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bearlytolerant · 7 months

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Shepard, on the run from her past, seeks asylum on Neon. With the funds from a few odd jobs and a shady loan, she purchases a small bookshop. Though her shop is practically failing, she can always count on her favorite customer, Captain Cora Coe to make a weekly purchase. But when she can’t make a loan payment on time, her life gets turned topsy turvy and she’s forced to depend on friends for help.

Three

Jemison teems with all sorts of wildlife.

Cora suggests hunting. “We could get started on those ingredients for Offworld Eats. Maybe restock the lodge freezer too.”

It seems simple enough. Not too dangerous either. Sam agrees and it proves to be both. They land somewhere not too far off from New Atlantis but far enough away that none of the city looms on their horizon.

Sam perches in a lower bough of a tree, shaded by the green canopy, waiting. Just like he’s been waiting for a couple hours now. His stomach growls and he throws the rifle over his shoulder, adjusting the strap. A small insect buzzes in his ear and he waves it off. He digs around in his pack for a sandwich. Feeling around with his fingers, he brushes up against the wrapper and it crinkles. He pulls the squished sandwich free from the bottom of the bag, unwraps it and takes a bite. Cora sits next to him, curled up in the crook of the bough, book splayed open in her lap.

“You hungry?”

“Not really,” she says, fully engrossed in what she’s reading.

He’s already shoving the thermos her way. “Thirsty then?”

She pushes it back. “Thanks but I just had a drink.”

He knows better than to bother her when she’s reading but he’s bored. It’s been a long time since he’s been plain old bored. He chews his sandwich with his arm draped over his knee, other leg dangling over the tree branch. Takes a sip of water and spots some movement in the sky. Abandoning the sandwich, he shuffles back to his post. Gets into position and aims his rifle, sights set on a bird circling.

“Oh, you finally see something?”

He eyes the bird as it begins to slow to a steady glide. Its burnt orange tail catches the afternoon light and sparks like a flame in the dark. He admires the beauty of it for a moment. It swoops and the moment’s gone. “Parrothawk. Good size too. We can get a lot of meat off it.”

One intake of breath and his finger is on the trigger.

It’s midday and the heat beats down on him. A bead of sweat trickles from his forehead to the end of his nose. Exhaling, he wipes the sweat away with his sleeve, turning his attention back to the parrothawk. But now that Cora’s attention is diverted from the book, he takes the opportunity to try and coax a conversation from her.

“Hey, how did spa day go with Lillian?”

“It was alright. Feels like an eternity ago now, though.”

“Just alright, huh?”

A coral bug scuttles out from behind a rock chasing after a small cutterhead, its teal tendrils flailing wildly as it chases its prey. The rest of the herd—he counts at least four of them—startle and begin running in the opposite direction, abandoning their comrade. Funny how that works. Nothing for hours and then a barrel full all at once. The parrothawk swoops and bites down on the coral bug and the lone cutterhead hurries away. Sam holds his breath. Keeps his sights on the bird’s head and pulls the trigger. It’s a direct hit. The parrothawk spirals as it hurtles to the ground. Smacking against the coral bug corpse, one of the bug’s limbs flies into the air and lands a distance away as the dust settles around the dead parrothawk.

“Nice shot,” Cora says.

He gives a curt nod of thanks. “I’m not done hearing about your day with Lillian,” he reminds her, readjusting himself and aiming for that lonesome cutterhead now grazing a few feet away. If he’s lucky, that herd will return but he doesn’t bank on it. He focuses on the one instead. Its solid blue horn and back ridges make it trickier to kill than the others. With so much protection covering its skull, he aims for the eye.

“Eh, it was okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Our trip got cut short.”

There’s not a hint of disappointment with those words and maybe that’s what has him worried a little. Sure, Cora’s always been reasonable but she sounds apathetic. Sam lowers his rifle and glances at Cora over his shoulder. Sometimes he can’t believe how old she is. Makes him want to say what’s really on his mind but she’s still his little girl. Don't matter her age. He holds back his harsh words. Thinks them instead. It’s always something with Lillian. And that something is always more important than keeping her promises to Cora. It boils his blood when he spends too much energy thinking too long and too hard about it.

“Did she say why?”

Cora closes her book and tucks it away in her backpack. “It was just the usual. You know.”

He does. But it’s not much of a conversation if he’s filling in all the blanks. Slinging her backpack onto her shoulders, she begins her descent to the ground. Sam gathers up his belongings and follows. They trek toward the fallen parrothawk.

“Your cutterhead is getting away,” she says as they draw closer.

She’s right. It spots them and takes off running.

“Still think we can call it a win with what we’ve got.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They arrive at the parrothawk and he kneels. “You know, Lillian—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupts, bending over the parrothawk with a knife in hand. She works at cutting the skin away first and he joins her, taking the upper half.

“Oh yeah? Been spending time reading fortunes?”

“Ha, no. You’ll have a valid reason to defend her and I’ll still feel like shit about it.” Sam stills and drops the knife, standing and hovering next to her. “It’s okay dad, I already talked to Aja about it.”

It stings. He won’t admit aloud. But it’s good she at least talks to someone about it. Her best friend is probably a decent choice too. Barrett and Ervin’s girl has always been a great kid with an even better head on her shoulders. Hell, her advice was probably insightful and better than anything he could offer anyway. He wraps Cora up in a bear hug, squeezing the air out of her body.

“Dad!” She manages to squeak out and he presses his lips to her forehead before letting her go.

“I know I’m just your old man, but I’ll always be here for you.”

“I know,” Cora says. “Now, can we finish this up? I want to get back to my book. I was at the best part.”

“Is it one of the new ones you got.”

“Yeah!”

Why don’t you tell me about that then,” he says with a smile, returning to his knife and the task at hand.

And she does, softening again. It’s like a cool breeze amidst all the heat as they make quick work of the bird. They pack up what they can and make their way to Cora’s ship, The Hawk. He reckons it will take at least two—maybe three trips tops to get all the goods onto the ship.

About halfway through their trek, a ship lands a few hundred feet in front of them. The ground trembles under the weight of the landing platform, a swirl of dust obstructing their view. Then it clears, exposing about a dozen mercs—guessing Ecliptic by appearance—heading straight for them.

“Forget to make a payment on that loan you took out on your ship?” Sam asks, cocking his rifle.

“I paid it in full when I bought it. I think they’re after you.” Cora pulls her pistols from their holster and adjusts her backpack.

“Ask first and shoot later?”

“I think it’s shoot first, ask later.”

“Nah, I really think—”

The Ecliptic are on them and a bullet flies past Sam’s head, nearly brushing his hat. He glances over at Cora.

She smirks as she aims. “I’m always right.”

“You can gloat later,” Sam shouts as he tucks and rolls, dodging another stray bullet.

There’s a large boulder to his right and he rushes to it, skinning his knees as he slides in behind it. Cora follows his lead and scrambles, shrouding herself with the trunk of a tree. Ecliptic are more organized than spacers but still aren’t a match for the two of them. He aims and shoots. Cora does the same. The two in the front fall dead. One of the guys behind the fallen bodies trips and stumbles. Cora fires off another shot and takes him out.

“Care package!” Sam yells as he chucks a frag at the rest of the group.

Cora picks off the last two, her aim more accurate and deadly than Sam’s. The group is a pile of bodies and they exchange a congratulatory smile before coming out of their hiding places. Walking cautiously over to the dead, Sam counts the bodies. One, two—eleven.

“I thought there were twelve,” Sam says.

“Me too.”

Sam takes a glance around and spots the last guy heading east, sprinting off into the distance.

“Thanks for playing!” He shouts and gives a wave. “Bye!”

Cora lets out a small chuckle. “Think we should chase ‘em down?”

“Don’t think they’re gonna cause any trouble for us.” Sam shrugs and watches while Cora digs around in the dead merc’s pockets. She comes up with nothing.

“Lootin’ the dead ain’t glamorous but it sure is profitable.”

“Not in this case.” Cora sighs.

He waves a hand over them. “See anything on them like a slate? Might be able to find out why they came in guns a blazin.”

She continues to pat them down while Sam keeps watch.

“If there was a slate, it was probably on the runner.”

“Damn it.”

“Win some. Lose some.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“Wait,” Cora says, pausing as she brushes dirt away from an insignia on the front of the suit. “I don’t think this is Ecliptic.”

Sam kneels next to her and with the adrenaline fading, he notices the differences between these mercenary suits and the usual ecliptic suits. Similar enough in style and color, it’s possible it’s still a subset of Ecliptic. But he doesn’t recognize the faction insignia at all.

“They all have this matching symbol,” Cora says. “Can you grab my camera for me from my backpack?”

Sam unzips her bag and digs around, pulling the camera free. “Got it.” He hands it over.

“Thank you.” Cora snaps a few close ups of the insignia before handing the camera back. “Maybe someone from Constellation will know what it means.”

“Maybe. We could also search their ship,” Sam suggests but as soon as he does, it begins to lift off.

“Think we missed our chance for that too.”

The ship takes off and they stare after it.

“Not our smoothest—”

“Hey, our response time was spectacular. We don’t have a single injury.” Cora lugs her backpack over her shoulders. “And we got what we came for. Smoother than a lot of our adventures.”

Sam chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right and any scrape you can walk away from is a good one.”

She throws him a big grin with a raised eyebrow.

“So smug. Wonder who you got that from?” He hauls his pack onto his back too and they make their first trip (of many) back to their ship.

Later, Sam kneels to the ground, eyeing the space where he and Cora killed the mercs. Someone moved the bodies, hints of where they were his only clue that they were there at all and he didn’t fabricate the whole scenario in his mind. He casts his gaze a little further and wider. The mercs were wearing heavy boots, bound to leave tracks behind. After a minute or two, he spots a patch of indented grass and the faintest of boot prints in the dirt heading east unlocking the memory of the runaway merc.

He doesn’t expect to find the runaway with the bodies gone. But on the off chance that the runaway is lingering nearby, he follows the trail as far as it goes. The sky shifts from a blanket of monochromatic hues of blue to a deep purple. The night might be gracious in offering unfiltered starlight but he doesn’t bank on it. He quickens his pace. Eventually the tracks peter out a few kilometers from where the dead bodies used to be and Sam finds higher ground in the lower bough of a tree.

With a better view, he spots the smoky remnants of a small fire and climbs back down. When he arrives at the dying embers, he bends low to the ground, fingers sprawling in search of any other clues. When he catches sight of another boot track, he stands up, ready to follow the new lead.

“Don’t move,” the cool butt of a gun is at the back of his head.

“Whoa, no need to let things escalate.”

“I don’t think you’re in a position to speak, let alone make any demands.” A hand shoves at his back and Sam stumbles forward, making sure to over dramatize it by falling to his knees and hissing between his teeth.

He almost says he wasn’t making demands but pulls his dad card instead. “Please, I’m just an old man. Got a daughter to return to.”

A shot is fired. The bullet hits the patch of grass right next to Sam’s knee. The merc is serious, he can see that now but Sam’s always been good with people. Even the serious types. The serious types don’t take too kindly to his charm but they do take kindly to an old fashioned stroking of the ego. He’s always lived by the principle, that given a choice, he’d much rather talk his way out of a fight than slug it out.

“Bullshit. If she mattered so much to you, you wouldn’t have come looking for me. So from now on, I’ll do the talking.”

“You do have a way with words and a special sort of flair for survival,” Sam says and it’s enough of a praise.

His momentary captor starts monologuing. Blathers on about being left behind. Always forgotten. Which is a damn shame according to their perception of their own inflated skill sets. The rest of the speech settles in Sam’s mind as a static white noise. He focuses on digging into the dirt with his hand, remaining unnoticed. He manages to scrounge up a decent handful. Mixes a little sand in too. The merc is still throwing themselves a pity party when Sam hops to his feet and swivels, tossing the dirt straight into the merc’s eyes. A classic that hasn’t failed him yet.

“You’re dead,” the merc rages. One hand waving the gun around as they rub the dirt in with the other.

Sam rips the gun out of their hand and turns it on them. Smirks. “As a dead man, I’m the one haunting you and asking the questions now. Who do you work for?” Sam asks in a wavering spooky voice.

But there’s no words, only choking and gurgling sounds as the merc’s mouth fills with a bubbling white foam. Then they crash to the ground, dead.

“Well, shit. Hell of a place to have a seance,” he says sarcastically. “Knock once if you hear us spirits!” Sam says to himself as he pads the merc down, pressing his head close to the merc’s mouth where bubbles pop and the foam begins to dissipate. “No?” He shrugs.

Sam checks the pockets. There’s no slate on them either. But something tells him these aren’t mercs at all. Silence is better than spilling secrets, and this smells more foreboding than an unpaid debt. Worry pools in his stomach as he stands, pulling at his graying whiskers. Who exactly are they? But more importantly, what the hell do these people want with Cora?

