#i was a fool and just threw out all my art and now my old deviantart is the only place where a few survived my wrath | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Note

Hello my beloved! ( Can I call you that? And people it's platonic!) I have an idea and this is for pogtopia wilbur and ghostbur! Can you do a reader who loves painting and one morning they find a picture of them with a note about the reader confessing to then but they didn't do it in person because they were really nervous? Thank you!

And please take as much time as you want also could it be a long story? Thank you!

- Your beloved Moosh 🥺

Moosh, darling! Hello! Yes, you have my full permission to call me that, thank you for asking! This is the third time I've written this story because Tumblr just really enjoys screwing me over...

Also. You never clarified whether you wanted fluff or angst, but it's Pogtopia Wilby so I kinda just went with angst? If you want a happy end to this, I'll rewrite this no problem! But it won't be as long because... Well, you'll see. Also also, I didn't exactly know where to throw the Ghosty Bur in, so... Yeaaaah? He's at the end tho!

THE FIRST PART IS LIKE NEW NEW POGTOPIA WILBUR

TW: (Sorry it didn't save the first time) C!Schlatt, bruising, threatened hanging, self doubt

Perfect Picture of Imperfection (Pogtopia!C!Wilbur x GN!Painter!Reader)

Maybe you painted Schlatt's horns the wrong colour? Or his jawline was off? He was furious when you finally showed him your art piece... It was the best you could do with the few hours you were given! Paint physically couldn’t dry as fast as Schlatt wanted it to you… He didn’t seem to care when he threw the wooden frame of the torn canvas at you, giving you a dark bruise right above your eye, or when he started yelling at you and threatening to burn your art studio down to the ground.

Or even when he grabbed you and suggested to Quackity to hang you at the gallows for insulting the emperor of Manberg.

The man you had once been friends with grinned widely and nodded happily, “Yes, sir! Yes, sir!” He said, without a single care that you were a living human being, only giving a cheer as he picked you up so your feet were dangling on the ground, leaving you silent in terror. Tubbo only averted his gaze.

“Aww… You’re like a little fawn, caught in the torchlight of a traveller.” The ram hybrid smiled in a sickly sweet manner, causing the colour to drain from your face, “Come now, darling, I’m not a monster… You’re the only one of Wilbur’s sweet little subjects that he hasn’t gotten back, and here I thought you were his favourite… Or maybe he left you here to act as a sacrifice so they could all be off doing their own thing... Guess he prefers Niki over you…” He whispered as he dropped you, chuckling softly as you scurried out of the building as you quite literally ran for your life.

You called Wilbur when you were safely hidden in your house, gasps and sobs leaving your mouth quicker than tears could pool out of your eyes…

“(Y/n)... You can’t be calling me when-”

“Wil…?” You whispered into the communicator, your voice shaking enough to shut him up immediately, “He… He’s going to…” Hiccuping meekly, you curled in tighter on yourself as you heard Schlatt’s loud and pompous voice come over the speaker system he had hung up all around the once beautiful country, “I think I’m going to die here…”

The dead silence that followed through the line was sickening…

“Is it true…?” You couldn’t help but find yourself wondering aloud, “Is that why I’m the only one left here? Am I a sacrifice so you can live happily elsewhere? ...Is that why you haven’t come to get me?”

“(Y/n), I want you to never utter those words again.” His voice was dark and steely as there was a bit of crashing around that came from the other side as well as faint mumbles which were clearly from Tommy judging by all the swearing, “You are not a sacrifice. Now... Get your Enderchest and Inventory packed up, I’m coming to get you tonight, and then I’ll explain in person…”

The line cut off and you slowly lowered the communicator down from beside your ear. Your heart was sinking one minute, but soaring the next… A terrible feeling really. You were saved! But… He could get caught trying to come to get you… You couldn’t let that happen for sure. With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your eyes free of tears before standing up and beginning to shove any necessary equipment into your Enderchest, including your finished painting of Wilbur that you were going to give to him when he won the election… And finally, confess your feelings…

When midnight hit and the lights of the city finally died down, you climbed up onto your roof and looked around for the president, fear and paranoia flooding through your veins as your mind went wild. What if he got caught? What if he was trying to give you false hope? What if. What if. What if. These sort of questions buzzed around in your mind for an hour as you waited for your saviour to arrive…

Finally, when enough became enough and you decided he wasn’t coming, you stopped pacing and slowly sat down on the roof as the tears began to start again. You could practically hear Schlatt chiding you in the back of your mind, telling you that you were a fool for holding out hope.

“(Y/n)!” A low hiss came from beside you and a hand touched your shoulder. You certainly would’ve screamed bloody murder if another hand hadn’t quickly wrapped around your mouth, “Sh, sh, sh, it’s me… It’s Wilbur.” The voice soothed softly as the hand left your mouth, quickly allowing you to turn your head.

It didn’t feel real… Seeing him after so long… And in an outfit other than his uniform. “Wil...bur?” You repeated, staring at him for a while before giving him a soft smile filled with relief, “You really came…”

“Of course I did!” He almost seemed offended for a moment before his eyes softened as he realized what Schlatt must’ve drilled into your head. Wilbur easily caught you as you flung your self at him, quickly wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your (h/l) (h/c) hair, “I missed my artiste…” He whispered, donning a temporary french accent for the word ‘artist’.

Holding back a sob, you quickly grabbed his extended hand and followed him as he jumped off your roof, safely landing in a bed of hay that you used to feed your old farm animals that Schlatt confiscated before following him out of this damned country.

After that, things seemed to change between you and Wilbur. He always seemed to be at your side, choosing to personally train you rather than letting Techno train you with everyone else, or even running over ideas on how to expand Pogtopia with you rather than with Tommy. His touches always lingered longer or he somehow wound up leaning closer to you than originally necessary, but you never caught yourself complaining. He would watch you paint beautiful designs along the armour he had gifted you, knowing full well it would chip off and was heavily unnecessary, but he only smiled and let you continue doing it as long as it didn’t interfere with enchantments.

Each day with Wilbur became better and better, but your heart physically couldn’t take it any longer, you had to tell him that you felt this way for him… The way that you had to fight back the reddening of your cheeks when his chest pressed against your back as he adjusted your stance in training, or the way you had to struggle to regulate your breathing every time he complimented you on how far you had come…

He was going to be the death of you…

Your already calloused hands were bruised and blistered, but somehow, you were still able to hold a quill, pinched in between the fingers of your dominant hand. Wilbur had come to your Pogtopia home this morning, but upon realizing that he had knocked you to the ground a little too hard yesterday as you were incredibly stiff and sore, he let you have the day off of training.

This was at least a little chance… You had torn a page from your notebook and sat down at your handmade desk with a bitter sigh. Trust me, you wanted to tell him in person, but you were just too scared… Plus, maybe you could play it off as someone pulling a prank on him if it went south.

Biting your lip, your fingers treated the quill as a brush, delicately running the ink dipped tip over the top of the paper, letting your heart control what words you wanted the ink to form.

Wilbur,

You don't realize how much you mean to me. Although we've been friends for only a year, I feel as though I've known you my entire life. My connection to you is already so deep, and my love for you is already so strong that I can't remember what my life was like before we met. Even more, I can't imagine my life without you now. I can't imagine the future without you, either.

You have saved my life several times already. You have even saved me from myself several times, too! I am so thankful for your guidance and care. Whenever I'm having a bad day, I know that I can just give you a call. I know I can depend on you and, with your help, everything will turn out well.

I want you to know how I really feel. It's time for you to know that I'm ready to admit how much I care for you, how much you mean to me. I know, this isn’t the best timing in our lives, but I trust it will get better through your leadership. I love you, Wilbur.

Please, don't ever forget how much I love you.

Love, (Y/n) (L/n)

Sighing, you put the quill into the inkpot and put your head in your bandaged hands. ‘This is going to work. It will work. Go on. Have faith in yourself, as Wil said…’ You took a few deep breaths and stood up, picking up the letter once it was dry and reading it over as many times as you physically could before your mind couldn’t handle it any longer.

Walking to the door, you cracked it open to search for any sign of your president, sighing again as you realized he was likely out helping gather resources. “Is… This enough?” You mumbled sadly as you stared down at the simple letter before looking at your Enderchest in thought. Surely you could give him a few emeralds or some gold… Yeah! That’s what you’d do! Smiling in victory, you quickly wandered over to the chest and opened it, digging through it for a few moments.

It was sort of empty…

You groaned as you remembered that you haven’t really been one of the miners or forgers for Pogtopia. Instead, you were one of the warriors, focused on protecting others instead of gathering supplies.

Going to shut the chest, you suddenly paused as you saw something colourful resting at the bottom. Pushing aside your old L’Manberg uniform, you gasped as you found your old painting of Wilbur from a few months ago. It was old, yes, and a little dusty but you were still proud of it even now! Perfect.

Pulling out the painting, you began to lightly brush the dust off of the picture, smiling at the splashes of paint and colour forming a picture. It was your magnum opus.

It was a painting of Wilbur holding up a massive L’Manberg flag against the sunlight with a wide smile and hope in his eyes… This was the day that L’Manberg won independence from DreamSMP…

Standing up again, you quickly hurried out the door and walked to Wilbur’s room, silently creaking open the door and looking around, even though you were well aware that he was gone for the day. You walked over to his desk and gently setting the painting down on top of the countless sheets of work, making sure not to mix up any of the papers, then putting your letter on top where he could see it before hurrying out before you could change your mind.

Thankfully you got out when you did because, by the time you pulled an already baked potato out of the furnace, Wilbur came down the stone stairs, looking extremely exhausted, “(Y/n), my artiste…” He murmured with a smile, “I’m glad to see you’re still up and going… I was worried we would have to make you a healing pot.”

“It’s not too bad… It’s mostly just my hands that hurt.” You chuckled and held up your shaking bandaged hands, “You want me to cook you up some potatoes and carrots? Or I could maybe try and get some steak cooked up before you go to work?”

Wilbur tried to smile a bit, deciding not to question why your hands were shaking so badly, taking everything out of his inventory and placing them in their designated chests. “No, no… It’s alright. I’m going to go get ready for Tubbo’s report… I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”

You gave him a small wave before Wilbur disappeared into his office. Taking a sharp intake of breath, you quickly followed after him and peeked through the tiny crack in the door where he didn’t close it all the way. He stood in his room silently for a moment before throwing his hat off at a wall, screaming into hands, muffling it heavily to the point where you wouldn’t have heard it if you were still near the furnaces. Wilbur threw off his jacket before plopping himself into his chair with his head in his hands for a few moments, then lifting it to stare at the painting that you had placed.

He was still for a long time, then he slowly picked up the note, his eyes softened slightly before his face broke out into a wide and genuinely happy smile before his mouth twitched and the smile began to fall, tears bubbling into his chocolate coloured eyes. Wilbur held the note up to his chest and slouched back against his chair, sobbing into his hand, whispering ‘I’m so sorry’ repeatedly.

Frowning, you realized that he physically couldn’t return your love because of the stress of caring for Pogtopia and trying to win back L’Manberg. With a sad smile, you stood up and walked to your room, putting your head down as you saw water droplets hit the stone below you, “It wasn’t a no…” You tried to tell yourself, ignoring the tears running from your eyes as you shut the door, sliding down to your knees.

The next few weeks after that were hell, the complete opposite of the Utopia that you were blinded by for the past month. Wilbur asked Techno to pick up your training, and he never even spoke to you about it again… It was the Piglin hybrid that awkwardly told you. During dinner, Wilbur would practically eat as little as possible as he ignored you, trying to make any situation where he would be in the same room as you as short as possible.

“Wil-...” You reached out to the president but watched as he only gave you the saddest gaze before walking past you as if he never saw you. But he would have no problems talking to Niki, or anyone else! It wasn’t fair!

Time ticked by in a haze of fog and you quickly watched the man you had once fallen in love with becoming a complete shadow of his former self… It was sickening… He… Lost it… His mind was becoming twisted… And all you could do was watch in horror…

You knew something was wrong when he crept away from the festival and the celebration… But you just decided that he was going to take a break from the excitement. He was quite old after all…

Then the ground shook with booming roars as TNT blew craters into the earth, sending debris scattering and people screaming, scattering for their lives. Gasps of terror escaped your lips as you realized the cause of it all… You hopped over gunpowder scented broken stone and batted the smoke away as you saw the final picture to paint the last stroke of horror in your heart.

There was a blond man with massive avian wings holding a diamond sword glimmering with enchantments as the brunet clung to his clothing, slowly sinking to his knees. With a sob of despair, you watched the man you once loved so dearly, get stabbed through the chest by his own father.

“WILBUR!” You shrieked, your ears ringing from the blast as you sunk to your knees, sobs racking your frame violently. Wilbur’s head lazily rolled to look in your direction…

And in his last dying breath… He smiled…

“That painting…” A light airy whisper echoed through the darkened stone halls of your home, “It’s familiar… Yet so foreign...”

You gave a hum as you hung your netherite armour on your stand before turning to stare at the spectral figure floating in your doorway, “Which painting, Ghostbur? There’s many… You have to elaborate.”

“Right! Because you’re an artiste!” The transparent male chirped happily, not seeming to notice your flinch, “I mean the one hanging above the fireplace, of Alivebur.”

“Right…” You nodded, following behind the eager sweater-wearing ghost down the eerie hallways and into the office, "I'm going to take it down... I think it's doing more harm than good..."

Ghostbur didn't seem to understand your reasoning, but he didn't say much, knowing that Alivebur hurt many people... But he didn't think he hurt you, "It's pretty though... But your art style has changed, in a good way though!" He smiled softly as you opened the large dark oak double doors.

You walked past your grand dark oak desk to stare at your former magnum opus, dangling above the unlit fireplace. "Hey, Bur, if you have a flint and steel, could you light the fire please?" You glanced over and watched him nod as he dug through his pockets. In the meantime, you climbed up onto the mantle and began to struggle to pull the canvas off the wall. With a bit of hassle, you managed to pull it down and toss it onto the ground before climbing down, just in time for your ghost friend to light the fire.

"Don't damage it, (N/n)! It's still really good!" Ghostbur scolded you with a pout once you hopped down and picked the canvas up, "And you used to be proud of it!"

"I'm not, don't fret too m-" You paused mid-sentence as you saw a letter tucked into the bottom corner of the back of the painting. Frowning in confusion, you slowly picked it up and turned it over into your hand, only to discover that it was addressed to you in fancy cursive, sealed with a light red and white wax seal, "What's this?"

He looked over at you and tilted his head, seeming almost as genuinely confused as you were. Ghostbur shrugged as you propped the painting up against the wall before sitting at your desk, using your letter opener for its purpose, "Love letter, perhaps?"

"I doubt it..." You mumbled softly as you carefully unfolded the paper, recognizing that it was probably a few years old, "Let's see... Who wrote this..." You hummed before beginning to read.

My darling artiste... I'm sure by the time you read this, I'm either dead or... Well, most likely dead, if all goes to plan...

I am writing this letter to you to let you know that life without you is not the same. Life without you is very sad and lonely. I have realised that it was you who keep me alive and cheerful.

I thought I would get used to your absence from my life, but every day has been harder when I think of all the good times we spent together.

There are so many things which I want to confess. It's killing me because I don't want you to go another day without knowing how I feel about you.

And I'm not able to tell you I'm in love with you.

What an idiot I am.

And for the past few days, I've been trying to figure out, why there aren't some words to describe it. I want to tell you exactly how I feel but there isn't a single goddamned word in the entire dictionary that can describe my love for you.

But I need that word. I need it because I want you to hear me say “I love You". I want to make the sweetest gestures in front of you which make you feel even more loved.

Trust me... I know... I act like an absolute ass towards you. I'm so scared of your life being in more danger than it was... I really did love you, and still do, but I didn't want it to hurt you more when I blow up L'Manberg...

Darling, I could have simply called you on your communicator and took you out on a surprise date but I couldn't have expressed my feelings. You have become an integral part of me. I want to give you all my love throughout my life.

The painting you made me is beautiful and I will cherish it for as long as I'm alive... It's a perfect picture of imperfection...

I Love You, (Y/n), even if by now you'll never love me back.

- Wilbur Soot

"That... That idiot..." You whispered, holding your head in your hands in an attempt to hide the tears from Ghostbur, "He planned blowing up L'Manberg from the beginning... That's why he refused to acknowledge me after I... He wanted me to hate him..."

Ghostbur held a bit of blue in his hands tightly, avoiding your gaze as you murmured to yourself, "Yeah... Most of my happiest memories involve you... That's why I couldn't understand when you said Aliverbur hated you..." He glanced away again as he saw you look at him.

"(Y/n)... Are you ever going to move out of Pogtopia?"

"Probably not for a long time, Ghostbur."

#pogtopia wilbur #pogtopia wilbur x reader #c!wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #pogtopia wilbur soot x reader #dsmp x reader #dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #wilbur mcyt #villain wilbur #villain wilbur x reader

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lexosaurus · 3 years

Text

Invisobang: Morge pt 2

It was a beautiful day outside. The birds were singing, the flowers were blooming...a corpse was found in the woods.

Or, Amity Park's local cadaver dog trainer was walking her dog in the woods when they discovered a little surprise waiting for them six feet under.

Pairings: none WC: 9886 read on: [ao3] part 2 of 2, read: [part 1]

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some amazing accompanying art by @ghostkiin

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“It’s like you’re not even trying!” Plasmius barked, throwing Danny an exaggerated yawn while blocking the ectoblasts thrown his way. “Really, Daniel, you were always woefully incapable compared to me, but this is just abysmal, even for you.”

Danny gritted his teeth and glared back, allowing his glowing eyes to glare to toxic levels. Plasmius picked the wrong week to try to steal blueprints from Fentonworks.

“What, are you going to hit me with a little ectoblast again?”

“Oh I’ll show you an ectoblast,” Danny growled, charging ectoplasm in his palms so concentrated that the green glowed a fierce white. He flung his hands out, releasing the energy with a venomous, “eat shit, Fruitloop!”

But just like the rest of his life, his attack was uncontrolled, wild. It flew several feet to Vlad’s side, nailing a road sign and burning it like acid until there was nothing left.

Plasmius grinned at its charred remains. “Was that supposed to hit me? My, Daniel, I’m quaking in my boots!”

Danny felt his aura increase.

This week had already been shitty enough, even without Vlad’s help. He felt like his brain was trapped in a hailstorm, with constant unavoidable attacks pelting him from all sides. His core was a ball of energy and anxiety, not allowing him to sleep or eat or even breathe without the constant fear about his body and how it was being messed with and he needed to protect it and how he’d failed so miserably at protecting it and now his secret was going to be revealed and he was screwed.

“Well? I’m waiting! Tick tock, Little Badger!”

Ancients, Vlad was such an asshole.

“Shut UP!” Danny yelled, releasing his ghostly wail.

Just as a pink blast slapped him across the face, sending him flying into a brick building.

Plasmius tisked, flying nonchalantly towards him. “We can’t have you using that particular power, now can we? Not while you’re so obviously in control of yourself.”

“Fuck off.”

The older ghost smirked and brushed dust off his red and white cape. “Teenagers. Always so hormonal. What, did a girl at school reject you?”

“What are you talking about?” Danny launched himself back in the air and powered an ice blast. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what you have to say.”

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Vlad said, releasing a plasmius blast just before Danny released his own. The pink blast travelled across the air like a bullet, punching Danny in the gut and sending him crashing back into the building.

Meanwhile, Danny’s ice blast flew a foot above Vlad’s head, webbing itself into a tree and coating the branches with thick icicles.

Danny tried to push himself back onto his shaky feet, only to be pushed back down yet again by another plasmius blast.

Brick tumbled onto his head, coating his vision with dust. His body ached, and his neck was sore from the whiplash.

From his clouded vision, a glowing white figure with red eyes and gaudy horn-like spikes for hair hovered closer to him.

“My, my. You really are out of sorts today,” Plasmius said. “This is almost too easy. I could just take you out right here and go take your parents’ entire spectre speeder straight from your lab.

“What do you even need a spectre speeder for? You can fly,” Danny asked, rubbing a lump from his skull.

“A simple minded teenager such as yourself couldn’t possibly understand my reasons.”

Anger flared through Danny. He gripped some wreckage next to him and forced himself back onto his feet. His legs shook and he felt something wet drip down his calf.

Great, he was bleeding. Just add that to the list of reasons as to why this week was the worst.

“Shut up. I won’t let you do that.”

“Oh?” Plasmius powered a pink blast in each hand. “Then prove it.”

Danny tried, but with each attempted blast, kick, or punch, it seemed like Plasmius was one step ahead of him.

And worse, it felt like he was reveling in the power trip.

A burn here, a kick there—everywhere Danny looked, there was Vlad, glowing fist at the ready. It reminded him of the first time he’d encountered Vlad, back at the mansion. Having Vlad so openly destroy him had been shameful.

Danny collapsed onto the pavement, heaving, his entire body searing in pain.

Plasmius paused to survey him up and down with suspicious eyes. Finally, just as Danny was one breath away from turning invisible out of sheer discomfort, did the ghost finally open his mouth. “Alright, spit it out.”

Anxiety gripped Danny’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Something’s troubling you enough to make you pathetically weak. It’s honestly embarrassing. I can’t stand here watching my future ward make a fool of himself any longer.”

“I’m not moving in with you, creep,” Danny bit back.

“That’s what you think. No matter, tell your dear old uncle what’s troubling you.”

“Go play in traffic.”

Plasmius’ eyes narrowed. “I’d nearly forgotten what a brat you are. Now tell me before I take methods into my own hands.”

Danny sighed, and attempted to stand. But the moment his foot touched the ground, a sharp pain shot up his shin. He hissed, and lowered himself back to the pavement.

“Well? I don’t have all day.”

“It’s nothing,” Danny grumbled, glaring at the pavement. He felt small under Plasmius’ critical gaze. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s obviously something,” Plasmius said, landing in front of Danny. “Now quit wasting my time and tell me what it is before I—”

“Then why don’t you leave? If I’m just wasting your precious time, then go home! It’s not like you even care about me anyways.”

Vlad leaned in, flaring his aura. “In case it’s not clear to your simple teenage brain, your actions represent the both of us. You fuck up, I have to pay the consequences.”

“Who says this is even about ghost stuff?” Danny hissed. “For all you know, I got in a fight with Jazz.”

Vlad scoffed. “Do you seriously believe me to be that stupid? Of course it’s about your identity! Why else would your core be acting so wildly if its Obsession weren’t at stake?”

Danny flinched.

“You did something, and I want to know what it is so I can determine if I need to run damage control on you or not before you blow this for all of us.”

“It’s...” Danny felt his aura pull back. “It’s about...you know…”

“I can assure you I do not know.”

“I...I might have…the police may have found...it…’

Plasmius sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “What did they find?”

“My—my, uh...body?”

“You mean your identity?” Plasmius’ eyes widened.

“Not exactly.” Danny felt his face burn. “You know...the body I left when I...after the accident.”

Plasmius reacted instantly. He shot up, glancing around, before grabbing Danny and pulling him through a hastily erected portal.

Danny felt his body squeeze through the portal and then seconds later, he was in Vlad’s study. The ghost threw Danny on his loveseat and heightened his aura. His brows creased, and his eyes glowed a dangerous shade of red. “What exactly do you mean when you say the police found your deceased body? How did this happen? What the hell did you do?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Danny cried indignantly. “They found it with their freakish police dog! I swear I buried it deep in the ground.”

“Well not deep enough, apparently!” Vlad pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Of all the stupid, childish things you could do!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Vlad ripped his hands away from his face, his eyes snapping back to Danny. He took a step closer to the teen, his eyes narrowing until a red glow peaked underneath. “Then whose fault would it be exactly, hmm? What, is this yet another piece of blame you’re going to cast upon my shoulders? Me, the halfa who has managed to keep this a well kept secret for over twenty years when you apparently can’t even manage to keep it to yourself for one?”

Danny let his own ghostly strength shine through his eyes. “Quit acting like I invited them all over. I didn’t, it was a coincidence. A mistake.”

“Oh, goodness me!” Vlad let out a sardonic laugh. “I guess when the Ghost Investigative Ward appear at my doorstep in a month, I’ll just tell them it was all a mistake. That’s sure to turn them right around!”

“Shut up.”

“No I will not.” Vlad’s face set back into a scowl. “You have proven yourself to be a liability again and again, and every single time it’s me who has to clean up your little messes. Messes that you don’t seem to realize could be the end of our kind!”

Anxiety shot through Danny’s stomach. He gripped the arm rests of the chair, squeezing them so tightly he heard the faint sounds of cracking in the wood.

“And now you mean to tell me that the police have your rotting, ectoplasm-drenched inhuman corpse in their possession?” Vlad yelled. “And you’re really trying to argue with me that it was just a simple mistake?”

Danny��s shaking hand slipped, tearing off a chunk of the armchair. It clattering to the floor. “I don’t—I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t…”

Vlad closed his eyes, but Danny could still see the wisps of red shimmering through his eyelids. “No, of course you didn’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them keep it.”

“I’ve tried.” His voice cracked. “I keep trying to convince them to stop, but they won’t—”

“What, you actually thought they’d listen to you? A ghost? My boy, I know you were dim, but this is truly extraordinary.”

Danny sniffed, keeping his head down. He felt like an egg boiling over, the yolk just one jolt away from breaking.

“No…” Plasmius hummed. “What we need is to take it back by force.”

“We can’t, they have the whole morgue under a shield. We can get in as ghosts, and it’d look too suspicious if we showed up as humans.”

“Unfortunately, you may be right about us appearing as humans. We can’t do that. But,” Plasmius’ tone shifted, “one thing we can do is break the shield.”

Danny froze. He gazed questioningly up at the older ghost, who was facing the window with a renewed sense of determination. “Break the shield? How? We can’t touch it!”

“No, but the shield doesn’t exist on its own. It has to be generated from somewhere, doesn’t it? Do you see? We break the device, we break the shield.”

Danny wasn’t following, and he was sure his face betrayed that much.

“Listen, Little Badger. Ghosts cannot touch the shield or the device, but who says—oh I don’t know—maybe a collapsed ceiling might do the trick? Some torn cables, perhaps? After all, with no energy supply, how could it possibly generate the power necessary to produce a shield?”

Danny felt his eyes widen. Something icy settled in his gut. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “You want to destroy the building.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t be so crude, but perhaps a few colleagues of mine might be swayed—”

“No.” Danny stood automatically.

Vlad’s head snapped over to him. “No?”

He could feel Vlad’s confusion, and it blended with his own. Deep down, he knew he needed to stop at nothing to get his body back, but collapsing the building? Putting others in danger?

Putting his remains in danger of ruin?

What if something happened? What if a brick fell on his skull? What if a spike tore his abdomen in half?

No, he couldn’t do it. It wasn’t worth the risk.

This was wrong.

“We can’t,” Danny choked out. “You’ll hurt it.”

“I don’t think you understand, Little Badger,” Vlad hissed, leaning down.

Danny could feel the heat of his red eyes on his skull.

“With the position you’ve put us both in? You don’t get to decide what happens to your corpse now.”

“No, Vlad. I’m serious. You can’t—”

“And so am I.” Plasmius straightened, and his aura tinted to a dangerous pink. “You’ve put us at risk one time too many. Now I’m taking things into my own hands. And no amount of scary eyes is going to sway me.”

In one motion, Vlad ripped open a portal and pushed Danny through. Before he could blink, he was back in the damp alley they’d just been in.

“Good day, Danny Phantom.”

Plasmius shut the portal, and Danny was alone.

---

“Thank you for taking the time to come talk to us about this,” Mark said, opening the conference room door for the consultant before him. “This case is unfortunately a bit out of my expertise, and the lab results are even more perplexing. Hopefully you’ll be able to parse through the documents much easier than I.”

Dr. Maddie Fenton, dressed in her typical turquoise lab attire, stepped through the door and took a seat at the table. “Of course, I’m always happy to help Amity’s law enforcement protect its citizens against ghosts.”

“Well,” Mark pulled out a chair for himself, placing the manila folders against the table. “This is actually a bit more complex.”

“Oh?” Dr. Fenton reached for the folders.

“To bring you up to speed, I mentioned on the phone that we needed your assistance with a murder case involving a ghost. But there’s a bit more to it.”

She opened the folder and leafed through the files.

“The truth is the body we uncovered we believe to be Phantom’s body.”

Dr. Fenton paused, her eyebrows shooting up. She glanced up at Mark. “That’s a rather serious case. What evidence do you have to support that?”

“Well…” Mark started. “When we uncovered the body, Phantom appeared above it, and was acting rather erratically. Like a cornered animal, almost.”

“He felt threatened.”

“Right.” He nodded. “But it’s more than that. When we ran forensics on the body, we found that all our lab results were corrupted with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that when we ran the ectosignature for, turned out to be Phantom’s.”

Dr. Fenton looked back down at the files. “That’s highly unusual.”

“Well we were hoping you’d be able to piece this all together.” Mark gestured to the files.

“I see…” Dr. Fenton’s voice trailed off. Her eyes scanned the page, hungrily soaking up each word. The silence stretched on for a few minutes as Mark awaited her opinion.

Contacting the Fentons had been something Mark had been pushing off for as long as possible. The Fentons were loud, boisterous, and not at all known for their professionalism nor tact.

But it was either they contact the Fentons or the Ghost Investigation Ward. And despite Phantom’s cold demeanor towards the detectives, Mark still had hope that perhaps he could gain the teen ghost’s trust. And to do that, the GiW could not be anywhere near the station.

Of the duo, Maddie Fenton seemed the most level-headed. And it had just been Mark’s luck that of the pair, she was the one with a doctorate in ectobiology. Which meant that it was perfectly understandable when Mark had requested that she alone come into the station to review the files.

“We’re trying to keep this on the down-low. If Phantom feels like we’re going to turn him over to the government, he’ll clam up. As it stands we’re only barely getting information out of him.”

“Well, I wouldn’t trust anything he says anyway,” she said, not looking up from the paper. “He’ll do whatever possible to keep himself safe. Ghosts are products of their Obsessions, and Phantom is no different. If he feels like this investigation is going to come in the way of him being able to feed into his Obsession, then he’ll do anything to stop that from happening. No matter who he hurts in the process.”

Mark felt a shudder creep up his spine. “Do you think he could be lying about this being his body? Maybe he could have been the one to kill this boy and is trying to cover it up?”

“Hmm…no, that doesn’t seem likely given the labs. And besides, it would be highly unusual for Phantom to be summoned to a body that wasn’t his. Although…” Dr. Fenton mused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when an animal dies near a cluster of ambient ectoplasm, their body runs the risk of forming a ghost. However, there must be a significant final moment for the neural pathways in the brain to bond with the ectoplasm. That moment translates into an Obsession, which forms the core that the ghost then forms around. If a human dies peacefully, there’s nothing to work with. But if the human dies violently, or if they die with unfinished business, that gives the ambient ectoplasm something to charge with.”

Mark nodded politely, not seeing where this was going. This was all common knowledge for the people of Amity, and Mark had certainly seen enough of the Fentons’ public speeches to understand these basics.

“The ambient ectoplasm comes from the electrical connections in the brain, unrelated to what’s happening in the body. It’s why a human can be paralyzed from the waist-down, but still form a ghost with functioning legs. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Mark nodded, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not seeing how this relates to Phantom specifically?”

“There’s no real reason that Phantom’s human body should have been corrupted by ectoplasm. In fact, there’s never been a case of a human body with an ectosignature embedded in its cells. It’s virtually impossible, in fact. Living cells are completely incompatible with ectoplasm.”

Mark stared down at his own copy of the reports, his mind reeling. “You’ve never seen this before?”

“Not in my twenty years in this field.”

“Do you have any idea what could have caused this?”

Dr. Fenton pursed her lips. “There’s one...it would explain a lot about him actually. Human experimentation.”

Oh.

Shit.

