Danny, who had pressed himself into his locker, caught in the middle of this argument. Grabbing Danny's collar, he hoisted him up, knocking his head against the locker door again. Ow.

“I didn't do anything! Maybe Paulina just grew up!” Danny had never been good at keeping his mouth shut. Even now, when the obvious answer was to just get this whole thing over as soon as possible, he still had to sass Dash.

Paulina's perfectly manicured hand wrapped around Dash's wrist. “Seriously, Dash, he didn't—”

Dash ignored her, shoving her off. Paulina stumbled back, then hit the ground with a thud.

“Get off of him!”

And there was Kwan, pulling Dash off of him, arms looped under and around his shoulders. Danny sank to the ground, rubbing at his head. To the side, he saw Valerie help Paulina up before they both turned to glare at Dash.

Despite the twinge in his scalp, despite the stares of the rest of the school, despite his own lingering exhaustion, Danny couldn't help but smile. Take that, Sam. The Breakfast Club lives.

“Kwan?” Dash pulled away as soon as Kwan loosened his grip. “What the hell are you doing?”

Kwan ignored him and turned to Danny and Paulina. “You guys okay?”

Before either of them could respond, Dash shoved him. “Hey!”

“What is your problem, dude?”

“You're the one who suddenly came at me!”

“Yeah, because you were hurting Danny and Paulina.”

Dash blinked, like that hadn't occurred to him. It probably hadn't. Sometimes, Kwan thought that Dash didn't realize that everyone else in the world was a person, too. That they all had thoughts and feelings of their own. To Dash, everything was all Dash all the time.

(It wasn't entirely true, Kwan knew. He remembered a different Dash, eight years old, crying over Old Yeller and pretending he wasn't. Swiping at stray tears and yelling it's just dusty it's allergies don't laugh even though Kwan was crying, too. He doesn't know when exactly the pretense became reality, but he'd lost his Dash a long, long time ago.)

“Sorry Polly,” Dash said, not even looking at her. “But she’s acting weird. Fentonio’s using his parents’ ghost stuff to control her or something!”

“He is not!” Paulina yelled.

“Do you have, like, proof, or are you just pulling this insane theory out of your ass?”

They had long since attracted a crowd. Danny had slipped over to Valerie and Paulina at the front of the mass of students, and behind them stood just about every person in the school. Even Mr. Lancer, who by all rights should have been stepping in and stopping this, was standing by and watching. Like he was curious how things would go.

Asshole.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you need to back off of Danny and everyone else!”

Dash straightened up and pushed up his sleeves. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Who’s gonna make me.”

The crowd around them went wild, frenzied kids hooting and hollering at the prospect of a fight. Kwan made eye contact with Danny, Valerie, and Paulina. Paulina pointed at Dash, rolled her eyes, and faked a gag. Valerie gave him a thumbs up. Danny mouthed sorry at him. Behind them, Lancer hid his face behind a book.

Kwan wasn’t stupid. He knew what Dash was asking for. He knew Dash thought he’d win the fight, easy. He’d always won before, after all. Except—Kwan had been stupid in love with him. And a Dash who won was way happier than a Dash who lost.

The truth: Dash was a quarterback. Decently strong, for sure, but his main job was throwing the ball around. Kwan was an offensive lineman. His main job? Throwing people around. When the playing field was level, when Kwan didn’t pull his punches, there was no competition.

If Dash had thought about it for more than a minute, he would’ve realized that there was no way he was stronger than Kwan. But he’d long since lost that kind of self-awareness.

Kwan could be sad about all the ways Dash had changed tomorrow. Today was for kicking his ass.

Dash pulled his arm back to throw a haymaker. Without pausing to think, Kwan sidestepped the attack and swung an uppercut, hitting Dash square on the jaw with a nauseating click.

Dash flopped to the floor, mouth hanging open. Blood dripped down his chin; he must have bitten his tongue. For a moment, he froze, staring at Kwan in shock.

“You’re an ass,” Kwan said, “and I’ve been an ass right next to you. But I’m sick of it. Paulina’s sick of it. Everyone else in school is sick of it. I’m not holding myself back just to make you feel better. And I’m not gonna let you keep being a dick, either. So I suggest you stay down.”

Dash opened his mouth to say something, but Kwan cut him off. “I don’t wanna hear it,” he said. “Just… grow the fuck up, dude.”

And he walked past his oldest friend, bleeding on the ground, toward the cacophony of students and his 3 new/old friends.

“Jeez,” Valerie said, giving him a playful smack on the shoulder, “you’re so dramatic.”

“That was… public,” Danny said. The students started to disperse, heralded by Mr. Lancer. Lancer looked over at Kwan, nodded in something like approval, then shepherded people into their classrooms, leaving the four of them alone in the hallway just before the bell rang.

Kwan scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, sorry about that. Sorry you got in the middle there.”

“No, no, I mean… thanks for stepping in, but are you guys gonna be okay?” Danny’s eyes flicked between Paulina and Kwan.

They looked at each other. Paulina giggled. Valerie shook her head with a smile.

“Yeah, dude,” Kwan said. “We’re gonna be just fine.”

#danny phantom #my writing #my fic #invisobang 2023 #invisobang #paulina sanchez #valerie gray #kwan

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