#bear writes #renegade #chapter 3 #sam coe x oc #au where Cora is an adult and the captain/spacefarer #ao3 link when you click on chapter #starfield #mature fic #shepcoe #cora coe

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balshumetsbaragouin · 4 months

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Daily Excerpt: Passion

Things are really starting to cook in Passion this last week, huh? Well, why don't we slow things down with a fun scene from Chapter Eighteen: A Quietude and Fey Federation. God's Silliest Eel returns.

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“Hey guys, I sense a ghost.”

“No, they can’t be back already. It hasn’t even been a full week!” Tucker’s opinion mirrored his own.

“If it helps, it feels pretty weak, not as strong as Boxy even. It’s probably an animal ghost come to sniff around now that things have gotten quieter.” He concentrated on the feeling of the energy, the signature feeling familiar. “I’ll go check it out, probably suck it into the Thermos, and go about my evening. No reason to let a little ecto-cat or something ruin the night’s vibes.” He flipped away from the allure of the starry sky, sparsely populated though it remained at this elevation, and looked around the area below him. Something hovered near the back of the 7/15, glowing green, arcs of electricity sparking through the air. “Oh no, that better not be who I think it is.”

He flew down, and sure enough, there was Ohm, gnawing on the exposed wires of the newly repaired transformer behind the 7/15. The transformer was beginning to make a concerning sounding whine and pressure built in the air. Ohm continued wriggling, pulling away chunks of steel. “Ohm, you stop that right now!” He flew closer and sent a wave of his energy towards the ghost, power bristling full of scorn and admonishment.

Mreeep? It jolted, wires still in its jaws, and turned around to meet his gaze. Seconds passed, the wires still in its mouth, eel caught with its face in the metaphorical cookie jaw. It shook its head back and forth a few times, eyes wide and flashing gold, before a flow of energy returned. He felt the desire to binge his favorite chips, and the urge to hide the bag from his parents in the wall so they wouldn’t find proof later. He tasted cherry garcia and smelled his dad’s fudge. He saw himself hiding his hands behind his back with an empty candy wrapper from a dozen incidents in childhood. Ohm relaxed its jaws for a second, and then went back to chewing, sucking down the electricity coming from the wires with more haste.

“I’m looking right at you!” It chewed faster, snapping through the thicker cables and wrapping closer to the transformer. The wave of energy this time reminded him of himself a few weeks ago, hand in his pocket, trying to convince Jazz someone else had just texted her. Maybe he wasn’t smarter than a ghost eel.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #DP Fanfic #Passion and Plasmatic Plague #PaPP #Balshumet's Baragouin #Daily Excerpt

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kettlefire · 2 years

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Vomit Pile #2

Fandom: Avengers (Ironman & Captain America), Danny Phantom

Danny couldn’t slip the grin from his face as he settled his seat on Cujo’s oversized form. The larger dog was munching away happily at a giant bone the halfa had pulled in through a portal. Danny, on the other hand, was excited to tear into the three burgers resting in a fast food bag.

It’s been almost four days since his last actual meal, and as much as being half dead made it easier to go without food, he still needed to eat at times. Being on the run like he was, quietly waiting for some sign his mother wasn’t going to come after him with another gun, was slowly taking a toll on his human side.

His injuries weren’t healing as fast as they used to, even if his ghost side seemed to be ready for anything. With a sigh, the young halfa patted Cujo’s green fur before digging in.Shifting the thermos below his shoes for a reminder of its presence. Life wasn’t the easiest it’s ever been, and new surprises followed him around every corner, but oddly enough he found more relaxing and calming moments.

Blue eyes scanned the surrounding trees, keeping an eye out for any sign of life- or afterlife- as he quickly choked down two of the burgers. The crumpled wrappers laid on the soft woodland floor near his now empty cup of soda. He’d only just opened his last burger when the sound of a figure descending caught his attention.

Danny only tensed ever-so-slightly, feeling a growl vibrate below him. His eyes instantly landed on a familiar red and gold suit of armor, pulses of blue energy expelling for the hands and feets until it came to a solid landing.

“This isn’t something you see very often.” The voice spoke as gears whirled, the face plate sliding up to reveal none other than Tony Stark himself. Danny groaned, softly patting Cujo in reassurance, only stopping the motion when the dog settled to ignore the intruder and continue to munch on his own treat.

“Look as much as I’m a big fan, I really could do without this right now.” Danny replied, taking a bite out of his burger. He watched one of the billionaire’s eyebrows quirk up in amusement.

“Kid, you’re sitting on a giant green dog that I'm pretty sure is glowing.” Tony retorted, metal arms crossing over the glowing emblem. “There’s no other time to handle this.”

“Cujo’s harmless eighty-five percent of the time.” Danny shrugged, smirking when Cujo gave a small huff. “The other fifteen is when he's protecting.”

“Cujo? Really?” Tony asked, motioning towards the red-eyes ghost. “Couldn’t be more on the nose, could you?”

“Hey, he came with his own name.” Danny replied through another mouthful, quickly crumpling up the last wrapper and dropping it with the rest. “Please tell me the rest of the dress-up squad isn’t with you?” The question was quickly answered when another hero broke through the surrounding bush. Danny’s gaze instantly fell on a red, white, and blue cladded Steve Rogers.

“Welcome to the show, Star-Spangled.” Tony smirked, glancing towards the shock-stricken man. “Looks like I found Cujo, and his human pet.”

“Who said I’m human?” Danny countered, letting his eyes flashing green for a split-second. Maybe taunting the world’s mightiest heroes was a bad idea, but it just seemed a little too easy of an opportunity to pass. Then both heroes instantly tensed, ready for a fight, Danny couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, I don’t think I look that threatening.” Danny motioning one hand towards his appearance. He knew he was scrawny, and he knew he was short, pretty much everyone underestimated him.

It didn’t help that the ripped black jeans and dirt-stained red hoodie were much too large for his size. He tilted the thermos under his shoes ever-so-slightly, letting it softly drop to the ground before hopping off of Cujo.

He didn’t pay the two men any attention as he gathered his trash and belongings, dropping them all haphazardly into his over-used black school bag, clipping the thermos to his waistband.

“What are you?” The super soldier was the first to speak, Danny turned his gaze on him, shifting to the shield that was placed onto his back.

“Why do you care?” Danny asked, meeting blue eyes. “It’s not like I’m bothering anyone.”

“For one, we can’t exactly have a teen running around the city with a giant demon dog.” Tony quipped, motioning towards Cujo as the ghost just finished off his bone. Danny laughed, shaking his head slightly.

“Considering you just found me, I say we know how to hide pretty well.” Danny turned, slinging the bag over his shoulder and snapped his fingers. “Ŝrumpi.” Cujo jumped up, slowly shrinking down to the size of a puppy.

“Holy shit.” Danny heard from behind him, but he was focused on getting ready to leave. He shifted the bag, the largest pocket open and empty, leaning it towards his friend.

“Kaŝi.” Cujo gave a small, happy bark before hopping into the bag, letting Danny zip it with only the smallest opening on top. “See, nothing odd here.” Danny turned back to the men, smirking at the surprised look they brandished.

“Kid, everything about you is odd.” Tony shook his head, eyes raking over the teen. Danny bit back a groan, he knows he looks like a mess, knows he looks like a homeless teen… Which he is, but that’s besides the point.

He didn’t need extra attention right now, what he needed was to stay as out of the spotlight as possible. Maddie could be anywhere right now, and who knows if she got help from any other hunters she knows. God forbid she actually manipulated his dad into helping.

“Look, I get you have this duty to keep the world safe, but I’m the least of your problems.” Danny slipped the other strap over his shoulder, the familiar weight of Cujo easing his anxiety just a little. “I don’t have the time, patience, or ability right now to deal with this.”

“Our duty is to also help the people of this world.” Steve spoke up, taking a small hesitant step towards the teen. Danny tensed, ready to pull his core forward if need be. He tried not to go full ghost as much as possible, or use any large abilities because he knew it could be tracked. “And from where I’m standing, it looks like you need it.”

Danny barked a laugh, he couldn’t help it. Sure he liked the heroes, but he didn’t need help. Not from them, there wasn’t much they could do. So leave it to them to think he was able to be saved. He was damned the day he walked into that portal.

“Not everyone needs help.” Danny shot back, he wasn’t sure why he was bothering entertaining them. Maybe because he hasn’t had an actual conversation with someone that wasn’t hate filled in so long. “I, for one, would rather-”

Danny’s words died in his throat when a familiar beeping came from his watch. A curse left him as he slid his sleeve up, glancing down at the face of the watch. Sixteen. Sixteen fucking feet away. He didn’t have time to really run.

“What is that?” Danny glanced up, meeting the billionaire’s eyes.

“Trouble.” Danny grumbled, quickly clicking the sound off. His eyes quickly surveyed the area before returning to the number. Twelve. Fuck. “Look I’ll answer all your questions, I’ll do whatever you want, but when she shows up, tell her you haven’t seen me.”

“Wait-”

“Please.” Danny swallowed, meeting their gaze. Steve was the first one to nod, pulling a sigh of relief from the teen. He pulled a small pocket knife from his pocket, ignoring the words behind him as he cut a small wound into the palm of his hand, he racked it over a few rocks nearby before turning towards them.

“I’m not going anywhere, you just won’t be able to see me.” Danny spoke, letting invisibility take over. Nine. He really hopes his blood will do the trick here.

“Hey, wait!” Tony’s eyes scanned quickly over the area he was just at. Danny walked over to stand behind Tony, if anything he hoped the reading coming off the suit would throw off the tracker.

“I’m still here.” Danny spoke from behind him. “Act natural, she’ll be here soon.” Five.

“Are we really?” Tony asked, motioning towards the clearing.

“We’re here to help.” Steve reminded him, dropping the shield from his back. Danny shook his head even if the two men couldn’t see it, there wouldn’t need to be a fight if this worked.

“Seriously Steve-” Tony stopped the moment a figure burst through the trees and bushes before them. A somewhat short woman, although not as short as the teen, stood before them. What was clearly a tracker in one hand, and a small sci-fi-esque pistol in the other.

“Did you see him here? He looks like a teen boy.” Her words were quick and steady, eyes glancing from the tracker to the area around them.

“Who are you?” Tony asked, arms tensed and ready at his side. Danny on the other hand was trying to control the hammering in his chest. He hasn’t been this close to her in so long, the last times he’s seen her, she tried to capture him or end his life. He held his breath, trying to push down the growing fear inside.

“I’m a scientist and a hunter, there is a dangerous creature on the run.” Her posture was perfect, her words holding little place to argue. “He can manipulate and play on your emotions. I ask again, have you seen him?”

“I’m sorry ma’am.” Steve spoke before Tony could, eyes taking in the woman. He wasn’t sure who she was, or if what she said is true, but he does know the fear in that teen’s eyes was real. “We came out to investigate a weird energy reading, but nothing was found.”

“That can’t be right.” She spoke, glancing back down to her tracker, placing the pistol onto a hip holster. “He should be here… Maybe the readings from the suit…” Tony glanced between Steve and the woman, both Avengers were unsure how to get her to leave. Then he remembered the blood.

“The only thing we found was that.” Tony spoke, pointing towards the slightly red rocks. The woman’s head peaked up quickly, steps determined as she stepped towards it. The tracker was held before it, after a beat a soft beep sounded.

“Of course, this must be it… It’s still fresh.” She spoke more to herself than the other two. “It must have just left here, which means I’m on the right track.”

The smile that slid onto her face even made Steve uncomfortable, there was a twisted plan hidden behind it. The super soldier stopped himself from reacting when a cold hand gripped his forearm in a hold, in the corner of his eyes couldn’t see anyone, but he knew who it was.

Danny couldn’t help it, ever since what happened, ever since he saw who his mother really was… It felt like he was a five year old boy again, and she was the biggest thing in the room. The strongest urge to flee screamed throughout him, but right now the two heroes were his only bet in getting out alive.

“Thank you.” She turned to them, placing the tracker into her waist belt. “No need to worry about him, I’ll have him captured in no time.”

Tony wanted to speak, ask her who she worked for, who she was, but his ears picked up a soft sound from behind him. The softest whine of a scared animal, instead he bit his tongue, watching the woman leave the clearing.

“Friday, tell us when she’s out of range.” Tony orders, waiting until Friday deems it safe before turning to Steve, and the empty space between them. “What the hell was that about?”

Danny exhaled, releasing his grip on Steve’s arm and flickered back into view. He swallowed, appreciating the constant pulse of ectoplasm against his back. After a moment of collecting himself, he looked up and was met with two concerned eyes.

“That was… That’s my…” Danny swallowed against the lump in his throat, he hasn’t told anyone. Not even his best friends or his sister.

“How about we get back to the tower, then talk?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Wait, you’re telling me that was your mom?” The words left Tony the moment Danny finally told them who that was in the clearing.

“And she’s trying to… kill you?” Steve pushed out, tone trying to be steady but Danny picked up the underlying thrum of emotions.