“You don’t think…” Mark’s voice trailed off, his tongue incapable of finishing the sentence. To think that some sick individual would even attempt such a thing.

“It’s the only logical explanation here.” Dr. Fenton gestured at her folder. “Or at least, the only one I can piece together given this information. Phantom would have had to have died after interacting with an intense amount of ecto-technology. Technology with the power to chemically alter every cell in his living body just before finishing him off with electrocution. Of course, it’s just a theory. Only Phantom knows the truth.”

“Right.” He could hardly process what was being said. “But he won’t tell us the truth.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. Ghosts run a different social hierarchy than humans, theirs is far more simple. It’s entirely based on strength. The stronger the ghost, the better they protect their haunt, the more respect they’re given within ghost culture. If Phantom shows weakness, then the other ghosts can use that to dethrone him as the human world’s great protector.”

“But we’re not ghosts.”

“But he is.” Dr. Fenton cocked her head. “This explains other things too. Like the fact that Phantom, a relatively new ghost, is already a level seven on the ectoplasm power scale.”

“I assume that’s unusual.”

“Quite. It would have had to require an extremely intense death at the very least. But human experimentation with ectoplasm, feelling your body reject itself from the inside out, every strand of DNA being corrupted by the essence of death—that’s not an end I’d wish on my worst enemies.”

“And now we have his corpse. Phantom’s going to feel incredibly threatened. He’s bound to lash out.”

Dr. Fenton nodded gravely. “Then you better wrap this investigation up quickly, because Phantom is still a young ghost. He’s impatient, like a child. The longer you take to solve this case, the more unstable he’ll get. And I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end when he finally snaps.”

---

A dull unease panged at Danny’s core. It was calling to him, trying to goad him to his corpse.

Trouble, trouble, trouble, it seemed to whisper.

But he ignored it, just like he’d been ignoring it all this time. Because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get past the shields, he couldn’t get back to his corpse.

He was powerless. Alone.

Scared.

He tried to focus on his math worksheet, but the numbers blurred together and he couldn’t remember what eight times seven was. He had a calculator, but it was in his bag and he couldn’t remember what pocket he’d shoved it into, or even if he’d remembered to put it in his bag last night after staring blankly at the homework assignment for an hour without lifting his pencil even once.

No, his calculator was probably still on his desk at home.

Trouble, trouble, trouble.

The voices were louder now, and the pull was more desperate.

His throat hurt, and for a moment he was convinced his lungs were collapsing before he remembered that he’d forgotten to release the air trapped in his lungs and he couldn’t remember when he’d stopped breathing.

“Danny?” Mr. Falluca said from the front of the room. “Is everything alright?”

He commanded his head to nod, but he wasn’t sure if he succeeded. Maybe he did. He couldn’t check, he couldn’t lift his eyes from the desk.

The voices were too loud.

The dull pang wasn’t so dull anymore.

Trouble, trouble, go now, go now.

The pang was solidifying, taking shape. It was becoming sharper, more urgent.

Go now, go now, go now.

The pokes turned into pricks, threatening to rupture his organs, sending needles down the nerves in his arms and legs. A headache sparked before his eyes and his vision swam.

The voices attacked him from all angles, and fingers brushed against his skin, tugging the sleeves of his shirt towards the window, the ceiling, the wall, the door— anywhere so long as it was away from here. Outside. To the morgue.

Go to the morgue.

Ignore it, be strong. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.

Go now.

No.

Go now, go now, GO NOW.

No, he couldn’t.

The pinpricks finally morphed into one sharp, icy cold knife.

It stabbed his core.

Go now.

He stood from his chair, knocking it back.

Vaguely, he could hear the alarmed cries of his classmates, but he ignored them.

The only thing that mattered was his body. His corpse.

Protect.

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him back, but he could feel the warmth of the human blood running under its veins and he couldn’t be bothered with human problems right now. Not when he was in danger.

He phased through the grip, and ran out of the classroom. He sprinted down the hall, tearing open the familiar looking door and transforming and taking off into the sky nearly as soon as the sun brushed his skin.

This was different than all the other times his core had tried to coax him to his corpse. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. His body was in danger, and he needed to save it.

He heard an explosion in the distance, and he increased his speed, feeling his eyes sting as the cool air slapped against his corneas. The world blurred, but it was okay. His core was guiding him now, not his eyes. He didn’t need to see, he just needed to close off and follow his ghostly instincts.

“That’s right!” A deep voice yelled from across the way.

Danny pulled to a halt, blinking the sting from his vision.

Then a boulder flew past his body, hitting the wall of a disturbingly familiar building.

His core yelled in protest. The body was in danger. His body.

“You thought a pesky shield could keep me out? Me, Skulker, the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter? I’ll show you!”

Ice filled his veins, freezing his aura and building in power around his hands.

Skulker hoisted a parked motorcycle from the edge of the street into the air. “Take this!” he yelled, hurling it into the air.

It was heading straight for the door. It was going to break it, it might break the window, it could damage the body.

An icicle stabbed his core, and before Danny could blink, his hands were raised and jagged blue ice was shooting from his palms, catching the motorcycle in midair and pinning it to the street.

“What is the meaning of this?” Skulker roared, whipping around. His eyes locked on Danny and his confusion melted from this face only to be replaced by a triumphant smirk. “Well hello there, ghost child.”

Danny’s palms burned an even brighter blue. “ Leave,” he hissed, the Ghost Speak slipping off his tongue like butter.

Skulker’s grin widened. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. Fear not, child, I’m just here to procure your pelt. Well, your other pelt.”

He flashed his aura in a showcase of power that would send most ghosts running for the hills. “Leave.”

A look of contempt replaced the humor on Skulker’s face. His eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered. “I don’t take orders from you, child.”

There was a natural balancing act between his human brain and ghost core, one that ensured that neither half of him was in full control one hundred percent of the time. No matter how human he was, his core still lingered in the background, and no matter how ghost he was, his human brain still kept tabs on his movements.

But now, as Danny watched Skulker rip a slab of concrete from the ground, he felt something snap inside of him.

“Then I have no choice.”

Green overtook his vision, and Danny Fenton simply disappeared.

Time passed—or it didn’t—in swirls of blue and green. If he looked out, he could see the power released from his gloves, he could see the mix of ectoplasm and ice that he was hurling at Skulker, to protect the building, to protect his body, to protect himself from Plasmius.

That vindictive, lonely asshole.

Who was Plasmius to encroach on what was his?

There were flashing lights around him, but Danny paid them no mind. The only thing that mattered was protecting his body.

Protect his haunt.

Protect his people.

Protect.

He could feel the newly pointed teeth pinch his gums, and the ghostly wisps of his hair fizzle around him. But oddly these changes didn’t worry him, instead they made him feel safe, secure. Like a child clinging onto their blanket.

He launched another barrage of attacks at Skulker, tearing holes through his armor. Panic struck Skulker’s features, and all Danny could think of was, ‘good.’ If Skulker wanted to try to claim dominance over his body, then he would suffer tenfold.

And just before he was about to launch a blast at Skulker that was sure to disintegrate his armor, an amplified voice behind him called out, “PHANTOM!”

Danny flinched, his power leaking out of its concentrated ball.

Weak.

“Phantom, stand down!”

Not a chance.

“We have the area surrounded. Stand down or we’ll be forced to shoot.”

“Better listen to your human puppets,” Skulker said, his voice too shaken to sound mocking. “I know when I’ve been bested.”

It took everything in Danny’s power to not launch himself over to Skulker and tear off his head. “You tried to steal my body.”

“That’s a fight between you and Plasmius.”

“Don’t try to get out of this.”

“Phantom,” Detective Johnson said. “Final warning. Stand down.”

Ectoplasm surged throughout his body. “Make me.”

Multiple events happened at once. Skulker motioned to leave just as Danny raised his arms, blistering white light moments away from release. Then, pain seared through his torso.

Danny yelped, jerking his hand back and releasing the ectoblast somewhere off into the sky. He fell back and hit the ecto-shield, sending electrical warnings through his bones.

Memories of the portal, of the thousands of volts of electricity, of the feeling of his bones and muscles and tissues and cells being ripped apart and stitched back together flashed before his eyes. It was too much, all too much too soon too present. He tried blasting the portal but his gloves were splattered with green and oh no, not good, not good.

He was dying, wasn’t he?

Again.

Would he have a second body?

His vision tilted, and finally he managed to rip himself away from the shield. He collapsed onto the cement and stared up at the sky, chest heaving.

He was paralyzed. He knew he had fingers, toes, arms, legs—but they didn’t work. He couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t fly.

He was dying.

“Phantom?” Johnson’s cautious voice sounded from somewhere off to the side. “Sit up, let’s talk through this.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then Danny finally managed to blink. The world snapped back into focus, and his surroundings came with it. He looked down at his torso to see a little hole in his side of his suit surrounded by a trickle of green.

“What—?” Danny gasped.

“I’m gonna put the gun down, okay?” Johnson said. “I just wanna talk.”

“No.” Danny slowly pushed himself up. He surveyed the damage along the walls, the falling bricks on the sidewalk, the shattered windows and bent door. “No, no, no.”

His body wasn’t safe. Not anymore.

“Phantom, come on. Work with me here.”

But he couldn’t. That detective and his partner were just human, they didn’t understand. This was his body and Vlad knew about it and was trying to take matters into his own hands no matter the cost to Danny.

This was a disaster. He shouldn’t have told Vlad anything. He was so stupid for thinking Vlad could help him. He should have known, should have known.

“Phantom.”

“No.”

The cloak of invisibility covered his body, and he shot up into the sky.

Towards the city.

He needed to end this.

---

Sarah felt the chill first.

“You have to stop,” Phantom’s voice echoed behind her.

She sighed and put down her pencil. “Phantom, I thought I explained this already. The police can’t—”

“I don’t care about the police!”

The room grew cold.

“I don’t...ugh!” Phantom floated around her desk, clutching his forehead with one hand and his chest with the other. Mark had just called her with a warning, saying that Phantom was unstable. Looking at the ghost now, Sarah had to agree.

Phantom looked awful.

Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his hair stuck up in all directions, and his face lacked the green blush that normally sat below his skin. His jumpsuit was burned and dried ectoplasm crusted around the torn edges. He looked every bit the image of someone quickly coming undone.

Except this wasn’t just some random person, this was a powerful ghost. This was someone who could easily kill anyone who wronged him.

Or who he felt wronged him.

Deep down, Sarah knew Phantom wasn’t a violent ghost. It didn’t line up with his ghostly Obsession, or the theorized one anyway. But this was his corpse they were dealing with, it was an extension of himself.

Sarah had never confronted a ghost who had lost possession of their corpse. She’d never dealt with a ghost who willingly protected the shield that kept him away from his body if only to make sure it stayed safe. She’d never seen Phantom look so rattled.

At this point, there was no telling what he was capable of.

“Phantom,” she tried cautiously. “You need to calm down.”

“No, you need to tell your buddies to call off this investigation!”

“You know I can’t do that. I have no control over the department, and even if I did, we need to follow the law.”

His eyes flashed dangerously. “Why, because I’m a ghost? Because my words mean nothing because I’m not human? I’m telling you that I don’t want to press any charges, I don’t get why that’s not good enough!”

The room grew even colder.

“We’ve been over this. Please, Phantom, sit down—”

“No!” he snapped. “I’ve been telling you guys since the beginning that this was a bad idea, that people are going to get hurt! And no, nobody listened to me because I’m a fucking ghost! And now look, the building was attacked! My body was attacked! Do you—” his voice cracked, and the glow on his eyes wobbled. He drifted closer to her. “Do you even understand? Do you get how dangerous this is? Do you understand the people you guys have pissed off? Who you’re playing with now?”

Sarah took a deep breath. Even as a human, the power Phantom was emitting was palpable. “What people? You mean the ghost who attacked the morgue?”

“Not him. He—he’s just a lacky. Just following orders.” He let out a bitter laugh, running his hand over his forehead and smearing green across his skin. “You guys have no idea, you really don’t…”

Dread crept up Sarah’s spine. If what Mark was saying was true, then this could run deeper than they thought. “Explain it to me.”

“I’m…” He glanced up, looking ill. “I’m not…normal. For a ghost, I mean. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. But the other ghosts...they consider me a liability. And now that you guys have my—my body, they’re afraid.”

“Why are they afraid?”

“Because…” His brow furrowed. “I can’t—I can’t…”

She tilted her head, watching the ghost choke on his words. “Can’t, or won’t?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll stop at nothing till they get my body back. They’ll kill everyone in that building if it means nobody finds out my secret.”

What secret? Sarah wanted to scream, but she held back.

“Phantom,” Sarah lowered her tone. “Are they the reason you’ve been so afraid of us finding out the truth? Have they threatened you in any way?”

“No!” He backed up in shock. “I—I mean, sort of? Listen, it’s not because of him—them, I promise. It’s more complicated than that. He’s just protecting me, you know? If my secret gets out, that would put them all in danger, but it would put me in even more danger. I wouldn’t...I’d have to leave. I’d be on the run.”

“Why?”

“It’s so messed up.”

“Then tell me.”

She already knew. She just needed him to confirm it for her.

He looked to her, his bright green eyes seemingly desperate for help. But he shook his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait—”

But he was already gone.

---

“I’ve never seen him look so scared,” Abrams said.

“So you think he’s right.” Crowley took a long swig of his coffee, “Course you do.”

“It makes sense,” Abrams insisted. “Why else would Phantom be so terrified of people finding the truth?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know, maybe it’s because he’s a teen who was playing with electrical equipment he wasn’t supposed to be near and even in death doesn’t want to get in trouble for it!”

“Yes but how would that explain all the ectoplasm in his DNA? That doesn’t come from just any electric shock.”

“Who knows,” Crowley said. “The Fentons have always been crackpots. Always have had ludicrous theories. Now suddenly when it’s convenient, you’re all running to their side?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “We’re not running to their side.”

“Then what do you call this?” Crowley gestured to the duo. “Sure looks like it to me.”

“You have to admit that it makes sense,” Mark said. “I mean, get real. Doesn’t any of this smell fishy to you?”

Crowley slapped his empty coffee mug on the table. “You know what smells fishy to me? The Fentons are the only known ecto-scientists in this whole damn city, the only people who have lab-grade ecto-equipment in Amity Park, and suddenly right when they were getting into some financial trouble, Phantom appears out of nowhere from a death that reeks of forced ecto-contamination. That smells fishy to me.”

Mark paused, but then shook his head. “If that were true, then why would Dr. Fenton even offer human experimentation as a possibility?”

“To gloat? Gain our trust? Test our intelligence?” Crowley threw his hands up. “Who knows? They’re crazy!”

“So you think we need to investigate them?” Mark asked.

“I’d be a damn shit detective if I didn’t. They have the means and motive to create a ghost like Phantom. It’s just like Maddie said.”

“I think he’s right,” Abrams said, nibbling on her bagel. “If this is actually a case of ecto-experimentation, then the Fentons should be on the list of suspects.”

“Finally, some common sense around here. Just about the only case of common sense these days…” Crowley grumbled.

Mark chose to ignore that comment, instead checking his phone. No notifications, damn. The entire department had been on high alert for Phantom ever since the attack on the morgue. Mark was just relieved that the new and improved ecto-guns had finally been issued that morning. If not for the updated technology, that incident likely would have ended far less smoothly.

Not that it really ended smoothly. Phantom had yet again escaped Mark’s clutches, free to run off and break into Sarah’s home.

Guilt clawed at Mark’s stomach, but he pushed it back. Phantom was a slippery ghost, one that had escaped all levels of ghost hunters from the Fentons, to the Ghost Investigation Ward. Mark knew it would take a lot more than a few words of peace and one ecto-gun to stop that kind of raw power.

“What do we even know about the Fentons?” Abrams asked.

“They’re ghost hunters and mostly make weapons now, but before that they dabbled in all sorts of ecto-based technology. The husband, Jack, is the engineer and the wife, Maddie, is the biologist. They have two kids, Jasmine and Daniel. Jasmine, or ‘Jazz’ is supposedly top of her class, likely to graduate valedictorian, while Daniel’s something else. Bad grades, skips class, all around a bit of a loner,” Crowley said, regurgitating information like he was reading a case file.

Mark glanced at his colleague, giving him an impressed smirk. “Did your homework early, eh?”

“I told you, something aint right here,” Crowley said.

“And? What do you think?” Mark asked.

“What I think is that I’m shocked their house is even coded to have a lab inside. I’d like to know whose ass they kissed to give them that permit.”

Abrams snorted. “Jesus, Jacob.”

“What? I’m right!”

“Fine, whatever,” Mark stood, collecting his empty coffee cup and paper plate. “I godda head home, my sister’s visiting this weekend.”

“Alright, tell Susan I said hello. And say hi to her little demon child too.”

Mark rolled his eyes. “She’s four.”

“What, four year olds can’t be demons? I should know, I had two of them.”

Abrams swiped her empty wrapper and tossed it in the trash. “Yeah, I have to feed Atlas. I’ll see you both next week.”

“Take care!”

---

“Well at least we know Phantom didn’t change anything about his facial structure when he became a ghost.” Crowley’s small eyes swiveled between the photo of Phantom in one hand and the new sketch rendition of his human identity.

Mark grunted and stared at his own copy of the photo.

The corpse had been too decomposed to be able to distinguish a face, and ghosts often change their appearance in death. Sure, Phantom looked like a regular human, but it was impossible to know that for a fact.

Fortunately, modern research and re-composition was advanced enough that they didn’t have to wonder for long. Especially with this being such a high-profile case for the city.

And as it turned out, aside from the hair, Phantom really didn’t look all too different when he was alive. He had the same sharp nose, the same angular chin, the same boyish face. The only thing that was different was his hair and presumably his eye color, although that was still a mystery due to the corrupted DNA.

Even though there was little change to Phantom’s appearance, seeing the black haired, brown eyed human boy staring back at Mark was rather shocking, if he were being honest. There was something off putting about seeing this enigma quite literally brought back to life. It took away that edge of lore that the heroic town enigma had.

Now Phantom wasn’t some wild mystery. He was just...a kid.

“This really is something,” Crowley said. “Guess we should put it to good use.”

Mark sighed, turning his attention back to his desktop. Sifting through missing person’s reports was never exactly a fun way to start the morning.

“You think you can handle it, rookie?” Crowley asked.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

Crowley let the photographs drop to his side. “Alright, I’m going to continue doing some digging on our suspects.”

“Good luck.”

“And you.”

The work was tedious and depressing. Face after face of missing minors flickered across his screen. It was almost too hard to believe that Phantom was a part of this list.

Caucasian. Black hair. Eye color unknown. Five foot five.

That was all they had on Phantom. For all they knew, he could have been from another city entirely.

But hopefully Mark would find a hit, at least one kid from Amity who fit the profile.

And in fact, there were a few...sort of. Four teens who had black hair and were about five foot five. But none of them looked quite like Phantom.

Which meant Mark had to widen his search.

How wonderful.

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms out wide. It was nearly lunchtime now and he felt like he’d gotten no further than where he was before. Mark stood from his chair, feeling a bit defeated. Hopefully Crowley would’ve had better luck on the suspect list than Mark.

He strolled over to Crowley’s desk, only to find the desk empty. Crowley had likely already left for lunch, the bastard hadn’t even bothered to grab Mark on the way.

Not that Mark could really blame him. He doubted Crowley wanted to use his lunch break to talk about the case after the tedious research they both had spent their mornings doing.

Mark dug his phone out of his pocket, intent on sending the older detective an update, when he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar face stared up at him.

Mark slowly lowered the device and crept toward the desk, as if his mere presence would disintegrate the paper on his desk.

Inside Fentonworks: the Fenton family’s home-grown anti-ghost business!

It was an article printed from some online magazine that Mark didn’t recognize. Slapped on the cover of the page, just under the title, was a photo of a family of four beaming, waving at the camera. One of the members was a young boy—about Phantom’s age—with black hair in almost the same haircut as Phantom, with that crooked smile that Phantom had been caught adorning all too many times.

Waving at the camera.

Skinny, short for a boy, son to two ecto-science parents who fill their basement with dangerous high-voltage and easily combustible ecto-technology.

His name was listed as Daniel.

Mark glanced at the two images in his hand, and then looked at the article below him.

Holy shit.

No. There was no way. Crowley had been suspicious of them, and he had good reason to include them on his suspect list, but this kid was alive. He wasn’t missing, he wasn’t dead, he was standing right there.

It just wasn’t possible.

His apple watch pinged, alerting him of a ghost attack nearby.

Mark hurried back to his desk, swiping his coat off his chair.

This was impossible.

The police sketch and the copy of the article pressed against his fist.

Phantom was a ghost. Ghosts will do anything to protect themselves. They would lie, cheat, and manipulate humans in order to stay on top.

Mark was just seeing things.

There was no way that this was him.

He beelined for the door, tucking the papers into his pants pocket.

It wasn’t possible.

The drive there was short, and the fight even shorter. It had just been the Box Ghost, so nothing that Phantom couldn’t handle. The ghost gave his little song and dance, captured the ghost, and waved brightly to the crowd. But Mark could see right through it, right past all the cracks in his façade.

Phantom was losing it.

And Mark could end this.

“Phantom!” Mark called out through his cupped hands.

The ghost flinched, his cheery face replaced with a scowl instantly.

“Another time,” he said.

But Mark didn’t have another time. He needed to know now.

Because Phantom could end this insane proposition. He could laugh heartlessly at the mere mention that he was this random living child. He was Phantom, protector of Amity Park, not some human experiment.

Not some impossibility.

Not some kid who’s been dead for a year and only pretending to be human for his family.

Not the greatest act of manipulation from a ghost that Mark had ever seen.

Mark yanked the papers from his pocket and unfolded them with shaking fingers. He held them up hastily, knowing that they were too far away for normal human eyes.

But this was Phantom. He wasn’t human.

Mark saw the exact moment that Phantom recognized the photos. The ghost’s eyes widened, his face paled, his aura dimmed. Then, in the blink of an eye, the ghost vanished.

Mark was right.

---

The air was thick, tense. Phantom slumped in his armchair, his body the equivalent of a white flag. Even so, his eyes were bright, charged with nervous energy.

He was terrified.

Atlas must have sensed this, because the dog had decided to break away from being Sarah’s shadow to lay against the ghost’s feet.

“I don’t know where to start,” Phantom admitted after a few tense beats of silence.

“The beginning, maybe,” Jacob said.

Phantom looked sick at the suggestion, but relented. “You’re right. Yeah...I…” he glanced up at the two detectives and Sarah seated across the coffee table on her dull green couch. Phantom had appeared in her kitchen not even an hour ago, looking like he’d just seen the personification of death itself.

And instantly, Sarah knew.

She’d tried to coax him to let her bring him to the station so he could come clean there, but he refused. He said the information was too sensitive and he didn’t trust the station to not have cameras recording every angle of every room.

And so they settled on her living room instead. Mark and Jacob arrived, seeming none too surprised by the arrangement, and more than willing to follow Phantom’s direction if it meant they would finally get the truth.

Which Phantom didn’t seem remotely ready to give.

“I guess…” He tried again, closing his eyes. There was another tense moment of silence before a pair of white rings appeared around Phantom’s waist, traveling up his body and leaving behind a skinny black haired teenager.

Phantom cautiously opened his eyes. And, to Sarah’s surprise, they were blue.

“You’re Daniel Fenton,” Mark said.

She heard Jacob suck in a breath.

“Yes. I’m Danny Fenton.” Without the echo, his voice sounded much closer, much more down to earth than Phantom’s. “And a year ago, I was in an accident.”

His voice, like the rest of him, seemed softer without the powerful aura of Phantom behind it. If Sarah had passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have blinked twice. Gone was the cocky personality, the perfect posture, the floating white hair, the bright, determined expression. Gone was the jumpsuit, the logo, the strong voice that seemed like it could project for a mile, the banter, the confidence.

It was just a kid. A kid with baggy jeans, dirty shoes, and a plain shirt. He didn’t seem lithe, he looked weak. The green undertone to his skin was replaced with red, and his shoulders hunched in a way Sarah had never seen on Phantom before.

“What happened?” Mark asked.

“When my parents first completed their interdimensional ghost portal, it didn’t work. I decided to—it was my fault. I just decided to go in it. I don’t know why.” He looked up to the ceiling. “It was a stupid idea. The portal was plugged in, but there was a switch inside that wasn’t turned on, and I tripped over a wire and turned it on. From the inside.”

Sarah felt a pang in her chest. “That’s horrible.”

“Yeah. It was,” Phantom agreed. “And then I guess the portal stabilized the connection between Amity Park and the Ghost Zone, because ghosts started appearing in town. So I decided that if it was my fault that they were here, I was going to protect the town. And that’s what I’ve done.”

That’s his Obsession, Sarah realized. It’s protection.

“Why not come out with it?” Jacob asked. “Why bury your body? Why still try to pass as a human?”

Phantom’s head fell into his hands. “I didn’t know what else to do! It—I...you have to understand, my parents would never understand. They think all ghosts are evil. I couldn’t just come out and tell them what happened, they’d kill me!”

“So you decided it was safer to play human,” Jacob said.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Especially since...I sort of still am?” He lifted his head and stuck out his wrist. “I still have a pulse.”

No one moved.

“You’re shitting me,” Jacob guffawed.

“No, I’m being serious. The portal killed me, but then it brought me back to life. Except by then my body was already altered from the ecto-electricity, so the working theory is that I exist in this sort of limbo state between dead and alive. Hence why…” He transformed into Phantom and then back to Fenton. “Hence why I have two forms.”

“And the body,” Mark said. “The coroner report said it only weighed a little over half the weight of a normal body due to all the ectoplasm. But if you’re half alive, how would you have a body?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know? To be honest, that day was such a nightmare that I’ve mostly blocked it out.”

Mark finally reached over and took the boy’s wrist. He pressed two fingers against the skin and waited.

“Damn.” His eyes widened. “It’s actually there.”

“No way,” Jacob said, leaning over to take Phantom’s wrist. A few seconds passed before he was joining Mark’s reaction. “It is there.”

“I know.” Phantom tucked his arm back to his chest. “I don’t understand it. I have a heart and also a ghost core. I can feel it all the time, even as a human. I have human thoughts and feelings and ghostly instincts playing constantly.”

As confusing and morbid as this was, it made sense in a sort of twisted way that Sarah only reserved for the rambling logic of her paranoid, senior grandmother. It explained why Phantom, a ghost, would willingly risk himself day in and day out over the safety of humans. Phantom was a ghost who was driven to protect his home, and he was also a human who wanted to look after those he loved.

He was truly Schrödinger’s cat. Dead and alive inside his little box, his little town, with no one able to measure him.

“That’s the thing that sets you apart from the ghosts,” Sarah said, tapping her knee with her finger. “That day when you came to my house saying that you were different, this is what you were talking about. You also said it would be dangerous if this information got out.”

The question was implied, and Phantom seemed to pick up on it, judging by his grimace.

“You weren’t talking about your parents.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“So then who is it? Who was trying to destroy the morgue? Who are you hiding from?”

Danny crossed his arms and glared at the floor. “Isn’t it obvious?” he said bitterly. “The government. GiW, all of them. Think of what they’d do if they knew someone could be both dead and alive at the same time.”

“Well fuck the lot of them,” Jacob said.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed.

“And the ghost who was trying to take down the morgue?” Mark pressed.

“I…” Danny’s eyes shifted. “I can’t say. It’s a ghost thing. All the ghosts in the Zone know about me, they call me a halfa. Half alive, half dead. Honestly, I don’t think it took much convincing for them to want to protect me.”

“But you were fighting against them,” Jacob countered. “If they were really trying to protect you, then why not go along with them?”

Danny opened and closed his mouth, the words seemingly stuck in his throat. Words from Maddie’s ecto-biology papers fluttered across Sarah’s eyes, about how ghosts were evil, they were liars, they’d say and do anything to keep themselves safe.

But as Danny let out a defeated sigh, his arms uncrossing to dangle at his side, Sarah couldn’t help but see the face of a scared teen who was just doing his best.

“It’s a ghost thing,” he finally said. “I didn’t like what they were doing because...because I needed to protect my body. If the building collapsed, it would have gotten damaged.”

Sarah blinked, and her and Mark exchanged a glance.

“I see,” Mark said carefully. “So if there was a plan to recover your...body...safely, you would have gone along with it?”

“I don’t know. Ghosts are weird, they all have their own agenda. I’d rather if it were just...left alone. In the ground. Untouched. Like it had been.”

They were silent for a moment, and Sarah watched as Jacob and Mark stared at each other in silent conversation. One that only partners could properly understand.

Finally, Jacob relented. “Okay, here’s the deal. Say I go talk with Chief Davis and he agrees to keep your identity secret. In exchange, all you’d have to do for us is tell your parents.”

For a moment, Sarah thought Phantom was going to bolt out of the armchair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re screwing around putting your life in danger every day, kid,” Jacob said. “Not to mention, your parents’ house is a walking minefield for you. You godda protect yourself.”

“I protect myself just fine.”

“Doesn’t dismiss the fact that you’re running off getting in fights every day with ghosts, and then coming home to a house littered with ecto-weapons that could kill you. You know, all the way.”

“My parents will kill me if they find out though,” Danny said darkly. “You don’t know them.”

“Which is why you won’t be alone. Crowley and I will be there with you. And I know a woman in CPS who can keep this on the down low too. We won’t let anything happen, promise,” Mark said.

Phantom glanced between them, his wide blue eyes betraying just how fearful he was. “You promise?”

“Yeah kid, we got your back.”

---

“It’s going way better than I thought,” Danny said, throwing the stick up the path.

Atlas didn’t hesitate, bounding after the object with an enthusiasm rivaled by no one.

“I’m glad,” Sarah said. “You deserve a safe place to go home to.”

Danny cocked his head. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Getting to know Danny these past few weeks was surreal. For a year now, Sarah had a set mental image of who Phantom was. The hero, the great protector, the thrill-seeker.

But now, as she got to know the quiet yet snarky kid who went to school and stressed over his math exams just like any other teen would, she’d gotten to appreciate the person that Danny truly was, the person he became when he wasn’t trying to hide his ghostly persona or playing the larger-than-life character.

Atlas pranced back, the stick held high like an Olympic medal.

“Good boy!” Danny praised.

At Sarah’s nonverbal command, Atlas dropped the stick in front of Danny, who was more than happy to pick it up and hurl ahead of the dirt path again.

“It’s weird. It’s almost like...I don’t know, it’s just kind of relieving? To not need to hide? Like don’t get me wrong, my parents are still kinda weird about it. I still don’t really use any of my powers at home because I just don’t think I’m ready. But the other day I used intangibility to get a cup out of the cabinet instead of just opening the cabinet door, and my mom didn’t even say anything. I remember back when I first got my powers and I couldn't figure out how to work them. I spent so long trying to hide any weirdness, and to think that now I can just do stuff and nobody cares.” A blissful smile dressed Danny’s lips. “It’s just nice, is all.”

“I bet,” Sarah said. “Must be a huge weight off your shoulders. And your sister’s okay with it?”

“Oh yeah. My sister actually already knew about it.”

“You’re kidding. Really?”

Danny threw the stick again. “Yeah, but I already knew about that. She told me a few months ago. But she’s been really helpful at home with trying to get everyone on the same page.”

“That’s good.”

“And my dad’s already been begging to take me out to the field with him.”

“Have you taken him up on it?”

“No. Not yet.”

Sarah peered cautiously over to him. “Why not?”

“I dunno.” Danny’s eyes tracked Atlas’ triumphant return from the woods. “It just seems a bit weird still. And besides, it would be kinda odd if my parents went from trying to kill me to suddenly Phantom’s new best friend overnight. For now they’ve agreed to a public truce.”

Ah yes, the truce. That had been all over the news when the Fenton’s announced it, citing new research into ghost psychology that showed instances of benevolent ghosts. The news had rocked the city, some calling the duo crazy, while others praising them for their growth.

Even though Phantom and the Fenton couple were still in the growing pains of their new truce, no one could deny how much more smoothly ghost fights had gotten since it began. There was less property damage, less citizen’s hurt, and overall the process seemed far more professional than it ever had.

“I’ve noticed a change,” Sarah said. “I really think it’s for the best.”

“So do I. Even though it’s still kinda weird.”

“It’ll get easier, just give it time.”

Atlas dropped the stick, apparently distracted by some scent on a bush. He stopped to sniff the plant before wandering behind it, his nose glued to the ground.

“Wait, Atlas—” Danny started, watching as Atlas disappeared into the foliage.

Hearing his name, the dog leapt back onto the trail and over to Danny, who paused to scratch him behind his ear. “Good boy.”

Sarah grinned down at the duo.

Who knew a cadaver dog and a half dead kid could make such a good pair?

---

Thanks for reading!

#danny phantom #my writing #morge #invisobang #invisobang 2021

174 notes · View notes

smutbymia · 3 years

Note

hiiii can i request a smut with ex bf turned fwb jaehyun where he still loves y/n thats why he agreed on that setup but he gets y/n pregnant along the way djsjajhaa thank youuu it could be fluffy at the end thankbyooouu ❤️

You pushed through the front doors of a restaurant bar, scanning the space for your high school friends. It had been a few years since you first graduated and even though you kept in touch with them it wasn’t easy for all of you to meet up due to your busy schedules.

You saw a few hands waving you down from across the room and walked over, smiling.

“Great, you all got here at the same time,” said your friend Lia. You were confused at her comment until you turned around, only to see that there was a group of guys behind you that had entered just after you did. And one of the boys in that group happened to be someone you were very familiar with.

Going to an all-girls school was supposed to help you focus more on your studies and have less distractions but that was all useless considering the fact that there was an all boys school right across the street. You remembered the days when droves of school kids would hang around the entrances trying their best to look nonchalant while they whispered amongst their friends about the boys that they found attractive until it was time to head home for the day.

Most didn’t dare approach the opposite sex on the other side of the street, except Lia’s cousin Johnny happened to be a student at the boys school and so he would often use “picking her up from school” as an excuse to hang around the front gates of the girls academy. Lia’s parents traveled a lot for work and so during the school year aside from some weekends, she would stay with Johnny, her aunt, and uncle since her family home was in the next town over.

That was what led you to meeting your ex-boyfriend Jaehyun. He was handsome and cute all in one and even back then the girls would drool over him, however he was extremely unapproachable in the eyes of many. The day you met, you had gone to the convenience store near school with Lia. The two of you sat outside on top of one of the tables with your legs outstretched as you typically did. Lia was ranting about a drama she had been watching and eating ice cream and you were scribbling clothing designs in the mini sketchbook that you always carried around when Johnny turned the corner with a group of his friends following closely behind.

“Look who it is,” he said as he threw his backpack onto the empty benches you rested your feet on. The rest of his friends followed suit throwing their bags as you and Lia shrieked, lifting your legs out of the way just in time as they made their way into the convenience store. Except one boy walked calmly towards the door, dropping his bag on the table next to you without even looking up once from the book he carried in his hand.

That day they hung around eating snacks and causing a ruckus but Jaehyun was very easy going. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him as he ran his fingers through his hair and skimmed through his textbook which happened to be about computer programming. He suddenly glanced up and realized the two of you were the only ones sitting around the table while Lia and the other boys all fooled around nearby, gaming on their phones and dribbling around a basketball.

He yawned and shut his book as he leaned forward on the table, eyes glued on yours as you felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, gesturing towards your sketchpad.

“D-drawing,” you stammered embarrassingly. The corner of his mouth raised into a gentle smirk as he caught onto the nervousness in your tone of voice. He scooted over next to you and you could feel the air leave your lungs.

Just as he leaned over to peak at what you were drawing, you slammed the sketch book shut, not wanting him to see the sketch you had drawn of him reading.

“Are they... naughty drawings?” he teased.

“No, no of course not. Not at all!” you protested getting more and more embarrassed by the way he smiled at you. You slipped the sketchpad into your bag, and got up from your spot next to him. You turned to Lia.

“It’s getting late, I should go,” you said to her. She instinctively started to collect her belongings too but Johnny stopped him.

“Jaehyun lives on her street so he can take her. I need you to come with me to the store. Mom’s birthday is this weekend and I have no clue what to get her,” he whined. Before you could get a word in, the group had split and gone their separate ways leaving the two of you alone.

Living on the same street is what brought you closer. Jaehyun started walking you home whenever you happened to hang out with Johnny and his friends and the two of you would sometime stop on the way home for bubble tea, or at stationary shops when you needed art supplies. Eventually he started meeting you at the end of your street each morning before school and even on the weekends at the park in your neighbourhood. Eventually the two of you started to secretly date and were known as the “it” couple between the all boys and all girl school once your secret got out just before graduation.

You maintained the relationship through your last summer before going your separate ways once university started. You still remembered sharing so many of your firsts with Jaehyun. Your first date, your first relationship and your first kiss.

And now here he was years later sitting across from you like he did back in high school. It would have been awkward had your friends slowed down with the drinking. Instead, after a few short chats about what everyone was up to and a bunch of shots later they were all stumbling out into cabs or moaning at the table about missing each other.

You and Jaehyun had always been the tame ones out of the bunch so the two of you took turns getting the remainder of your friends into cabs until it was just the two of you left. You stood outside the bar with him after getting Johnny into the last cab and sending him off. Jaehyun sighed as he stood next to you on the sidewalk.

“They’re such a handful,” he complained. You chuckled softly in agreement.

“Yeah, they totally sobered me up,” you whined, “what a waste.”

“Well it wouldn’t be fair for us to go home sober, would it?” he asked with that same mischievous smirk he always pulled out.

That led to the two of you going to the nearest convenience store which coincidentally happened to be the one near your old schools, taking shots of soju outside on the dining tables. The two of you reminisced, while avoiding the topic of your former romance until you both decided it was time to head home.

Both of your families had moved from your old neighbourhood but you did still live nearby after finishing school. Jaehyun offered to walk you home despite your refusals. He insisted. And of course, as if it was planned by the Gods themselves, just as you arrived it started to rain. You knew it would be rude to leave him drunk and alone to hail a cab and so you reluctantly invited him into your place to wait until the rain eased up a bit more.

A mixture of the alcohol and the tension between the two of you that had been building all night led to you pressed against the door of your apartment which you locked behind you, and Jaehyun hovering in front of your face.

“W-we shouldn’t right?” he started in a whisper, “because...”

His arms gripped your waist and you watched as he tried to focus on thinking coherently instead of letting the alcohol scramble his brain as his eyes scanned yours for a reaction. It looked like he needed you to finish the sentence because he was struggling to find a good reason as to why he should stop himself from taking your right there in the entrance of your place.

You couldn’t lie to yourself. You were dying to get a taste of him. He had matured nicely, his muscular frame filling out his clothing. You ran hands over his arms,

“Fuck it, J-just this once,” you said quietly as you trailed your hands up to his neck and drew him in for a kiss. You could feel Jaehyun relax in your embrace as his lips met yours softly. There was no urgency in his actions. He parted his lips and slipped his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He kissed you like he had been yearning to do so.

As much as the romantic mood touched your heart, you needed more to be satisfied and so you took it upon yourself to intensify things. You captured his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged softly. You caught him by surprise as he momentarily opened his eyes. You could see his gaze transform into something a little darker before trailing kisses down his neck. Jaehyuns breathing grew heavy as he flattened the palm of his hand against the door behind you to steady himself. He pushed his hips forward, letting you feel how excited he was, drawing a low moan from his lips.

“Bed,” you gasped as Jaehyun let his hands wander across your body gripping your ass and making their way back up as he explored every curve he could reach, “now. Before we do anything else, I need you in my bed.”

Jaehyun smirked at the desperation in your voice as you two rushed to kick off your shoes. You walked briskly through your apartment towards your bedroom. Jaehyun however lingered, taking in the space, stopping to look at artwork on the walls and look at photo frames.

“Jae,” you whined as you paused at your doorway, frustrated that he wasn’t right behind you. Jaehyuns heart fluttered from hearing the nickname you called him after such a long time as he put down a frame he had in his hands.

He laughed as he approached you, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your lips before catching himself. He stood tall again, letting out a deep breath.

“Sorry,” he said as he stepped into your room, lifting his shirt above his head and turning back around to face you. You stood frozen taking in his muscular frame with your mouth frozen in a gasp.

“You- you really matured well,” you said as you crossed the room to place your hands on his chest. His dimples became visible as he moved to stand behind you. He lifted your shirt over your head and unclasped your bra from behind, looking over your shoulder down your chest as the garment fell to the ground to expose your bare chest. He wrapped his hands around your body, squeezing at the soft flesh as he trailed kisses down your neck and pressed himself against your behind. You gasped softly at the way his fingers ran back and forth over your nipples, sending electricity racing through your body, letting your head fall back to rest on his chest.

Jaheyun moved his hands down your stomach until he reached the waistband of your jeans, undoing the button and lowering the zipper, not waiting any longer. He slipped his hand into your underwear, dipping his digits between your folds as you cried out his name in satisfaction from finally being touched.

You gripped his thigh behind you, steadying yourself as you shifted your legs to open them up wider in order to give him more access to your core. You could feel your knees buckled as he drew circles under the hood of you folds directly over your clit. Jaehyun adjusted his grip on your body, holding you up when he realized you were growing weak under his touch. He was impressed at your ability to hold back your pleasure.

“That’s my good girl. You’re doing so well. I need you nice and wet,” he cooed as the sound of your wetness echoed with every occasional dip of his fingers towards your entrance before he drew your juices back up to wet your sensitive bud.

“I can’t last much longer,” you whined. Jaehyun slowed the assault on your clit and instead flattened his hand between your legs, gripping your entire core without moving as he allowed you to regain your composure. You couldn’t help yourself as you slowly rutted against his hand. He chucked softly behind you.

“Hey, don’t cum yet,” he whined back as he squeezed at your center, slowing your ruts and making your mind go fuzzy, “I want to feel you first.”

You couldn’t believe this was the same sweet but mischievous boy you had known for so long. He slipped his hand back out from between your legs and pulled your pants down from over your hips until you had undressed entirely. He motioned for you to get on the bed as you watched him undress, pumping his length between his fist as he hovered over you.

You sat up on your legs, spreading them as you reached for him wanting to take him into your mouth. Jaehyun stood rested a knee on the bed as he stood, letting you lick softly at the head of his dick as he grunted, just as you covered it with your mouth and felt him jerk forward into you. You whimpered softly feeling him push himself back and forth over your tongue as you hollowed out your cheeks and pumped along his shaft. He grew harder with every stroke until he couldn’t take it anymore and gripped your chin as he slid himself out from between your lips.

“Fuck,” he gasped as he let himself fall onto the bed beside you, propped up by only his elbows. You took the opportunity to climb on top of him, straddling his hips as you hovered above him, dropping your head down to kiss him and silently guiding him to lay down.

He ran his hand down your sides and over your back as you felt him fumble with himself before positioning himself at your entrance, letting you sink down onto him. The sound the two of you made as your bodies connected at their cores had you whimpering along with the sensation of being filled up completely.

Jaehyun brushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he gripped at your face, cursing as you took more and more of him into you.

“Are you sure you can take it all?” he murmured, planting kisses across your cheeks. You nodded shakily, focusing as you felt your abdomen grow tighter the further you sunk down, feeling as though you were running out of space until you felt your rear end finally make contact with his balls. You let out a shriek as Jaehyun let out a dreamy moan, head falling back into the pillows as you settled comfortably around him.

“Shit, that feels so amazing,” he whimpered. You planted your hands firmly on his chest, sitting up and rotating your hips slowly on top of him as you adjusted to his size. Curse words fell from his lips as he gripped at your hips, slowly and gently fucking up into you every time you circled your waist.

His thrusts grew more frantic as you started to lift yourself with each rotation of your hips, letting yourself slam back down into his thrusts. The two of you grunted, quickening the pace. As you both grew more desperate, Jaehyun repositioned himself, wrapping his entire arm around your waist as he propped himself up with the other so that he was in a seated position. He bent his knees slightly, planting soles of his feet against the mattress to steady the both of you as he used his strength to jerk his hips right up into your opening so you didn’t have to exert as much energy, and allowing him to control the pace.

The combination of his thrusts along with the way your clit conveniently brushed against his his lower abdomen sent you into a spiral. You fell apart instantaneously. The feeling of your body clenching around him had Jaehyun releasing himself into you as your name spilled from his lips. The two of you could only keep your eyes open long enough to clean yourselves up a bit before you both fell asleep in your bed.

The next morning wasn’t awkward at all, thankfully. The two of you woke up and showered, and decided to go out for some coffee and breakfast at a nearby cafe before taking a walk at a park near your place. The conversation was easy. It was officially the weekend and so neither of you were preoccupied with many other responsibilities. Despite the very intimate sex, things otherwise seemed normal.

“I should probably go back to my place,” Jaehyun said as he gestured towards his clothing. You had already spent a few hours together and had totally forgotten about the fact that he was still wearing last nights clothes.

“Oh... shit, yeah. I lost track of time,” you said sheepishly. He smiled sweetly.

“Me too,” he responded hesitating before continuing, “about last night...”

You could feel heat spread across your cheeks.

“Don’t worry. It was nothing,” you said quickly out of embarassment.

Jaehyun looked perplexed, then a bit frustrated. You knew him well enough to know that you had ticked him off. Just as he opened his mouth to tell you off, you interrupted him.

“Wait, no! What I meant to say was that it was amazing but I also totally understand that it was a spur of the moment thing,” you said as you grabbed one of his hands to grasp in between yours.

Jaehyun nodded, letting out a sigh and trying not to let the disappointment show too much on his face.

“Text me so I know you got home safe,” he said as he removed his hand from your grasp. You nodded, and said your goodbyes as the two of you went your separate ways.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about that night since it happened. A week had gone by and even though you and Jaehyun kept in loose and casual contact through text, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him. You couldn’t satisfy yourself either. Nothing felt quite as satisfying as his touch and it was starting to wind you up.

You were getting ready for Johnny’s birthday party when there was a knock at your door that you weren’t expecting.

“Oh, hey...” you said.

You were very surprised to find Jaehyun standing on the other side. He already smelled of alcohol but didn’t seem to be too wasted.

“Sorry I was going to call but my phone died when I was out with my coworkers,” he mumbled, “do you mind?”

He held his phone up and you stepped aside, letting him enter your apartment and lending him your phone charger. He was also going to Johnny’s place later for his party in a few hours and according to him he was in the area. He sat quietly in the living room for most of the time. As you were finishing up your makeup, he knocked softly on the bathroom door.

“What’s up?” you asked in a monotone voice as he opened the door. You were focused on your own reflection applying your mascara.

“Hey, do you have anything to drink? I think the party already started and everyone already started drinking so I thought it would be a good idea to start now so that we could catch up,” he said as he scrolled through his phone texting what was most likely the boys’ group chat.

“Yeah, check the cabinet above the fridge,” you said. Jaehyun hovered in the doorway watching you for a moment.

“Is everything okay? I spoke with Lia earlier. She said you’ve been a little... bratty this week,” he said. You turned to glare at him but he raised his eyebrows, challenging you to kick an attitude with him. If there was anyone who didn’t tolerate your moodiness it was Jaehyun.

“Did something happen?” he asked. You shook your head no.

“I don’t know I just feel a little.. tense, I guess. It will pass,” you mumbled as you touched up your lipstick in the mirror next.

Jaehyun stepped behind you, catching off guard. He stood close to you as he locked eyes with you in the mirror. You watched as his hands disappeared behind you before you felt him pull the zipper of your dress up. You had forgotten to do it up earlier when you first put it on.

“Maybe drinking will help. C’mon,” he started as he took the lipstick from between your fingers and closed the lid before resting it on your counter and pulling you out of the bathroom, “you already look perfect.”

The two of you took a few shots in your kitchen. The alcohol did help a bit but not entirely. You rotated your head, stretching your neck out as you sighed deeply. Jaehyun was buzzed and in a much better mood than you were, he knocked back another drink before moving behind you and massaging at your neck.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” he asked. You took a deep breath as his fingers worked against your skin and you leaned back just slightly into him, closing your eyes.

You shook your head. He continued to massage out the kinks in your neck as he watched the tension slowly slip away from your face, smiling. It wasn’t until you started to let soft moans slip from your mouth that he froze momentarily.

“Jae, don’t stop,” you whimpered, “please.”

He felt himself harden just from the tone of your voice. He had to catch himself when he found himself instinctively leaning down towards your neck to drag his tongue across your skin.

Your eyes fluttered open as you craned your neck to look up at him, wondering why he had stopped his massage. His eyes were glazed over and you felt that tension ease its way back.

“O-one more time” you whispered.

“What?” he question, not understanding what you were referring to.

“For fucks sake, Jae!” you groaned. Turning around and pull him closer to you as your lips hovered in front of his.

“I can’t be drunk around you like this without caving and literally nothing satisfies me anymore after last week so let’s do this one last time and then you have to promise not to come back here again,” you said, words spilling uncontrollably for your mouth as you began unbuttoning his shirt.

He stopped you, gripping your hands.

“Wait, is that what’s been bothering you all week? You needed sex?” he asked, baffled. You felt your cheeks heat up, suddenly feeling a bit ashamed.

“Y/n... look at me,” he said as you lifted your gaze to meet his. He slipped his index finger under your chin.

“If that’s all that you need to feel better then you know you can call me anytime, right?” he said, smirking. His heart tensed up a bit when he put the offer on the table. You nodded, head spinning from the alcohol.

“Alright, we’re already late,” he said as he abruptly lifted you up onto the kitchen counter behind you and hiked up your dress, slipping your thong down past your ankles and discarding it onto the floor.

He pulled your mouth to his, not wasting time letting his tongue massage into your mouth as he let his fingers work at your clit the way he knew would have you dripping in just a few seconds. He unzipped his pants, pushing them down just far enough for him to free himself. He was already hard enough to push into you, slipping easily through your folds and deep into your entrance. He drew a high pitched moan from your lips as he thrusted into you quickly.

Even though it was much easier to take him this time, you still were very taken aback by the way he made you feel so full.

“Anytime you want, anywhere you want,” he grunted as he slammed his hips forward, palming your breasts through your silk mini dress, “And however you want! I’ll take care of you”

You felt a weeks worth of frustration build up in your core as you felt your orgasm approach you. You gasped for air, slapping your hands against his shoulder to get him to slow down as you pleaded, “f-from behind. I need you from behind, please!”

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. He lifted you off of the counter before slipping himself out of you just long enough to turn you over and bend you over the same counter before snapping his hips back into you again.

“Harder,” you begged and he complied. You felt him tighten his grip around your waist and rope his fingers into your hair as he jerked his hips forward, not slowing as you came, soaking him from the inside. You screamed out his name as he kept up his pace.

“Be a good girl and hold on a little longer, okay? I’m almost there,” he said through gritted teeth. Every thrust left you tingling as your walls squeezed around his cock, just as you felt him release into you and collapse onto your back as he caught his breath. Your moment of bliss was interrupted by the ringing of Jaehyun’s phone.

“Shit, our uber is here,” he chuckled. The two of you cleaned up as quickly as you could before heading out to the party. You touched up your hair and makeup in the car, cursing Jaehyun for ruining your hard work even though he insisted that you looked totally fine.

That was the beginning of what became a really rewarding arrangement. Jaehyun kept his promise. He would come by your place after work some days, and did a great job of keeping you satisfied, going down on you in the middle of netflix marathons or fucking you against the wall of your shower. He even picked you up from your office, slipping his fingers into your undies and making you cum on his fingers behind tinted windows in the middle of traffic. The best days were the ones where he would sleep over at your place. It was nearly impossible to have a bad day when it started off on such a positive note and there was a noticeable shift in your mood. Until... something happened.

Your vision was blurred by your tears, as you swiped at your eyes. You desperately wished that you were dreaming. You stared at the pregnancy test you held between your fingers as you sat on your couch sobbing at the results. You had really fucked up this time. All the constant running around and travelling between your place and Jaehyun’s had caused you to accidentally forget to take your pill one day. You had gotten back on schedule but it was too late. The test in your hand proved that it was a big enough mistake for you to end up pregnant.

You were so shaken up that you called out of work for a week very suddenly. You ignored calls from everyone, including Jaehyun and even lied to Lia about being under the weather to keep everyone from reaching out. Jaehyun kept his distance at first. You both had kept your arrangement secret from your friends and so he wasn’t exactly in a position where he could ask around too much about you. After not hearing back from you after a few days he couldn’t take it anymore and showed up at your doorstep.

“Y/n,” he pleaded through the door, “don’t do this to me. I know you’re in there. Just let me in so I can at least see if you’re alright.”

You hesitated before opening the door. He stormed in right away.

“What the HELL has been going on? You know how worried I’ve been?” he asked. He was raging. You knew ignoring him would most likely lead to such a reaction but you could barely cope with your current situation.

“I can’t even ask your friends about you because you wanted to keep this a secret. Why haven’t you at least aswered my texts? Even Johnny hasn’t mentioned anything. I’ve been losing my mind trying to get a hold of you,” he scolded.

You sat next to him on your couch before bursting into tears, sobbing your eyes out. Jaehyun was so startled he immediately moved from his seat to crouch down in front of you.

“Oh my God, y/n,” he said, reaching out to hold your hands, “What’s wrong? You know you can trust me with anything. Whatever it is, I’ll --”

You interrupted him, “I’m such an idiot. I thought it would be okay but I missed a day and now - now i-- i’m so so so sorry” you sobbed.

“What... what do you mean?” he asked, confused.

You took a shaky breath before whispering, “I’m pregnant.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Jaehyun had all but collapsed to the ground into a seated position, breathing deeply.

“Oh, thank GOD,” he said when he finally found the words to speak.

You couldn’t even believe what you were hearing.

“So you’re okay then? Oh, thank God,” he said as he let out a sigh of relief.

“N-no, i’m not okay Jae!” you yelled, tears filling your eyes, “I don’t know what to do, I-i don’t know if I can be a mom! We were supposed to just be messing around... why aren’t you freaking out.”

Jaehyun’s heart sank and you watched tears fill his eyes next.

“Aren’t you scared too?” you asked him as you broke down, sitting in front of him on the floor.

“Actually... I-i’m really happy, y/n,” he began, getting choked up.

You threw yourself into his arms. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just saying the right thing. Neither of us planned on this happening. I’m just in shock,” you said.

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you, stroking your shoulder as you rested your head against his chest.

“I’m really excited to be a dad. If you want to go through this, at least,” he said. His words resonated with you deeply and for the first time you imagined what it would be like.

“Do you... really want to do this? I just feel awful. It’s all my fault” you whispered.

“Listen to me, y/n,” he said. You nodded, trying your best to look strong as you wiped tears from your eyes.

“I’m having a baby with the love of my life! I think this might be the best day of my life,” he said as he flashed a dimpled smile.

Your mouth fell open at his sudden confession.

“Oh please, don’t act all surprised,” Jaheyun said as he sprinkled kisses over your face, making you laugh for the first time in days.

“I love you too, Jae. You’re going to be the best dad,” you said as he violently attacked your face with affection.

He froze, holding your face between his hands.

“Does that mean we’re really doing this?” he asked excitedly. You nodded your head, smiling back at him.

“I hope it’s a girl,” he blurted out. You both bursted out into laughter before he continued quietly, “... and then two more boys, then another girl, and then...”

“Oh my God, Jae...” you groaned as you swatted at his chest.

He reached out to run his fingers across your belly though it was way too early for you to show.

“Sorry, I just can’t believe I really did this. Filled you up so much that I actually get to have a little one,” he muttered as his hands started to wander again.

You felt your body heat up as he closed the gap between the two of you on the floor and drew you in for a deep kiss.

“This is exactly what got us into this mess in the first place,” you joked.

“Yeah well since we’re already here we may as well make the most of it for the rest our lives, right mama?” he said sweetly.

And as expected, Jaehyun kept his promise. He stood proudly by your side through everything from telling your friends, to breaking the news to your families. As days went on you became increasingly excited about the future and felt so lucky to have ended up in such an interesting situation with the perfect man.

#nct smut #nct scenario #nct scnearios #nct soft hours #nct hard hours #nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 imagines

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kinktae · 4 years

Text

novocaine || pt. 2 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

Going home was hard – painful even. But falling back in love with Jimin, the boy you left behind? Downright gut-wrenching.

pairing: punk!jimin x reader

word count: 12k

genre: 1990s au, exes au, angst, smut

warnings: 90s slang, alcohol, ghosts/spookiness, SMUT, oral (f), unprotected sex, jimin plows his load in y/n’s mouth yum

A/N: YEAH BOI ITS ANOTHER SERIES!!!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

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PART TWO

Rolling over on your bed, you met the light creeping into your room with a groan.

"Fuck." You muttered.

You didn't need to get out of bed to confirm what you already knew as fact:

You were viciously hungover.

Gone were the days of your youth where you could drink to your heart's content and hop out of bed to do it again the next day. Instead, you were incapacitated and wallowing in self-hatred for the mistakes made last night.

And what a plethora of fucking mistakes you had made.

Memories of your tongue against Yoongi's resurfaced, accompanied by a wide-eyed Jimin walking in. You reached for the pillow behind your head and pressed it over your face, smothering the sound of your mortified scream.

Letting your hands fall back down to your sides, you couldn’t find the strength to remove the fluffy cushion from your face. Maybe if you were lucky, you'd fall back asleep and suffocate quietly, freeing you once and for all from this endless cycle of perpetual regret.

Jimin had woken you up early — he mentioned something about having to head to work — and drove you back home the next morning. You were still somewhat drunk, and if you were honest, your memory of the car ride back was spotty at best. You wouldn’t doubt you had made a fool of yourself.

"Oh, good. You're awake."

The curtness of your grandmother's voice was enough for you to push the murder weapon off your face, perching yourself up on your elbows as you met Gram's eyes regrettably.

Her lips were pursed as she made her way to the foot of your bed, tugging her morning robe around her tighter with one hand and offering you a cup of coffee with another.

You took it graciously.

"Now, just because you're an adult doesn't mean I don't deserve a heads up when you're not coming home."

"I'm sorry," You began, eyes falling to the cup of joe you had wrapped both hands around, face twisted in shame. "I thought I was doing the responsible thing, but I just ended up worrying you further. I should have called."

She let out a hum, "You have Hobi to thank for the reason I've decided to let you live to see another day. I got a hit on the hip right as I was slipping into bed. He paged and told me you had gone home with Jimin."

You jerked your head up to face her. Her expression, although unreadable at first glance, held just a hint of suggestiveness. You knew at once what she was thinking.

"What time is it?" You cleared your throat.

"Two in the afternoon. Why? Did you have plans with Jimin today?" She asked, her nosiness poorly concealed with a nonchalant tone.

"What— Grams!"

She threw her hands up defensively.

"No, no, you're right. It's none of my business what you do with your ex-boyfriend."

Your ears burned at the implications of her words.

"We weren't doing anything! He just let me crash at his for the night. Get your mind out of the gutter." You explained yourself hurriedly.

"My, my," She smirked, crossing her legs, "look at you all worked up. I didn't say that you two were sleeping together."

"No, but you were hinting at it." You accused, taking a sip of the coffee. The liquid warmed your insides as it made its way down your vodka abused esophagus.

"Darling, I'm an old lady. We instigate, it's what we do." Grams confirmed with a shrug.

"It wasn't anything more than a friendly gesture. We're not getting back together or anything." You tapped your fingers against the ceramic mug.

You recognized it as the one you had made during art class back in your youth. On it, you had painted an incredibly rough rendering of the doll from Rugrats, your favorite show as a child. You had scribbled underneath it in illegible child's handwriting 'GRAMS.'

Objectively, it had to be one of the ugliest mugs you had ever set your eyes on (Cynthia's head looked less doll-like and more like a football with noodles sticking out of it). Still, you remembered how proud you felt handing that mug over to your grandmother all those years ago.

"Besides, after last night... I doubt he'd ever want to see me again."

"Oh, sweetheart, surely that's not true." Your grandmother insisted. "You know I've always liked that Jimin boy."

"Yeah…"

"After you left, he used to drive me out to the cemetery every Sunday. Hobi would tag along too. They're good boys, those two. I remember the way Jimin spoke about you. He is so in love with you, darling—"

"Was. He was." Your words had come out colder than you wanted. But your heart was bleeding. You couldn't bear another reminder of how wonderful the boy you had mistreated was.

He took care of you last night. You didn't deserve his kindness, but he gave it to you anyway, because that's the kind of person Jimin was. The sort of person who drove his ex's grandmother to the cemetery, and who let that same ex crash at his place when she had drunk herself stupid, for fuck's sake.

But you couldn't confuse his goodwill for anything more; for something it wasn't. Something you had lost the right to years ago.

You wouldn't fool yourself into thinking that Jimin still loved you. He couldn't.

Your grandmother had sensed the way your mood had darkened, reaching over to cover your hand with her's.

You did your best to offer her a pleasant smile, eyes falling back onto your drink that now felt cold between your fingers.

Grams sighed, pushing herself off your bed.

"Well, then. It's time to start the day. I'll have lunch ready in 20 minutes. Go clean yourself up. Oh, and you've got that nice Guyi girl on the line waiting for you."

At her words, you couldn't help but perk up.

"Oh, okay. Thanks, Grams."

You watched silently as your grandmother made her way out, setting down your coffee mug onto your nightstand's peeling surface. You had painted it black sometime during the depths your teenaged angst, and the paint had clearly not withstood the test of time.

Wrapping your hand around the plastic handset, you brought it to your ear.

"Guyi?"

"Hey, you're alive!" Her tone was pleasant and brought a smile to your face.

"Unfortunately." You chuckled, bringing a hand up to rub at one of your tired eyes. "Hey, about last night… I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have drunk so much. I'm so embarrassed you had to see me like that."

You really were remorseful that you had caused such a scene. If you knew Guyi, she had spent most of her night running around, ensuring everyone was having a good time. You were ashamed to think she had been pulled away from her host duties to babysit your drunk self.

"Do you need any help cleaning up? I can come over." You continued, hand fiddling with the fabric of your pajamas shorts. Jeez, you didn't even remember changing into these.

"Aw, that's so considerate, but no, it's okay, I'm– Hey, put that down right now!"

You recoiled at her sudden exclaim, pulling the handset away from your ear.

"Uh, is everything okay?" You mused, pausing to listen to the incoherent bickering on the other side of the line.

"Sorry about that." Guyi let out a sigh, finally returning back to the phone. "I'm babysitting."

"Damn. The kid is that bad?"

"Nary is a pretty cool kid. She usually just plays her games and tends to herself. She got her Gameboy taken away this week, though, and it seems that the lack of video games has transformed her from a human girl into a rampaging goblin." She grumbled.

"Put on Full House."

"You think?"

"I did my share of babysitting over the years, and nothing gets kids to shut up like Uncle Jesse. And if he doesn't do it for her, then Aunt Becky will." You offered, causing Guyi to chuckle.

"I'll try it. Anyway, don't worry too much about last night. I'm just happy to hear you made it home from Jimin's alright." She told you.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm okay."

There was a pause on the line as if Guyi was contemplating her next words.

"You guys are cool, right?" She questioned hesitantly, immediately making your stomach drop. "I realize I should've double-checked before I let you go home with him."

Chewing on your bottom lip, you allowed yourself your own moment of contemplation.

"If I'm honest?" You began.

"Yeah?"

"Pretty sure he hates me." You emphasized into the phone's mic.

"What? There's no way."

"Can you blame him? Especially after last night?"

You laid your body back down across your bed, your mattress squeaking out under your sudden weight.