“More like to turn me into a lab rat.” Danny muttered, picking slightly at the table before him. Cujo whined softly in his lap, pushing his head under the teen’s chin. “It’s alright boy, she’s gone, vi estas sekura.” Danny reassured, running a hand along vibrant fur.

“Just because you're different?” Tony growled, glancing between Steve and Danny. “You’re shitting me right?”

“I wish.” Danny let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “I turned into the one thing she hated, it doesn’t matter anymore, not to her.”

“Do you have someplace safe to go?” Steve asked, voice soft and hesitant. “Anyone you can go to until things blow over.”

“If they blow over, but no. The only people I have are back in town and it’s way too much of a risk for them to try and hide me.” Danny exhaled, looking up at the two heroes. “You don’t have to worry about me, I appreciate what you did back there, but I’ll be fine.”

“Really kid, what happens the next time she shows up?”

#danny fenton #danny phantom #phandom #tony stark #captain america #steve rogers #iron man #I love Cujo #dp cujo #dp fic #dp crossover #Danny Phantom avengers #Esperanto is used #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #my fic

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intern-seraph · 4 months

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#i thought people were talking about the hockey trophy/ is so funny to me because on tiktok i got so many vids of yt girls going INSANE for stanley cups. deadass some girl made a tiktok of her like laminating the wrapper to preserve it. never understood the hype and thankfully i didnt so now i dont have lead poisoning!

not having a tiktok is keeping me from popping a blood vessel on the daily 👍 but the COMEDY i'm missing out on... A GIRL LAMINATED THE FUCKING WRAPPER??? i also don't get the hype, it's... basically a thermos?? weren't people like this about hydroflasks, too? (but maybe slightly less unhinged)

#ask #jaddasroots #seraph speaks #i need to study these ppl #i need to dissect their brains. what is happening in there.

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starlitwishforu · 1 year

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i come home on the first night of the rabbit year bearing two illicit packs of white rabbit candy and six dusty bags of gluttonous rice flour, which my mother needs for her niangao; and whose name i was proud to have recognised all by myself until, in a flash of doubt, i googled it anyway just to make sure, squatted there on the crusted tile of the great wall supermarket like a slightly anxious chinese american shrimp. i got it right the first time.

my mother starts the niangao then teaches me to fry dumplings. "i don't even know if they'll cook all the way through," she laughs, "i haven't done it this way in a long time." we put the lid on the pan and leave it to simmer; in the meantime, i pull out a math packet. there's a final tomorrow in multivariable calculus.

that's where i will take the candy, squirreled away in the crevices of my lunch bag, to distribute. the first time i brought candy to school a few adventurous white friends tried some. "you eat the paper," i instructed them. "no, not the wrapper. yes, it's edible, i promise." my chinese classmates chittered, and i was gently amused that these poor white children could not figure out what we at three or four had taken for given. they didn't like the texture, or found the taste of milk too strange in a chewy candy; my chinese classmates and i shared exasperated looks, bonding over what the americans would never understand.

at lunch i will peel tangerines for my friends. i peel my tangerines in spirals. pick at the rind in helixes that loop back and back around; when i get up to take the trash there is a pile of them, tangled, and the tangerine juice leaves stains under my nails, sticky, and when i wash my hands later the water will run a little orange. once i studied an ancient ode to the virtuous morality of tangerines. even the ancient chinese, i cackled, made self-insert ocs! tangerine and white lotus and bamboo and plum blossoms.

on the last night of the tiger year there were people who made niangao with gluttonous rice flour. there were people snacking on white rabbit like m&ms. there were people frying dumplings; people peeling tangerines; people who shopped at 99 ranch market, probably, instead of great wall, because they lived in california. they lived.

when i heard the news i stopped, well, i stopped dead for a moment and then i cried, hard, and then i went on. nothing will bring them back, those ten celebrators, those eaters of dumplings and niangao, those tangerines and white lotus and plum blossoms, the ten of them and the hundreds before them. i am a schoolgirl in america and a chinese girl in america and a queer girl in america and they are not the first ten and they are not the last ten, probably, and nothing will bring them back. we will protest and petition and donate and every time this happens there is a part of me that sighs in relief because it could have been my parents, or my grandparents, or my cousin who goes to school near monterey, or my friends in san diego and new york and fairfax who are american the way i am that is to say too much for our families and not enough for our countrymen, it could have been them and it wasn't.

the dumplings cook through after all, crispy and savoury with golden feet. there is just enough for dinner tonight. i'll make more tomorrow morning, i say, to take to lunch in a thermos. i'll remember to fry them a little extra, i like the burnt ones better. they don't look palatable but they taste better, like being six and bringing dumplings to lunch in a thermos. like being eight and peeling the rice paper to let it melt, flavourless on your tongue. like being seventeen and making it to the rabbit year alive.

the last dumpling tastes like burnt sugar. "WHO," i bellow with gleeful outrage, "PUT CHOCOLATE IN THIS DUMPLING." i know full well it's because we were out of white rabbits last night. there's a chinese tradition to put candies in a few of the new year dumplings. whoever gets a sweet dumpling will have good fortune for the whole year. happy new year says the dumpling. may you live with health and happiness. may the year bring peace and prosperity to us all.

#too long for instagram #jan 22 2023 #macrocosm

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acertainmoshke · 9 months

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Happy STS! I arrive with a character ask this week! If one of your characters emptied their bag/satchel/purse, what would we find among their personal effects? Crumpled receipts? Forgotten snacks? Wads of cash? More knives than they'd care to admit? Tell me about it!

Happy late STS!! I like to think that at some point Shakatra becomes like me, obsessively carrying a small bag everyone and never letting it leave touching distance. The entire bottom of it is lined with crumpled foil chocolate wrappers (all identical silver and green, very brand-I-made-up specific). They have a regular switchblade with a worn-down handle, a tiny knife to be concealed in their sweater sleeve, and a special switchblade wrapped in a faded t-shirt bundle with the blade coated in melted nails. Yes, knife blades tend to be made of steel, which already has iron in it, but I was determined to run with this idea so had them coat it in iron to make it extra deadly. They also have at least 1.4 still-wrapped chocolate bars and a (very dirty and chipped) thermos to hold hot coffee in at a moment's notice. They don't really need money but they habitually pick up coins they find, so there's a smattering of them among the candy wrappers.

#I love questions like these #they tell you so much about a character #moshke writes #writeblr #cold iron #storyteller saturday

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hollowfaith · 1 year

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「✧」 It seemed he had disturbed a nest.

The little bird who roosted within the confines of this cage had peppered it with signs of his presence: bits of clothes here, bites of food there. A sad pile of dishes laid dying in the sink, old wounds long scabbed over, and a crinkle underfoot made Aurelius pause mid-stride to glance at the floor.

Candy wrappers. A strange song this chaos weaved.

By some miracle, there was tea—crudely stored in a thermos, but gracefully poured into the one lone teacup he'd managed to salvage, intact, from the kitchen cabinets. Seated at the table in the first floor dining area of Townhouse 202, Aurelius took his first sip of hospitality while peering at the white-haired man across from him.

Scalding. An underlying bitterness. It would have been better if he waited for the liquid to cool, but such emotions were better tasted fresh.

"What a nostalgic blend."

"Is this one your favorite?"

Of its flavors, he longed to taste more.

@schleckermaul ໒꒱

#schleckermaul #schleckermaul 𓆩⟡𓆪 01 #im calling out your mess on main #tea is your only saving grace i guess :/#by special request we publish this starter early ayeeeeee #𝔉𝔞𝔠𝔞𝔡𝔢 𖥨ํ ic

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uwusillygirl · 1 year

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last hc for me for now then back to studying. i know that fof are huge homebodies (which huge relate) but i hc that maybe on a random extended 3-day weekends they'll sometimes roadtrip somewhere since that feels like confined time together they really enjoy!! idk why i picture the first time they do this is bc chrissy just casually mentions wanting to see niagra falls one day and eddie is just like okay lets load up the van and go. also hc that they agree that the driver gets control of music

i totally think this is true! like i’m sure eddie would like to travel more exotically and chrissy would want more glamour in an ideal world BUT this is a rly good middle ground.

definitely a scenario where eddie’s like “we’ll go see somewhere cool!!! we’ll stay in some motels or something!!!” and chrissy is like “i get to make egg salad sandwiches in little paper wrappers for the drive and put coffee in a little thermos for you 😵‍💫 we get to have weird motel sex 😵‍💫 i get to pack your bag 😵‍💫” and eddie’s like “k not really… the original point of it but sure.”

#asks #first one's free asks

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thecoolerblue · 2 years

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Babybel wrapper

soup i am putting you in a cute patterned thermos so you don't spill on our run AS WE SPEAK

#communications

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frostcorpsclub · 3 days

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from laydibirb on da - "defo would love to see what janleigh has in her bag"

Janleigh's big furry tote which she carries all her non work supplies in!

Her lunchbox, you see, the elves usually eat at different times depending on their jobs but when they do they eat buffet style. Janleigh however would starve if she ate that everyday. So Suzy packs her a lunch from home.

Two bowls for ice cream! She runs off to secrectly share ice cream dates with her girlfriend Tinsel quite often.

A locket with a picture of her parents. She could technically just go see them on her lunch breaks and she has dinner with her family every night but Jack and Suzy are extra sappy with her.

A thermos, full of blood, and when she runs out she fills it with ice water.

A christmas-sy smelling spray, which Janleigh uses so that elves around her aren't as bothered by the smell of her lunch or the smell of...well her.

This yuletide monstrosity is her present wrapping supply carrying case. It has wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, and tags. Everything she needs to be the best present wrapper the North Pole has ever seen!

Cookies!!! She really wants the elves to like her and be her friend :(

#janleigh frost #oc collage #collage #admin art

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kiwisol · 2 years

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the art of secrets — lhc

pairing: lee haechan x reader genre: best friend’s brother, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, fluff, angst summary: after messing around with haechan too much for your own good, the secrets start to build up between the two of you—and not just with his sister. wc: 11.2k warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, slightly suggestive, some dirty jokes courtesy of hyuck, arguing ? kind of

𖥻 01 - THE FIRST SECRET

No matter the situation, Haechan always found a way to be obnoxious.

“Hey, be quiet! You’re gonna wake your sister up.”

Haechan smiled into the kiss as he pressed his lips against yours, the material of your t-shirt falling around his hands as they rested on your waist. He pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, squeezing your sides. “C’mon, let her wake up.”

You shook your head. “You’re crazy, Haechan. Jiyoon would freak if she saw me in here.” You frowned, running your hands up the back of his neck to weave your fingers in his hair.

“Nope, she’d love to have you as a sister-in-law.”

Tugging at his brown strands softly, you decided to ignore the implications of the word sister-in-law. “Yeah, I don’t think so. In case you forgot, we’re having a sleepover.” You pecked him on the cheek. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

He rested his hands on your lower back. “You’re still sleeping over, just not in her room,” he quipped.

He smiled at your annoyed expression, his fingers rubbing circles into your skin. You pressed a kiss to his swollen, heart-shaped lips and pushed him onto the bed by his shoulders, his upper body landing on the charcoal-colored duvet with a soft thud. Haechan reveled in your position, the light of the TV to the right of his room giving your face and body a soft, almost angelic glow.

Although he’d never admit it, he enjoyed this more than anything you two planned on doing that night. You were otherworldly, and he easily preferred the small sounds that came out of your mouth when he kissed you just right over his favorite playlist.

Haechan knew you inside and out, and he studied you like you were a textbook and he had an exam the next day. Of course, these feelings were a bit too much for someone he was only supposed to mess around with—no strings attached, of course.

An unknown feeling began twisting his gut, and he tried pushing it away as he ran his hand up the side of your torso. His eyes followed the material as he hiked your shirt up until it bunched up under your chest. “Cute shirt you have on. Jiyoon didn’t mention it?” he questioned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and letting your top fall back down.

You shook your head, your fingers playing with the drawstrings of his plaid pajama pants. “Nope. You’re lucky Renjun has the same one, I said I got it from him.”

He ran his thumb across your bottom lip and sighed quietly. His chocolatey eyes held a dazed look, and your stomach fluttered at his expression. “Such a great liar,” he murmured.

You leaned into his palm, offering him a small smile in the dim room. “I learned from the best.”

𖥻 02 - HAECHAN: PUBLIC ENEMY #1

Jiyoon gripped the back of her chair, her knuckles turning white from the sheer force being used as she dragged it back on the cement. She sat down with a huff and banged her thermo onto the table so hard you thought it’d break, making Renjun flinch upon the impact. You eyed her as she tore away the wrapper of her croissant, biting into the soft bread like it was the head of her enemy.

You exchanged a look of confusion with Renjun, making eyes at each other to figure out whose job it would be to ask what was wrong. After one final glare from you, the raven-haired boy let out a sigh and turned to Jiyoon, “Ji, what’s up?”