"Are you talking about the Yoongi thing? I heard about that. I don't think Jimin would hold that against you? I mean… I'm assuming you didn't know he was Jimin's ex."

"I most definitely did not." You confirmed.

Guyi hummed into the phone, "Besides, it's not like Jimin's hung up on Yoongi or anything."

"What do you mean?"

You regretted your reply as soon as it left your mouth. You had no business prying into Jimin's love life. But, then again, you had never claimed to be a decent person.

"Well, I don't know the full story. I just know Jimin ended things out of nowhere over the phone, and Yoongi did not take it well. The two aren't on speaking terms."

At the new information, you sat up, immediately intrigued. You couldn't imagine Jimin ending a relationship in such an impersonal way. That didn't sound like him at all. Without fail, this was the guy who would cry every time the two of you watched The Fox and the Hound, which, admittedly, was probably more often than the average teenager.

"Oh." Was your impersonal response.

"Anyway, I'm glad to hear that you're alive. Let me know if you need anything. Let's have a girls' night and catch up sometime, okay?" She said.

A girl's night, huh. The idea excited you, despite the stern voice in the back of your head that reminded you that this was temporary. That getting attached to old faces would only hurt you, left behind once again after you inevitably left town.

A sinking feeling accompanied you, sat beside you on your rickety childhood bed.

"Definitely."

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You had just finished waddling over to the car when a shout of your name caught your attention. Whirling around, the blue plastic bags swung round with you, the smiley faces printed on them mimicked yours as you made eye contact with Hoseok.

You had spent this past week with your grandmother, helping her with all the repairs she had never gotten around to. With a freshly painted fence and a garden that deserved a spot on the next HG magazine issue, the house was looking more and more like you had left it. The next mission on your list was a deep carpet cleaning. You had just finished buying some carpet cleaner and a few other errands your Grams had asked for when you heard your neighbor's voice call for you.

Running past the frosted tip boy was a bright head of pink, vibrant locks swaying as she bounced your way.

You let out a surprised laugh as Gwen engulfed you in a hug, your arms pinned to your side under your groceries' weight.

"Hey, girl! I've been wondering where you've been. I haven't seen you since Guyi's party." She enthused, slipping her fingers around yours and prying some off the bags out your grip. You gave her a grateful smile, unlocking your grandmother's van's trunk, the two of you setting your bags down.

"I guess you could say I've been trying to keep a low profile." You admitted, slamming the trunk shut. "Last week was enough public embarrassment to last me a year."

The sound of a skateboard rolling in your direction came into earshot. Within seconds, Hoseok came into view, stopping his board without effort as he flashed you a sincere smile.

"How's it hangin', kid?" He greeted.

"Just running some errands for Grams. What are you guys doing here?"

While your group certainly had their fair share of odd hangout spots, parking lots typically weren't one of them. Your childhood friend brought his board up with a quick motion of his foot, holding it to his side with a single hand. The side of your mouth quirked up in amusement, amused to see the underside of his board was covered with Lisa Frank stickers.

Flickering your eyes between Hobi and his girlfriend, you wondered briefly who was responsible for that creative decision.

"I'm trying to teach this one how to skate," Hobi explained, gesturing to his girlfriend, "Walmart's got a nice newly paved parking lot, plus it’s usually empty around this time of day."

"He's a terrible teacher." Gwen turned to you with a pout on her glossed lips.

Hoseok's eyes widened, clearly offended, "Baby, don’t even. I told you to wear sneakers!"

In unison, the three of you all glanced down toward's Gwen's feet, taking note of the sparkly pink jelly heels she was donning today.

"Just because I'm learning to skate doesn't mean I can't look good while doing it." Gwen reminded.

You couldn't help but laugh. Indeed, she had gone all out, blue eyeliner and butterfly clips in tow as she glanced back at her skater boyfriend.

"This is the part where you tell me that I'm beautiful no matter what I wear." She deadpanned.

Hoseok stood there dumbly, staring back at his girlfriend as if he was still processing what she had said.

"Huh? Oh, yeah... Baby, you're beaut—"

"Oh, save it." She cut him off disinterestedly, turning back to you instead. "Men are such a pain."

You found yourself nodding back immediately, "Definitely more work than they're worth."

"I am... standing right here." Hoseok reminded.

"Hey, what are you doing this weekend?" Gwen ignored the disgruntled man.

Tucking a hand into the front pocket of your jeans, you shrugged.

"I'm not sure yet. Why?"

"The bonfire is this Friday. Hobi was gonna drive us, you should totally come with!" She suggested.

"Bonfire?"

"Oh, right." Gwen suddenly realized that the tradition started in the years after your disappearance and you probably didn’t know about it. "Someone throws one every first Friday of the month."

You nodded interestedly, "Where is it?"

"Do you remember Old Man Carswell?” Hoseok piped up suddenly. Your eyes widened in disbelief, haven't had heard that name in ages.

"He's still alive?!" You gaped.

"Oh, no, no, dead as a doornail." He reassured with a nonchalant laugh. "But he left his property to his estranged son who never once showed up to claim it. We use his backyard for bonfires."

"Oh, sick."

Gwen clapped her hands together excitedly, "Yeah, it's always lots of fun! There's also a tradition where you can bring something to throw into the pit if you want. So if something has been wigging you out, like a letter from an ex or bad report card... into the fire it goes!"

"There's always drinks and music if you don't care about that corny shit." Hoseok shrugged.

You let the idea sit for a moment. Attending another gathering wasn't exactly keeping a low profile like you had promised yourself you would.

Also, you're assuming there was a high probability that Jimin would go too. As much as your sad pining heart longed to see him again, the very last thing you wanted to do was cause him more trouble than you already had.

"I dunno…" You rubbed your ankle against your calf nervously.

Gwen bumped her hip into yours reassuringly.

"You sure? Someone calls the cops on us every time, you won't wanna miss it." She wiggled her brows.

"C'mon, kid. Come hang out with us misfits. For old times sake." Hobi said.

You glanced between the two rays of sunshine anxiously, the urge to say yes prickling at your throat.

Would it really be okay? Sure, you'd probably run into Jimin again, but surely nothing would go astray this time if you stayed by Hobi and Gwen and avoided any mint-haired boys.

Right?

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You felt misplaced. Even more so than at Guyi's party.

Hovering by Hoseok and his girlfriend, you wrapped your arms around your chest, not sure if the nip of the night or your nerves were the cause for your shivering.

The three of you had arrived at the bonfire just minutes ago. Still, already you had begun to rethink your decision in accepting the invitation. The green yard seemed to stretch for miles in the dark, the floor illuminated only as far as the light of the large bonfire's flames could reach.

A few people carried handheld lanterns, chatting amongst themselves happily as their shadows bent around them, dancing around the light source.

So many faces you recognized, yet so little people you knew. Any and all common ground you had with these people fading away with the years kept apart. You swallowed down your discomfort, ignoring the way everyone's eyes flickered onto you now and again. Maybe it was your lasting impression at Guyi's party or maybe the fact that there was a fire involved; whatever it was, it made you feel dizzy, and though you tried your best to hold up conversations, you eventually had to sneak off, needing a moment to yourself.

Standing across the wide pit of fire, you stared into it quietly, the hues of its flames painting your skin and the faces of those around you.

Truth be told, you were tired. The kind of tired that didn't seem to let up, no matter how many hours of sleep you got. The kind of tired that came from every second you spent stopping yourself from letting your mind wander to the darkest memory you had of this town.

You didn't know how hard it would be, how you could busy yourself with things to do when suddenly, a certain street sign could come into view, and memories came crashing in.

Your time back here was limited, and every day that passed had you wondering whether or not it was time to head back.

"Hey."

The sudden voice made you jerk slightly, whirling around in alarm to find that a familiar figure had somehow snuck beside you, his head peering down at the massive fire pit. Your shoulders shrunk into themselves involuntarily, embarrassment prickling at your cheeks as you took Jimin in.

He had on the leather jacket you had bought him years ago; butterflies fluttered in your stomach to know he still wore it after all these years.

"Oh, hi. Hey." You sputtered back nervously, not knowing how on earth you were meant to face him sober.

"Long time, no see." He turned his head towards you, sending your eyes the other direction.

"Y-Yeah. Um… thanks again for that night. That was really kind of you, with all things considering…"

He shrugged. "So, you're back."

Your fingers found the fabric of your sweater, picking at the fleece nervously.

"Not permanently, but yeah... I'm back."

"How is it? Being back, I mean?" He asked delicately, making your stomach flip.

"Everyone keeps looking at me like I'm going to burst into tears any second now." You answered honestly, surprising the two of you.

You had no idea why you were telling him this. It would've been easier to lie and say it was fine– that everything was okay. But Jimin was your person. He was the one who could get you to open up when no one else could, knowing how to make you feel better.

Perhaps old habits died hard.

He raised a brow, "And are you?"

You smiled, shaking your head.

"No." You breathed, watching your breath fan out into the night sky. "No, I don't cry anymore. Not for a long while, at least."

Jimin watched you for a second, taking in the way you curled into yourself, hands reaching out towards the fire in an attempt to warm them. The night had grown unusually nippy, and you clearly weren't dressed for the occasion with your ripped jeans and a thin sweater.

And with a soft rustle of fabric, he slipped himself out of the large jacket and draped it over your shoulders, making your eyes go round.

"You'll catch a cold." Was his only explanation, turning towards the fire to avert your shell shocked expression.

You could only nod dumbly, stunned into silence as you fought back your clamoring heart that was trying to pound its way out of your chest.

With the fire's light, you could just barely make out a pink hue in his cheeks, his hand coming up to run through his hair.

"It's beautiful."

Jimin turned to you in surprise, only to find you admiring the dancing flames in front of you.

"In a wicked sort of way. Alluring really. Kind of makes you want to sit and watch as it burns anything that gets too close." You elaborate further, pulling the jacket closer around your frame.

Jimin considered your words carefully, gaze locked on your profile, "I know the feeling."

"Alright, you dirty misfits, gather round. It's time for the sacrificial seance to begin."

A round of laughter brought yours and Jimin's attention back onto the rest of the crowd, finding humor in Hoseok's words.

"What's happening?"

"The burning tradition."

The two of you made your way over to the rest of the bonfire attendees, the shared moment between you long forgotten between excited shrieks and mindless chatter.

Everyone seemed the gather around Hoseok, whose chest was puffed out comically as he held his arms out wide beside him, grabbing everyone's attention with a loud 'Attention!'

"As you know, fellow coven members, we are on sacred ground. The very earth we are standing on is potent with energy, strange and powerful—"

"Cut the bullshit, Hobi! We're freezing our asses off here!" A random attendee interrupted, making you chuckle.

"Alright, alright! You already know what the fuck goes on, talk your shit and throw it in." Hoseok rolled his eyes, reaching over to pick up a container of lighter fluid, pouring some into the pit.

"Back it up!"

The crowd exclaimed as the fire grew with a roar, a few cheers ringing out in good spirits.

"Whose first?"

"I'll go!"

You looked over at the volunteer to see Guyi emerging towards the front, her dark bangs pushed out of her face for once by a pretty white headband.

"I brought my chemistry notebook. My first ever C." Guyi frowned, holding it out as if to show everyone.

"Throw it in!" Jungkook hollered from somewhere in the back, which Hoseok repeated.

The paper notebook was thrown into the blaze, landing with a soft thud onto the pile of wood and previously discarded miscellaneous items that had been burnt past the point of recognition.

"Fuck Chem!" Hobi called out jubilantly, punching a fist into the air enthusiastically.

"Fuck Chem!" Many chimed in with their own shouts.

You watched in amusement as everyone got rid of their items one by one, followed by joyous hoots and hollers that always sent the group giggling.

Bad grades, speeding tickets, pictures of an ex, birthday cards from shitty relatives— nothing survived the scorching kiss of the fire pit's mouth.

You could see the symbolism in it. No matter how big the problem seemed, once you threw it in, it was nothing more than fuel for the fire, indistinguishable come daylight.

"Y/N?"

"Hm?" You heard Gwen call your name.

"Got anything to burn?" She smiled.

Suddenly, the card in your pocket felt heavy. You had completely forgotten all about your object, too caught up in the good atmosphere.

"Oh, um, I didn't bring anything." You lied.

"Bullshit, I saw you shove something in your back pocket when I picked you up." Hoseok was quick to call out your bluff, throwing an arm around Gwen's shoulders.

"I, uh..."

Jimin watched you with interest, recognizing the way your body had become tense as if uncomfortable.

"I know it feels silly, but it's all in good fun. Give it a shot. We don't judge." The pink-haired girl reassured.

"And how!" Hobi confirmed enthusiastically.

Pressing your lips together, you pulled the card from the pockets of your jeans, holding it between your two hands tightly as you made your way over to the edge of the fire.

The card caved under your grip, fingers pressing into the material to prevent them from trembling. You cleared your throat.

"It's a leftover invitation to my parents' funeral. I found it in the drawer of my nightstand." You said.

You could hear the silence behind you as you threw it in, the blaze beginning to consume the memoir before it could even hit the ground.

Turning back towards everyone, you fought back the tight feeling in your chest, feeling small under everyone's stares. No one said anything, no one wanting to be the first to break the silence that was irrevocably yours.

The usual urge to run away, to up and leave, to never see another familiar face, crawled back into the back of your head. It was never far from you really; you pushed it away most of the time, but it was moments like these, where every pair of eyes you met offered their condolences, that you feared you wouldn't be able to push it back any longer.

Suddenly, Jimin stepped forward, his hands coming up to cup around the sides of his mouth.

"Fuck funerals!" He shouted unexpectedly, taking you by surprise.

Your eyes met his; he offered you a soundless nod, knowing exactly what you were saying without you needing to say a word.

"Yeah, fuck funerals!" Hobi's voice rang out in agreement.

"Fuck funerals!"

Time stood still.

You watched in what felt like slow motion as everyone joined in, smiles wide and middle fingers finding the air, and for the first time since you got here, standing among your old friends and peers, you felt at home.

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"Y/N!"

Your conversation with Guyi came to a halt, the both of you looking over to where Hoseok was waving you over.

Smiling at your old friend, you excused yourself, walking over to where Hoseok and Gwen stood, flashlights in hand.

"What's up?" You greeted as you reached the couple.

"You up for some ghost hunting, kid?" Hobi's eyebrows wiggled mischievously.

"What? Where?" You furrowed your brows, a confused grin finding its way onto your face.

You watched as he held an arm out, the stream of his flashlight stretching over to point at the abandoned home of the late Mr. Carswell. Your grin fell abruptly.

"Are you insane? You want the three of us to break into his house?" You gawked in disbelief.

"Hm… You're right." Hoseok tapped a finger to his chin as if to feign contemplation. He turned away from you suddenly. "Yo, Jimin!"

You watched in horror as the man in question, who had been chatting with other friends up until now, turned towards you three, an eyebrow raised as he urged the skater boy to continue.

"We're going ghostbusting, you in or what?"

Jimin turned back to the group he was with, exchanging a few words before moving to jog over.

"Now it's the four of us. Great thinking, Y/N." Hoseok winked, leaving you flustered.

You bit back your protest, flashing Jimin an awkward smile as he reached the group. Hoseok threw one of the flashlights over to him, which he caught easily, spinning it around in his palm.

"Let's do this thing."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"This feels so wrong." You fiddled with your fingers nervously, watching as the two boys pried back a boarded up window, the four of you hidden by the thick brush of the house's unkempt garden.

"Dude, you used to love this kind of shit." Hoseok reminded as the wooden barrier detached itself, placing it down on the floor with your ex-boyfriend's help.

Jimin let out a laugh, wiping his hand onto the back of his jeans, "C'mon, bug, live a little. Be spontaneous."

You bit the inside of your cheek, turning away from Jimin as you tried your hardest to ignore the way his old nickname for you had suddenly resurface.

"I'm plenty spontaneous! Moving from city to city, taking up all kinds of jobs – what kind of non-spontaneous person does that?" You puffed your cheeks out, eager to defend your reputation.

"So?"

"So, breaking and entering is a crime, and if I get arrested, Grams will actually cut me up into little pieces and bake me into an apple pie!" You huffed.

"Man, gotta love Elvie's apple pie." Hoseok reminisced to himself, rubbing at his stomach appreciatively.

You frowned as the two boys climbed through the window and into the old, large house.

"I wouldn't worry about getting arrested," Gwen reassured you as she followed after, Hoseok helping her through from the inside. She landed inside gracefully, flipping her pink hair over her shoulder prettily.

Hoseok leaned over and rested an elbow on the window sill, looking at you expectantly.

"Gwen's old man is the sheriff." He told you. You merely glared at him as he puffed out his collar. "That's right, I scored me a girl with benefits."

You didn't need to see behind Hoseok to know it had been Gwen to cause him to groan out in pain, rubbing at his upper arm with a pout.

Begrudgingly, you let the cheeky boy help you in, a cloud of dust spreading out underneath your feet as you dropped onto the old hardwood floor.

You were surprised to find the house in perfect condition – if it weren't for the doors and windows being boarded up, you might have thought you just broke into someone's still inhabited home. Of course, there was dirt and the odd food wrapper or two on the floor, undoubtedly from other people who had dared to venture in.

Sure, there were stains on the ceiling and paint cracks on the walls, but it was hardly worse than your Grams' place before you got around to repairs.

"Remember, gang, don't touch anything, leave no evidence we were here, and whatever you do… don't cross the streams!" Hoseok clicked the flashlight on, holding it up underneath his chin, illuminated his face creepily.

You rolled your eyes at the Ghostbusters reference, but crossed your arms over your chest regardless, not wanting to accidentally brush a hand against something.

The living room's furniture was bulky and dated, clearly showing Mr. Carswell's age; he was well into his nineties at the time of his passing.

"Hello? Old Man Carswell? You still in here, bud?" Hoseok called out jokingly, kicking at a discarded beer can. It rolled across the large living room and out of sight, the range of the flashlight only stretching out so far.

"Oh god, you're gonna piss him off." You hissed.

"I'm with Y/N on this one. Don't go angering the spirits." Gwen nodded, hands wrapped around Hoseok's previously ailed bicep.

"He was cranky," Jimin recalled.

Memories of Mr. Carswell waving around his wooden cane at you and your friends as he chased you off his yard resurfaced suddenly. Given, there were only so many times you could ding dong ditch a man before he eventually got annoyed. But still, he was notoriously callous, refusing to participate in neighborhood events such as house to house trick-or-treating or Christmas decorating. It didn't surprise you that his kids wanted nothing to do with him.

"Don't worry, baby, I'll protect you." Hoseok flexed his unoccupied arm, causing his girlfriend to scoff.

"You? You start screaming bloody murder if you even hear a bee."

"Hey! Don't you remember the movie My Girl?" Hobi was quick to quip back. "Death via bees is a very real thing–"

"You're not even allergic to bees." You mused.

"–ghosts, however... not real." He concluded.

You rolled your eyes, "Says you."

The four of you pushed past the dark living room into what seemed to be yet another living space, this one less performative and more intimate, a boarded-up fireplace catching your interest.

This room must have been so cozy in the wintertime, you noted. What a shame he lived by himself, spending each day alone in this beautiful home.

Hoseok let out a hum, rolling the flashlight over the wall's crown molding, "This is kind of fun. We're like Mystery Inc… ya know, minus Scooby."

Jimin and Gwen were looking over at a pair of loafers that had been left by the couch when a faint shuffling sound suddenly rang out, causing Hoseok and you to look over at each other.

"Scooby?" Hobi gasped jokingly.

"What was that?" You worried, body growing cold.

"What was what?" Jimin asked.

"I didn't hear anything?" Gwen cocked her head.

Their lack of concern only set you more on edge.

"You guys are fucking with me, right? Hobi, you heard it, right?" You turned towards the lanky boy, who was rubbing at his chin.

Hoseok met his girlfriend's eyes before flashing her a quick wink, "Well, gang, it looks like we got another mystery on our hands. Let's split up!"

"Huh?" You gaped.

"Oh, I see." Gwen smirked, walking over towards the awaiting man. "Sure, let's split up."

"Gwen and I are going to go fool around– I mean, investigate on the basement floor." Hoseok recovered quickly with a cough. Gwen giggled, linking her arms with her boyfriend, pressing a suggestive kiss onto his jaw.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it? You nymphos..." Jimin accused through a grin.

"We needed people to keep watch just in case." Hobi confessed through a shrug, already leading his girlfriend towards the basement stairs. "If we're not done in an hour, send help."

"Gross." You scrunched your nose. "Keep it down or else!"

The adventurous couple waved you off, heading towards the set of stairs that led downstairs that you had all passed by earlier.

"They're a cute couple." You sighed, shaking your head.

"We were cuter." Jimin shrugged, and you nearly choked on your saliva.

He noticed your stunned reaction, of course, smiling at you lazily, "It was a joke."

You fought down your blush, nodding as the two of you continued exploring, making your way into the kitchen. Unlike the other room you had come across, this one was a mess, the sink full of dirty dishes that had gone untouched all this time. The room's wallpaper was incredibly antiquated, not to mention the appliances themselves must have been from the 60s.

"Jeez, could use a bit of renovating, huh?"

You hummed, stepping back to take the whole room in. The house really was stunning; you could easily imagine what the house might be like with a large family living in it.

"What do you think, honey? I was thinking a bright, fun backsplash for the kitchen. New appliances and maybe a chalk wall for the kids." You closed an eye, peering at the state of the room through a frame you had formed with your fingers.

You looked over at Jimin, who was staring at you like you had grown two heads, making you chuckle.

"It was a joke." You quoted him, a small grin on your lips. Understanding fell over him, grinning back.

"Honestly, if things didn't pan out the way they did, I could've seen us living here."

Despite the weight of what he was saying, you found yourself nodding. Perhaps, if you could be more honest with yourself, you would've told him you had imagined the same thing. A world where you had never left. Where your parents had never died.

"No way we could've afforded it, though."

"In my head, I imagine us living at Grams until we saved enough money. Man, I'd have a field day with this place." Jimin continued, fingers grazing against the wooden breakfast table.

"You do love your DIY projects." You recalled.

"Jihoon and I were always building shit." He reminisced quietly. "He'd love this place."

At the mention of Jimin's late brother, your expression softened. Jimin had made peace with his brother's death early on – he was honest with himself and his feelings, understanding that he was allowed to grieve and heal from the pain. You were happy he had healed from his brother's death in a healthy way. You wouldn't wish your unsettled emotional baggage on anyone, much less Jimin.

"He'd try to convince me to knock walls down and open up the space."

"And my parents would yell at us for listening to him, saying that removing rooms lowered property value." You mused, enjoy the pretend narrative the two of you were diving into.

"Screw property value, our kids would've loved it. They would be so happy here. We'd have to beg them to go to sleep – the house always filled with their tiny screams and laughter." Jimin tucked a hand into his front pocket.

You found yourself moving closer to him, purely out of habit.

"3 kids." You said.

"Two boys and one girl." Jimin spoke.

"And she's the youngest." You finished the fantasy with a somber sigh.

For an elongated moment, the two exes held each other's eyes, wondering how a future that seemed so clear managed to fall through their fingers. Jihoon was dead, as were your parents, and you and Jimin were still miles apart, despite your current close proximity.

He cleared his throat.

"So, you've been hopping from city to city, huh? How was that?"

You are thankful for the change of subject, the mood growing heavy at the mention of the children you two would never have.

"Overwhelming? Exhilarating? Scary? Wonderful?" You couldn't decide on the right adjective. "Not knowing where I'd sleep some nights or if I would be able to find work. But then finding a job and meeting all these different people from different walks of life."

"It's funny because I'd be waitressing and have the same customer come in at the same time every day, order the same crappy dish, and just went I'd feel like I knew them, they'd just disappear. No goodbye, no heads up that they were leaving. But that's just city life. Everything somehow always new, and nothing is promised. And if things start to get too familiar, you can just leave. And no one asks questions."

Here one day, gone the next. It was funny how the very idea that people could disappear without warning drove you from this town and into the arms of places where you would experience it repeatedly, only this time without getting hurt.

"It's wonderful." You finished decidedly.

Even in the dark room, your eyes were shining. Jimin was mesmerized– mesmerized by how you could find such comfort in what seemed to him an impossible way of life.

"It sounds like you're happy." He noted.

"I am." A soft smile grazed your mouth.

"So then, why come back?"

He sounded flippant, but you knew his question was genuine. You knew because it was the very question you had been asking yourself the entire bus ride home.

It was hard to say, exactly.

You were sat in a park in Detroit, chomping down on your Reuben sandwich when a family caught your eye. Two kids, two parents, two grandparents – a happy little nucleus sat and having a family picnic.

For a moment, you wondered what that might be like; a family, a familiar face that you could always count on, that loved you no matter what.

Your sandwich fell to your lap, hands suddenly growing cold, tears pooling down your cheek.

You had forgotten.

You had a family, and you had forgotten. You had a grandmother that loved you and people you loved, that knew you through every stage of your life. Through your hazy gaze, you watched as the woman and her partner shared a kiss, fingers interlocked happily.

Thoughts of a certain puffy cheeked boy ambushed you, making you get up from the park bench and head towards the nearest bus station.

"I don't know. It just felt like the right time, I guess." You answered with half sincerity. "I knew I had to make amends with Grams eventually. Maybe I just wanted that closure."

If Jimin had any further questions, they were swallowed down as a clattering sound rang out above your heads.

"Okay, there's no way you didn't hear that." Your eyes were round, flicking up towards the ceiling.

"What the hell was that?"

You let out a breath of relief, happy to know you weren’t the only one hearing things, although it did nothing to relieve your nerves. "I think it came from upstairs?"

Your ex-boyfriend let out a contemplative hum. You followed as he made his way out of the kitchen, flashlight flickering from room to room until he found a flight of stairs leading upwards.

There was absolutely no light at the top of them, making it impossible to make out what was waiting at the top.

"Let's go."

"What? Fuck no!" You protested, taking a subconscious step back.

Jimin clicked his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Carswell's dead. What's the worst he can do? Flicker the lights?"

You panicked as he began to head towards the first step.

"Well," you grabbed onto his shirt, stilling his motions, "what if he's not?"

"What if he's not what?"

"Like... what if he's not really dead? What if he just pretended to die to see how many people would show up to his funeral or something? Maybe he knew people would use his property for neighborhood parties. Maybe he knew that two idiots would break into his house in search of his supposed spirit only to run into his real person where he's waiting for them with a rifle!"

Jimin blinked.

"What the hell goes on in those cities?" He stared at you incredulously.

Another sound sent you into the air, grip tightening around the fabric of Jimin's shirt.

"Well. You can either come upstairs with me or stay down here. Alone." He shrugged.

Alone? Your eyes fell onto the flashlight in his hand, realizing that if he went, so did it.

"Or you could go down to the basement. I'm sure Gwen and Hobi wouldn't mind an extra hand." He smirked. "Your choice."

You would've glared at him if you weren't scared out of your mind.

Cursing internally, you made your way up the stairs beside him, fingers never letting go of his shirt.

The second floor was bigger than you were expecting, Jimin and you passing several bedrooms as you trudged on. Far too many bedrooms for a man who lived alone. He must have been so lonely.

Stumbling upon the master bedroom, you peered into it cautiously.

Your eyes followed the flashlight around the room, marveling at it. The bed was large, and its dark, thick frame matched the damask upholstery, giving the room a regal yet homey feeling.

"It's kind of nice–"

"Shh." Jimin cut you off immediately, ears picking up on something that you couldn't.

"What is it?" You breathed out, voice barely above a whisper.

You watched as he made his way into the room, a palm held out towards you in a gesture that told you to stay put.

Not that you had to be told twice.

"It sounds like... scratching..." His head cocked.

Closing his eyes, he focused for a moment. Suddenly, his eyes flew open.

"It's coming from inside the closet."

"Jimin? Let's just go, please!" You hissed, beckoning him back over to where you stood by the doorway.

You bit down on your lip as you watched him make his way over to the closet door, fingers wrapping delicately around the handle before swinging it open, hiding his frame from your view.

"Oh shit!"

Fear shot through you at his exclaim, and before you knew what you were doing, you grabbed hold of the bedside lamp's lampshade, yanking it from its place.

"Jimin?!" You panicked.

"Yeah, I'm– Woah, what's with the lampshade?" The man in question emerged back out from the closet, eyeing your makeshift weapon curiously.

"What is it? A ghost? A dead body?!" You pressed, adrenaline still rushing through you.

"A rat!" He scrunched his face up in disgust. "Fuck, that thing was huge. It crawled back into the wall."

You let out a sigh of relief, dropping the lampshade from its baseball stance over your shoulder.

"What were you gonna do with that thing?" He looked amused.

"I don't know! Something! I just... thought you were in trouble..." You defended, suddenly growing shy.

Looking down at your feet, you felt silly. You didn't even think to grab the actual lamp in your haste. Your lampshade, much like you, would be useless against any sort of actual threat.

You were too caught up in your embarrassment to see the way Jimin was looking down at you with a tender expression, cheeks pink, and ears flushed.

He reached for the lampshade in your hands, fingers laying across yours. You looked up at him in surprise at his touch, mind reeling as he merely held on, the heat of his fingers buzzing against yours.

"You don't have to worry when you're with me. I'd never let anything happen to you." Sincerity burned across his stare, leaving you speechless.

All you could do was look away, letting out a silent breath when he finally took the lampshade from you, walking to put it back into place. The familiar need to flee found you once again, and you crossed your arms across your chest, pressing your way into the room's bathroom for a moment to collect yourself.

What was that? Were you making something out of nothing, or did that look he gave you mean something? You felt foolish for even entertaining the thought, but the way your heart was pounding in your chest was trying its hardest to convince you otherwise. Your reflection was taunting you. Dim and honest, you saw the way hope glimmered across your face – selfishly relishing in the intimate moment you and Jimin had just shared.

"I think about that night a lot."

You whirled around at the sound of his voice, finding him leaning into the doorframe, eyes running over the bathroom space. His eyes found you suddenly.

"The night before you left."

He didn't have to explain any further. You already knew exactly what he was referring to— the night before you disappeared and left him. There was nothing out of the ordinary that night. You had gotten over Jimin’s to spend the night, the night filled with alcohol, pizza, and shared kisses. Kisses that weighted you down the next night as you packed your bags and left town.

His brows furrowed, "I used to think... if I hadn't gotten so drunk–"

"Jimin, don't." You frowned.

"If I was paying more attention… would have I known you were pulling away? Could I have said something to make you stay?"

He sounded so vulnerable, so hurt, and you ached. You ached to know you were responsible.

You shook your head furiously, "It wasn't like that. Hopping on that bus… I didn't even know where I was going or what I was doing."

Fingers fiddling with each other, you lost the ability to face him, focusing on your trembling digits instead.

"It wasn't you. It was never you. You're perfect, Minnie." You swallowed. "I love… I loved you. So much."

Of course, you still loved him, but standing in the dim bathroom of a dead neighbor, you lost all nerve. You felt pathetic, a poor excuse for a human, finally facing the wreckage of the damage you had created.

"Bug."

Brows furrowing, you faced him once again. His dark eyes merged with the dark room, holding yours intensely.

"Kiss me."

Your stomach flipped at his words.

"What?"

Any response he might have had to your question of disbelief went interrupted by a loud clang. In your shock, you had stepped back into the bathroom counter, your elbow knocking something into the sink.

You turned around with a hiss, muttering nervously as you reached for the fallen object — a rusty old can of glass cleaner — and placed it back into its standing position.

You kept your eyes low and locked on the spotty silver of the sink faucet, face growing a million degrees warmer as you felt Jimin step closer behind you, trapping you in place.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Summoning your courage, you let yourself peer up at the mirror, fawning as you saw his head poking over your shoulder, looking down at the sink in genuine concern.

His eyes flickered over to yours suddenly, his reflection just as handsome as his real-life self.