She swallowed the last bit of pastry in her mouth, glossy lips formed into a pout. “I was gonna use the car today to meet up with Yerim, that cute girl from my Greek Mythology class, after school.” She paused to rip a piece of the croissant angrily. “But Donghyuck’s annoying ass called dibs on the fucking car.”

Renjun knocked his knee into yours and you winced in pain, rubbing your hand over the spot to try and soothe it. You shot him a dirty look, grateful Jiyoon was busy sulking at her breakfast while she mulled over her lost date with Yerim.

“You even used his legal name, must be serious,” you tried to joke. Your best friend crossed his arms over his chest and stared at you expectantly. “Maybe he has something important to do?” The corners of your lips pulled up in a half-hearted smile, trying to convince everyone including yourself.

Jiyoon shook her head. “He didn’t tell me, which was so weird because he tells me everything,” she hummed. Your face heated up at what she said, and Renjun tried to discreetly swat at your hands when you began to pick at your cuticles.

“It sucks, but whatever. I have to go break the news to Yerim,” she sighed, balling up the wrapper of her breakfast and grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” Waving goodbye, she blew a kiss to you and Renjun.

“Maybe he has something important to do,” he mocked you in a high-pitched voice once Jiyoon was out of earshot. “Sure, of course, except the only thing he’s doing is you!”

You gasped, smacking his arm so hard it stung your palm.

“And he tells her everything, how sweet,” he sneered, pushing your shoulder. “I hate knowing about you two! This is the longest I’ve ever kept a secret from Ji.”

You let out a groan and threw your head back, the feeling of guilt making your chest tight. “I know,” you mumbled, “but I’m scared to say something.”

“If you were actually scared, you wouldn’t have done it,” he pointed out. His words should have stung, but you knew he was right. The feelings of fear and guilt weren’t enough to drive you away from Haechan. “Y’know, I have a feeling that if you came clean, she wouldn’t even be angry.”

“You think?”

“Possibly. She loves Haechan, she loves you, that’s double the love.” He shrugged. “And I think it’ll go past that childish little friends with benefits stage soon enough.”

He loudly slurped on his almost-empty iced coffee with an air of nonchalance, ignoring the look of confusion on your face as he shook the ice around in the plastic cup. “What do you mean?”

“I just know things.” He smiled, pulling the straw from his lips. “My class starts at ten, so I gotta go. Think about talking to Ji, okay?”

“For sure.” You nodded. “I’ll tell her eventually.”

𖥻 03 - HELIOS IN A CAR

“You messed up her date with Yerim today, you know.”

Haechan dragged his pointer finger up and down your arm, rolling his eyes at your words. “Oh please, it wasn't even a date. She’s too scared to admit her feelings.”

“Admitting your feelings isn’t easy, Haechan,” you scolded him. “You could’ve let her take the car for tonight.”

“And then we would have missed out on this,” he mumbled, eyeing your figure. You were pressed against his chest, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead caused by the humidity outside glistened underneath the overhead light of the backseat. He thought you looked precious with your cheek half smushed against him. “I think it was fun.”

And, in all honesty, it was. He had taken you out to a new restaurant near campus, paying the bill before you could even take your credit card out and buying you ice cream (double scoop, you felt very spoiled) afterwards. As much as you enjoyed it, it felt far too domestic for your current relationship status—if you could even call it that.

You’d dismissed it as two friends hanging out, but his lingering hands and lips felt too close for comfort. Renjun’s words from earlier in the day hung around in your subconscious; you’d always heard about situations like yours turning into full-fledged relationships or going downhill so quickly that they never spoke again, and the latter scared you too much to think about. Not to mention that going back to being just friends seemed too awkward for you, which made the thought of acting like Haechan hadn’t seen and felt every part of you too embarrassing to dwell on.

He noticed your silence, a slight crease between your brows telling him you were thinking too much for your own good.

“What are you thinking about?”

“I just have a ton of homework,” you lied, creating a bit of space between the two of you.

“It’s only Friday, you have the whole weekend,” he said. “Live a little.” Haechan shoved your shoulder playfully, a smirk adorning his lips.

You snorted, “I think I’ve been living a lot, Haechan.”

“Don’t call me by my name,” he grumbled, sitting upright.

“And what should I call you then?”

His eyes became downcast, a soft, pink blush dusting his cheeks. “Nevermind. Just… don't worry about your homework, okay? Enjoy this.”

You nodded silently, staring out the windshield and at the small boats that seemed to float on the lake like toys in a bathtub. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden hue on both the car and Haechan.

He looked ethereal, the setting sun lighting up his brown hair in small flames. His dark eyes were lit up a hazelnut color, and the moles that littered his face looked like they were small stars on the detailed canvas that was Lee Haechan. The rays of light kissed his honeyed skin so delicately, you thought he could rival Helios with the way the sun adorned him.

Only he could make something as simple as sitting in a car feel so meaningful. The mere sight of him made your heart race. You felt warmth wash over your body at the thought of him being yours—even if it was just for a moment, and through the childish label of friends with benefits.

It felt like your chest was bursting with happiness—along with an underlying feeling of dread.

When he met your focused gaze, giving you an award-winning smile with those perfect teeth and supple lips that made your stomach flip, you could already hear Renjun saying I told you so in your ear.

𖥻 04 - PILOT OF CONFESSIONS

Haechan was perched on the edge of the recliner, his headset on and thumbs moving faster than the speed of light as he yelled commands at whom you could only assume was Mark. He tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth during his state of focus, eyes flitting across the screen as he watched out for other people coming to shoot him.

“Mark, you’re supposed to be watching my back!” he groaned in frustration as his character died, throwing himself back onto the chair with a frown. You looked up from your laptop and stifled a laugh at his antics, peering over at Jiyoon to see her glaring in his direction.

She rolled her eyes. “Dude, stop screaming. It’s not that serious.”

“You wouldn’t get it Jiyoon. It’s not like you’re doing anything important,” he replied, standing up to stretch. “You’ve been on your phone this whole time, I thought you were supposed to be doing homework?” His shirt exposed a sliver of his stomach when he brought his arms far above his head, making you look away quickly.

Jiyoon grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at his body, but he caught it with ease. “Shut up, you look like a fuckin’ pilot with that ridiculous headset on,” she grumbled, slumping back onto the couch and staring at the TV while he started another game.

“You’re both annoying,” you stated, not sparing them a glance while you closed your laptop softly, “and as much as I enjoy the cute sibling fights, I’ve gotta go.”

Haechan took his headset off, resting it around his neck. “Where are you going?”

“I have important business with Renjun. He’s outside already.”

He looked between you and his sister in confusion, noting how she wasn’t taken by surprise the same way he was. You hugged Jiyoon goodbye and slung your book bag over your shoulder, walking towards the front door as Haechan put his body in front of yours.

A cheeky smile played on his lips as he stared at you expectantly. “What about my hug goodbye?”

Jiyoon let out a laugh, waiting to see what you’d do.

“I don’t think so. Maybe next time,” you assured him, squeezing his shoulder softly.

He watched you leave the apartment and pulled his headset off completely, tossing it onto his seat with a sigh.

“Upset you didn’t get a hug?” his sister teased from her spot.

Haechan sat down next to her, ignoring the question. “Are her and Renjun… a thing?” he asked, turning to face her.

She would have burst out laughing had she not looked at him and seen something he’d never willingly show—insecurity.

“No, why would you think that?’ she questioned, a crease between her brows. “And more importantly, why do you care?” She mentally groaned at how bitchy it sounded after she spoke, but he remained unfazed.

“I was just wondering. They seem really close.”

“Hey, I’m close with Renjun too, y'know. Why didn’t you ever ask if we were a thing?” she joked.

He glared at Jiyoon, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you seriously asking that? I think you like girls more than I do.”

“Okay,” Jiyoon brought her hands up in defense, rolling her eyes. “I see where you’re coming from.”

She still looked at him strangely because after growing up together and knowing exactly how he’d react to certain situations, it was blaringly obvious there was more to this than pure curiosity.

“Is there something else, Hyuck?” She hadn’t used the nickname in forever, but she felt it was necessary for a (potential) heart-to-heart.

“You promise not to get mad?” he asked, sticking out his pinky.

She nodded, wrapping her smaller one around his.

“I think I really like her,” he mumbled.

Jiyoon blinked in surprise, lowering her pinky slowly. She wasn’t angry, that was for sure—she’d never seen her brother be so genuine about something, and it made her bubble in an unfamiliar happiness. Haechan stared at her unreadable expression, half afraid she’d blow up on him in a fit of rage and go on a rant about how you were off limits to him.

“I can’t believe it. My brother likes my best friend!” she finally squealed, throwing her arms over his shoulders and pulling him into a hug. “I should have expected this though.”

Haechan blinked in confusion, his arms embracing Jiyoon hesitantly. “Uh, why?”

She pulled away from the embrace, holding Haechan away from her by his shoulders. “Looking back, you kind of made it obvious,” she said with a shrug. “Who would voluntarily spend that much time around their sister’s best friend if they weren’t getting anything out of it?”

He stayed quiet. It wasn’t like he planned on spending more time with you and making something out of it—it just happened to go that way. It was the universe’s plan, if you will.

“Okay, but you can’t say anything, Yoon.”

Her head bobbed enthusiastically. “I promise.”

The bright smile on her face tugged at his heart. He hadn’t told her the full truth, but half was better than nothing, right?

𖥻 05 - RENJUN’S SIXTH SENSE

“So what you’re telling me is… I was right,” Renjun rubbed his chin, “and I fuckin’ told you so.”

You groaned at his triumphant smirk, burying your face in your hands. “Don’t rub it in, asshole. I’ll take my feelings back right now.”

Renjun snorted, rolling his eyes as he leaned back and took a drink of his milk tea. “You couldn’t even if you tried. You’re in too deep.”

“I’m definitely not.”

“Okay, so tell me how you figured it out.” He quirked an eyebrow at you, awaiting a response.

“We went out the day Jiyoon was complaining about not having the car,” you began, tracing shapes onto the condensation that had built up on your cup. “We were both in the backseat-”

“If this is going where I think it is, spare me the details,” he interrupted you with a grimace on his face. “We’re best friends, but I do not need to hear about Haechan’s di-”

“Oh please shut up,” you groaned. “Anyways, we were just sitting there, not even saying anything, but it felt so right. He looked perfect.” Your eyes were glazed over, like you were in the backseat of Haechan’s car all over again.

He watched as your face fell, and you stared at your lap like a child being scolded. Renjun felt his expression relax, the sight of you so vulnerable hit a nerve he didn’t know existed. “Hey, why do you look so down? This is supposed to be a good thing,” Renjun said softly, reaching over to grab your hand in his. “C’mon, talk to me.”

“I’m really excited about this, believe me. But Ji…” you trailed off, avoiding his eyes. As much as you enjoyed being around Haechan, you couldn’t help but think of what Jiyoon would say if she saw you. She wouldn’t shame you or start reciting every swear word in the book, but the thought of her being disappointed was scarier than anything else. It was a constant, nagging feeling in the back of your brain every time you laid on his bed or pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I might sound like a shitty friend right now, but fuck it.” Renjun sat back in his chair with a shrug. “Don’t put everything on hold because you’re scared of what she’s gonna say. Ji is pretty understanding, and even though these are special circumstances, it’s nothing a little communication can’t fix.”

You nodded, but you still looked unconvinced.

He squinted at you, lips pursed in thought. “That’s not all, is it?”

You shook your head. “I think I’m just scared of a relationship in general,” you admitted. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far.”

“What do you mean?” Renjun asked, his posture slouched as he leaned towards you.

“Catching feelings. It’s such a cliche, but it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“It’s a little too late for that,” he said, “but you can’t stop yourself from enjoying it ‘cause you’re scared.” He ran a hand through his neatly parted hair, the action causing strands to stick upward.

“I don’t wanna end up hurt,” you mumbled, eyes downcast as you played with the rips on your jeans.

“You won’t,” he assured you. “You’re only gonna get hurt if you keep denying what you feel.”

“What if this just fucks everything up?”

“Y/N,” Renjun sighed, “your relationship with him wasn’t normal to begin with. Stop trying to make excuses for yourself.”

You drummed your fingers against the table. “I’m just gonna take it day by day then; try not to be so scared about it.”

“Exactly. And if things do go south, you’ll still have one Lee sibling and me.”

“Yeah, I’d be pretty okay with just you and Ji,” you noted with a smile. “I am sorry I put you in the middle of this though.”

He waved you off, pulling his straw away from his lips to reply. “I kinda like knowing everything. Makes me feel powerful,” he grinned.

“You’re such a sucker for drama,” you laughed, grateful for the shift in mood. “Oh, and Jiyoon convinced Haechan and I to go to Jaehyun’s party tomorrow.”

His eyebrows raised. “You and Haechan? At the same party? Together?”

“Yes, you bozo, that’s what I just said.”