Your gaze fell back onto the sink, your nerve leaving you.

"I'm fine... I just think–"

"Then don't. Don't think."

He was so close, his hot breath pressed ghost kisses against the shell of your ear, daring you to comply with his request. Your hand reached out and clung onto the cool tile of the counter, knuckles turning white as you tried to ground yourself.

From this proximity, all you could smell was him, his familiar aroma silencing your rampant thoughts.

"I miss you." He confessed suddenly, an immeasurable amount of melancholy on his tongue.

Your heart felt like it was being torn in two different directions, one side rejoicing in his sudden spout of honesty, and the other whispering that you didn't deserve this, you didn't deserve the man you loved telling you that he still cared about you.

Swallowing, you turned to him, pupils dilating as you took in how close his face was to yours in this position.

"I never stopped thinking about you. No matter where I was or who I was with." He continued, his eyes running across your face, gauging your reaction silently.

You were holding back, he could see it in the way your expression was pained, yet your body subconsciously leaned closer. Something was keeping you from acting out on your shared desires.

"I don't want to hurt you again." You grieved, sorrow painting your woeful words.

"I don't need forever. Just right now. That's all I ask." His breath was warm against your lips, just a phantom of a kiss as his bottom lip grazed yours.

Your hands moved before you could stop them, wrapping around his neck in a way you had done a million times, yet still felt painfully new. His hand was on your waist, pressing you into him like he was only a half, becoming whole with you by his side again.

You loved him. You loved him so much it hurt. You had taken so much from him, and yet here he was, offering himself to you once more.

And like the selfish human you were you took from him again, mouth colliding with his.

The softness of his lips left you breathless, arms tightening as you desperately wanted him closer – closer than your bones would allow. You craved his warmth, tears finding the sides of your eyes as your tongues crashed against one another.

You preened into his mouth, missing his taste and the way he always kissed you like you were something sweet.

You were pliant under his touch, letting him lead you back towards the bed, pushing you down onto it with a small sigh. He couldn't get enough of the way you look lying out underneath him, eyes wide and pleading as your hands reached out, needy for him and him alone.

And of course, he complied, tugging his shirt off in one quick motion before crawling back over you, kissing you like the kiss had never broken. You could feel yourself getting lost between the heavy breaths and heavy petting, head dizzy as he sucked bruises into your neck, fingers sneaking up your shirt, pushing their way underneath the cup of your bra.

You threw your head back as his fingers touched the delicate skin of your breast, fondling them gently. You let him pull your shirt and bra off without any protest, only asking that he keep touching you, losing yourself in the way he'd rolled his hips into yours, small grunts leaving his perfect lips.

Jimin sat up suddenly, flashing you a smile as he began to unbuckle his belt. And then, out of nowhere, a small thought of doubt crept into your mind, sat in the sidelines as you watched Jimin strip himself down into nothing but underwear.

It was like you only just now realized what was happening, what you were about to do, a wave of nausea washing over you.

You accepted Jimin's kiss silently, mind elsewhere as you tried your hardest to kiss him back like he wasn't the boy who had had his heart broken by you.

You were gonna mess this up. You know you were. You didn't deserve Jimin. He deserved so much better than this.

"Y/N?" Jimin broke the kiss suddenly.

"Hm?"

"Are you okay? You're shaking." He noted, fingers coming up to brush your hair out of your face.

You blinked back the tears that were collecting at the brim of your eyes.

"Do you want to stop?" His expression softened.

"N-No. I'm just..." You trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

Scared. Scared that if you went any further, someone would get hurt. Scared that you were just going to hurt Jimin again.

Then, Jimin's hands were intertwined with yours, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"We don't have to do anything more. I don't want this if you don't." He cooed.

You were shaking your head before he could finish his sentence, your desires outweighing your insecurities.

"I do! I want this. I want you." You promised, cheeks burning.

You let out a sigh as he nodded, lips pressing down your chest, slowly making their way down your body. Your body was alight underneath him, every kiss driving you further into welcomed madness. Nearly rejoicing as his hands reached the button of your jeans, you helped him pry them off you.

A noise of surprise escaped you, however, when his mouth didn't find yours again but rather, your hips – fingers playing with the hem of your underwear.

"Minnie?" You ran your fingers along your thighs, excitement flooding you.

There were many parts of Jimin that you missed. Admittedly, his tongue had to be one of the parts you thought back on the most.

A shaky breath left you as he pried your thighs open, positioning them in a way that kept them apart, as if on display for him.

"Pretty." He cooed, admiring the arousal that already showed itself on your underwear. "Can I?"

"Please!"

He snickered at your enthusiasm, pushing past your underwear as he slid a finger into you. Your toes curled at the feeling, fingers gripping at the outsides of your thighs for purchase before ultimately deciding on the duvet underneath you. One finger turned into two, your velvety walls taking to him quickly as he pressed a kiss against the flesh of your inner thigh, fingering you as he adjusted himself to lie on his stomach, making yours flutter.

He leaned forward, tongue pressing flat against you, making your eyes flutter shut.

"Jimin, fuck." The words came to you as you forced your eyes back open, gaze fixated on him and his spot between your legs.

Your jaw fell slack as you watched his tongue run back up, meeting your clit with the tip of his sinful tongue, sparing you no mercy as he rolled it around the hot muscle. He kept his eyes on you as he devoured you, the way your voice cracked mid moan spurring him on further.

You were a shaking wreck, hips desperate to get off on his mouth, meeting the curl of his fingers until you were trembling, clenched tight around him as he sucked at your swollen bud.

"You look so pretty like this." He praised suddenly, biting your thigh as his fingers rocked into you harder.

You whimpered back at him, a tingling sensation telling you you were seconds away from reaching your climax. His fingers kept his pace, mouth moving over towards your clit once more, one hand moving to hold your abdomen still as he flicked the tip of his tongue across it lightly.

"M-Minnie."

"It's okay, baby. Come for me."

A broken moan fell from you as your back arched suddenly, small jerks of your hips letting him know you were cumming.

He cursed, continuing his torment against your pussy, letting you ride out your orgasm before you were pushing his head off of you.

You had barely caught your breath before he was kissing you again, not that you minded at all. You felt so sensitive as he rocked his clothed erection against you, making you shutter.

"Fuck me." You said the moment the kiss broke.

"Yeah? You sure?" He asked.

You nearly pouted in frustration. You had never been more sure of something in your life.

"Please, I can't wait any longer."

Jimin chuckled, pressing a wet kiss onto your collar bone. "So honest. So cute. Such a good girl."

You let out a groan as he pushed your panties to the side, the head of his cock pressing past your still sensitive pussy, words of encouragement leaving his lips as he buried himself into you.

A soft whine escaped into the room, your brows furrowed slightly as he rocked in and out experimentally.

"That okay?"

"Ah, so good. Keep going." You begged.

"Fuuuck." He dragged the word out, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip as he took in the state of you. You were staring down at where the two of you met, a lewd expression on that pretty face of yours as you kneaded at one of your breasts, mouth slightly ajar as you let out a soft groan.

You brought your hips up to meet his, head falling back as he reciprocated your motions, bottoming out and keeping still, your cunt stuffed with him.

"Did you miss my cock, angel?"

"Mm, yes." You whimpered pitifully, relishing at the sight of Jimin inside and on top of you once again.

"I missed this. Haven't gotten to touch you in so long." He sighed, gripping your hips as he repositioned himself, the new position making it easier to thrust into you, rolling into you slowly before quickening his pace, only to repeat the cycle again, as if simply enjoying the way you felt and the noises you made.

Heat found your stomach, his words, and actions stirring up your insides.

"You can touch yourself if you want, baby. Play with your little clit for me."

You let out a whimper, hand moving to comply with your orders.

Jimin watched through dark eyes as your fingers found your hardened bud, your motions urging him to fuck into you harder – deeper. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the bed, his soft grunts arousing you in a way you didn't know moans could.

He was fucking you so good, you felt like you were going crazy, begging for him to kiss you before you completely lost your mind.

He complied, of course, wanting nothing more than to feel the way you would let him lap into your mouth, completely submissive underneath his touch.

He thrusted into you, moaning lowing – he could feel how close you were, the way your walls throbbed around his fat cock deliciously, like you wanted him to cum inside you. Like you wanted him to stuff you with his cum until you were left dripping and swollen.

He let out a low grunt.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." You cried, your fingers speeding up as you realized Jimin was close, his thrusts slowing down and stifled whimpers left him.

To your surprise, your orgasm rocked over you suddenly, leaving you shuddering and gasping for air as broken profanities filled the room, your wrecked cunt clenching around Jimin's cock.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum." He moaned out suddenly, hip stilling for fear that he might actually just cum inside you.

You were still hazy from your second orgasm, but you didn't have to think twice about your next works.

"Cum in my mouth."

Jimin cursed, pulling out of you carefully before gripping down on the base of his cock, abdomen flexing as he watched you flip yourself over, crawling over to him.

Lips wrapping around his pretty red tip, he pumped his cock furiously, fighting back the urge to grab the back of your head and fuck your mouth.

With one final swift circle of your tongue, he finally came, thick ropes of cum making its way down your throat.

He watched with pride as you swallowed it down like the good girl he remembered you to be.

"Let me see, baby." His voice was scratchy and low as he gripped your jaw, groaning as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out obediently, showing him that you swallowed all of it.

"You're fucking incredible. I missed you."

"I missed you, too." You muttered shyly, for once being honest.

You let out a surprised giggle as he flopped down onto the bed, yanking you over to straddle over his lap.

Smiling, he pulled you in for a passionate kiss, for no other reason than that he wanted one.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A familiar voice rang out.

"Oh my god!"

Jimin was quick to pivot you away from the door's view, grabbing a pillow and moving it to you as to protect your modesty from Hoseok and his girlfriend, who were peering in through the doorway.

"Look at you two getting jiggy with it!" Gwen laughed.

"Hello? Naked? Go away?" You emphasized, face alight.

Clutching the pillow over your bare torso, you watched as Jimin grabbed another one, chugging it at Hoseok's shit-eating grin.

"Beat it, you scrub!"

"You know," Hoseok mused, "when I said we were kicking it old school tonight, this wasn't quite what I meant."

"The only thing I'm kicking is your ass if you don't get the hell out!" You threatened, face ablaze.

"C'mon, babe, let's go. We're harshing the vibe." Gwen giggled, tugging at Hobi's arm.

"Y/N's got a ride home with you, I'm assuming?" The frosted tip man directed at the man underneath you.

Jimin nodded, somehow unfazed by the fact that he was sat completely naked under you. "Mhm, I got her."

"Yeah you do." Hoseok grinned suggestively.

"Out, please!"

You let out an exasperated huff as you watched the two voyeurs finally make their way out, resting your chin on the pillow you held, an embarrassed pout on your lips.

"That was so humiliating." You whined, causing Jimin to chuckle, arms coming to wrap around your waist.

"C'mon, it's not like they were doing any different downstairs." He attempted to reason. You ignored him, however, further burying yourself into the pillow.

"I can't believe Hoseok's seen my tits. I could actually just die." You stressed dramatically.

"If it makes you feel any better... they're a nice pair of tits." He hummed, fingers trailing up your sides.

Bringing up your pillow, you thwacked him with it, sending him into a round of giggles as he pressed kisses against your warm cheeks.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Slipping into the familiar passenger seat of Jimin’s car, you let out a sigh.

A few rounds of fooling around later, Jimin and you slipped back out of the house only to find an empty backyard and extinguished bonfire, a trail of smoke disappearing into the night sky.

“Sorry I fucked you on a dead man’s bed.” He joked, putting the key into the ignition.

You smirked as the car engine roared to life, admiring the way Jimin’s arms flexed as he maneuvered the gearshift in reverse.

“I’ve had worse one night stands.” You shrugged.

“About that,” Jimin cleared his throat, pulling off the property and onto the main road, “... where exactly does this leave us?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are we?” He continued, eyes purposely not meeting yours.

Silence fell over you, fingers intertwining on your laps as you considered his words. What answer was he looking from you?

“We are... friendly.”

“Friendly.” He repeated dryly.

Nerves suddenly overwhelming you, you let out an awkward laugh, “I mean, it’s not like we can go back to how things were before I left–”

“Well, why not?” He sounded serious, making your stomach churn.

“Jimin...”

“Why does anything have to change? You’re back. It can be us again.”

Suddenly, the space in his car was entirely too small. You swallowed back the urge to tell him to stop the car so that you could step out and hurl.

You weren’t back, though. Physically, you were here, but your heart was so far away from this place. If you were to get back together with Jimin… if you were to allow yourself to take his heart once again, only to leave it when you inevitably left town… you would never forgive yourself. Never.

“Minnie, I just... it can’t.”

You didn’t even fully believe in your own words, but you forced them out, no matter how badly it tore you inside. Here was the love of your life, offering himself to you one more time, and you were turning him down. You really were cruel.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, noticing his change in mood. His eyes were fixated on the road, jaw tightened as he mulled over his response.

“Don’t be. I’m not going to force you back into a relationship if you don’t want to.”

It was such a polite response; you had expected nothing less from him, the sweet boy who used to carry your backpack between classes. But still, his words somehow cut deep. Of course, you wanted to. He just could never know.

“Okay.”

The next several moments passed by quietly, before Jimin reached over towards the radio with a sigh, the old thing turning back to life as he dialed with the knobs, settling on a Guns N’ Roses song.

Leaning back in your seat, you let your mind drift along to the guitar riff, the familiar tune reminding you of older times, where you and Jimin used to drive around for hours, nothing better to do in this small town than drive and scream along to rock music.

Jimin used to have a nylon CD binder, ‘filled with the best albums of all time’ as he once put it. You remembered flipping through it time after time, trying to decide which CD would fit that particular drive. Curiously, you popped open the glove compartment, wondering if he still had it.

“Whatcha looking for?” He glanced over at you, shuffling through the pile of random things he had shoved in there over the years.

“Your CDs.” You responded mindlessly, before something hard hit your finger, catching your attention enough to dig for it.

“What’s this?”

You pulled out a black cassette that had been floating around his glove compartment.

Jimin watched with widened eyes as the forgotten tape fell into your hands, your thumb running across the area where he had scribbled your name onto it messily years ago.

“Where did you find that?”

You were too busy noting the car pulling into the driveway of your grandmother’s home to notice the slight tremor to his words as if you had just ripped off the bandage to a wound that had yet to heal.

“Right here.” You gestured to the open glove box. “It was buried underneath all your shit. What is it?”

“It’s nothing.” He dismissed, tone void of emotion.

You let out a laugh, “Yeah, okay, except it’s not nothing because you wrote my name on it.”

Finally, you turned to look at the boy beside you, your smile fading as you took in the way his eyes had gone dull, shoulders low and heavy.

“It’s a playlist I made of all the songs that remind me of you.”

His words seemed to echo, your hand which held the cassette tape coming down to rest on your lap, fiddling with the object nervously.

“When did you make this?”

Your question was innocent enough but still weighed heavily on Jimin’s heart.

“I made it after you left. I didn’t think you’d come back and I…” He paused.

There was a sense of melancholy in the small enclosed space of his car, the kind that you would miss entirely if you weren’t paying attention— just a note of sorrow that had gotten forgotten up until now.

“You what?” You pressed. Jimin held your eyes for a silent beat before responding.

“I just didn’t want to forget you.”

You sat beside him idly as you felt your heart sink to your stomach, fingers going numb around the now cold metal cassette tape.

Was this it?

Was this the moment in which you two finally sat and talked honestly about what had happened? How you had left him, this entire town, without so much as a word. How you cried, and you thought of him the entire bus ride out. How you made a new home moving from city to city, letting strangers keep you company at night, only to hate yourself the next morning when you thought back at the kind, smiling boy you had left back home.

Somehow, you knew your answer. Yet, all the same, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

A soft sigh beside you rang out in consequence, the wall that Jimin had built up once again dividing the two of you.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He muttered, staring straight ahead.

Your shoulders sank, “Minnie-–”

“It’s late.”

He refused to meet your eyes — he couldn’t. He had words on his tongue that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to take back if he were to meet those beautiful eyes of yours.

For once, you didn’t want to leave. Looking at the hurt boy, you wanted to stay and say something to make things right.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t – not without saying everything that you still felt for him and giving him a false idea that he should have any faith in the two of you.

And as you slipped from the passenger seat and shut the car door, you felt a longing for him. Even as you made your way up the stairs and slipped into bed, you missed him.

Shutting your eyes, you could almost feel the way he would shift closer to you in your bed, pressing kisses onto your shoulder as he laughed at whatever stupid joke you had just made.

It was more than wishful thinking. It was a memory that now felt bittersweet, knowing that the boy who used to look at you like you were the sun could hardly look at you at all.

Sheets cold and crisp, you fell asleep to the sound of your loneliness.

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

Finding Love In The Louvre

A Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.2K Warnings: None

Author's Note: An old story I edited! Enjoy the fluff! -Thorne

The day started as it usually did, her standing by the elevator, waiting for the doors to open so she could hand him his coffee and explain his schedule. Sure enough, the doors opened at eight A.M. on the dot, and he stepped out, briefcase in one hand, phone in the other. He shoved his phone in his pocket, accepting the outstretched coffee she held. He moved quickly, but she kept pace.

“Good morning Mr. Wayne.” He hummed in return, taking a sip of the coffee; she paid no mind, continuing with, “So today you have a board meeting in room one-forty-two,” His mouth opened to complain, but she held up a hand, silencing him, “I can’t put it off any longer, I’ve already tried.” He grumbled in return, causing her to smile lightly as she kept speaking.

“That starts in an hour, and it should end at eleven. I recommend after that you go and check with Lucius about the gala coming up while I order lunch. I should have that ready by twelve-fifteen, then the rest of the day is paperwork and the occasional friendly visit with the office workers.”

By the time she was done, he was taking a seat at his desk, shifting papers around. She stood with her tablet in one hand, the other propped on her hip. “Anything you need me to do before I go sit down?”

He handed her a sheet while he looked at the monitor, waiting for the retina scanner to start. “Fax that to Gotham Academy, if you would.”

She took it, looking it over before asking, “This for Damian’s field trip to the Louvre?” He nodded, and she murmured, “I still can’t believe you managed to talk the headmaster into letting you fly his class to France for a couple days.” She eyed him over the top of the paper. “You know you’re going to have to go, right? You got the trip allowed. It’d look bad on your part if you didn’t go.”

He finally looked over at her, a curious sparkle in his eyes. “Have you ever been to France, (Y/N)?”

She tipped her head side to side. “If you count a plane ride over France while on the way to Holland, then yes. But have I been to France? No.”

Bruce leaned back in his seat, hands curling around the arm rests of his seat. “Do you want to go?”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. “And keep an eye on a group of rambunctious teenagers? Uh…no. I already have enough trouble keeping your group in check.” Bruce gave a laugh at her words, but she followed with, “But if you need me to go with Damian, I can work it into the schedule.” He nodded, and she tapped at her screen. “Alright, I’ll fax the paperwork with our information for travel.” She turned, making her way to her desk when his voice reached her.

“Wait! Our inform—I’m going too?”

She simply threw a thumbs up, sitting at her desk.

***

She settled into the cushioned seat, a sigh of relief slipping through her lips.

An amused voice sounded beside her, “Getting comfortable (Y/N)?”

She hummed, pushing the button to recline her seat. “Eight hours in first class? Are you kidding me? Of course, I’m getting comfortable.” Bruce grinned, settling into his seat the same as her. She watched him groan as he lifted his legs, stretching them out.

A knowing tone came up and she said, “I told you not to wear hard-bottomed shoes. You should’ve gone with sneakers.”

“Why do you enjoy torturing me, (Y/N)?”

She laughed at his words, looking over at him. “I tell you not to do things and you do them anyway. It’s not hard to find the chastising humor in it.” Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but it was cut off by a small huff, and they both looked over, seeing his youngest son collapsing into a seat beside them. (Y/N) reached over, gently caressing the top of his head. “Don’t want to hang around with the simpletons anymore, Damian?”

He nodded and closed his eyes, curling up in the seat. “I have never met a group of kids more idiotic than my class.” His eyes flew open, and he leaned across the arm rest, a sneer on his face. “Just last week, that troglodyte Trevor made a comment so ridiculous, even his reasoning was absurd.”

(Y/N) nodded and asked, “What’d he say?”

Damian scoffed and replied, “He said that he wanted to be like Achilles because he looked cool.” She waved a hand for him to continue. “So, I said, ‘Really, you want to be a man that throws a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way?’ And this fool had the audacity to look at me like I had just asked him-”

His rant was cut off by Bruce, who said, “Damian, enough.”

Damian rolled his eyes whispering, “I cannot stand how stupid they are.”

(Y/N) snorted, leaning close and telling him, “Give them a chance, Damian.” The look he gave her made her wish she’d had a camera, and she continued with, “You have to remember, these people haven’t been schooled like you have. You’re more advanced than the average thirteen-year-old. They’re still learning how to switch classes without a teacher escorting them.”

Damian leaned back, a look of thought on his face, then he retorted, “They are still stupid.”

(Y/N) reached over, handing him a book. “Here kiddo. Keep yourself occupied.”

He took the book, flipping it over. “What is this, ‘Hell Divers’ about?” (Y/N) popped a cracker in her mouth, pointing to the back. He read it silently, then made a motion to hand it back. “Doesn’t look interesting.”

(Y/N) swallowed and put another cracker in her mouth, shifting it to the side of her cheek with her tongue as she pushed the book back. “I brought the whole series.” She grinned at him, holding up the set. “I bet you can’t read the entire thing by the time we land.”

Damian scowled, snatching the books from her, and opening the first one. She gave a satisfied smile and turned back to the front when she felt eyes on her. (Y/N) looked over, seeing Bruce staring at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

She raised an eyebrow questioning, “What?”

He tipped his chin towards Damian. “How’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get him to read something he didn’t find interesting?”

(Y/N) reached over and condescendingly patted his arm. “The same way I get you to buy new suits every gala.”

Bruce looked at her in confusion. “And that way is?”

(Y/N) reclined in her seat, pulling her blanket up to her chin and pulling the eye mask down her eyes. “I tell you that someone there might be able to out dress you, and that spurs you to make sure you look the best.”

She couldn’t see him, but she could picture his face and arms as he pouted, “So you manipulate me?”

“With all the care and affection you need Mr. Wayne.” And that was all she said before rolling over and curling up and drifting off.

***

“And stay with your guides at all times! Chaperones, if you get lost or separated from your guide, you have Mr. Wayne and my cellphone numbers, please call, do not stay lost!” (Y/N) looked at the chaperones and guides. “Does everyone understand?” Cheers and nods came from all sides, and she waved them off. “Then be free! Curfew is at nine P.M.! Be there before nine, please! And be careful!” Her words fell on deaf ears as the groups dispersed, and she groaned lightly, rubbing her temples.

A hand rested on her lower back and she looked up, seeing Bruce smiling at her. “Don’t worry so much, (Y/N). Everyone will be fine.” She nodded, trusting his words, then he tipped his head to the side. “Damian’s hailed a cab. Let’s go hit the Louvre, then we’ll go to lunch.” She followed him to where Damian was holding the car door and slid inside.

***

The drive didn’t take long, and soon they were walking around the museum. Damian had wandered off, waving his hand, and saying, “I can handle myself.”

She and Bruce simply nodded, watching him go before they set off themselves. They walked around, observing the pieces, until (Y/N) saw a particular one. Her feet sunk into the ground and she stopped, staring at it in admiration.

Bruce glanced between them. “Nike?”

She nodded, telling him, “I remember learning about her in Humanities back in community college, but I never actually imagined ever seeing her.” (Y/N) paused, a calm look coming across her face. “Pictures don’t do her justice. She’s more impressive than I thought. And bigger.”

Bruce listened to her, then asked quietly, “Do you like art, (Y/N)?”

She tipped her head side to side. “Here and there. I like pieces that catch my eye or look interesting.” She glanced at him. “I really enjoy history and science museums.” (Y/N) reached over, nudging him in the side. “Maybe for the next fieldtrip, you can fly us to D.C., and we can hit the Smithsonian.” (Y/N) stepped away and nodded to the next room. “C’mon, let’s go to the next exhibit.”

He fell into step beside her and as they observed the next piece he murmured, “Would you like to go to the Smithsonian, (Y/N)?”

She half focused on his words, absentmindedly replying, “Whenever the next field trip comes up, sure.”

A gentle grip took her hand and she looked over, seeing a serene look in his eyes, and he asked, “No…would you like to go to the Smithsonian…with me?”

(Y/N) blinked, then gestured clumsily between them. “Like…just us?” He nodded and she clarified, “Me and you…together?” He nodded again, a smile accompanying it, and she couldn’t help but ensure, “No one else? Just…us?”

Bruce huffed a laugh, gently squeezing her hand. “Just us.”

(Y/N) felt her cheeks warm, and she looked down, mumbling, “Oh…I…I don’t know if the schedule is clear…”

Another squeeze followed by, “As the boss, I can clear any and all plans made.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, but she pushed it aside, glancing back at him, her eyes firm. “Are you being serious with me right now? You’re not pulling joke?”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed and he admitted, “I don’t actually know if I should be offended that you think I’m playing a joke or not, but to answer your question, no, I’m not pulling a joke.” He let go of her hand, trailing his fingers up her forearm, the other arm curling around her. “I’m being one-hundred percent serious.”

He gave her a smile, blue eyes shining. “I would like it if you spent the weekend with me in D.C.” He paused, lips pulling downwards as he added, “Or just spent the weekend with me. We don’t have to go anywhere…if we’re together, that’s all that matters to me. I just really want you—”

(Y/N) cut him off, pressing her lips to his cheek. He grinned at her, watching as she murmured, “I would love to go to D.C. with you, Bruce.” She pulled away, slipping out of his grip, and wandering off towards the next room. He stared at her back, heart thumping in his chest when a voice sounded below him.

“Took you long enough.” His mood soured, and he looked down, seeing Damian standing there, arms crossed over his chest.

“When did you get here?” He asked.

Damian glanced up at him and muttered, “Since the start of your embarrassing courting.” Bruce reached over and ruffled his hair, laughing at how Damian slapped his hand, a glare in his eyes.

“It wasn’t embarrassing.”

“Not to you. But the others were considering throwing up.”

Bruce’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Others?”

Damian simply held up his phone, and Bruce looked into the eyes of his other sons who were returning his gaze, albeit smugly.

“So, (Y/N)’s finally gonna join the fray? Cool!”

A hand shoved Dick’s head aside, and Jason looked into the camera. “I’m seriously surprised it took you this long, old man. I mean, how long has she been your secretary? When Dick got there?”

A new voice picked up from the side, and Tim’s head squeezed into view. “Actually, (Y/N) was there before Dick got there. She was there when Bruce started working at W.E.”

Dick’s head shoved Jason’s aside, and his snarky grin appeared. “But the point is, nice going, Bruce! It’s only taken you like seventeen years to get her to go out with you! You must be one weird guy for it to take so long. Maybe it’s because—”

At this point, Bruce had grunted, turning on his heel and marching off after (Y/N). Dick sputtered through the camera, “Damian! Go after him! I haven’t finished explaining his problems!”

“There’s not enough time in the world to explain all the old man’s problems.”

“You’re one to talk, Jason.”

“I dare you to say that to my face replacement.”

Damian rolled his eyes, shutting off the phone and walking after his father, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

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fandomsonrequests · 3 years

Text

unexpected friend

fandom: ATEEZ

characters: choi san

reader: fem

word count: 5.4k

summary: fate decided to test this decade long feud between you and choi san

notes: enemies to lovers AU, toxic themes, character death, substance abuse (it’s not explicit) such as alcohol and cigarettes, heavy themes, language, violence

You had no idea where it started— you just knew that you hated Choi San with every fiber of your being. And unsurprisingly, the feeling is mutual with you.

Maybe it started in kindergarten when he accidentally pushed you to the ground in the game of tag. You got so mad at him, saying that he meant it when he obviously didn’t, calling him stupid because “all boys are stupid.”. Or maybe it started when you knocked over his tower of building blocks as revenge. Or was it when he dipped your pigtails in paint to get back at you? Or maybe the time he spread rumors that you had cooties causing everyone to avoid you like the plague.

Whatever the reason, it spiraled into a childhood rivalry that continued as you grew older. The endless cycle of cat versus dog, taking revenge on one another, followed into grade school, where you reached your horse phase and he reached his gun dam phase. It was inevitable you’d see him again— you both lived in a fairly small town after all.

Petty actions like drawing on the other’s homework turned into stealing each other’s lunches or setting some sort of prank at each other’s seats— whatever your ten-year-old brains could think of. Your screaming matches grew even worse and at one point, you both started throwing punches. The teachers always had to watch you during breaks because eventually, you’d be on top of each other and pulling at each other’s hair.

San had an advantage of course since he took taekwondo, you always ended up as the loser. But in retaliation, you managed to convince your mother to enroll you in some other martial art to protect yourself. And when you won your first little fistfight— you always made sure to lord it over him.

“Hah, you got beat by a little girl! Not so tough now huh potato-head?”

“Shut up horse-face!”

San saw your kindness and charisma towards others as an act. It was your own way of reeling others in to be on your side, gathering some sort of army to help you gang up against him. You on the other hand managed to convince yourself that his cute little dimples and selflessness for others was a facade, You couldn’t believe how many people he’s managed to fool or turn against you. And you’ve always hated him for that. You let it fester as you go through grade school and towards middle school. That hatred you harbored for him was always lit inside you.

Your parents and his were always apologizing to each other during parent-teacher meetings or school events, having to hold you back from jumping on one another. Your dad had given up on the whole thing so he was totally useless; that left you to run to your mother for comfort. Whatever the situation was, at the end of the day, she was always on your side.

“Things will blow over soon. But please, honey, try to stay out of trouble for me?”

So when she died in your junior year of high school, you couldn’t help but feel alone. Your dad had taken to smoking to cope with the loss, marrying a woman who was in love with alcohol while bringing her two hellish twin daughters with her into your home. Things grew miserable for you at home; your dad became a pathetic pushover, letting his new wife run the household. That made you angry— how could he get over your mother so easily? How could he let himself get walked over like that? How could he ignore the way your older step-sisters trampled all over you?

How could he let all this happen?

San’s endless taunting at school didn’t help either. His harmless pranks grew worse as time passed: spray-painting some nasty words on your locker, or setting a bucket of paint on top of the gym doors since you’re always the last one to head out. You’d heed your mother’s words, always doing your best to ignore him. For a while, it had worked and he pestered you less than usual but your mom’s death and the situation at home had triggered something in you, making you snap back. You’d shove his face down into his food during lunch or knock his books down the stairwell whenever you pass by each other. You had even managed to sneak some of the insects from the lab into his gym clothes, causing him to end up with nasty rashes all over his body for a week.

Your physical fights weren’t frequent but they became more violent, with one or both of you having to go to the nurses, holding an ice pack to your busted lips while a piece of gauze was stuck up his bloodied nose. It took several students or even teachers to pull you apart because most of the time no one wanted to jump in and separate you two; it was always so messy with fists and kicks flying everywhere. There was even one point where you both had to go to the hospital for fractured bones. You were both suspended for a week.

Fortunately, things had toned down now that you both were in your final year of high school with the pressure of college and meeting requirements looming over you. Although, neither of you managed to make up. You’d still exchange some foul words but the stupid pranks and fights had simmered down. That never meant you were on good terms though.

But then fate decided to be a little shit and put you in a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in.

Your new biology teacher didn’t seem to be informed about the decade-long feud between you and San. So when she assigned the both of you as partners, you felt your heart drop to your stomach as a sick feeling crawled over you. You wanted to cry and throw up at the same time- that’s just how much you despised him. You both tried to plead with her to change partners but she was as stubborn as a mule, insisting that you two can “sort out your differences” and finish this project as a team.

And now here you were, avoiding each other’s stares despite being sat next to each other. The proximity between you two was suffocating, it made it hard to focus on the project being explained to you by your cruel teacher. Your skin tingles unpleasantly whenever either of you shifted in your seat, your arms just several centimeters away from touching each other. Many thoughts ran through your head on how you can get out of this. But you knew that you had to find some time to work on the damn thing together or else you’d flunk high school— and being stuck in community college, never being able to leave this town, was not worth hitting San at the back of the head and gloating at him.

“You have the rest of the period to plan with each other. Make sure to have your presentation set and ready for next week.” Your teacher says and sits at her desk.

The room was filled with chatter as the students started conversing with each other. Many pairs threw knowing stares at you, worried that you’d be at each other’s throats. Surprisingly you weren’t… at least not yet anyway.

For a while, neither of you said anything to each other. San simply scrolled through his phone hidden under his desk while you organized your final notes. Minutes tick by and the class slowly comes to an end. With a heavy sigh, you decided to swallow your pride and talk to the guy.

You turn to the boy, roughly shoving his knee with yours and he sends you an irritated glare. “C’mon we need to plan for this.” You deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you.

San returned the sigh and pocketed his phone, shifting to face you. “Alright then. So what’s the plan?”

“That’s what we’re supposed to be talking about, dumbass.” You mutter, growing irritated. You clench your fists together in an attempt to keep your calm before continuing. “Anyway, we’re supposed to make some model of the nerve cells then present it.”

San stays quiet for a moment before speaking up. “My sister has some spare clay and wires from her sculpting hobby. I could ask for some.”

“Great. You work on that while I work on the script.” You conclude before going back to your notes.

“Hold on- you’re gonna leave me with all of the hard work?”

“We have the same workload?? I’m making the script.”

“That’s easy- scripts can be finished within a day or something.” San shot back, finding the arrangement you had set, without his consultation by the way, as unfair.

“Then I’ll help you when I’m done. Quit whining like a bitch.” You sigh, having no energy to continue the argument with him.

“Asshat…” He mumbles under his breath, pulling out his phone to text his sister. He expected some sort of retaliation from you but you simply remained quiet. That was odd- considering that you never missed the chance to have the last word in. Maybe you just weren’t feeling it today.

Nevertheless, he ignored you, deciding that it wasn’t worth pestering you at the moment. The bell rings, signaling the end of the class, and you’re immediately up and out of your seat, stuffing your notebook into your bag and swinging it over your shoulder. It almost hits San’s cheek in the process but you were already walking out the door before he could call you out on it.

“Geez…” He huffs and keeps his own things, glaring after you while hoping that time would fly by fast so that the project was done and over with.

A few days have passed by since the biology class. True enough, you’ve finished writing and even printing the script within the day the project was assigned to you. So now you were stuck helping out San with sculpting the whole model. You two would work together at the back of the library after school. Initially the librarian was hesitant about letting the two of you inside given your reputation and all. But when she saw that neither of you were at each other’s throats, surprisingly, she allowed for you to work on it in the library.

Of course you and San still had some disputes— how it’s supposed to be positioned, what shape it’s supposed to take, yadda yadda. But it had never escalated into a full blown argument because it always ended up with you taking the blow of his harsh words. That alone started to concern the boy, you’d always get back at him. But your resigned silence after every quip he threw at you started to worry him. Sure he hated your guts but San wasn’t a nasty person. He knew something was bothering you. But, he never took the initiative to ask what was bothering you; it wasn’t his problem anyway.

A weekend away from Monday aka the day of your presentation. The model was almost done— it just needed a paint job. Since it was a Saturday afternoon, meaning the school was closed, neither of you were able to work at your usual spot. So San decided to just take the whole thing to your home to finish it. Of course he could finish the whole thing himself but he had a party to attend later in the evening, and he didn’t want to miss out on it.

He arrives at your home, model in one hand and a crate of paints in the other. He takes note of the absence of your dad’s and step-sister’s cars in the driveway and assumed that you were all out. He sighs in frustration, hoping that that wasn’t the case. Jogging up to the porch, the boy sets down the crate and rings the doorbell a couple of times, foot tapping against the wooden floorboards as he waits.

When there was no response after a few minutes he tried again, this time ringing the doorbell a bit more frantically. Before he could turn around and head back home after getting no response, he hears frantic footsteps scurrying inside and steps back as the door swings open. There you were, hair looking like a bird’s nest while your week-old cardigan hung off your shoulders. There were dark circles under your eyes and you looked like a hobo who had the opportunity to clean after themselves. In other words: you were a mess.

“The fuck are you doing here?” You snap the minute your hazy mind registers that San was standing at your door.

The said boy snaps out of his own trance and shoves the model in your face. “We need to finish this.”

You stare at the figure in his hand then to the crate by his foot and then to his face that displayed an expectant expression. You sigh and rub your face. “Couldn’t you have finished it yourself?”

“I’m busy later.”

Another sigh leaves you and you step back to let him in. He enters the house, leaving his shoes by the door as he looks around the place. It was a bit messier than he had expected. There were rumpled coats hanging off of the arm of the couch, a small pack of cigarettes and a few bottles of cheap beer on the coffee table. The wallpaper was starting to fade with a few faint stains here and there.

San stays quiet as he follows you through the house, seeing the small stack of dishes waiting to be washed in the sink. He turns back to look at you, finding your silence as unnerving. You only trudged up the stairs, motioning for you to follow him. He expected to see you turn down the hallway and enter one of the rooms but was quite surprised to see you stop by a frayed rope hanging from the ceiling of the hall. You reach up and tug down on it, revealing the ladder towards the attic.

“Don’t tell me you live up there,” San jabs.

“Yeah and what of it?” You grumble, sending him a tired glare over your shoulder before climbing up the ladder.

He was stunned into silence when he realized that you were serious. He bites his tongue and refrains from jeering at you, handing the box of paints to you before climbing up. Several thoughts ran through his mind— why was your room in an attic? And since when did you start smoking and drinking? Was it even yours?

His head pokes into the surprisingly clean but small room. Your bed was pressed up near the slanted wall of the roof, several polaroids of you, your few friends, and your mother plastered along it. On the opposite side was your desk and your wardrobe whose paint was starting to chip off. Several boxes, labeled and not labeled, were pushed to the corner of the room, stacked in a way for them to take up less space.

San looks to you rummaging through your desk, probably finding a brush or something. He wordlessly steps into the room and pulls the rope, closing the trapdoor beneath him. He turns to you again and before he could stop himself, he found himself blurting the question that was plaguing his mind: “What the hell happened to you?”

You turn on your heel, almost knocking over the picture frame of you and your mom. Your hand reached out to steady it before answering San. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Why do you live up here?” He motioned to the whole attic space with his arm. “Don’t you have a room downstairs?”

“I do.” You simply say and take the crate of paints, pulling out the needed colors and some paper cups for you to place them in.

When you don’t elaborate, San squats down to your level on the ground and tugs the purple paint tube out your hand. “What happened to it?”

“Why do you care?” You snatch the tube back with a hiss, preparing all the things needed. “It’s none of your business…”

The boy sighs, running a hand through his dark locks. He nibbles at his cheeks, carefully going over what he wanted to say. “...look, _____,” he starts, voice surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have to tell me everything but you don’t have to keep everything in.”

You don’t answer him or make any move to acknowledge what he had said. But you were listening; part of you decided to take down your walls for just a moment and hear what he has to say. And San seemed to sense this because he continues.

“I’m not gonna say that ‘I’m here for you’ and all that crap but, there are people who're willing to listen to you. Whatever you’re going through right now, no matter how big or small it is, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Again, you don’t respond. A moment of silence full of high strung tension passed by. It was only a few seconds but it felt longer than that— especially since you both stopped in what you were doing and stared at the ground or at each other’s hands.

You always hated San but you couldn’t help but sense the sincerity in his words. It’s kind of pathetic but at the moment, his genuinity, the softness of the way he spoke was what you were craving for. At that moment, you just wanted assurance that things will be okay and that whatever you were doing in life wasn’t useless. And the guy you seemed to hate most was offering you that.

Tears prick at your eyes and you hastily brush it away with the sleeve of your cardigan, refusing to show any weakness to your nemesis. But it was hard; once the tears started flowing it was difficult for you to stop. You play it off by finishing up in preparing the paints, suppressing any hiccups or sobs that would escape before eventually giving up and bringing your legs up to your chin, crying into your sweats. Fuck it if San sees.

You curled up into yourself, crying into your pants when you felt a gentle but hesitant hand on your shoulder. You jolt at the touch, seeing San back away quickly. His brows were furrowed in concern and his lips were pursed, almost as if he were thinking about what he was going to say.

“G-go on, gloat,” You hiccup, choking on your tears. “I look like a m-mess anyway…”

You were surprised, and a little bit embarrassed, that he didn’t follow with what you said. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small packet of tissues and handing it over to you. He looked up to your desk, seeing your water container on your desk. He stands up to take it, shaking it to check if there was still some water in it, before placing it by your foot.

“I’m not going to lie, you are a mess,” San says before returning to his previous spot on the floor. “But I guess that’s normal when you’re having a shitty day.”

“More like a shitty life…” You mumble. You chug down the rest of your water, managing to stop your tears as you wipe them away with the tissues. You look up at the boy across you and sigh heavily. “It’s my step-mom,” you say.

“I’m sorry?”

“My step-mom. She made me move up here so that her daughters could take my room.” You explain. “My dad didn’t say anything because he’s a pushover, wasting his life away on cigarettes and the alcohol his wife buys…”

San nods slowly in understanding, finally making sense of what he saw in the living room and kitchen. That explained a lot of things: why you would always faintly smell of alcohol or nicotine a few months after your mother had died. It had honestly shocked him to hear that— your dad and step-mom always looked presentable in public. Your step-sisters were a bit more extravagant but neat nonetheless. The way they talked and carried themselves didn’t seem to indicate that they had any substance addiction.

Thinking back on it, it had also explained why you were so irate and moody almost all the time, leading to you losing some friends in high school as you fell back into yourself or into violence. It was a defense mechanism— you didn’t want to seem vulnerable because at home, you were vulnerable enough.

An idea pops into his head and he promptly stands up, momentarily making you jump from his sudden movement. You look up at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Come with me.”

“What???”

“I said get up and come with me.” San says and actually held his hand out to you.

You look at it skeptically before looking up at him, contemplating about any consequences in following him— if there were any. He wiggles his fingers, impatiently coaxing you to join him and you finally make up your mind. Might as well follow him; you had nothing to lose anyway.

You swat his hand away to get up on your own, mumbling something along the lines that you could get up yourself before straightening yourself out and placing your hands on your hips. He gives a satisfied nod and grabs his shoes to put them on. He then kicks open the trapdoor before heading back down for you to follow.

He returns to the living room with you trailing behind, still wondering where exactly he wanted you to go. When you glance at the clock you see that it’s already 5:30 in the afternoon. Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt something land by your feet. You whipped your head around to see San pointing at your shoes which he probably threw at you from the door.

“We’re heading out for a while.” He says as he exits your house. You take a moment to process what was happening when he pops his head in. “Come on slowpoke.” He ushers you.

You hastily throw on your shoes, grabbing the house keys hanging by the coat rack, and hop out of the house. You lock the door behind you and approach San who was sitting upon his notoriously loud motorbike. “Where are we going?” You ask, settling down behind him.

Your arms awkwardly flutter beside you, opting to hold onto whatever space was left on your seat. You jump in surprise when you hear and feel the engine roar to life, eliciting an amused chuckle from the boy in front of you. You glare at the back of his head, smacking his shoulder and settling yourself once more.

“Hold on tight,” San tells you as he revs up the motorbike.

“I am.” You argue and strengthen your grip on the seat, shaking the bike a little to emphasize your point.

“No you aren’t.” You feel heat rise to your face when he tutted in annoyance, taking your arms and placing them around his waist. “There you go. See? No harm done.”

You only grumble something in response, making him chuckle to himself. It was a bit strange to see you tame like this. Sure it kind of boosted his ego considering that he managed to make you flustered with just a few words and a simple action but he actually kind of liked it when you weren’t at each other’s throats. He revved up the engine again before taking off and speeding down the road.

The evening breeze is cool as it whips through your hair and brushes against you, sending small goosebumps running down your skin. A small yelp escapes you when San picks up speed, causing your grip on him to tighten. He glanced back at you for a moment before taking the turn that exits the town and towards the road uphill. It led to the small forest that overlooked the city; it was a popular place in town for hiking or camping. You remember going there to play as a kid.

The air gets chillier as you both reach a higher altitude. You unconsciously nuzzle closer to the boy in front of you in an attempt to seek some body heat. The sky grows darker, turning into a deeper blue shade as the night slowly creeps upon the town. Some stars start to peek and settle themselves in the dark blanket of the sky by the time San slows down to a stop. He had stopped by the edge of the forest, a metal railing along the opposite end to keep people or vehicles from falling off the edge.

“We’re here.” San says and looks back at you. “You can let go if you want now.”

At that, you peel yourself away from him and hop off his bike mumbling something about how cocky he was while walking over to the railings. He joins you soon after, keeping a respectable distance from you. None of you say anything at first, simply taking in the view of the city in front of you. Now know why San took you out here: to breathe and clear your mind of things; something that you didn’t know you needed at the moment.

The spot you were in allowed you to overlook the town, seeing the lights from the roads and houses down below. You could spot the water tower in the distance along with the radio tower next to it. As you survey the scene before you, you make out one house in the distance with a multitude of colored lights flashing around it.

“Looks like someone’s having a party.” You muse, finally breaking the silence.

San hums in acknowledgement. “I hope they aren’t missing me.”

It takes a moment for you to understand what he said, perking up when it made sense to you. “So that’s what you meant when you were ‘busy.’” You say as you lightly punch his arm. “You’re such an ass.”

“What? I wasn’t lying; I would’ve been busy.” He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Yeah,” You huff. “Busy shoving your tongue down people’s throats.”

A mischievous hum. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Ew no, gross- I’ll pass.”

You share a small laugh together before settling into silence again. It was… kind of cathartic, being able to actually laugh for a long while-even if it was with your longtime nemesis. It was better than crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

You turn to lean your back against the railing, using your arms to support you as you mull over the forest.

“I used to come here a lot as a kid.” You say, managing to capture San’s attention. “Pretended to gallop along the trees like some sort of princess when I was in my horse phase… I would always come home with scraped knees. I was a clumsy kid.”

“Except when you’d throw punches at me,” San interjected, ghosting a hand over his jaw. “You sure knew how to pack a punch.”

You smile apologetically, a sheepish flush on your cheeks, and look over to him. “Well you did deliver some pretty good kicks- I needed to learn how to defend myself.”

San shrugged in agreement. “I guess,” He muses and offers you a small smile, lapsing into silence again. “You know… it’s actually kind of surprising but you aren’t so bad to talk to.”

You nibble at your lower lip at his confession, unsure of what to make of it. When you look up at him, you see that he had inched a little closer to you. He still kept a reasonable amount of space between you two but it was apparent that he wanted to get closer. He drums his fingers against the cool metal of the railing, brows furrowed as he thinks over his next words carefully.

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out. “I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that I’ve hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too. And I want to apologize for that… I know, words are just words. It won’t do anything to reverse or take back what I’ve done to you then, but please, take it as a first step to making it up to you.”

San decided to meet your watery gaze, his chest clenching at the tears you were trying so hard to hold back. He holds his hand out instinctively, wanting to offer some sort of physical comfort. He stops himself midway, opting to just settle it on the rail halfway from you. “You don’t have to make a decision right here and now. You can still hate me all you want, but I promise to leave you alone from now on.”

You whimper pathetically, finally letting the tears flow down your cheeks. You felt guilt consume you at his apology. Why was he taking the blame for everything? It should be you who was saying sorry. After all,you were just as cruel as him. And thinking back on it, this feud had most likely started with you. You raise a sweater paw to wipe at your tears, sobbing into your hand.

God you were a mess.

“Don’t, don’t blame yourself… I should be apologizing too. It takes two to tango right?” You hiccup, managing to give him a shaky smile. “I could’ve chosen to ignore you or direct my anger elsewhere but I still ended up targeting you at the end of the day…”

“_______, it’s okay—“

“No it’s not.” You hiss. “I’m not just talking about what I did in high school. I’m talking about every instance I was cruel to you. It was petty, extremely childish, and just horrible overall. I don’t expect you to forgive me but I want to apologize too. I’ve made part of your life a living hell.”

You glance at his hand on the railing before holding your own out towards him. “Truce?” You offer. “We don’t have to be all buddy-buddy after this but at least we can just end this whole thing.”

San gripped your hand in a gentle but firm handshake. “Truce.” His touch lingered for

just a second before he gave a gentle squeeze and pulled away. He returned it to the previous spot on the railing.

The both of you remain for a while, just overlooking the town and reflecting on what had happened. The quiet atmosphere that you both shared suddenly didn’t seem so awkward anymore. Instead, it was filled with some tension but with a bit of comfort at the same time. It was similar to the feeling of a thorn being plucked out of your side: painful but relief that it was finally out.

You don’t expect that things would go right at once— this wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything was magically solved. You both had left some scars on each other, some that are too hard to forget or too deep to heal easily. But you two were working on it: healing and forgiving each other. It was still a long journey but it was something you were both willing to go on together.

You glance to San, seeing how relaxed he was right now. He didn’t look so annoying or so terrifying anymore. A tiny grin makes its way to your lips; never in a million years did you think you’d find solace in someone you despised so much.

“Hey San,” You call out to him, resting your hand beside his, your pinkies brushing against each other. “...thanks for this. I really needed it.”

He smiles at you, flashing his cute dimples at you. It sends a warm, tingly feeling down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel calm at that. “Glad I could help.” He momentarily pat the back of your hand, engulfing it with his larger one when you didn’t pull away.

It was late when he drove you home to finish the project. Unsurprisingly, your family was still out, probably at an event they forgot to tell you about. But you didn’t mind, you had an unexpected friend with you right now.

You smile to yourself as you wave goodbye to San from the doorway, seeing him speed down the road and into the night. He may have been the bad guy in your life but it turns out, he wasn’t such a bad guy. And you were thankful that you were able to see that because at least you knew you had someone in your corner.

#ficscafe #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez angst #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #ateez san #ateez headcanons

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cyoc49 · 3 years

Text

Golly, Archie!

[Based on an inbox request sent to me by @tfkinky ]

Hiram Lodge stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his tie. Today, as with every day, he looked his best and most professional. The crisp black dress shirt wrapped around his powerful chest, his strong arms were hugged by a deep blue suit coat, and a matching tie perfectly pulled the look together. His eyebrows were neatly shaped. His hair... not a strand out of place. He radiated power, and for a good reason: Hiram Lodge basically owned Riverdale.

He was close to literally owning Riverdale, but he had two items left on his to-do list: Archie Andrews and Jughead Jones. At his every chance to claim total control, those two thugs somehow managed to thwart his plans at the last second. If he could get rid of them, nothing would stop him.

And as it turned out, there might be a way to get rid of them.

In a particular moment of desperation, Hiram had made his way to a local witches’ coven. There, he had learned an interesting fact: there was an alternate version of Riverdale in a local parallel universe. One where life was very, very different.

After a series of shady deals with the witches, Hiram was taught a spell which could be used to completely rewrite the reality of an individual and slip them into this alternate universe. Only in his case, it would be two individuals.

Now, Hiram walked over to his desk. He had drawn a pentagram and lit candles as instructed by the witches, and spread out in the middle were pages from a 1950’s comic, showing teenagers living in the time period. On top of the comic pages were two photos: one of Archie, and one of Jughead. Hiram made small cuts in each of his palms, and held them palms-down over the photos. As his blood dripped onto the setup, Hiram chanted:

Little boys who think they’re cool.

Hot shots, now made into fools.

No longer swear, no longer act mean.

Learn to say golly, nifty, and keen.

Slick your hair and dance the jive.

Welcome to 1955.

With each word, the photos began to warp and shake as if they were water. Slowly the photos began to almost melt into the comic, until they disappeared from the table completely. Instead, the comics now featured two new characters: goofy looking 50’s versions of his former foes. The candles blew out.

Hiram smiled to himself. What fun they’ll have

Archie wiped sweat off his brow. He had been mowing lawns and trimming hedges all day. In an effort to make some extra cash on the side he had started his own lawn care service for the good people of Riverdale. It was tough work, but the money was nice. And he got to walk around shirtless all day, which was a nice plus.

As he threw down another bag of clippings, Archie heard a voice in his head.

“You’re a good boy, Archie.”

Archie paused. He looked around. There was nobody else on the street right now. Had he imagined that? He shook his head and went back to work.

... but even as he worked, Archie couldn’t stop thinking of that little voice. The phrase “good boy” stuck with him, and bounced around in his head like a lone thought running free. Archie had never considered himself one of those goody two-shoes guys. Given everything that happened in this town, everyone had to have a bit of dirt on on their hands. But what if he didn’t? What if he had the chance to do better, wash his hands off and dedicate his life to being a good son and a good member of the community. Well, gosh, wouldn’t that be something?

Before these thoughts went any further, Archie snapped back into the moment. It was a nice idea, but this was his life.

“You’re a well-behaved, well-mannered boy.”

He hear the voice from nowhere again, and this time it sounded even more persuasive. Unconsciously, Archie shifted his back and stood straight, rigid as a board. It was like second nature - without thinking, Archie knew to look upright and presentable at all times. After all, that was the way any well-behaved boy should act.

And as he shifted into a proper posture, he felt a wave of Euphoria was over himself. Standing tall allowed him to push out his chest and show off his arms, after all. He smiled a wide, wide smile. Acting in this way, being a good boy, it made him feel indescribably happy... and also a bit horny. There was a strange feeling bubbling inside of him, growing stronger with every second. A feeling of peppiness, and perkiness. Archie knew it was right to help people. Gosh, that’s what good guys do, right? That’s why I’m mowing my neighbors lawns for free, Archie thought to himself. But no - that’s not right. No, I’m trying to make money... aren’t I? Archie felt confused, like his truth was being clouded and replaced by a new preppy reality that was only getting more intense. Golly, how much farther could this go?

“You have sharp dress style.”

With those words, the few clothes Archie was wearing flew off his body. He immediately moved to cover himself up, until the wave of preppy euphoria relaxed him again. He didn’t really miss his old clothes that much. Sloppy jeans and t shirts? And he had the audacity to walk around shirtless? Unacceptable, Archie thought to himself. I can’t look sloppy, I’m 18 for Pete’s sake! I should be dressed to the nines at all times!

The universe seemed to comply with Archie’s new thoughts as a fresh set of clothes wrapped themselves around him. 1950’s style tighty whities slip up and covered his private areas, nicely cupping his sizeable package and perfectly outlining his firm, round buttocks. The waist band went up to his high waist in that classic 50’s style, a style that Archie was coming to think of as his own.

A white dress shirt appeared next, buttoning itself up to the very top button. The shirt was tight against Archie’s beefcake body, and the outline of his pecs and arms could be seen through the shirt, a feeling Archie didn’t mind. The shirt had a small polka dot pattern on it, but of course it did. Archie loved fun patterns on his clothes! Sometimes he wore multiple bright patterns just to feel extra nifty.

Today was one of those days, apparently, as wool dress slacks with a plaid pattern slid up Archie’s thick legs, coming to rest at his high waist. Through the pants the outline of his full buttocks could be seen. The shirt tucked itself into his pants. As if I would ever go anywhere with my shirt untucked! Archie wanted to guffaw at the thought!

A plaid green bow tie wrapped itself around Archie’s neck into a perfect bow (Archie had mastered the art of tying a bow tie many years ago. He hardly left the house without one). As it locked into place, the wide smile on Archie’s face got wider. He felt absolutely giddy in these clothes. Golly, he loved to dress crisp like this! It made him feel real boss.

Pristine white dress socks rolled up his feet, and wingtip loafers wrapped around them. The shoes were brown leather, so perfectly polished that Archie could see his reflection in them. He polished his shoes every night, he liked to keep them looking a spiffy as possible. A matching brown leather belt, just as polished, cinched his waist, further defining his beefy build.

Over the top of the whole ensemble, a knit sweater vest appeared, in a deep blue. Emblazoned on the front was a gold “R” - for Riverdale High, of course! Archie loved his school and had a number of sweater vests, sweaters, ties, caps, and other pieces of merchandise for the school. He loved to incorporate them into his look - Riverdale’s quarterback should show his school pride, after all!

“You look clean-cut and presentable at all times.”

Archie’s hair ruffled as gel began to flow through it and lock it in a slicked back position. His signature red locks now looked like a plastic helmet on top of his head, perfectly styled into a neat all-American side part (the way every man’s hair should look!), and lightened until it was almost a cartoonish orange.

Archie’s bushy eyebrows slimmed out, taking on a clean styled look, and the pores on his face vanished. Archie how had an impossibly clear and bright complexion, aside from a smattering of freckles across his checks. His teeth straightened into a perfect row. His eyes shined a bright blue, even if his gaze was now a bit mindless.

Archie’s look had totally transformed. He no longer looked like the tough jock he was before. He now dressed like a total square. But Archie didn’t care, he thought his dress style was neato! An artificial perfection settled over his whole look, locking Archie in plasticine preppiness.

Archie rubbed his new clothes. Gosh, he enjoyed the feeling of them so much. As his fingers circled his chest, he heard several more words from the voice, only now he willingly welcomed them:

“You obey your parents, Archie.”

“You follow all orders you’re given.”

“You always hold the door open for those behind you.”

“You’d never do something without asking first.”

“You always say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.”

“You are a good boy, Archie.”

With every command that rang through his vacant head, Archie’s wide smile only got wider. The perky feeling was growing. It wasn’t just in his stomach, it had spread through his arms and legs, into his fingers and toes and into every hair on his head. On a molecular level, Archie felt like a keen all-American teen. A swell guy who helped old ladies cross the street, always had dates home by 10PM sharp, and ended nearly every sentence with “sir” or “ma’am” when talking to an adult.

Archie’s connection to this Riverdale was fading. The squeaky clean school boy now had little in common with the unforgiving town he had grown up in. Instead, he was coming into alignment with the other Riverdale, the one where wholesome American values had never gone out of style. His memories had also shifted from the old Riverdale to the new, as he only ever remembered the 1950’s haven as his home.

But there was so much to do there! Heading to the malt shop! Going to sock hops with Betty and Ronnie! Listening to records! Gee whiz, Archie enjoyed his Riverdale life so much, he wanted to be there right now!

“Archie, it’s time to go home.”

For a brief second, Archie’s head spun as the world flashed and shifted around him.

Only for a brief second, though. After that, it was back to the setting Archie knew and loved. Technicolor houses, white picket fences. Children playing in the street. Home. Archie sighed and smiled. He was at peace here.

Suddenly, Archie remembered his plans for the day. He was going to pick up Veronica and take her to Pop’s. Without missing a beat, Archie ran to Veronica’s house. His knock on the door was answered by this Riverdale’s version of Veronica, sporting a prim blouse and skirt, with bobbed hair.

“Hiya, Ronnie!” Archie exclaimed with a wide grin.

“Hey there, Archiekins!” Veronica pulled Archie into a hug.

The two embraced for a moment and looked at each other sweetly. It was puppy love, plain and simple. Archie always wanted a girl to be sweet for, and Ronnie was the right one for him. And if he was lucky, they might get to play some backseat bingo in his station wagon later.

“Ready to go, sweetie?” Archie asked. Veronica responded with a nod, and the two made their way to Pop’s to split a sundae. Another perfect Riverdale day!

———————————————————————

Jughead paced the floor of his dad’s trailer. He’d been tipped off by a connection on the outskirts of town that Hiram Lodge had been seen paying a visit to the local coven. That could only mean he was up to trouble. Jughead had been trying to contact Archie all day, but his friend had seemingly gone off the grid. Jughead was getting concerned that it wasn’t a coincidence. If Hiram was resorting to black magic, Jughead had no idea what to expect or how to respond. As much research as he did, that was one area he did not mess with.

But now Jughead felt like he was at the end of his line. Hiram had tried multiple times to take him and Archie out, and if he had finally figured out a way, Riverdale was doomed.

He had to contact the witches. That was the only way, Jughead decided. He would drive out there and convince them to undo whatever Hiram had them do. He would beg, make them see that the safety of Riverdale was on the line. It wasn’t his best plan, but it would have to work. It would have to.

Jughead picked up his keys, but dropped them again just as quickly after a booming voice echoed inside his head.

“You’re a good boy, Jughead.”

He couldn’t move. He knew this was the end. But even scarier than the absolute terror he was feeling in the face of defeat, was the fact that those feelings of terror were disappearing. As much as he didn’t want to listen to the voice, the phrase “good boy” just refused to go away. It comforted him, the idea of giving in. Jughead had worked for so long to be a total nonconformist, and yet in this moment he wanted nothing more than to just fit on. Be one of the boys.

Jughead was terrified by the thoughts he heard and felt. He was fighting to hold on to his consciousness, but it was quickly becoming a losing battle.

“You’re a goofy, fun-loving guy.”

Jughead chuckled. He sure did feel that way sometimes. All throughout high school he had been a class clown, always making light of the situation. It was just his way of seeing the world. He liked to make people laugh, but nobody laughed louder than he did at himself.

“You are always dressed in a clean, respectable fashion.”

Jughead’s denim jacket and flannel disappeared from his body. Jughead didn’t mind too much. He wasn’t the kind of guy to dress to the nines, but he did think that every young guy should know how to dress. Jughead kept it simple, but he kept it clean.

To highlight this point, a blue turtleneck sweater popped up around his slender frame, leaving him feeling very comfortable.

White briefs wrapped up his nether regions like a Christmas present, and black dress slacks covered the top of them. The pants were freshly ironed, with visible pleats down the front. Jughead always wore clean clothes!

White tube socks rolled up his legs, and over the top of them came a fresh pair of Chuck Taylor All Stars. Jughead sighed with relief as he wriggled his toes around inside the shoes. Nothing made him feel more boss than a pair of Chucks.

On top of his head, Jughead’s beanie had reformed as a paper crown, his trademark accessory. Jughead didn’t know how he had started wearing it or why he still did, but it sure was fun! And it matched his goofy personality well.

“Your appearance is just as well groomed as your clothes.”

Jughead’s long, unkempt hair was pulled to the side and perfectly groomed into a side part, shortening down in the process to a fresh cut. His teeth whitened and his skin cleared up, just as it had for Archie. Jughead now looked like a perfect model for a Normal Rockwell painting.

Jughead loved the way he looked. This was who he was: just one of the guys, always ready to join in on plans, but never looking to stand out. He was a lovable goofball, and he wore his reputation with pride.

Jughead stood in place, enjoying the feel of his new getup, as more commands piled into his head.

“You love to eat.”

Food was one thing he couldn’t get enough of. He often had multiple hamburgers at Pop’s, and always had snacks no matter where he went.

Jughead let out a low burp. His stomach rumbled, then expanded under his sweater, reflecting his new big eater tendencies. Jughead enjoyed his little pot belly. He chuckled thinking about it.

“You love to laugh.”

And as he did, his chuckle turned into a full-bellied laugh, sending waves of joy throughout his body. His laugh began to take on a honking quality as the tip of his nose expanded to a bulbous shape.

“You are slow-witted, but keen and well-mannered.”

The light behind Jughead’s eyes faded. His journalistic wit and hard-hitting problem solving skills were gone. As Jughead’s goofy personality took over, he felt his care for school and work disappear. He didn’t like to try too hard, raised people’s expectations of him too much. And besides, that school stuff was so hard. Why not take life easy?

“You love to joke, dance, and do other fun-loving, innocent teenage activities.”

Jughead smiled as he remembered his Riverdale. A town where all his best pals were, and where he got to enjoy his neighborhood and all the pleasant people within. It made Jughead happy to think of his Riverdale. He never had to try hard there. Eating burgers and drinking shakes were his highest priorities. The most work he did was cracking a joke in response to Archie’s latest goof.