“I’d so go just to see you guys expose yourselves,” he sighed, “but I have to work.”

“It’s like you want to see us fuck up.”

He shrugged. “You guys would do that all on your own.”

You chewed on the tip of your straw, staring him down through narrowed eyes. “If you weren’t my best friend, I’d toss this drink in your face.”

“You wouldn’t.” He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You can’t afford to throw away an almost full cup of boba on your budget.”

𖥻 06 - PRIVATE IN PUBLIC

Jiyoon was too persuasive for her own good.

You were apprehensive about the idea of coming to the party when she first mentioned it, the thought of all those people you didn’t know reeking of weed and alcohol was enough to keep you at bay—but you still found yourself in the middle of Jaehyun’s living room.

You sat on the worn out couch of the house, the bass coming from the speakers vibrating in the soles of your feet and traveling up your body in waves. The leather cushions were soft beneath your fingertips and your hair stuck to the back of your neck with a light layer of sweat from the humidity in the home. Jiyoon was in your line of sight, standing at the end of the staircase and smiling at whatever Yerim was saying as their fingers interlocked.

A pair of thighs blocked your view, and you looked up to see Haechan smiling down at you. The multi-colored led lights painted his face an array of blues, pinks, and greens, his eyes glinting with each flash of light.

“Here, for you,” he said, holding out your third solo cup of the night. You grabbed it from his hand and took a small sip while he sat down, his jean-clad legs rubbing against the side of your thigh.

“Scooch over,” you muttered, softly pushing your elbow into his side. “You’re in my personal bubble.”

He scoffed, snaking his arm around your waist and resting his hand on your hip. He lowered his mouth to your ear, his lips brushing against your hair as he said, “C’mon, I’ve been in more than your personal bubble.” He pulled away and chuckled at the shocked laugh that escaped your lips.

You made a space between the two of you, letting his hand drop from your hip. “Leave enough room for Jesus, Donghyuck. You’re actin’ up.”

He shook his head in amusement, taking a large gulp from his cup.

“Anyways, I like how Jiyoon ditched us,” he motioned his head in her direction, “after she practically begged us to come with her.”

You eyed the short-haired girl across the room, her soft features lit up with a grin. “You and I both know she came for Yerim. We were just a cover-up.”

There was a silence between the two of you for a moment, filled up with the loud music and laughter in the living room rather than conversation. Your head moved along to the song playing, catching Haechan’s attention. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he slid it out, turning it face up to read the notification.

[1:00am] seester: gonna leave with yerim rn, prob gonna spend the night. text when ur home, love u :D

His eyes drew away from the bright screen and towards the front door to barely catch Jiyoon leaving the house, Yerim trailing behind her. He turned back to you, your head still bobbing to the rhythm of the r&b song bouncing off the walls.

“C’mon, let's dance,” he said, taking your hand in his to pull you up from the couch. Weaving his way through the people, he got to a less crowded spot and brought you closer to him. His warm hands found purchase on your waist, a dopey smile adorning his face as he looked down on you.

You focused your gaze away from him, warmth rushing to your cheeks. He didn’t mind; it gave him all the more time to relish in your appearance while you moved against each other. It seemed like the moment you brought your hands up to his neck the people around you seemed to fade out, and there you stood at the center of his world.

A sheen of sweat covered your body, your skin glittering like diamonds under the multi-colored lights. Blue and pink luminescence stroked your body like a paint brush, the lustrous material of your satin dress shifting colors every time you moved. You looked surreal.

The corners of your lips turned up in a shy smile as you looked up at him, and he really thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest any second now.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured. His hands tugged you flush against his body, a dazed look in his eyes as he studied every inch of your face. Your fingers curled into his hair, butterflies erupting in your stomach at his words. “So gorgeous, and so mine.”

He leaned down, licking his lips. The blend of his wood and citrus scented cologne swirled around you like smoke, overtaking your senses as he got closer to your face. The rest of the room was still buzzing with life, but you and Haechan were at a standstill. His gaze flickered between your eyes and parted lips for a moment before he cupped your cheek in his hand, closing the gap between you.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, deafening the noises around you. Haechan’s plush lips moved against yours, the mixture of pineapple juice and whiskey he had been sipping lingering on your mouth. The material of his shirt stuck to your chest when he pulled you closer, the buttons down the middle of his top pressing into your skin.

You’d kissed him hundreds of times, but this one made your skin feel like it was on fire. There was no rush to it, no crudeness. Everything he did felt right. His fingertips dug into your hips, trying to draw you in impossibly close. Your nails grazed his scalp when he caught your bottom lip between his teeth, causing him to pull away with a smile. The way your lips glistened had him captivated; he was made to do this to you.

The realization that you were still surrounded by people began trickling in, but everyone was too caught up in their own world or partner’s lips to give you a second glance.

“Maybe we can get going?” Haechan asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

You nodded, and Haechan took your hand in his, moving away from the mass of people and towards the entrance. The fresh air engulfed you right as you stepped out while the cool November breeze created goosebumps along your exposed arms and legs.

The car unlocked with a click, and he held the passenger side open for you, shutting the door softly once you got in. The ride to his apartment was long and quiet, a wave of drowsiness hitting you the further Haechan drove. You rested your temple on the cool window and closed your eyes, letting the small bumps in the road lull you to sleep.

In your drowsy state, you could feel his warm hand rubbing comforting circles onto the flesh of your thigh. “Sleepy?” he asked softly.

You nodded, turning your head and opening your eyes. He focused on the road ahead, softly humming the song you danced to at the party. It felt oddly domestic; rare were the moments where you both sat quietly in a comfortable silence, the warmth of your bodies shared with a wandering hand or intertwined fingers. The space was often filled with Haechan’s unabating conversation or stories about his day, your mindless commentary thrown in between his rants as you played with his hair—but now you savored the silence and time you had to observe him.

You wanted more of that.

By the time he had sat you on his bed and took your dress off, your eyes were so heavy with sleep you didn’t mind him taking care of you. You sat against the headboard, your neck lolling to the side every time you dozed off involuntarily. The small lamp on his bedside table provided the only light in his room, its soft glow covering the expanse of the bed.

“Hey, stay awake,” Haechan instructed, pulling an old t-shirt of his over your head. “Why don’t you get under the covers? I’m gonna be back.”

Your movements were lethargic, his charcoal-colored duvet suddenly feeling like it weighed fifty pounds as you pushed it back and tucked yourself beneath them. The sheets below it were cold, causing a shiver to flutter up your legs and toward your upper body. Nestling further into his pillow, you let your eyelids close in pleasure as the smell of his shampoo surrounded you.

You could hear Haechan in the bathroom talking to himself and moving things around until he let out a satisfied aha, likely finding whatever it was he needed. His footsteps were soft against the hardwood floor, and you could feel a dip in the bed where he sat down near your hip.

“I need you awake for a few minutes, that’s it,” he said, brushing a piece of hair away from your eyes.

You opened your eyes and squinted up at him, eyeing the packet of wipes in his hands. “I’m up,” you muttered, giving him a thumbs up.

He let out a laugh, snapping the plastic lid open and pulling a wipey out. He gently cleaned your face, careful not to wipe roughly beneath your eyes. Jiyoon had always mentioned how it was sensitive, and she was extra careful when wiping her face to prevent wrinkles. It was safe to say he picked up a few things from her.

“Thanks,” you sighed.

“Mhm, gotta make sure you don’t sleep with that stuff on your face. Jiyoon says it’s bad.”

“It is,” you mumbled, pausing as he continued cleaning your skin, “I miss Jiyoon.”

He hummed, tossing the used wipe in the small trash can next to his bed. “Me too, but I’m sure she’s having fun with Yerim.”

You let out a loud yawn, and Haechan’s lips quirked into a smile at the way your nose scrunched up.

“Are we done? I’m sleepy.”

“Yeah, I’ll take the couch,” he replied, getting up on his feet.

“No, sleep with me,” you mumbled, pulling the covers back to make space for him. “Too cold to be by yourself.”

If you weren’t half-asleep, you probably would have noticed the way his face lit up. “Are you sure?”

“Mhm, I’m too used to sleeping with you. Can’t be alone anymore.”

His breath hitched, but you didn’t seem to notice, too busy cocooning yourself with his blankets. He rarely lost his train of thought, but there seemed to be no problem with doing it when you were around.

“Yeah, okay. Scooch.”

It didn’t take long for you to latch onto him as you fell asleep again, your breath slowing and cheek pressed against his upper arm. Having you next to him always provided a bit more warmth and comfort, but now it felt different. It wasn’t just from your body heat or soft skin, it was from you and everything you meant to him.

He didn’t think he could be alone anymore either.

𖥻 07 - JUST PRETTY

The morning after with Haechan typically felt rushed; it was a flurry of bare skin, messy blankets, and bleary eyes in search of stray pieces of clothing—much different in comparison to today.

You took your time in waking up, stretching your legs out of their tucked position until they were almost cramped and keeping your eyes shut even as the morning light begged for you to look at it. Haechan slept next to you, your hand bunching up the material of his t-shirt as you nestled into him. There was no panic to wake up before Jiyoon saw, and you could thank Yerim for that.

Haechan’s hand ran up the side of your bare thigh and rested on your hip, pulling you closer to his body. “Are you awake?” he mumbled.

You nodded and moved onto your stomach, your chin resting on his chest. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really good, had a nice dream.” He brought his hand up to your hair, running his fingers through the strands.

“Yeah? About what?”

His eyebrows pinched in the middle. “Oh. I uh, don’t remember,” his voice trailed off quickly before switching topics. “Do you have something to do today?”

You studied him skeptically, your eyebrows pinched together. “Weirdo,” you muttered under your breath, “but I don’t. We can get something to eat if you want.”

“Anything you’re craving right now?”

“This spot by my house makes a really good broccoli cheddar soup,” you began. “It's their Sunday special. We can take it to my place.” You gazed up at him, your eyes twinkling in the morning light as you mindlessly played with the hem of his t-shirt.

He smiled and stroked your cheek, a smile gracing your lips in return. “I’ll give you some sweats and we can go.”

The diner was a block down from where you lived, its exterior painted a terracotta color with its name emblazoned the side of it in stark white paint. You resided on the first floor of an older, two-story building, and the inside was just as Haechan expected it to be; cozy, inviting, and so you.

The distinct smell of lavender and mint surrounded him as soon as he stepped in, along with a hint of acrylic paint. A small shoe rack was by the front door, pairs of sneakers lined up with your favorite beat-up white Nikes tossed haphazardly next to them. The small table beside the rack held a colorful bowl with your university ID, a pack of gum, and now your house keys.

“You can go put it down over there,” you instructed, pointing towards your small kitchen. “I’m gonna go get some socks.”

He walked further into the apartment and looked around, setting the aromatic soup onto the counter beside the stove. The walls of your place were a cashmere color, the vibrant, hunter green of your numerous plants a pretty contrast against them. An elm wood coffee table with notebooks stacked beside it sat in front of your beige couch, its arm covered by a mustard yellow throw blanket (which he’d definitely take a nap with later.)

It all looked so lived in, but not in a bad way.

Paint brushes were scattered near the kitchen sink, and a flimsy calendar was tacked up on the fridge with a heart-shaped magnet, your neat writing filling almost all the dates up. It was a messy kind of organized, and it was something only you could pull off.

By now you’d come back out, your feet clad in mismatched fuzzy socks. “Okay, we can eat now.”

He took the soup out from the brown bag as you grabbed two gray bowls and spoons, setting them down on the counter softly. Once they were filled, you handed one to Haechan and led him over to the living room. You sat cross legged on the floor, waiting for him to get down next to you before you ate.

“I’m surprised I’ve never been here,” Haechan began, “I was starting to think you lived at my place.”

You let out a laugh, your spoon hitting against the glass bowl. “Jiyoon practically holds me hostage there, and don’t get me started on when you tell me to stay the night,” you teased.

“Don’t act like you don’t wanna do it either, you always enjoy your stays.”

“Or so you think, Hyuck,” you sighed, patting his shoulder softly. “I just don’t wanna hurt your feelings.”

“You must be a pretty good actress, last week you were a mess-”

“Hey! Uncalled for!” you jabbed at his ribs with your elbow. “Anyways, I was actually gonna tell you we should start coming over here.”

“You prefer your room?” he asked, shoveling a spoonful of broccoli into his mouth.

You shook your head. “Not that, just to hangout. I remembered you wanted me to teach you how I made those little clay bowls,” you explained, “I bought new clay.”

He smiled to himself, recalling when he first asked you about them months ago. “You remembered that?”

“Duh, I waited for weeks to get an email that it was back in stock.”

“Look at you, going out of your way for me.” he smirked.

“Well I needed it for a class too,” you mumbled, shoving his shoulder. “You’re not that special.”

“No thanks, I’ll hear what I wanna hear.”

A comfortable silence fell over the room after that, the only noises coming from the two of you blowing on your spoonfuls of soup or the occasional scrape of metal against glass. He snuck a few glances at you, the t-shirt and sweatpants you’d borrowed from his closet fit loosely on your body and the mismatched socks tied the look together.

“It’s not nice to stare, Lee Donghyuck,” you hummed, continuing to scoop soup into your mouth.

A surge of confidence washed over him. “It’s hard not to.”

“Oh yeah?” You quirked a brow. “Why’s that?”

“You’re too pretty for me not to stare.”

You let your spoon fall into your bowl, eyes widened as you stared at his smug expression.

“What?” he asked.

“Uh, this is the part where you add in a dirty joke or something.”

“There’s no joke,” he laughed. “You’re just pretty.”

“Well, I guess you’re just pretty too.” You turned your attention back to your food, trying to save face.

He’d complimented you before, but it was always in the heat of the moment or when he was too blissed out to think straight. The genuine tone of voice he spoke with made your stomach do somersaults and your heart beat loudly in your ears. You tried to ignore his stare, but you could feel the way he lingered on your face as you focused on your bowl like it was a world renowned masterpiece.

It was rare that he saw you flustered, but he wanted to make it happen more often.

𖥻 08 - OUR FAVORITE SWEATER

Haechan was slowly taking over your apartment.

It started with him bringing his favorite blanket over and leaving it, stating it was “for future movie nights.” Then, he left so many t-shirts behind that you cleared up a space in your dresser to house them.

The last straw was when he left your—er, his—favorite sweater hung up on a chair in the kitchen.

“Hey, I accidentally left a couple shirts here,” he protested. “You act like I’m moving in.”

“Haechan, be real,” you deadpanned. “I had to clear space in my dresser to put away all the stuff you’ve accidentally left.”

“Well, yeah, but I figured leaving our sweater here would be okay!”

“Our sweater?”

“You like it just as much as I do,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You—okay, fine. I’ll give you that,” you sighed, “but you don't need all these t-shirts here!”

“I like to be prepared! What if one day you rip off my shirt and I—”

You cut him off, “What the fuck am I? A feral animal?”

He put his hands up in defense. “What you see yourself as is none of my business babe, but I think it’s okay to leave spare hoodies and shirts.”

“So you admit you left them here on purpose?”

“Mmm,” he pursed his lips, “that’s not what I said.”

You let out a loud groan, going over to your bed to sit down. “If you wanna move in so bad, just say that.”

“Move in? I think we’re going too fast. At least take me out first, yeah?”

You threw your teddy bear in his direction, resting your back on the headboard. “Moving too fast isn’t a thing for us,” you said. “We skipped over a few chapters in case you didn’t notice.”

He came over to the bed and laid on his stomach, his cheek pressed against your thigh. “Sometimes you don’t gotta go in order.”

“Yeah? In order of what?”

He raised his head, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I’m not sure yet.”

After Haechan left, you realized you couldn’t catch a break from him or Jiyoon.

You had a solid five minutes to yourself before a knock sounded on your door. Peering out the peephole, you saw Jiyoon’s rosy cheeks and mussed hair.

“Y/N, I know you’re home!”

You turned the top lock and swung the door open, a hand on your hip as she grinned at you. “I cannot have any alone time.”

She pushed past you, kicking her shoes off and tossing them on the floor near yours. “Alone time doesn’t exist, sorry,” she exhaled. “I haven’t seen you in forever, wanted to pay a little visit.”

You closed the front door and joined Jiyoon in the living room, plopping down next to her and putting the control on her lap.

“You’ve been watching this show so much,” she began, “how does it not creep you out?”

“What? The bodies?”

“Yeah. I mean, I get it’s fake, but sometimes they look so real,” she shuddered.

“C’mon Ji, you’re just a baby,” you groaned.

She huffed, exiting from your crime show and scrolling up to the search bar. “I don’t care! I'm still gonna change it, you little creep.”

You let out a loud laugh, hugging a pillow close to your body. “You’re such a fuckin’ loser.”

“A loser with a girlfriend,” she teased in a singsong tone.

“What! Since when?”

“Since the party,” she grinned. “After we left we went to some little fast food place, she started going on about how she really likes me.”

“Ji,” you cooed, “I’m so happy for you.”

“I just feel so good about this,” she sighed dreamily. “I explained to her I’m not the most experienced with relationships and Yerim said we can move as slow as I’d like.”

“I’m glad. There’s no need to rush anything.”

She nodded, giving you a small smile. “What about you, hmm? Anyone capture your attention?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” you mumbled.

Jiyoon tapped her fingers against the remote, her eyes flitting around the living room before zeroing in on the kitchen table and standing up abruptly. “Hey, is this Haechan’s?” she asked, picking the grey sweater up.

“Oh, yeah. I borrowed it the night of the party,” you lied.

A moment of silence passed before she walked over to the couch and sat down again. “Can I uh, tell you something? And you have to keep it a secret.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve been holding this in for weeks Y/N,” she whined. “The longest I’ve ever kept a secret in the entire history of my life!”

“Okay, tell me.”

“Alright, but you can’t say anything. I mean, I wasn’t supposed to say anything either but—”

You squeezed your eyes shut and let out a groan, throwing your pillow at her. “Lee Jiyoon, spit it out you overly dramatic bitch!”

She let out a loud gasp and her pink lips formed into an ‘o’ as she narrowed her eyes at you. “Well now I can’t say it, your attitude was unnecessary.”

“That’s fine with me, I don't ca—”

“Okay fine, you got me,” she interrupted. “Haechan likes you, like, really likes you.”

You blinked and waited for Jiyoon to start laughing, but she stared at you blankly instead. You felt the color drain from your face and your stomach twist in discomfort, her sudden confession catching you off guard.

“Did he—did he say that to you?”

She nodded. “It was when you left our place to hang out with Renjun, he seemed really serious about it,” she began, biting back a smile as she thought back to the event. “And I’ve never said anything to you or him, but sometimes I saw these looks you gave each other, like there was something more.”

You swallowed thickly, waiting for her to continue.

“I brushed it off as nothing, but then I saw you guys the night of the party.” She smiled softly. “Y/N, he adores you. He hasn’t dated since high school, and I know you’re not one for relationships either, but I just… hope you try.”

Here she was, trying to convince you of her brother's feelings when you had been trying to avoid them for weeks on end. You couldn’t lie to yourself and act like you didn’t see it; it didn’t take a genius to figure out from the beginning that this was where your little partnership with Haechan would end up.

You stayed silent for a moment, your eyes trained on the grey sweater she held in her hands. “I don’t know what to say, Ji,” you whispered.

She stood up, dropping the hoodie onto your lap softly. “You don’t have to say anything, just think about it, okay?”

𖥻 09 - CLAY BOWLS

You’d woken up in a cold sweat, your room tinted a murky blue from the light outside and birds chirping loudly in the distance. It felt like you couldn’t move; your eyes remained focused on the ceiling as you placed your hand on your chest to slow your breathing, blinking to adjust to the low light of the room. Jiyoon’s words bounced around in your head while you lay in bed, and you had mulled over your options late into the night before you fell asleep.

Haechan had sent you messages asking how your day had gone and if you ate anything, but they remained unopened. You couldn’t bring yourself to reply, let alone look at the tiny contact photo of him pouting above his name without feeling horrible. It was funny, knowing how you wanted to avoid Haechan like the plague even though you harbored the same feelings as him.

Your phone lit up with a notification, the bright screen casting a light over the ceiling.

[7:00am] haechan: ur prob sleeping, but i hope ur feeling okay

[7:01am] haechan: are we still on for today after my class?

[7:01am] you: i’m up, feeling better. we’re still on

For once, you had to listen to Renjun. You couldn’t keep running away from your problems even if it was easier to avoid them; you didn’t deserve that, and neither did Haechan.

You were able to fall back asleep for a few more hours after your short exchange with Haechan, and by now the sun had fully risen and painted a soft light over your apartment. Your nerves still pulled at your insides, but you tried to subdue the feeling by catching up on your show.

[1:30pm] haechan: i’ll be there soon, i’ll use the spare

A smile tugged at your lips.

[1:30pm] you: alright, see you then :]

A few weeks ago, you’d gotten home to find Haechan sitting on your front steps, his nose a soft pink from sitting in the cold.

“I wanted to see you, but then my phone died and I couldn’t text,” he had explained with a pout.

You remember laughing at his pout before lifting the flower pot beside him and pointing at the silver key. “You can let yourself in next time.”

Now that he knew where the spare was, you’d often find him on the couch watching a show or taking a nap as he hugged the throw blanket you kept there. You didn’t care to admit it made your heart stutter every time you caught him with his mouth agape, soft snores leaving his lips after a “long” day.

The sound of the door opening drew you from your thoughts, and the sight of him so relaxed made your fingers fidget with the rips on your jeans.

He smiled at you, dropping his book bag on the floor. “Hi.”

“Hi. How was class?”

“It was okay,” he replied. “My professor just lectured the whole time, I took a quick nap.”

“Shouldn’t sleep during class, Donghyuck.”

“My legal name? What’s gotten into you?” he joked.

You gave him a half-hearted smile and stood up from the couch, ignoring his watchful stare as you made your way into the kitchen.

“Hey, you okay?” Haechan asked. He tilted his head softly, eyes watching you carefully.

“I just feel tired. Let's get started with the clay, yeah?”

His lips parted as if to speak, but he stopped himself and sat beside you instead, waiting patiently as you slid over a chunk of clay.

“You can knead it for a little bit, soften it up,” you instructed. “I’ll show you how to use the tools when we get to that part.”

His nimble fingers began to change color as he kneaded, thin layers of the clay staining them terracotta.

“Use this little knife to cut stuff out, you can make whatever you’d like,” you said, sliding the tool over to Haechan with your elbow as you continued kneading.

“What’re you gonna make?”

You thought for a moment. “A little plate for my earrings.”

“I’ll make one too then, for my rings. Will you show me?”

You nodded, and although you’d practiced it enough to do it with your eyes closed, you worked slowly so he could copy what you did. He followed your movements carefully and scored the edges of his clay, spreading slip on it with his pointer finger.

Pausing to look over at his work, your eyebrows raised in slight surprise. “You caught on pretty fast,” you mused.

His eyes remained on his project while he attached a separate piece of clay to the base, smoothing over the edges where they met. “I have a great teacher.”

After a few more silent minutes of helping him fix little mistakes and comparing your creations, you put them down together to dry. “I got us air dry clay, that way I don’t have to bake it,” you explained. “We can paint them another day.”

“Y’know, I was expecting something like that scene from Ghost,” he joked. “I was ready for you to wrap your arms around me and teach me.”

You let out a breathy laugh, standing up from the chair and walking towards the sink to wash your hands. “Not today.”

He followed close behind you and rested his chin on your shoulder as you washed your hands. “Hey, seriously. Is everything okay?” he whispered. “You’ve been really quiet.”

Ignoring his question, you lightly shrugged his chin off of you as you scrubbed your hands furiously.

“Hey,” he pushed, reaching over to turn the water off. “What’s your problem?”

“I wasn't done washing my hands.”

A twinge of frustration laced his voice as he spoke, “I don’t care, talk to me.”

You turned around to look at him, his dirty hands resting on his hips as he stared you down. “Nothing’s wrong, Donghyuck.”

“You know you can’t lie to me, right? It’s so obvious when you do,” he snarked. “You can never go to bed without saying goodnight, and yesterday you did that and ignored my messages.”

“You say this like we’re dating. Why do you care?”

He cocked his head to the side, your words stinging as he processed them. “Why do I care? Because something is obviously going on.”

You pushed past him and walked towards your bedroom, his heavy footsteps sounding behind you. “You—you care too much, Donghyuck,” you huffed. “Stop it.”

“I can’t.”

“Well, you should. I’ll even help you out.”

“What are you talking about?” he questioned.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him. He stared at you quizzically, his eyebrows pinched together as he waited for you to respond.

“We need a break,” you said bleakly.

Haechan let out a laugh of disbelief, his arms crossed over his chest. “A break from what? Fucking without feelings?” he jeered. “I’d say we’re pretty well past that!”

“I didn’t say that!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

“Well you implied it, and that’s as good as anything,” he yelled back. “I’m so fucking in love with you and you can’t see it.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your vision blurred, making Haechan a mosaic of indistinguishable colors. His narrowed eyes softened as he caught sight of a tear rolling down your cheek, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth.

You collapsed onto the foot of the bed, your hands gripping your thighs. “Haechan you cannot say that to me,” you whispered. “Please don’t use that word.”

“I won’t ever force you into something, you know that,” he said. “But I can’t pretend nothing is going on.”

“Can you at least try? For me?”

He dropped down in front of you, his legs folded beneath him as his hands grabbed yours. They were rough, flakes of dried clay falling onto your jeans. “I know what goes on in my head, baby,” he said. “I can’t pretend, and I don’t want to either.”