Jughead kept thinking about his town and how swell he felt when he was there, and realized he wanted nothing more than to be back. Back in his 1950’s home.

With perfect timing, the final command came.

“Time to go home, Jughead.”

Jughead spun, and so did the world. Then, half a second later, everything was back to normal. He was at home, in the suburbia of good ol’ Riverdale. The sun was shining high and proud, and for the 782nd day in a row there was not a cloud in the sky. Jughead knew this was where he belonged.

And just his luck. Across the street was none other than his best pal Archie Andrews! Archie was with Veronica, but was grinning ear-to-ear as he saw Jughead, and Jughead felt the same way as he saw his buddy. Jughead ran across the street to join them (after looking both ways first, of course).

“Howdy Jug! Boy, you have no idea how glad I am to see you!” Archie exclaimed.

“Right back at ya, Archie! Gosh, I’ve been looking for you all over!”

The two pals exchanged perfect white smiles, filled to the brim with glee. What could be better than life in Riverdale, with good buds and great manners?

Archie opened his mouth again “Hey Jug, Ronnie and I were about to go to Pop’s. Wanna tag along?”

“Golly, Archie! You know I can’t say no to Pop’s!”

The three friends all laughed in unison. They turned and began to walk down the street. The sun was shining on another perfect Riverdale day, and it was only noon! Who knew what kind of wacky adventures they could get in today?

TWO WEEKS LATER

Hiram sat and enjoyed a celebratory glass of wine. It had taken several nights of hard bargaining with Mayor McCoy to get what he wanted, but after pointing out the town’s high crime rate and lack of development (and also after making a few “charitable donations”), Hiram got what he finally wanted: ownership of Riverdale. He now truly felt on top of the world.

“This morning’s paper, sir.”

Hiram turned his head to watch as Smithers, the Lodge family’s long time assistant, came in to the room. Hiram thanked Smithers as he left a copy of the morning’s Riverdale Registrar on the table. Hiram truly didn’t care about most of the tat in that paper, even though he was technically it’s owner. But he flipped through, looking for one section that he had recently insisted they add.

“Bingo!” Hiram found what he was looking for as he flipped to the comics page. There at the top was a full-color page of comics labeled Archie and Friends. In today’s installment, Archie (clad in the most garish red bow tie Hiram had ever seen) was helping the neighbor’s kid find his model plane, before being tricked and falling into a swimming pool. Hiram found himself laughing. Archie had always been a gullible fool, it was nice to see that reflected in his new persona. And there right next to him was Jughead, laughing along and eating a sandwich.

Hiram enjoyed seeing what his two former nemeses were up to. He now had a copy of the Registrar delivered to his office every day so he could observe their ridiculously corny adventures. His eyes rolled along the page, looking at the various scenarios the boys found themselves in.

His eyes stopped at the end of the page where the strip had introduced a new character, and older gentleman in a waistcoat with slicked back hair.

And his blood froze as he saw Archie call this new character “Mr. Lodge”.

...Coincidence, surely? There was a Veronica in the strip, so maybe this Mr. Lodge was just her alternate universe father. Why on earth would he be in the strip?

Then, Hiram knew exactly why. In order to convince the witches to hand over their secrets, Hiram had promised to grant the witches legal ownership of their coven’s land, as it was within town limits. Hiram had of course told them what they wanted to hear, but in his legal proceedings earlier that day, he had laid out plans to turn the woodland containing the coven into a tourist lodge.

And somehow, they had found out.

Hiram maintained his composure, even as panic rose inside him. He had faced tougher foes before, and he wasn’t about to let a group of hokey witches take him down. He just had to think of what to do.

Only it was becoming terribly hard for Hiram to think, because a new voice was speaking to him:

“You’re a good boy, Hiram.”

#preppy #preppy tf #preppytf #stepfordization #bowtie #sweater vest #riverdale #archie andrews #Jughead #riverdale tf #suitandtie #suittf #suit tf

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visd3stele · 3 years

Text

magic and kids

summary:

A/N: I really hope you like it. Thank you for your requests. Loved writing it.

art credit: @phantomrin

TW: none

@britishbookworm2 requested (if you want to leave a request as well, click)

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It's been four years since Taryn decided the mortal world would be a more suitable place to raise her child than Elfhame. Even if her sister was now High Queen, the fairies would still make life hard for her and her baby. Maybe not on purpose, she admits it. But magic runs wild, free and unstoppable. Used to it, the Fae Folk barely notices the dangers. And frankly, they don't care. Not allowed to use it on humans as cruelly as before, some meaner courts claim innocent ignorance. How can an entire society of enchanted beings change overnight? How could they be expected to adjust to human fragility all of a sudden?

So Taryn took her baby, promised her sister to visit and fled to Heather and Vivi's. It wasn't as hard as she'd thought. Getting used to the mortal world, that's it. And if her baby had longer canine than normal, or his ears sharpened to pointy edges to the top, it passed unnoticed. Her son certainly didn't stood out the way Vivi did, even with light brown eyes that looked orange in the sun and rusty red hair. He didn't need much glamouring either, not like Oak, Oriana or Madoc. By the time she sent him to preschool his hair was long enough to cover the ears and no one seemed to notice the teeth even without magic.

For all the talk Taryn did on how she wanted her son to be free of his father in all ways, snapping at Oak when the boy tried to teach him magic before he knew how to properly walk and forbidding her family to bring Fairyland up, she named him Renard.

Fitting, though not what she should have done. Maybe part of her can't let Locke go, not entirely. She knew he didn't particularly wanted the baby, that everything he promised her were pretty lies. But for a few months, it has been real. Their marriage, their love, their lives. She saw her dreams come true, one after another: the mistress of an important household, throwing parties for courtiers, motherhood.

Now that everything she wanted snaped broken in tiny little pieces carried away by harsh winter wind, Taryn Duarte couldn't phantom having her child become like his father.

"It has nothing to do with magic, for fuck's sake!" Vivi exploded once, after Taryn better than not threw Oak and Oriana - who came to visit - out of the apartment for trying to reach Renard's magic. "He won't become a sly, selfish fox if he can change appearance or grow horses out of leaves. It's all about his up-bringing!"

"I want him to be normal, Vivi! That's why I took him here!"

Renard has been barely one year old when the argument happened. But it was enough to take his mother's words to heart.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Four years old Renard and twelve years old Oak played outside, jumping in crusty piles of autumn leaves. The princeling hadn't given up his plans to teach his cousin magic. He refused to let go of such opportunity: a friend he didn't have to hide of, one he could play with like he used to in Elfhame.

"Hey, Ren-Ren," Oak said, "check this out!" The older boy held up his hand, brows furrowed in concentration, lip grazed between his teeth. Nothing happened for an alarming amount of time. And then... the leaves twirl around the two cousins, splashing then with guts of wind and scarce dew as it swept them up in a friendly tornado.

Renard chuckled in delight, stretching to catch some of the closer leaves. But as soon as he touched one, the whole thing fell apart. "No!" Do it again, Oak. Do it again."

"I'm sorry, Ren-Ren," Oak faked a yawned and laid on the ground. "Magic is very serious business. Very consuming. I'm too tired to even move." He let his eyes close dramatically, watching Renard between his lashes. Truth be told, every time he did magic Oak felt good. Vibrant. As if the earth itself reached out and gave him life. But Renard didn't need to know that yet. He can definitely learn it by himself if Oak's plan works out.

The younger boy pouted and dropped on the ground. "Not fair," he muttered to himself.

"You know, Ren-Ren, you're half fae. That means there's a pretty good chance you're magic too."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't know that. Come on, give it a try!"

"No, Oak! I'm not magic. I'm not like Father, I'm like Mom. Like Mom, just like that."

Oak straightened himself, but didn't rose from the ground. "Ok, Ren-Ren. Listen up. Magic is not bad. It's fun. Don't you think it's fun?"

"Yes!" Renard nodded enthusiastically. "It's super fun. When you do it, Oak." At that the named boy own enthusiasm faded away in an instant.

"Thank you, Ren-Ren," he deadpanned. "But do you know what's more fun than watching me practice magic?" Not giving the kid a chance to answer, to even take in the question, really, Oak said "To do it yourself."

"Do you really think I should try, Oak?" Clearly, the little boy was attracted to magic. And clearly something was stopping him. But his older cousin slowly made whatever that was seem less big and scary, dragging him along in his qualms.

"Totally!"

Renard pushed his lips forward with his tongue, sticking it out through the gap in his teeth. Caramel eyes shone with desire, his red hair flown around by a cold, pleasant wind. "Ok," he gave in, as expected. "How do I do it?"

The smirk that lightened up Oak's face can only be describes as evil. Though no ill intention hid behind it. Only the knowledge his plan worked out, just like his sister, Jude's.

"Listen to me very carefully, alright? There is not just one way to make magic, Ren-Ren. You have to find your own. But for now, try the basics. Think really hard on what you want to happen. Something easy. Got anything in mind?" Renard frowned, then his eyes landed on a tree which still had some green leaves on its branches and nodded.

"Perfect! Now, imagine whatever you want to happen. Imagine it happening. Are you imagining?"

"Yes."

"No!" Oak groaned. "If you're paying attention to me, then it means you're not focusing on magic."

"But how will I know what to do if I don't listen to you?"

"I told you! Magic is your own, Ren-Ren. It comes naturally. So, dig it up. Use your imagination."

Renard tried to shut out the world around him, picturing the sole tree in his mind. A warm pull tugged at him and he followed. His magic, he tried not to dwell on the joy, but instead focusing on his practice. His magic reaching out. Because he reached out first.

The boy allowed the warmth to take control, guiding him through it. The tree now carved in his mind by detail wasn't enough. He needed action. But just imagining the leaves to fall wouldn't do. Renard couldn't say how exactly he knew it. He just did. Something more tender was needed. The half fae kid had to imply what he wants and trust his magic to follow his lead.

So Renard made himself cold. Chilly. Feeling a breeze of wind creeping inside his clothes, whipping his skin gently. Enough to rip a leaf off a tree, though. Which it did. The wind he summoned couldn't be felt, not really. Only by himself and the green leaves that departed one by one from their branch as if plucked by an invisible hand.

Oak gasped. Then grinned. And then he laughed. Renard broke free of his concentration, pleased to see his magic didn't falter. Not until every and each green leaf from his chosen tree didn't fall. The sight made him still in awe for a couple of seconds. But soon enough he joined his cousin with a bubble laugh, jumping up and down and running to tackle Oak in a tight hug.

"I did it, Oak! I did it!"

"Yes, you did, Rem-Ren. Indeed, you did. Congrats!"

"Can we show auntie Vivi? And auntie Oriana?"

When Madoc and Oriana first came in the mortal world, Taryn wanted nothing to do with them. But years of being cared for by the blue skinned, white haired, pink eyes woman showed their tale. She agreed to see her, but only her. She could be part of her child life, if she wanted.

"Sure. But don't you want to show your mom first?"

"Mom and auntie Heather work a lot. We can show them later." Renard said, but he felt his magic shrinking at the thought of his mother. His Mom didn't like his father. And his magic comes from his father. Is that why his magic doesn't want to reveal itself near Taryn? He hoped it was just him overthinking it, because he loves his Mom and wants to share this with her.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Oak stayed with auntie Oriana, who was his mother, so Renard couldn't bring himself to be upset over it. He would want to be with his mother as much as he can as well. So he did a little trick for auntie Vivi, who told him to stay where he was, brought a camera and ordered him to glamour the tea cups again. Renard made them look like pumpkins, since the Halloween being over the corner made him impossibly anxious - in a good way.

Turns out even mortal technology can be fooled by fae's magic. Vivi showed the clip to Heather, who coed over him until Taryn came home.

"Hello, treasure. How was your day? Wanna give mommy a kiss?"

Renard jumped into his mother's arms, pressing a strong kiss on her cheek before starting to tell her about all the fun he had with cousin Oak. "And then he said I should try magic too."

Tamryn stilled. "And?"

"Look, Mom!"

Renard broke a vase, then, with a twitch of his fingers put it back together. "Auntie Vivi says I'm a natural."

"Does she? That's amazing, sweetheart."

But his mother didn't sound thrilled. In fact, her smile wasn't even a smile at all, but a thin line. "I'm sorry, mommy. I knew I shouldn't've done it, but I didn't know why. Now I know: you don't want me using my magic. It'll make me bad, like father."

Renard pushed his lips up front, scrunched his nose up, wiggled his toes, all in an atempt to stop the tears hurting his eyes from falling. When he realized it was in vain, he took off running to his room.

When Taryn entered minutes later she found her son curled on his left side in the middle of the bed, hugging a black goat plushie his uncle Cardan gave him on his birthday tight to his chest. She hated herself for causing the pain struck look on her son's face.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, Mom." Renard wiped his nose with his jumper's sleeve.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. Mommy was just scared, but that's not your fault. You could never be bad. Magic is not bad. Of course you can practice all you want, but we'll settle some ground, basic rules first. Ok?"

"Really?"

"Rules you can never, ever break. Really."

"Thank you, Mommy! You're the best! Just wait until Oak hears about it."

A/N: Renard means fox in french. Also: oops, guess I finished it earlier than expected and didn't really felt like waiting days to post it 😅

#taryn duarte #folk of the air #cruel prince #the wicked king #queen of nothing #tfoa #oak greenbriar #madoc #magicfolk #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the queen of nothing #wicked king #my fic #my writing #imagines #imagine #fanfic

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 28: Big Bad Wolf

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Just when you think that things were getting a bit more under your control shit gets incredibly real. Why does it feel that things are going to get worse before they get better?

The choice is coming, but have a bit more plot first. Don't worry, I'll break up the angst with some fun soon enough. Y/N needs a hug, right? Hoping to do some more art of her today too. Also, wanted to say thanks again for reading. You guys are the best ;_;

Part 27 Part 29 Chapter Index

Grounding exercises helped and while you were still shaky, you managed to get cleaned up and ready for the day. As you made your way toward Raiden’s chamber, you felt considerably more put together than you had only moments ago. Hopefully, that would be enough false confidence to fool everyone else into believing it, too. The good news was that you didn’t think that Raiden had any interest in your emotional state and he likely wouldn’t pry. You were grateful for that.

Sometimes with trauma you just wanted to move on instead of dwelling on something that was so far beyond your control you had no idea where to begin with coping.

Turning the corner, you found Kung Lao walking toward you. You were relieved to find that he looked much better than the day before. Color had flooded back to his face and while he was still bruised and bandaged, he seemed chipper. You waved at him in greeting and then, much to your surprise, he picked you right up off of the ground, spun you around, and then set you back down on your feet.

“Whoa, hey!” You laughed, getting the shivers. He was back to his old self again. “Someone’s feeling better.” You peeked at the bandages you could see and he didn’t swat you away. In fact, he seemed pretty proud that you were checking on him.

“Much better. A little sore but the fever’s gone so practically good as new.” He took a step back from you and nodded down the hall. “Yesterday is kind of a blur. Were you actually there with me or did I just hallucinate that you were?”

“…do you hallucinate often?”

“No, but…”

“Are these hallucinations usually of me?”

“I had a fever, Y/N.”

“Have you considered talking to someone about these hallucinations? Therapy is incredibly helpful.” You teased him and he rolled his eyes. “Yes, I was there with you. You were sick.”

“Did I give you a hard time? I felt terrible so that’s possible.”

“No harder than the usual.”

“Good!” He laughed but seemed relieved. What was he hiding, exactly? “Glad to hear it. What about you, Y/N? Are you feeling okay? No mysterious artifact-related illness?”

“Yes, I’m uh… I’m fine. As you said, I’m probably cursed, so I’m used to feeling like crap.” You had expected him to ask you but your voice still quavered nervously and you were annoyed with yourself. Covering it up with sarcasm was your only defense remaining.

“You are a terrible liar.” He didn’t get the chance to tease you further because Liu Kang was joining you from down the hall. Even from afar he looked terrible. He was still cute, but he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and was paler than you’d ever seen anyone before.

“Oh no, Liu!” You gasped.

“Wow.” Kung Lao was laughing at his brother and so you smacked his arm to silence him but it didn’t work.

“Are you okay, Liu?” You glared at Kung Lao and then gave your attention back to Liu.

“I’ve already been to the infirmary.” Despite how gray he was, he smiled. “High fever but nothing I can’t handle.” He took a step back from you and tilted his head, looking you over from head to toe. Then he brushed his finger over your cheek just beneath your eye and you stiffened up in alert. Kung Lao was looking at him as though he had some nerve, too. Then you swatted his hand away and stepped back. “Have you been crying?”

You averted your eyes and tightened your lips. How could he have known? Just by looking at you? What kind of crazy in tune with your body and emotions was he? Kung Lao snapped to you in alarm and then pouted as if annoyed that he hadn’t noticed you’d been obviously upset. So much for having felt good about your façade.

“…no?” You’d taken too long to answer. Kung Lao’s pout faded and he chuckled.

“You are the worst liar, really. It was a joke at first but now I’m serious about it.”

“Is everything okay?” Liu was trying not to sound worried but was failing at it. You nodded to let him know you were fine. “Just… having a moment or…?”

“I… uh…” You wanted to say yes. That you’d had a moment. A moment where you’d needed a good cry. There was no point in you rattling through what you’d seen twice since you would have to tell Raiden. Besides, it was easier to talk to Raiden about these things. Discussion with him over it was clinical. Discussion with Lao and Liu was emotional. You could explain your bruised palms and the crazy ink web you’d created later. Oh, and the demon that had tried to murder you again. Instead, you stuttered and betrayed yourself.

“You had a vision.” Liu knew too much. He was too intuitive. He had to be stopped. Kung Lao stepped next to Liu and folded his arms over his chest in judgment. They were both judging you for trying to hide the truth from them. You huffed in frustration. How could he read you so easily? How had he known? Why couldn’t you have just said it had been hormones or something?

“Look, I’m going to talk to Raiden and I figured that I’d just tell him when I’m there. Don’t make me tell this story twice, please.” You stubbornly walked toward them and they stepped out of your way on either side of you to allow you to pass. Kung Lao caught up to you and walked alongside you on your left. He leaned over just enough to talk to you covertly.

“Are you okay?”

“I just said I didn’t want to talk about it.” You swatted him away but he kept walking closely alongside you.

“What did you see?”

“Guys! Really! I’m obviously doing okay.” You gestured to Liu who had joined you on your right and he laughed in surprise. “Liu is a different color today! Can we talk about that instead?”

Liu Kang and Kung Lao exchanged a glance in front of you and then spoke in unison. “No.”

You sighed and continued walking through the finally familiar halls. “Well, that’s too bad. I told you already, I’m fine. The most important person to talk to about this vision is Raiden. I’m not wasting my breath by saying it twice because you two are nosy.”

“Wow.”

“That’s harsh,” Liu coughed, covering his mouth with his arm as they caught up to you again.

“She’s wasting her breath, Liu.”

“I know, Lao. Here we are, worried about her, and she’s wasting her breath if she tells us what happened.”

“I hate you both so much right now.”

“Wow!” Kung Lao threw his hands into the air in mock aghast.

“She hates us now.”

“All because we care.”

“Oh my god.” You laughed and then walked faster to get past them. Them teaming up on you was intimidating but also hilarious. You sure wished that Chen’s voice wasn’t rocketing around through your brain. Your face was hot and you tried to breathe through it. Kung Lao caught up to you again and slipped his arm around your shoulder to slow your walk.

“We’re just teasing, Y/N.”

“I know how much you hate us worrying but we do worry and I’m no sorry for that.” Liu caught up slower than Kung Lao had, prayer beads wrapped around his palm.

“Especially since your arcana does violent things when you have those visions.”

“And your palms are bruised.” Liu tapped your wrist and you pulled your hands close to your stomach to hide them from him. Kung Lao pulled his arm back from your shoulder and took one of your hands, turning it over so your palm was facing up. He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Lying. Hiding bruises. Maybe you were right, brother. She has been spending too much time with me.”

“Okay, okay boys.” You chuckled nervously and snuck away nervously from Kung Lao’s grasp. “You’ve made your point. Now hush, before I tell Raiden on both of you.”

“Tell on us? For what? You’re the one who lied.”

“Very poorly, I might add.” Kung Lao grinned. You were no longer worried if he was actually feeling better or not. It was clear he was feeling just fine.

“You would think that with all the time I’m spending with you that I would be a better liar.” You teased in return. You were glad that Liu was at least feeling well enough to joke even if you had to slow down for him. “Get it together, guys.” You scolded and then walked with them into Raiden’s chambers which had been left open in anticipation of your arrival.

You bowed before Raiden who joined you from a doorway on the left. The joking mood you’d had only seconds ago faded. Within the room were the two pedestals that you recognized from when you’d given Raiden the artifacts. Both were encased in glass. Raiden walked between the pedestals and gestured to either side of him. “They are not to be touched without my permission by any of you.”

That was an interesting way to start the conversation but you each nodded in understanding. You weren’t eager to touch them again but had a feeling you would have to. Raiden glared at Kung Lao as though that warning had been meant specifically for him. Kung Lao looked up and away, feigning innocence. Raiden then walked before you, hands clasped together behind his back.

“They have eluded my sight but I have divined that they were cursed many centuries ago and tainted by many hands. They have been locked.”

“What does that mean, Lord Raiden?” Liu stepped closer to the pedestals to get a closer look but was careful to keep his hands folded.

“It means that whoever hid these items did not wish for them to be found. More than that, they did not wish to risk their cleansing. Either these are incredibly powerful tools or conduits for something else.”

“Conduits?” Kung Lao frowned and as he stepped closer, Liu held his hand out to stop him as if to remind him not to touch.

“There are many possibilities but my magic hasn’t uncovered them. They are protected by something powerful.”

“An elder god?” Liu theorized.

“That’s one possibility.”

“What can we do?” You chimed in. It was all well and good to theorize what they were and why but what you could do was what mattered.

“Well, Y/N, you were the one who located these items with your sight. I have a feeling that the same creature who cast a shadow over you is one of the more potent hands cast upon these artifacts. It’s why you saw him.”

“And I have seen him now.” You confessed, turning your attention to the floor. “I saw him before but his face was a blur when I woke. But now? Now I’ve seen him.”

“When?” Raiden didn’t seem as alarmed as Liu Kang and Kung Lao were behind him. Merely curious.

“We fought a creature in the springs protecting the jade. I saw him in the water. I saw him clear as day. If you know an artist then I could probably describe him for a picture or something. Then this morning I saw him again.”

“This morning?” Raiden tilted his head curiously and you felt alarm radiating off of Liu Kang just like his fire.

“I couldn’t see his face this time. He stood beside my bed.” You knew it hadn’t been a nightmare but it hadn’t exactly been a vision either. “Both times he was trying to hurt me. I woke up and my room was filled with ink but it was… it was different.” You felt all eyes on you and you hated it. “It’s hard to describe. I’m sorry that I’m not better at this.” You bowed apologetically.

“You will get better with time. For now, I will read your vision as I had before with the protection of Liu Kang and Kung Lao. That will come later. Are you up for the task of trying to unlock these items, Y/N?”

“Me? Unlock them?”

“Yes. I think that your gift is connected to them. Perhaps your sight could be of some assistance in either unlocking them or for seeing a way to do so.”

“Yeah, I’ll try. Anything to help.” You bowed again and then walked between the pedestals nervously.

“Is this going to make me sick again?” Kung Lao sighed dramatically and Liu Kang shushed him.

“These are powerful and dangerous artifacts, Kung Lao. If I cannot solve this riddle then we will have to remove them from the temple. Or you will all be sick.” Raiden looked to him knowingly and Kung Lao bowed his head apologetically.

“I’m not ready to give up. Let me try.”

“Good.” Raiden walked past you and to the pedestals. With a brush of his hand against the tops of each protective container, the glass faded. You were momentarily stunned. His magic was wonderful and constantly took you by surprise. He gestured for you to join him and so you did.

“…what should I do?” You were lost. You had no idea where to begin. Even using your arcana was still nowhere near second nature to you. It was easier to do in the heat of battle or in the moment. This was premeditated and planned and more about your visions- something you had never mastered.

“Follow your gut.” Raiden instructed like that was something easy for you to do. “Touching them might help.” He stepped back to give you room.

You would try.

You touched the dotaku, fingers brushing along the ornamental designs. “Funny. It’s hot.” You admired the designs curiously. If it hadn’t been cursed then it would have been beautiful. The warmth of the bell wasn’t hot perse, but it wasn’t the natural temperature for a metallic object either. It wasn’t anything near even the inherent warmth of Liu Kang. More like a kettle that had been turned off a few moments before you’d entered the room. Raiden gestured to the jade and so you reached across the gap to touch the jade with your other hand.

It was like a hand brushed over your eyelids to close them. A hum resonated from the bell and through your body to the jade, using you to do so. You opened your eyes and when you did, the room was empty. All that remained were you and the artifacts.

You tried to snap your hands back but they were stuck fast to both items. The items wouldn’t budge from their places on the pedestals either. You tugged and pulled in a panic to try and get free your hands but it was no use. The items grew hotter and hotter beneath your touch, glowing with orange light and burning your palms.

“Let go!” You shouted in frustration, trying to tug your hands free. Then the horned man was in front of you. Skin gray and sick, eyes milky white and staring into yours. His mouth moved but not in time with the words that came out of him in a hiss.

“You will not see.” The eerie whisper traveled all around you and filled you with inescapable dread. Your legs were literally trembling beneath you. You would have crumpled in a heap had you not been trapped and stuck to the artifacts.

“Why?” You sounded rather brave for someone who had no leg to stand on. “What are you?” He tilted your chin toward him with his index finger, as if you were something too filthy for him to properly touch. His hands felt disgusting. Cold. Clammy. You shrunk away from his touch and he clutched your chin. Then his whole body was wrapped in shadow and his hand snapped to your throat so hard that you choked and were instantly without breath.

You tried to fight but there was nothing you could do and no escape. The squeezing on your neck was so intensely painful that you felt yourself fading and quickly at that. Then, for the first time, you watched as ink exploded from your hands, from your chest, spreading throughout the room, tearing through the shadow that held you prisoner.

You could breathe but your vision changed. Instead of Raiden’s chamber you saw smoke billowing from the windows of the temple, flames engulfing familiar halls. Rooms crumbled to pieces. Silhouettes of bodies laid still on the ground in the smoke, dark stains surrounding them. War was being waged on the temple! You tried to scream, to move, to help, but your hands were stuck fast. Clawed fingers ran over your arms and back to your neck, you felt each finger slowly wrap around your throat until you couldn’t breathe.

Your body was failing, limbs going numb, falling limp between the artifacts that held you prisoner. The hands grasped your face and obscured your sight and then suddenly your hands were free. The dotaku burned your hand as you let go and cracked with an ear-splitting shriek of grinding metal. As it had happened in your vision, ink exploded from within you and spread throughout the room, from wall to wall, floor to ceiling.

Liu ran to you and tried to pull you into his arms and you felt the hot spray of his blood splatter over your face and chest as the ink tore through his flesh. He fell away from you. You collapsed in a heap, unable to move, the ink taking every bit of your energy. Your body was prey to something far beyond your control. You couldn’t breathe and you tried to crawl away, to get to Liu Kang who was holding his bloodied arm. Skeletal creatures rose from the ink and a monster dripping with ink joined it. The ink had recreated the monsters you’d fought that protected the artifacts.

Kung Lao dodged them and tried to make his way through the ink web to get to you but it had crystallized and kept him at bay. He sliced through the webs with his hat, shouting words you couldn’t make out. He was making his way through but it would take too long to get to you or Liu.

“You have to breathe, Y/N!” Liu’s voice cut through the buzzing in your head but just barely. You tried to do as he asked but the more that you inhaled the more impossible it became to exhale and your lungs were so tight that you didn’t think you’d make it much longer. Ink was spreading further and further throughout the room. If you didn’t stop, you were going to kill them.

Suddenly you were burning all over as a jolt of electricity shot through you.

“Enough!” Raiden’s voice boomed like thunder and you collapsed in a heap on the floor. You gasped for breath, struggling, but at least you could get a little air. You couldn’t feel your fingers anymore and briefly the world had gone white. When your vision cleared the monsters were gone and the ink fell piece by piece before fading into dust. Your body was too frail to keep it up.

Liu rushed to your side and Kung Lao was only steps behind him. Raiden’s voice bellowed again. “Do not touch her!” You struggled to breathe, struggled to sit up, your body failing. No matter how you tried, simple things that you were used to doing just to exist weren’t working. There were spots in your vision and you tried to push yourself up to your knees but your arms were trembling. “What did you see?” You coughed and tried to speak through it but you tasted blood and collapsed back on your chest.

“She’s suffering!” Kung Lao started toward you again but lightning cracked in front of him to stop him.

“What did you see, Y/N?”

“A-a… a devil…” You managed to choke out. Pain radiated up your arm and through your shoulder, down into your chest. You grasped at the sleeve of your shirt and managed to find the strength to sit up just enough so you could pull the sleeve down. Your shoulder and chest were burning. You didn’t know what was there but you knew that something was there. It was tremendously painful.

“The bell.” Liu nodded to the crack in the bell. His arm was drenched in blood. You caught a glimpse of the bell and then looked to your shoulder where you could barely see the crack that spread from your shoulder and further beneath the lining of your shirt. You ran your fingers over it and pulled them back suddenly. Touching it sent fire through your body, agonizing shots of misery, like your bones were being burned from the inside out. Your breathing was labored again. “What does that mean? Raiden, what does that mean?”

“You are tied to these objects.” Raiden tilted his head in realization.

“What?” You had never seen Liu so mad. Kung Lao looked like it was taking every bit of his self-control not to say fuck it and run to you. “Why? And by who? How is this possible?”

“I only know the answer to one of those questions, Liu Kang. She just told us. A devil.” Raiden approached you then walked past you to the dotaku. You managed to lean up on your elbows while taking quick, shaky breaths but your whole body was rigid with pain. You could barely think, barely feel anything other than the white-hot agony spreading from your chest to your shoulder.

“Will she be okay?” Kung Lao was, again, restraining himself.

“I don’t know. I will try to repair the bell.” Raiden placed his hand so it was hovering only an inch above the metal. Lightning sparked in his hand and surrounded the metal of the bell, his eyes white and glowing. Then he pulled his hand back as if the bell had shocked him.

You pushed yourself onto your knees and stumbled to your feet. The blood rushed to your head and you nearly collapsed. Blood filled your mouth and you could feel it dripping from your nose. Liu Kang was at your side and helped you stay on your feet, his bloodied arm hanging uselessly at his other side. Kung Lao urged your other arm over his shoulder and helped keep you upright.

Liu Kang was glaring at Raiden furiously, as if he knew what would come next. You stumbled and Kung Lao wrapped his arm around your middle to help keep you upright. “You’ll be okay, Y/N,” he reassured quietly but you knew that none of you really understood what was going on.

“I must see what you saw.” Raiden stepped closer.

“She can barely stand, Raiden.” Liu seethed, his anger and frustration far quieter and much more frightening than Kung Lao’s outright fury.

“She needs rest first.”

“Time is of the essence.”

“No,” you choked, finally managing to find words. You grasped Liu’s hand that was too tight around you. “He’s right. He has to see.”

“Y/N, no, you’re too weak, what if he…” Kung Lao objected loudly. Before either of them could resist on your behalf, Raiden rested his hand on the top of your head.

Then there was pain.

Not even darkness.

Color swirling in your mind’s eye and the type of pain that you had only read of.

Then there was numbness, as if your mind had been removed from your body to spare you the pain.

Then there was nothing.