By now your tears had begun to fall harder, the wet droplets soaking into your olive shirt and staining it a darker shade. Your face felt hot, the entire room blurry as you tried blinking them back.

“I know something’s going on in that pretty head of yours. I’ve noticed,” Haechan murmured softly. He lifted your chin up and made you look at him, his thumb wiping stray tears from your cheeks. “Say it.”

You shook your head, swallowing back sobs as tears welled up in his eyes. “Please, you’re killing me,” he begged.

He squeezed your hands, hoping to elicit a response from you. You kept shaking your head, lips pressed into a thin line as if someone had sewn them shut for you.

Haechan’s eyes searched your face, hoping to find a silent response from you. The longer you stood quiet the further he strayed from you, and the distraught feeling that snaked itself around his throat made it feel hard to breathe.

After a few more moments of silence, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles and released your hands, letting them fall onto your lap. “That’s all I needed to know,” he mumbled.

You watched him leave the room, his shoulders drooping downward and steps defeated as he walked out with your tears on his hands. Once the door slammed shut, you made your way to the kitchen and sat down in your spot from earlier, staring blankly at his clay bowl.

Maybe he wouldn’t get to paint it after all.

𖥻 10 - REALITY CHECK

Even when he was gone, all you could see was Haechan.

The t-shirts he’d left at your apartment remained untouched in your drawer, his hoodie was still thrown over the arm of your couch, and his now hardened clay bowl remained in the center of your table. It felt like a bad breakup, albeit there was no relationship to break up in the first place.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move his things into a bag or out of your line of sight either; every time you pulled your drawer open to grab a pair of socks, his t-shirts sat there neatly folded, practically taunting you about your biggest fuck up so far. At times you thought about getting rid of them, but you knew the reason everything remained the same in your apartment was because a part of you hoped he’d come back. You hoped he’d be sleeping on your couch after you got home one day, or maybe he’d join you in finally painting the clay bowls you had made together. You hoped that even after you fucked up, he’d be able to see the good in you.

“Why does he have to see the good in you?” Your head snapped up and you met Renjun’s eyes, his brows pinched together in confusion.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, dumbass,” he muttered. “Why does he have to be the one who comes to you?”

You rubbed your arm, lips quirked to the side in thought. “I just, y’know, want him to understand I didn’t mean it,” you mumbled.

Renjun leaned forward in his chair, interlocking his fingers. “To be honest, I wouldn’t want anything to do with you. You know you have feelings for him, why couldn’t you admit that when he was bearing his soul to you like you were in some shitty Shakespeare play?”

“I was scared!” you exclaimed. “He was laying it all on me, and I just didn’t know what to say.”

“We’ve literally gone over this,” the raven-haired boy groaned, “don’t fuck things up for yourself because you’re scared.”

“Y’know, that’s really easy for you to say considering it’s not happening to you!”

He scoffed. “Damn straight. I don’t need anyone,” he said matter-of-factly, “but you two idiots need each other.”

“I guess so,” you muttered. “I regret pushing him away.”

“I told you not to.”

You rested your chin in the palm of your hand, eyes squinted in his direction. “You’re a shitty therapist, Huang.”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” he asked sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware, give me a minute.”

You watched in amusement as he straightened his posture and picked up his glasses from the table, placing the thin frame on his slender nose bridge. “Therapist Huang is ready to see you now. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Wait, before we start, are you charging by the hour?” you asked, stifling a laugh. “I only have five dollars in cash.”

He pursed his lips for a moment, thinking to himself. “I’ll charge by how much emotional baggage you have,” Renjun said. “And don’t worry about paying, I also take Venmo and PayPal.”

A fake smile was plastered on his face as he finished speaking, earning a loud laugh from you.

“It’s nice to see you laughing now,” he mused, a smile tugging at his lips. “I know you’re still upset, but there’s no point in being stuck on what you didn’t do—focus on what you can do.”

You gave him a thumbs up. “You’re like a walking inspirational quotes page.”

Renjun let out a frustrated sigh and pinched his nose bridge. “Thank you for ruining my moment.”

“I’m only encouraging you!”

He shook his head and took his glasses off again, the wiry frame hitting the table with a soft clang! as he set them down. “Therapy session over,” he deadpanned. “Let's get down to business.”

“What business?”

“The business. Keep up!” Renjun groaned. “What’re you gonna tell Haechan?”

You leaned your chin on your palm, lips pursed in thought. “Well, I’d like to apologize to h—”

“Well no shit.” Renjun’s eyes widened as he realized what he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

You glared at him. “As I was saying, I wanna apologize properly, y’know? Explain myself to him, profess my undying love, the sorts.”

“So we’re just gonna skip over the whole ‘undying love’ thing?” Your best friend looked at you with low eyes, annoyance written across his face.

Waving Renjun off, you crossed one leg over the other. “Yes, we don’t have enough time for that,” you sighed. “What should I do? Hold a boombox outside of his window?”

“I know that’s supposed to be a joke, but I wouldn’t put it past you,” he grimaced. “So that’s gonna be a fat ass no from me.”

“Okay, party pooper,” you muttered, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I’ll go the simple route.”

“And what exactly is that?”

“Well I can’t say, that ruins the element of surprise.”

“You have no clue what you’re gonna do, do you?” Renjun deadpanned.

Your lips formed a tight line, cheeks puffing up as if stuffed with food. “I have no idea.”

𖥻 11 - BROCCOLI CHEDDAR SOUP

You were procrastinating. Hard.

A few days had passed since your conversation with Renjun and you’d done nothing to further your plan of winning Haechan back. This wasn’t a complicated, forty-step mission that you had to accomplish, you just needed to see him and apologize.

No ungodly amount of shitty reality TV or holiday movies were able mask the fact you couldn’t stop thinking about Haechan either, but he felt further away with every day that passed. Things were empty without him, to the point where you wished you could go back to him keeping an unnecessary amount of clothing at your apartment just so you’d have the opportunity to tease him about it.

Every room in your apartment had a memory of him attached to it too, like a never ending reminder you had to fix this. You could imagine him sleeping on the couch, a thin blanket pulled up to his chin and soft lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones, or sitting on your bed while you tried on clothes and asked for his opinion (although it often ended with him wolf-whistling annoyingly loud).

Falling back onto the sofa, a huff of air escaped your lips. “It’s just a fuckin’ apology,” you muttered to yourself. “Think.”

It wasn’t until your stomach grumbled loudly and you checked your phone that you got an idea. You got off the couch abruptly, pulling on your coat and nearly tipping over as you tried putting your sneakers on with one hand.

It was Sunday, and that meant broccoli cheddar soup at the diner.

The December air was sharp, prickling at your skin and nose enough for your eyes to brim with tears. You waited for him to answer the door, holding the styrofoam container of soup close to your chest in hopes of easing the freezing cold. As you were about to knock your knuckles against the door again, it swung open.

Haechan looked at you in surprise, his pink lips parted as he focused on your face. His hair was longer now, tufts of caramel-colored strands covering the tops of his ears and eyebrows. The white t-shirt he wore hung on his body perfectly, and even in the light of winter it contrasted beautifully against his tanned skin.

“Oh, uh, Jiyoon isn’t ho—”

“I’m not here for her,” you breathed out, your words accompanied by white puffs of air. “I’m here for you.”

Confusion flashed in his eyes but he opened the door wider anyway, letting you into the warm house.

“Those are my sweats,” he said softly.

As confused as he was, his heart swelled while looking at you. The black puffer jacket you wore was zipped all the way up to your chin, the fluffy material giving you the appearance of a child well prepared for a day of playing in snow. His sweatpants were too long and bunched up around your ankles, the gray material flowing onto the tongue of your sneakers.

You set the soup down and looked down at your legs, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention this morning,” you murmured.

He shook his head and smiled softly. “It’s okay, they look better on you anyway,” he replied reassuringly. “But uh, did you need something?”

“Yes, kind of. I wanna tell you I’m sorry,” you said carefully, unzipping your jacket. “And I brought us soup.”

A dulcet laugh escaped his heart-shaped lips at the mention of the soup, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let's talk first, yeah?”

You nodded and followed him to the sofa, your knees knocking together softly as you sat beside each other.

“Hyuck, I really wasn’t thinking straight,” you mumbled, wringing your hands together. “I’m sorry. I thought that—I don’t know… maybe denying what I was feeling would go better for us, but I was wrong.”

He nodded, beckoning you to continue.

“I was so scared that it would ruin things between us, but I did that all by myself,” you laughed dryly. “It felt like a bad dream; all I wanted was to wake up and see you taking over my house again.”

He let out a small laugh at that, his cheeks tinted a soft pink. “Y’know, I really wanted to call you,” he began, “but I just… I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

“I should have been honest with you. It wasn’t fair to you or me,” you admitted, hesitantly grabbing one of his hands.

Haechan ran his thumb across your knuckles, remaining quiet for a moment before speaking, “I think both of us should have been more honest from the beginning… but thanks for apologizing.” A smile played on his lips; not enough for the skin around his eyes to crinkle, but enough for you to know it was genuine.

“Maybe we can… go back and start over?” you suggested softly.

He nodded, shaking your hand. “I’m Donghyuck, but you can call me Haecha—”

A loud laugh escaped your lips, your hand coming up to swat his shoulder. “Not that far back, dumbass!”

𖥻 12 - NO MORE SECRETS

Haechan liked when you were vulnerable.

He liked when you didn’t wipe your tears away during sad scenes of sappy films, and he liked when you told him exactly how you felt without beating around the bush. You didn’t hide from him anymore; he could explore you with both his words and calloused hands without you holding back.

He liked when you shared, too. Spoonfuls of your soup, the expensive face wash you used, even your endless amount of paint tubes in that clear bag on the side of your desk.

“Hey, earth to loverboy,” you called to him, waving your hand in his face. “Pass me the blue paint, please.”

He reached over to grab the tube and screwed the cap off, handing it to you. “Y’know, you’re way better at this than I am. Maybe you can paint mine.”

“Nope, it’s your bowl. You paint it.”

“Please,” he groaned, dragging out the word, “I’ll give you a bajillion kisses if you do.” He blinked rapidly, trying to sway you with the flutter of his lashes and the pout that graced his lips.

“You look dumb,” you laughed. “Plus, you can’t give me a bajillion kisses. That number doesn’t exist, and your lips would fall off.”

Haechan paused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing in thought as he turned to you.

“What are you doing?” You squinted at him.

“I’m just… thinking of my science experiment.” He shrugged. “You’ll be my lab rat, right?”

“A fuckin lab rat? What are yo—”

He squished your cheeks between his hands as he began to pepper kisses along your face, a laugh escaping your mouth as his lips sloppily pressed against your cheek.

“Let me go! That’s enough!” you cackled, pushing him away by his shoulders. “What kind of science experiment is that?”

“I think I got close to a bajillion kisses,” he said cheekily, leaning back into his chair. “Lips are still attached, babe.”

You shook your head, a faint smile on your face as you began painting again. “So annoying, Donghyuck.”

He stared at you silently, unaware of the way his lips curled into a grin as you worked. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

Humming in response, you continued to brush blue paint onto the terracotta bowl.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Your head shot up in surprise, eyes slightly widened and glittering from the reflection of the light above your kitchen table. “I love you too,” you mumbled, leaning over to kiss his lips softly.

There was no more sneaking around in his bedroom or car, and no rushing to leave before you were seen or telling little white lies. He could hold you softly and love you loudly, with no fear of what would happen next.

Haechan liked not having any more secrets, but he loved that you were finally his.

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a/n: if you got down to this point, thank you so much for reading this! it’s my first 11k+ fic and i’m kindaaaa proud of it<3 thank you to my lovely beta readers @masterninjacow @subways-stuff @latetaektalk @/hvae @/jensrose i appreciate y’all so much !! :( as always, feedback is appreciated <3 have a great day/night !!

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#ficscafe #neowritingsnet #wkcnet #neoturtles #nct imagines #haechan fluff #haechan x reader #haechan scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct x reader #lee haechan

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five-rivers · 2 years

Text

Flight Simulation

Phic Phight phill phor @charcoalhawk (Prompt:AU where Danny never realizes he can shoot ectoblasts or has any other kind of ‘extra’ powers besides invisibility, possession, and the ability of phase through solid objects. (PR212))

Flight Simulation

Danny cringed as the thermos shot out of the mouth of the ghost weasel and hit the portal door’s ‘open’ button. Him accidentally hitting buttons on the portal was going to be a thing now, apparently. Along, apparently, with disastrous consequences.

The surface of the portal rippled, then bulged ever so slightly before the swirling blue-green surface broke, disgorging a ghost. The ghost had green skin, mad scientist hair, eyes that seemed to have been replaced with glass rectangles, and… no legs? What–?

All thoughts about the ghost’s legs or lack thereof were discarded as the ghost, instead of proceeding forward as expected, went up.

Danny felt his Sure, the Lunch Lady had hovered and floated meat around her, and Skulker had his jetpack, but this was different. This was someone actually flying. Defying gravity and moving around freely with no perceptible effort.

“Child!” crowed the ghost. “You have freed me, Technus, ghost master of science and electrical tech–”

“YOU CAN FLY?!”

Danny was so jealous he thought he might go insane.

“Well, yes, I–”

“THAT’S GARBAGE! THAT’S UNFAIR! HOW COME YOU GET TO FLY? I WANT TO FLY!” Danny thought he deserved to be able to fly after all the nonsense he’d been subjected to since he’d walked into the portal with the misguided desire to help his parents and walked out with the ability to turn into a ghost.

A flightless ghost.

“I…” said Technus, raising a gloved finger, “am a ghost?”

Danny, no longer caring if his dad came back and saw, transformed. “SO AM I!”

“Huh,” said Technus.

Danny, the edges of his vision going green, put his hands in his hair. “I only get to fly in video games… so unfair… Mom won’t let me get the good flight simulator… terrible graphics card… Doomed nerfed levitation… doesn’t work right on the computer… can’t get a flying license… won’t even let me test drive the Speeder…” Danny realized that he’d started pacing and gesticulating during his rant, and also that he’d taken his eyes off the ghost.

He spun. Technus, however, was still there, regarding Danny with a somewhat quizzical expression. At least, Danny thought it was quizzical. Those glass-rectangle eyes were admittedly hard to read.

“Video… games?”

“Yeah,” said Danny, “like on a computer? Aren’t you supposed to be master of tech or something? Shouldn’t you know what a video game is?”

The expression on Technus’s face told Danny that he maybe shouldn’t have said that.

“Excellent idea! Have you ever considered tutoring?”

“Tutoring? What?” asked Danny, thinking, for a moment, that Technus knew that Jazz was tutoring Dash upstairs and feeling displaced.

“As a TA!”

That ranked high on the list of the least sensical things Danny had ever been told. “I’m a C student.”

“Ah, well, I must go master these video games you speak of! Farewell, ghost child!”

Technus flew up through the ceiling. Danny, not being able to fly, watched him uselessly.

“Crud.”

Danny looked at the invitation to Dash’s party and sighed, letting his head hit the table. Tucker poked him with a straw still in its wrapper.

“Are you okay? Just, I would have thought you’d be all over this.” He flicked the invitation with the straw.

“Yeah,” agreed Sam. “Not that we aren’t glad you’re not, but are you okay?”

Danny shrugged. “I’m just… worried. That ghost was more like Lunch Lady or Skulker than the animal ones we usually handle, plus, I can’t fight him like the Lunch Lady. He can just fly away. He has air superiority.”

“You couldn’t fight Skulker like the Lunch Lady, either,” said Tucker, gesturing with a fry.

“Let’s be honest,” said Danny. “You and Delilah beat Skulker. I was very much the damsel in distress.”

“Well,” said Tucker, preening, “if you insist on giving me the credit…”

“Don’t your parents have long range weapons?” asked Sam.

“Eh,” said Danny, lifting his head to make a face. “Sort of. Dad’s aiming skills make any sort of accuracy sort of meaningless, and Mom likes her hand-to-hand weapons. There’s some stuff that’ll reach across a room alright, but nothing like a rifle.”

“What about that stupid big thing?” asked Tucker.

“The bazooka?” asked Danny, doubtfully. “They’re still working on that. Right now, they’re still mostly focusing on capture and containment, but you know how they are.”

They all stared at their food for a long minute. Danny shivered, as if to shake off the memory of his father chasing him through the halls of Casper High while the Lunch Lady raged outside.

“Anyway,” said Sam, “maybe we should test out some more of the weapons we do have access to. That ghost’ll show up eventually, right?”

“Probably,” said Danny, not looking forward to it.

“I can keep an eye on things in the online gaming community, instead,” said Tucker. “Make sure he isn’t doing anything on there.”

“Right,” said Sam, “because that’s such a hardship.”

“We must all make sacrifices for the greater good,” said Tucker, melodramatically.

Danny smiled and nodded, then sighed again, his eyes falling on the invitation once more. “I really wanted to go,” he said. “I’m never going to get a chance like this again.”

“Come on, look on the bright side,” said Tucker. “You were never going to get the money to do the dress code, anyway.”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Who makes a dress code for a high school house party anyway? Doesn’t that sound insane to you?”

Danny picked at the napkin. “My bar for insane is pretty high.”

Sam and Tucker exchanged glances, then shrugged. “Fair enough,” they said.

“Hey, Danny,” said Tucker.

“Yeah?” said Danny, standing on his tip-toes to reach the box on the top shelf in the shed. If only he could just fly up and reach it.

On the other hand, he was currently in a shed full of defunct ghost hunting equipment searching for something useful, so maybe it was a good thing he couldn’t fly. He wouldn’t be tempted to transform.

“What did you say that guy’s name was?”

“Called himself Technus, master of electronics and tech, or something like that. Why?”

“Well, there’s a guy in here with the username “Technus, ghost master of sci.””

“Just sci?”

“I guess the rest of his name was too long,” said Tucker. “But he’s apparently tearing up the online leaderboards on Flyboy 3.”

Danny shot Tucker an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” said Tucker, “and he seems to be picking up slang as he goes along… and he’s really bad at it. Oh my gosh, this man should not have been left to talk to trolls, he has no idea what he’s saying. Oh, that’s foul.”

Danny rested his head on the shelf in front of him. “I hate this. I hate that this is my life now. I hate the knowledge that this is the afterlife I have to look forward to.”

“I don’t know,” said Tucker. “I’d say this is pretty mild, all things considered. Maybe he’s a good ghost?”

Danny swallowed back the trained reaction, the one impressed on him by his parents, by repetition, despite his disbelief in their entire worldview. What did that make him?

He pushed the thought back, to the box of self-doubt he’d built in the back of his mind. But as he pushed, the thought snagged on something else and he paused.

“Hey, Tucker,” said Danny.

“Oh, no,” said Tucker.

“Tucker. Tucker. The only good ghost is a dead one, Tucker.”

“No, man, that’s horrible. Friendship revoked.”

The shed was a bust, as far as functional, safe equipment went (Danny didn’t want to recount how many times he’d been shocked; better him than Sam or Tucker). Danny also didn’t have the cash handy to pay for Flyboy 3, or, frankly, an internet speed that would let him play competitively. This left one option with regards to Technus: Stalk him online.

Luckily, they were teenagers, and Tucker was, not to brag, a tech genius, so this was relatively easy. This did not help Danny’s anxiety over a ghost being loose on the internet, and he fretted over it all week, even as he avoided Dash and his increasing aggression regarding the party.

(Danny was starting to get a bad feeling about missing the party. Would Dash consider it an insult if Danny didn’t go? How much of a beating was Danny destined for come Monday?)

“Look,” said Sam, on Friday. “I wouldn’t usually do this, but my place has a pretty good gaming setup, and I can get Flyboy 3. You guys can come over tomorrow and we can do some surveillance. Make sure he isn’t cursing people to death via a questionable airplane battle simulator.”

“Oh,” said Tucker, “that’s what you’ve been hinting at all week.”

“I haven’t been hinting anything.”

“Uh huh. Sure,” said Tucker, his smile incredibly smug.

“You’ve been hinting at something?” asked Danny.

Tucker snickered and Sam rolled her eyes. She might have been blushing, but her makeup made it hard to tell.

“I haven’t been hinting at anything. Just let me give you my address and show up, okay?”

Sam had given him the wrong address.

She must have. He didn’t think it was on purpose, though he didn’t know how someone, anyone, much less Sam could make a mistake with their address like this. It had to be a mistake. There was no way she lived here. This neighborhood was way too high income.

Danny felt inadequate just standing on the sidewalk. Even Dash didn’t live in this neighborhood.

He reached the specific house indicated by the address, winced, and turned to leave… only to see Tucker walking up the street, shoulders hunched.

“You, too?” asked Danny.

“Yeah,” said Tucker, looking enormously uncomfortable. “I think- Maybe we should go back and call her?”

“Yeah,” said Danny. “That’s probably a good idea. I think my place is closer.”

Tucker nodded, “Yeah, let’s–”

The front door of the mansion opened. “Good, you guys are here. Follow me before Mom and Dad change their minds.”

“Oh,” said Tucker. “That doesn’t sound great. They know I’m going to be here, right? This isn’t, like, a surprise thing?”

“They know you’re going to be here and who you are,” said Sam. “They’ve just been weird about me being goth. Also, I think they ran background checks on both of you.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker, climbing the steps and craning his head back. “That checks out. Man, Sam. You’re loaded.”

Flyboy 3 was fun. Really fun. Danny maybe should have expected this. It was a top of the line game, even though it wasn’t the best actually simulating real-world planes and flight capability.

Climbing the leaderboards to a point where they could feasibly interact with Technus wasn’t easy. Danny was somewhat chagrined to find that Sam was his match, and Tucker was even more chagrined to find out he wasn’t.

“Now,” said Sam, rotating the joystick easily, “if this was Doomed, I’d be kicking your butt, too, ghost boy.”

Tucker looked up from his computer almost tearfully. “No,” he said, “you two have the muscle and the cash, if you take tech from me, too, all I’ll have left are my good looks.”

“You’re so dramatic. Just because I can play video games and type in a cheat code or two doesn’t mean I can code. All I’ve got going for me is that my parents are rich.”

“A modern day Tony Stark.”

“No. Ew. Pay attention to your game, I can hear you crashing.”

Danny snickered and hit the ‘match’ button again. He was getting closer to Technus, but, honestly, he was starting to relax, too. Maybe, just maybe, Technus was also just having fun.

The computer binged. Danny was matched with Technus.

The screen flickered, dissolved into static, then bulged, the surface forming a green face, eyes, and a pair of hands. Danny pushed backwards, hard, upending his chair. Sam and Tucker threw themselves away from their shared table as well.

“Ghost child!” said Technus, spreading his hands wide. “I have indeed mastered the art of the ‘gaming,’ and have become ‘hip’ and ‘with it.’ Now, I shall prove to you that I’ve got the eye of the tiger, and am a superior opponent!”

Technus seized Danny by the shoulders and dragged him into the computer screen.

The next thing Danny knew, he was in a cockpit branded with the Flyboy 3 logo. Outside, in front of him, was either a really good replica of Flyboy’s ‘Jungle’ runway, or something far worse.

Judging by how Danny’s life tended to play out, he’d put his money on ‘worse.”

Technus cackled in his ear, and Danny’s hands flew up. He was wearing a helmet, complete with headphones.

“I wasn’t sure if that would work!” Technus cackled some more. “So, ghost child, are you ready for a real fight?”

In retrospect, after he’d gotten out, what bothered Danny the most about the whole thing, more than getting sucked into a video game, was that he hadn’t even been sucked into the actual computer. Technus had pulled him through the monitor, which, admittedly, was connected to the computer.

But in the moment, what bothered him the most was the g-force he experienced as he sharply banked away from Technus’s gunfire.

Danny had yet to wing Technus at all, and, having to figure out the controls on the fly, he was at a distinct disadvantage. He’d managed to pull the plane into intangibility a few times, but that had left him breathing hard and seeing double, something he couldn’t really afford. The plane was really too big for someone who could barely manage to take his friends through a wall with him.

His plane clipped off the top of one of the taller trees, sending branches to the ground, and Danny desperately tried to gain height before he realized the significance of what had just happened.

So, with him and Technus here, this world didn’t entirely stick to the video game’s rules. Danny had run into trees in the game before, and they had never taken any real damage. Of course, the game didn’t have things like g-force or real correlation between animated controls and what the plane was doing, either, much less intangibility. But if Danny could do things he could do in the real world that he couldn’t do in the game here… And if things from the game existed that didn’t in the real world…

Danny punched in the Easter Egg code to release fireworks. Usually, this just resulted in a harmless, colorful firework animation around the planes, but here, well, fireworks were explosives, and they tended to be both bright and loud.

As expected, Technus veered off, and so did Danny. But Danny’s veer had another purpose: bringing Technus into his sights. He fired.

The fireball in front of him was satisfying, the ‘Victory!’ screen even more so.

Danny abruptly found himself ejected from (sigh) the computer monitor.

“Danny!”

Dude!”

“Are you okay?” asked Sam and Tucker, finish the last at the same time and nearly colliding with each other as they ran for Danny.

“Um,” said Danny.

“It seem that video games still have much to teach me about the funky fresh ways of the future,” said Technus’s voice, solemn but slightly raspy and still very loud through the speaker. “Until we meet again, ghost child!”

The computer screen returned to normal, displaying the ‘Victory!’ screen and Danny’s ascent to the top 100 leaderboard for Flyboy 3.

“Oh no,” said Danny, lacking the energy to get up. “We’re going to have to deal with him again, aren’t we?”

#Danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2022 #phic #charcoalhawk

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