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kallikrein · 3 years

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What was your first impression of your mutuals? you can ignore it if you want it ;-;

- 🐇

a bunny anon! hello hello!!

welp, it’s hard for me to list everyone so i just put the ppl who made distinct impressions. don’t get me wrong, i love all my mutuals. they make my blog a better place hehe

@sugokawata — i always thought of sugo as a nice person cuz she always reply to my asks when i was still one of her anons (thanks ma, that was really heartwarming). but now… she’s my bitch /affectionate lmfao the most relatable bitch i have ever met :>

@schiros — this is funny but i wrongfully assumed reiny as an american ldmsjjd it’s bcos her english is top tier! and her writing is god tier!! plus she’s so sweet to me too when i was still her otter anon. my heart soared when i saw her write my pet shop trio request <3

@haruchyio — she makes (i know you agree with me) the best tokrev hcs and drabbles to ever exist. i was blown away by her wordplay when i first interacted with her works bcos … it’s so damn creative?? she is, right?! plus she’s approachable and super funny too :3

@inupibaldspot — ghad i miss uuden the url hahahhahah /j my first impression of eve is that she’s very kind, friendly but don’t be fooled, she’s actually the most entertaining crackhead you will ever meet /t. eve is that type of friend who’s sure to bring a laugh out of you and i absolutely love that. also i dig the way she plots her stories, it gets me everytime (not exactly first impression but yeah).

@lila-skies — mei amazed me for being the sweetest social butterfly. at first, i was kinda intimidated because she’s so nice and friendly to everyone. so when i found out that we’re both filos, i threw my reservations away and i’m glad that i did! bcos now she’s like my long lost friend?? if that makes sense :D

@ranspuppyboy — yuu just screams chaotic puppy energy to me /pos lfmsjjsd which btw complements my own chaotic energy. hence, our usual screaming on the dash. still can’t believe we bonded over benkasa for a few days cuz that’s super fun… and we’re about to unleash that chaotic energy again bcos hah tr 226 yallll :D

@baji-san — my wife is the embodiment of sexy smart. her quips are simply the best which makes her a sexy funny, and a sexy friendly… ugh she’s just the sexiest >;(

@saturnmitsuya — saturn intimidated me too ngl. my tr dash is full of amazing writers (and i’m just a lil blob of a writer) but whenever i see her name, i feel somehow at ease?? i’m glad to have known such genuine and kind soul like saturn <3

@kuroiza — how could i forget this sweetest person!! sem is the sweetest, idc idc. she came to my asks one time and i was really shocked to see a big blog talking to me :(( I WAS FLNFHDJEJDHFJFKDJJXFJ ILYSM SEM YOU’RE SO SO NICE TO ME

@togacaffe — tbh, i didn’t know mai is a writer too. i see familiar names in my notifications but i’m too dumb and shy to interact but when she did…oh g, she’s like that baby sister. also chaotic (ran as your fan during cheer, i’ll never forget that) :3

@drakens-tattoo-artist — azmi’s calm energy is my much needed medicine for my wild one lmodjdj ;-; i think of her as the most humble one in my mutuals bwahaha all of them are humble (don’t get me wrong) but azmi is my number 1 !!!! >:D

@tokyo-fukushu — A BABIE. a creative, amazing, talented babie. her writings inspired me so much?? and i’m gonna cri bcos i never feel old ?? (bcos of our erm age gap) around her and that’s really touching :’) ily lou /p

@lostinthe-jojos — my initial thought of itzel is that they are so damn approachable. and very very nice. plus the fact that they’re in culinary arts (i think??? pls correct me if i’m wrong) excites me bcos i love cooking too!! well home-cooking… lfmsjs itzel is just so friendly and i turned them into a wakasa simp too lmfaoao best thing ever :>

@keimisan — one word: wow. the way mal writes just sweeps me off of my feet. also… chaotic /pos ;(( the zebra wakasa + similar urls were one of the funniest highlights of my blog lfmsksjdjd i hope you’re taking good care of yourself bae <3

@i-am-cheese-fairy — cheese is the cutest ;-; idk much about them aside from being an asher simp (and currently, a gain one) tho i’m always happy to see them in my asks. cheese is simply adorable ;-; i’m soft good laurD

i hope you all have a nice week ahead <3 !!

#[ 💌 ] — from 🐇 anon

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etherealxgenie · 3 years

Text

Why Lila is Marinette’s Own Fault || Miraculous Why?

(Before I begin, note that this is my opinion over the topic and am no way am bashing anyone’s love for the ship and/or character. I respect who and what you like, therefore expect the same courtesy. However, if this is something you cannot handle, please click the back button as this will be a heavily discussed topic. No flames allowed. Other than that, enjoy.)

So usually in the story, there’s always one or two mean girls who is out to get the main character for some kind of superior reasons to justify. And there’s no reason as to why they act this way just for the sake of being mean.

Like the Ashleys from “Recess”, who tend to pick on kids just for the fun of it sometimes or cause they’re popular.

Same can go for Libby from “Sabrina The Teenage Witch” who was out to get something for what she wants or just to be superior to the other kids in school.

For Miraculous, we already have that kind of character, Chloe Bourgeois, who is the daddy’s girl of the Mayor to get what she wants. And until we had some small character development in season two (which season 3 took it away!!), we had no reason feeling sorry for her and she was just for the convenient plot in the social life for Marinette in the series.

And then… there’s Lila.

Before I get into hand in this, let me note that Lila is not a good person at all in the show. She’s a liar, a manipulator and will do whatever she can to get what she wants. She breaks into homes, steals and molests pretty models. She’s been pretty shown to be just selfish without consequences and unless we get a background story of why she acts this way, she has no excuse. Especially when she teams up with hawkdaddy to now have permission to invade and spy on Adrien whenever she wants? Fuck that.

So in Volpina, Lila is introduced as this pathological liar to get attention in season one. She obviously goes for Adrien cause he’s the famous model after all. Reasonable considering as the new person looking for attention, you seek out the most popular/famous person in the school. That would Adrien.

Though considering with her connections, it would’ve been smarter to try and impress Marinette instead if Lila did her research before she came into the scene. But of course, new person so she wouldn’t know, but whatever.

And we can see Lila easily just says things just to get Adrien’s approval and such.

And so, Marinette follows them around (stalking? really?) because Tikki points out Lila has the book Adrien took from his father’s vault and threw it in the trash.

Now the SMART thing to do would’ve been to see how Adrien would handle the situation and wait for him to leave, if to acknowledge Adrien has a mind of his own and knows when to walk away (which he does). Or at the very least, try to distract them as Marinette while Tikki retrieved the book.

But… no. You transform into Ladybug to lash out at a girl PUBLICALLY, for anyone including Adrien to hear, just to embarrass her and call her out on her lying because she… “hates liars”.

Marinette, you fucking lie ALL the time! Most of those times to Adrien! And I’m not just talking about when in regard to being Ladybug, you hypocritical- (groans)

I can list plenty of episodes: Gamer, Aninmaestro, Ikari Gozen and hell, even Reverser counts! If she hadn’t lied about Marc’s book, Nathaniel wouldn’t have torn it! (sighs)

And before you all start jumping at me saying Lila got what she deserves, I only agree partially. Ladybug, as a public figure and heroine, practically the face of Paris, acted irrationally lashing out at a bystander because of lies which were or were not believable. Lila was broadcasting a post or making the news, she was trying (poorly) to impress a boy. Ladybug gave Lila the Regina George treatment.

Yeah, so you caused an akumatized situation and Lila hates your guts. Hell, I would hate you too. That’s like a celebrity jumping at an innocent bystander when they’re whispering to their friend about a rumor that only the two of them were talking about. You can’t jump to try and stop them and should just let it dispel on its own. At that point, Lila had no real power but you just influenced her.

And… oh boy did things get worse because of this.

Look season 3 was trash (except for moments in certain episodes) and I feel talking about the infamous ‘Chameleon’ physically hurts me but… yeah gotta point out a few things. The whole episode was unrealistic, and it was an obvious ploy to be sympathetic to Marinette with Lila back… but… you’re not fooling me.

So, Lila is still on her lying game, being able to fool the students and the staff?! Okay if you believe a student has so many disabilities without any paperwork proof, you can actually get fired for that for fraud. As someone who worked with education before, that’s just pure incompetence.

So yeah, Marinette comes to school seeing the seats changes to accommodate Lila and upright begins to plot to discredit her for her lies. UM… what happened to trying to start over with Lila after failing to do so the first time?

Oh, that’s right. She gets that way (at least partly) because Lila is sitting next to Adrien. I can understand if it was because they rearranged the seating without her say so but let’s face it. Lila sitting next to Adrien was her real trigger.

So since Marinette failed to acknowledge her mistake the first time, she spends all day trying to prove Lila is lying and in return the class is angry at her. Alya even comes to point out that Marinette is jealous of Lila.

And you know what? Alya is right.

Alya knows at least what Marinette is capable of doing so when it comes to Adrien and how far she’s willing to go. Remember that Alya is the one who encouraged her to break into his locker and steal his phone. So of course, she’s worried Marinette is gonna do something to the new girl.

I don’t blame Alya for doing one of the most competent things in the show: Warning Marinette to NOT go off the handle without proof and not make herself look bad in the process.

And because Marinette failed to do so… she made Lila her enemy AGAIN. It was bad enough you had her as your enemy as Ladybug, but now you get to deal with twice the drama!

Your own fucking fault, Marinette.

Also, the advice Adrien gave? I don’t blame for him for it and neither should you. Yes, his advice is not perfect, but with the options he has on his plate, its hard to do something otherwise.

For every encounter Adrien has had with Lila, it ended up with her being akumatized or a disaster no matter how he tried to handle her. We didn’t get to see how he would resolve in Volpina because of Ladybug’s intervention, but he would try at least in Chameleon and try to get her to see she didn’t need to lie and actually tried to befriend her. At this point, Lila was already triggered by Ladybug and Marinette so she just might have to take Adrien by force instead.

At that point, Adrien just wants to stay away and which he was trying to tell Marinette don’t interact with Lila or confront her cause there’s no way to do so at this point. Maybe he was trying to tell her to wait until her rumors got discredited, but he didn’t say it clear enough for her to understand.

And keep in mind, Adrien is a sheltered child with little to zero social skills taught to him by Nathalie and Gabriel. Hell, we don’t know how his childhood was really like even with Emelie around either and Adrien seems more like the pacifist unless he needs to absolutely step in. And he did by cleaning up Marinette’s mess in ‘Ladybug’. So now he’s gotta suffer being around Lila more because of Marinette making Lila her enemy.

But once again, this is bad writing as the writers of the show obviously forgot what it’s like to live in reality. In the real world, Lila would be immediately discredited without any proof the moment she came back. Not to mention, some of the class have their own connections and have more braincells proven in the previous episodes. Google search and such. A 5-year-old wouldn’t believe these lies in these times. Hey, I believe that because I once had a kid in kindergarten during my time as an afterschool art teacher look at one of my books I illustrated before and said they liked the ‘graphics’.

Kids are fucking smarter nowadays than you think.

The only reason anyone would believe Lila’s lies is if she’s magically influenced with some kind of ‘silver tongue’ spell or something and honestly? It looks like that’s the reason.

I dunno if Thomas Astruc or Zag is trying to insult the kids/adults or insult themselves to say Paris people aren’t that smart. If it’s the latter, you should see what you are doing because I don’t want to believe that because that’s disrespectful.

I know it seems I’m trying to stand up for Lila this portion, but I’m just looking things in a more realistic and logical way. Did Lila take things too far? Yes, waaaayyy too far and should be arrested for it since she works for Hawkmoth. But it could’ve been handled better and that makes Marinette at fault too.

Part of me wonders if she’s done this before because in Zombiezou, she also causes Chloe to ruin her gift for Ms. bustier. If Marinette didn’t antagonize Chloe in the locker in front of the class, maybe she wouldn’t have done anything. Again, I’m not saying Chloe was justified, but if that was the reason, yeah I can see her doing it for payback.

So to all those fics where I’m supposed to be ‘Boo-hoo’ for Marinette because of what Lila did? Fuck you guys because you need to dig deeper into the story to see both sides and not just make it a pity party where Marinette is the innocent victim.

It’s called “Cause and Effect”.

And considering she made Lila her enemy, Marinette is gonna get effected enough because that’s how karma works.

#ooc #the artist speaks #the artist opinion #miraculous ladybug #marinette salt #adrien sugar #alya sugar #lila salt #mainly facts really #but there is some parts where i'm salty #so be warned #tw: cursing #constructive critism welcome #flames will be deleted #i know the difference folks

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descendantofthesparrow · 4 years

Text

I put a Spell on you - Harry Hook x Sanderson! Reader - Halloween special one-shot

Halloween Harry Hook x reader

basic version of outfit for reader, can be changed as wished

VVVV

Halloween night, 2007, on the isle of the lost.

Young 6-year-old Harry Hook sat in the hull of the jolly roger, pouting to himself as he picked at his scarce stolen candy.

The isle never got much in the way of candy, the most they got was during the month of Halloween that the parents of Auradon threw away early for some odd reason.

Though what candy the isle got was little, and the “good stuff” was still on Auradon.

And Harry had unfortunately gotten a bad pick of candy this year, nasty fruit ropes that tasted like death, molding “coconut” chocolate candy that was too mushy to really enjoy, and watermelon looking hard candy.

The best he got was little wrapped hard pieces of candy that looked like brown barrels that had a slight spice to them.

Harry dropped the piece of candy he was holding and sighed, starting to stand and getting ready to turn in for the night after the disappointing Halloween. “jus’ like last year” Harry mumbled, brushing off his horrifically made copy of his father's jacket, he paused, something rang across his ears. “wha’ was-“

Come little children, I'll take thee away

Into a land of enchantment

Come little children, the time's come to play

Here in my garden of magic.

“singing?” Harry quietly asked himself, turning towards where the voice was coming from. It seemed hypnotic or at least was supposed to be, but It had no grab to it as if it had lost its power.

But Harry's curious nature pushed him to seek the voice out. He snuck off his father's ship and followed the voice into the dark forest near pirates bay.

He ducked as he spotted an old slim woman, the one who was singing, waving her hands about and twirling.

“Winnie~” the woman stopped singing, spinning around and crossing her arms, and whining at a hidden figure “It's not working!”

“of course it's not you twit, the stupid barrier blocks our powers, we won't be getting any children tonight!” “wait!” a plump woman stepped into the mood light, her eyes glinting “I smell a child~”

“that’s just (y/n) you idiot!” the hidden figure scoffed, stepping next to the slim woman, and smacking her torso “keep your child inside sister, they will ruin our plans” “But we can use them to lure children! Maybe they can even lure a boy~”

“silence Sarah” the oldest woman scoffed, turning and walking back towards the rackety shack near a pond. “sistars!”

“coming Winnie!” the slim one called back, hiking up her dress and running after the oldest.

“But Winnie! The child!” the plump one moaned, turning her eyes right at Harry.

Harry held his breath and ducked behind a tree, freezing as he heard the woman sniff the air and continue to walk closer to his hiding spot. Wait…shit! he walked right into the Sander-

“Auntie! It's just me!” Harry's jaw dropped as a child, who seemed just around his age, popped up from behind the tree in front of him, a small smile on their face “sorry, but there's no other kids around”

The plump woman groaned and shook her head, stomping back into the shack. “little brat, fooling me”

The child watched until the door closed, slumping against the tree in relief as they looked at him “you shouldn't be here, you don’t wanna know what happens when my mom and aunts get their hands on kids” they walked over to him and pulled at the lapels of his jacket, the hood of their cloak falling as they did so.

They beamed at him “but im not gonna let anything happen to ya don’t worry……sorry I don’t know your name?” they tilted their head at him, their bright (e/c) eyes staring into his.

“H-Harry” Harry stuttered out, gasping as the child grabbed his hand and started pulling him the opposite way of the old shack the old woman were in.

“Nice ta meet ya Harry im (y/n)!” (y/n) chirped, flipping their hood back over their head and continuing to lead Harry out of the forest.

Moments later they reached the edge and (y/n) turned, grabbing Harry's arms, spinning around, and pushing him over the edge “now you have ta promise that you won't come back no matter what, and to never follow random singing” (y/n) pouted at harry, wiggling their finger in his face “it's too dangerous”

“I-um” Harry stuttered again, wringing his hands together before he stomped his foot “they aren’t even tha’ scary! I can take ‘em”

(y/n) just shook their head “doesn’t matter, they’ll eat you if they get the chance”

“e-eat me?!” Harry squeaked, taking a step back from (y/n) “wait aren’t yeh one of their kids- won't yeh eat me too?”

“no!” (y/n) shook their head defiantly, scowling at Harry “that’s just gross, eating kids, Id rather eat rotten candy” (y/n) crossed their arms and tilted their head at Harry “what you think all witches eat kids?”

“well, they-” Harry swallowed harshly “ur mums a Sanderson ain't she? She's known for tha’ “

(y/n)s shoulders dropped “well I’m not my mother” Harry felt slightly bad as (y/n) curled in on themselves, looking off.

“hey-i….thank yeh fer savin’ meh” (y/n) perked up, smiling at him.

“you’re welcome Harry, now DON’T got back into the forest on Halloween night ever again” (y/n) once more shook their finger in his face, pouting at him.

Harry nodded slowly, placing his hand on theirs and pushing their hand down “why Halloween night only?”

“because that’s when they think they are most powerful, and the only time they are brave enough to wander outside the shack….aunt Winnie makes me go out to get food and all that every other time” (y/n) explained, eyes turning to the sky and gasping.

“you have to get home! It won't be long before my aunt gets another idea to get kids, go go!” (y/n) pushed at Harry's shoulders, back towards pirate bay.

“Alright alright im goin’!” Harry yelled, shaking his head at the odd witch, he turned to start walking back towards his dad's ship when he stopped. He spun back around, watching (y/n) walk back into the forest. “wait!” (y/n) groaned and stopped, spinning around to look at him with raised brows.

“what” they snapped, glaring at him.

“will I ever see yeh again?” Harry asked, blinking in surprise as (y/n)s cheeks turned dark and they looked down at the forest floor.

“um-i-maybe…I have to go!” (y/n) turned and ran back into the forest to her home, leaving Harry at the forest edge.

12 years later, on Halloween night, Harry sat in his temporary room at Evie's castle, sitting on his bed while Gil and Uma sorted through their first real batch of Halloween candy.

Most of it had been leftovers from Evie's trick or treaters, but Evie had made them chaperone Dizzy, Celia, and the twins for their first Halloween.

And the younger VKs had somehow roped them into Trick or treating with them, which luckily the people of Auradon were nice enough to ignore that they were technically too old to trick or treat.

Harry could recount Evie scoffing at the “Age limit”, saying that no one is too old to trick or treat.

“Gil hand me that orange one” Uma muttered, chewing on a Butterfinger.

“The Reese's?” Gil asked, holding up the flat packaging and handing it to Uma.

“yep, thanks…Harry you good?” Uma asked, noticing Harry staring out the window.

“hm?” Harry turned back to her, his eyes drooping “ah, sorry Uma, zoned out”

“well, it has been a tiring night….I'mma head in for tonight, night boys”

“night Uma” Harry and Gil called back in chorus, Gil leaving after Uma a moment later, leaving Harry alone in his room.

Come little children, I'll take thee away

Into a land of enchantment

Come little children, the time's come to play

Here in my garden of magic.

Harry perked up, he knew that song…..he definitely knew that song.

Though this time, the hypnotic power it had was present, taking hold of his mind and dragging him out of his room and out the door of Evie's castle.

Harry walked deeper into the forest surrounding Evie's castle, the voice becoming louder as he walked.

Suddenly he was grabbed, the cackling of three women echoing in his ears.

“oh, it’s a boy! Hes Handsome too~I want to play with him~!”

“later Sarah, first we must take him along with the others back to the cottage, he’ll be the first for your child, let them experience the dark art of Magic!”

“ohhh! Yes! Let em’ learn, let ‘em learn, let ‘em learn!”

Harry's vision went black, and he woke later in a chair, something invisible tying him down to it.

“wha’?” Harry muttered, pulling at his arm “where…shit” Harry tried to wriggle his wrist to draw the small switchblade in his jacket sleeve when the three Sanderson sisters walked in, holding two small children in their arms.

“ohhh hes awake!” the thin one, Sarah he guessed, gasped, clapping her hands together.

Harry let out a snarl and thrashed in his chair, the sisters gasped and reeled back. “nasty one isn’t he” the one with the odd lips, Winnie, muttered “perfect for our little imp isn’t he Mary”

“perfect Winnie” the plump one snickered, licking her lips as she separated from her sisters and dragged one of the children over a chair next to Harry, forcing the young girl down into it and snapping her fingers, silver rope wrapping around the girl's arms and legs and binding her to the chair “there we go!”

Sarah giggled and grabbed the boy she had by the scruff of his zombie costume and dragged him over to the chair on Harry's left, pushing him into the chair and binding him with the silver rope that turned invisible like Harrys.

“ohhhh (y/n)~” Harry perked up….he knew that name?

From the door on Harry's right, someone stepped out from the shadows, wearing a long dark pink jacket that tapered off at their waist, a corset type top with fishnet under top underneath it, ripped black jeans with scuffed brown boots, a belt with a pouch resting on their left hip that held two beakers resting on their left thigh.

“yes, aunt Winnie” the teen witch sighed, their hood hiding their face from Harry. Winnie grabbed an odd brown colored spell book with an eye on it and handed it to the hooded teen.

“here, finish the life potion while we go get more children, the…pirate boy is yours to do what you wish with” Winnie patted the teens head and turned “Sistars!” she stormed out of the cottage, the two witches running after their sister.

“coming Winnie!!”

The door slammed shut, the teen watching the door for a good minute before they sighed and dropped the book on the table to their right “thank hades” they tipped their head back, ruffling their (h/c) hair and blowing a raspberry “thought they’d never leave” they rushed over to a cabinet and ripped the doors open, rummaging through spices and herbs. “wormswart wormswart, where are you wormswart-ah-ha!”

They spun around, holding a jar of some sort of liquid and opening it, a hiss of silver mist rising from the bottle, they held the bottle delicately over the cauldron holding the boiling potion of life and poured a single drop of wormswart into the potion.

The potion turned a sickly brown, sputtering into the teen witches face. “ugh” they groaned, leaning back and wiping their face.

They grabbed a large spoon and mixed the potion, stirring until it turned back into a dark green. “there we go, now they can't use it” the teen muttered, looking up and locking eyes with Harry. “now to get you all out of here before they come back!”

With a wave of their hand, a silver pocket knife appeared, and they speed-walked over to Harry, cutting the invisible ropes at his hands. “im sorry about this, I tried to spell them to sleep until tomorrow at dawn but im not very good at potions other than ruining them”

“(y/n)?” Harry asked aloud, the teen stopped, slowly looking up at Harry, their still bright (e/c) eyes widening.

“Harry! What-“ they stood, leaning over Harry and shaking their finger in his face, “I told you not to follow the singing!”

Harry smirked at them and mocked bite their finger, (y/n) gasped and reeled back, pouting at him and smacking his chest. “jerk, im saving you from being eaten and yet you repay me like this?”

Harry chuckled and grabbed the knife from (y/n)s hand, cutting the rope from his legs “sorry love, couldn’t resist”

“l-love?” (y/n) stuttered, backing away from Harry and staring at him oddly.

Harry just looked at them, making their cheeks turn dark “you….you grew up” they muttered, looking away from Harry.

“heh” Harry chuckled, standing from the chair and looking to his right “we should probably get them outta here huh?”

“y-yeah” (y/n) stuttered, waving their hand and another silver knife appeared, walking over to the boy while Harry kneeled next to the girl and started to cut them free. “I’ll need to break the spell my mom put on them before we take them back, otherwise they’ll get their hands on them again.”

Harry nodded, picking up the girl dressed like a princess and setting her on his hip, her head resting in his neck.

(y/n) picked up the boy and walked over to harry, muttering a counterspell under their breath, and with a snap of their fingers, the two kids snapped out of their trance. The Girl leaning away from Harry and looking from him to (y/n), her eyes wide.

“where-whats” her lip wobbled, starting to cry a bit. the boy stared at Harry with wide eyes.

“you’re Harry Hook” the boy whispered in awe, squeaking a bit as (y/n) rearranged their grip on him.

“that's all dandy but we have to get you both back to your homes, the witches will be back soon and I need to be here when they are”

Harry nodded, pressing the girl's face back into his neck and following (y/n) out to the back door.

“come on, the main town is this way!”

Harry and (y/n) dropped the girl off, who told them her name of Sofia, and hurried her inside. “now don’t go after random singing on Halloween okay, it only leads to bad things” (y/n) warned them, handing the young girl a slip of paper with markings on it “as long as you have this, you will be protected from my mother's song” Sofia nodded, unsure but ran into her house, slamming the door behind her.

“alrigh��” Harry sighed, shifting Elijah in his arms and looked at the young boy “where do yeh live?”

Elijah pointed across the street and down a few houses “tha’ close huh?” Harry muttered, letting the boy down and watching him as he ran toward his home.

The boy stopped as (y/n) called his name, turning as they jogged over to him and handed him another piece of paper “thanks” Elijah squeaked, bolting into his house and slamming the door closed.

(y/n) sighed, rubbing their face in exhaustion “two down….however many kids to go” (y/n) rolled their neck and looked over at harry “now lets get you home too”

Harry stared at (y/n) as they walked up to him and held out their hands “I didn’t do this with the kids because I know they would freak but I can teleport us to where you live”

“yeh can teleport?” Harry asked, tilting his head as he stared at (y/n)s hands.

“yep, me, my mother, and my aunts each have a special power, my mom has a hypnotic singing voice, my aunt Mary can sniff out any kid from miles away, and my aunt Winnie can shoot lightning from her hands” Harry nodded slowly, grabbing onto (y/n)s hands.

“so what now?” Harry asked, watching as (f/c) smoke started to rise around him and (y/n)

“where do you live?” (y/n) chuckled, smiling at him.

“uh, im staying at Evie's castle right now”

“oh, I know where that is!” (y/n) cheered, the smoke swirling around them for a moment before it dissipated, revealing them now to be in front of Evie’s castle.

“cool” Harry muttered, not noticing (y/n) look down at their still intertwined hands and hurriedly ripped their hands away from him, Harry turned to (y/n), furrowing his brows as (y/n) looked around with wandering eyes “don’t go back” (y/n) whipped around to look at him with surprise.

“i-what?”

“don’t go back, stay here” Harry pleaded, grabbing onto (y/n)s shoulders “yer not happy there, and yer gonna waste away being their slave”

(y/n) just stared at him, sighing as they grabbed his hands and slowly took them off their shoulders “I…..I have to, to protect the kids”

Harry sighed, biting his lip in thought “okay….but!” (y/n) looked at harry, confusion swimming in their eyes “after tonight, come back here, im sure Evie would be happy to accommodate yeh, i’ll even ask for extra measure” (y/n) shook their head, looking over their shoulder back towards the witches cottage.

“…okay” (y/n) sighed, giggling as harry beamed at them and grabbed their shoulders in his excitement.

“Okay!?”

“okkayy! I'll come back tomorrow after my mom and aunts are asleep” Harry grinned at (y/n), chuckling as (y/n) smiled back.

“but….why do you want me to come back after tonight?” (y/n) asked, tilting their head at harry.

“because you saved meh from them 12 years ago…might as well return tha’ favor?” Harry smirked, snickering as (y/n)s cheeks darkened.

“well…I should get back now….see ya later?” (y/n) stepped away from Harry, (f/c) smoke rising around them. “see ya later” Harry confirmed, waving (y/n) goodbye as the smoke complexly enveloped them and they disappeared.

Harry sighed, cracking his neck and walking back inside Evie's castle, sneaking back up to his room and flopping on his bed, closing his eyes and falling asleep instantly from the crazy night.

Harry sighed in relief as the next morning, when Evie turned on the tv and the Auradon news came up, some breaking news came up about how the Sanderson sisters had been caught attempting their old antics with stealing the life force of children and had been arrested.

And the child of Sarah Sanderson had been confirmed secretly helping the children escaped, as claimed by the many children saved by the teen witch.

“aint (y/n) Sanderson that kid you met on the isle when you were like, 6? Harry?” Uma asked aloud, looking over her shoulder at Harry as he stuck another piece of pancakes in his mouth.

He swallowed and nodded, picking at his scrambled eggs “aye, and I….shoot, Evie I saw ‘em again last night, and might have told them if they wanted to they could come here?”

“that’s perfectly fine” Evie gushed, wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron “I have plenty of room for them here, and-wait you saw them? How?”

“uhhh” Harry stalled, watching as Uma set her fork down and stared at him with raised brows.

“you did a stupid didn’t you?” Uma droned, leaning on her intertwined hands.

“uhhh, yes?” Harry winched, yelping as Uma sent a torrent of water at him “hey! I was bewitched! It wasn’t meh fault!” Harry pouted, crossing his arms.

Everyone went silent as Evie's front door got knocked on, Evie glanced at Harry and took off her apron, tossing it onto the counter and walking over to her door, slowly opening it and peeking around the door.

“oh! You must be (y/n)! Harry told us about you!”

“r-really? He did?” the teen muttered, gasping as Evie grabbed their wrist and dragged them in.

“yep! Now! Are you hungry?” Evie pushed them into the living room that doubled as a dining room that connected to the kitchen, (y/n) stared at all the vks, locking eyes with Harry.

“i-yes?”

“Great! I'll make you up a plate and you get acquainted with everyone!”

Evie clapped her hands and skipped back into the kitchen, giggling with Mal as (y/n) just stood awkwardly where Evie left her.

“yeh kept yer promise” Harry smiled, standing up and walking over to (y/n), putting his hands on his hips and leaning towards (y/n)

“uhh yep” (y/n) chuckled, rubbing their arm nervously “Im here?”

Harry chuckled at their awkwardness and grabbed their shoulder, shoving them into the middle of the room, in view of everyone “(y/n) this is everyone, everyone this is (y/n), they have saved my ass twice now”

“hi” (y/n) waved awkwardly, a small grin on their face. Uma stood from her seat at the island and walked over to (y/n), slowly circling her like a vulture. “ummm hi?”

Uma hummed, standing in front of (y/n), her eyes dark and revealing nothing….then she smiled, reaching out and patting (y/n)s shoulder “nice to meet you (y/n)”

(y/n) gave a small smile, “nice to meet you too….Uma? right?”

Uma nodded and nodded her head back at the island near the kitchen, where Evie was setting (y/n)s plate full of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. “yep that’s me, and your foods ready”

(y/n) slowly walked over to their food, taking off their bag that was slung over their shoulder and setting it on the floor, hesitantly starting to eat the food Evie had given them.

Almost comically, their eyes widened and they started to scarf down the breakfast. Evie giggled and tapped on the counter, grabbing (y/n)s attention “apple or orange juice?”

“apple please” (y/n) spoke with a mouth full of food, blushing as Evie giggled once more and walked over to the fridge, grabbing the bottle.

She poured the drink and set it in front of (y/n) who gently took the cup and started to drink, turning towards the tv as it went back to the Sanderson sister's arrest.

*they will be stripped of their magic and be sent to the new high-security prison implemented on the isle of the doomed.*

“how many kids did yeh save (y/n)?” Harry asked, turning to look at the teen witch. (y/n) swallowed her mouthful of bacon and shrugged.

“around 20, including you and those two kids, my aunts and mom didn’t get far before the Auradon guard was called on ‘em”

“hm” Uma nodded in approval, smirking at harry “good job”

Harry smirked back, standing and sitting next to (y/n), watching as Dizzy changed the channel to Sunday cartoons

“so do yeh think you’ll stick around?” Harry whispered, (y/n) turned to him, and smiled.

“yeah I think I will” they whispered back, leaning back in their chair and watching the show “Powerpuff girls” as it played.

Harry smiled, happy to have finally repaid his debt to the witch who had saved him all those years ago.

And it was going to be fun to tease them since they went all dark whenever he simply looked at them.

-end-

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