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lexosaurus · 6 months

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The Fog Around Us: Chapter 1

Hello all here's my second fic for the @ecto-implosion! This one with @nightwanderers12081 who did AN INCREDIBLE PIECE OF ART LOOK AT IT!

Please enjoy my accompanying fic!

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Characters: Danny Fenton, Valerie Gray Tags: Amnesiac Danny Fenton, Enemies to Friends WC: 4476 Summary: Two weeks had passed since Danny Fenton went missing. Two weeks had passed since Phantom had disappeared as well. It couldn't be coincidence.

****

“He can't have gotten far.”

Those were the words Valerie had heard the first day the missing child report had been filed. The first day Danny didn't show up to school.

“You kidding, Fenton?” Dash said, emphasizing Danny's name with the sort of disbelief one would say about a toddler training for the Olympics. “No—no way! He's so annoying, I bet whoever nabbed him will get so pissed at his loser squeaky voice that they'll toss him right out of their truck. They probably didn't even get him out of the city!”

“No way he's gotten far,” Kwan agreed.

The next day in homeroom, it had come from Sam. She hadn't been in school the previous day. Well, she had at first, but after the whispers started going around and the police showed up at the school, she and Tucker had been pulled to the main office all too quickly.

“He can't have gone far,” she whispered to Tucker, who was wringing his red cap around in his fingers. “It's Danny we're talking about. He's probably—you know. He's fine.”

Tucker was silent for a moment. To an outsider, it would look like he simply had nothing to say. But Valerie knew better. She could see how his jaw twitched, just barely suppressing whatever words were swimming around in his mind. It was only after his muscles relaxed that he finally spoke, his voice so quiet that Valerie almost didn't pick up what he said. “I know you want to think that, but Danny wouldn't...do this. He wouldn't slip away without telling us first.”

Whatever temper Tucker swallowed, Sam had no problem spitting out. “You don't know that. You know how he gets!”

“I do know, Sam. There's no way—”

“This is the same guy who—” Sam stuttered, then lowered her voice, hissing something too softly for Valerie to hear.

Tucker's reaction was telling, though. He sighed, not sharply, but still showcasing his frustrations all the same. “This is different. Come on, you know that.”

“I don't want to hear it,” Sam snapped. “He's fine, Tuck.”

And that was that.

Valerie could almost believe them. And god, she yearned to believe them with a fortitude that nearly crushed her heart, but on the third day, she made the mistake of passing by the teacher's lounge.

In an instant, she was plunged back into this new ice-cold reality.

“His parents suspect ghosts,” came the gruff voice of Ms. Tetslaff. “And you know, as wacko as they are, this time? Yeah, I might believe them.”

“It's not too far-fetched. You know that the CPS investigation came up clean. Especially after speaking to Ms. Jasmine Fenton directly, nothing came up that was particularly worrisome from their house. They seem like a good family, albeit a bit to the left. It feels unlikely that any of this could have stemmed from within the home,” Mr. Lancer said.

CPS investigated their house? Valerie thought back, but she didn't remember Danny ever mentioning it. So, why? Why had CPS gone?

“And you know how Mr. Fenton gets whenever a ghost gets near,” Mr. Lancer continued.

“Oh yeah, he's a jumpy one,” Ms. Tetslaff agreed. “Always the first one out of the class.”

“And the last one back, sporting some sort of bruise,” came the voice of the old history teacher. What was her name, Mrs. Sawyer?

No, her name didn’t matter right now. What, with this information piercing every wall around Valerie's mind.

Danny was...getting hurt? And she hadn't noticed?

But she didn't have long to process this before Mr. Falluca took his chance to interject. “Didn't I tell you? After that whole CPS debacle? I told you all it was ghost related. I told you that the parents are weird, but Danny was always getting hurt around a ghost attack or on his way to school.”

He was what?

Why hadn't Valerie seen anything? Or heard anything?

“And I agreed if you'll recall,” Mr. Lancer said.

“I wouldn't be surprised if a ghost kidnapped him this time,” Mr. Falluca said.

“To get to his parents, most likely. The weekly harassment wasn't getting anywhere, so they had to escalate,” Mr. Lancer concluded.

“Poor kid,” Ms. Tetslaff murmured.

“Indeed. And if that's truly the case, then who knows how far they've gone. They're ghosts, after all.”

But Valerie was through listening to the teacher's gossip. She backed from the door, stumbled over her feet, and bolted around the corner, nearly slamming into some upperclassmen as she did.

No...no way....Danny? Her Danny?

She'd broken up with him so he wouldn't get hurt, hadn't she? She'd predicted this. Ghosts were ruthless and vengeful and ugh, she had let him go to prevent this from happening!

And yet!

And yet...

She skidded to a stop, her heart thundering in her ears. Around her, the hallway bled Casper High red, posters about kindness and unity hung haphazardly over the walls, and the ever-long fractals of lockers wove spiderwebs around her vision.

And yet, he'd been hurt anyway. No, it was worse than that. He'd been hurting the whole time, and she hadn't known. He'd...never told her.

But why would he? It wasn't like he knew that she was the Red Huntress. Maybe if she'd revealed this to him, he would have told her about the ghosts harassing him. Maybe she could have done something. Maybe, maybe it wouldn't have come to this.

Now, it was too late. Danny was gone.

And she had to bear the weight of the blame.

Her breath shortened, and hot tears sprang to her eyes too quickly for her to will away. They spilled down her cheeks and splashed onto the disgusting red and white tile below her.

She should wipe them off, stop crying, suck it up. She couldn't break down now, not while Danny was out there with god only knew which rogue now.

But shit, it was her fault.

Her weakness got to her, and she found herself standing before the row of lockers with her forehead pressed against the cool metal. Her curly hair fell around her, shielding her from the view of any potential onlookers. But thankfully, the science hallway—tucked in its own small corner of the school—was always nearly deserted while classes were in session.

She should have saved Danny. She should have noticed something, anything. What was even the point of having all this gear if she couldn't protect the people she cared about most?

She wanted to crumble, to disintegrate into a pile of dust on the floor. She held her hand against her mouth, choking back sobs that tried to rip from the core of her diaphragm, but she knew that the lunch period was nearly over and it would only be a matter of minutes before the hall was populated once again.

So she breathed. In, then out. First, nothing but a shaky jolt, and then steadier. In and out until the thick tears had reduced to rubble, and her sobs were nothing but hiccups.

And then she made a promise to herself. One to bring Danny back home.

She may have failed to protect him before, but she wouldn't fail to save him this time.

She wouldn't.

****

The air was still tonight—unusual for this particularly windy fall—and it was as if Valerie could hear every secret Amity Park whispered into the stars. Every owl hoot in the surrounding air, every soft click of someone’s heels on the pavement below.

There was a certain serenity to these kinds of nights, ones that were bathed in countless stars glittering in the air above. Not that Valerie had really cared about silly things like the stars before. But after she began donning flight in her red suit alone, they became a source of comfort to her. A constant that she could count on—if the clouds allowed so.

And it was all thanks to one particular boy that she had even looked up in the first place, hadn’t it?

The past two weeks, she found herself leaning on their comfort more as she spent the nights searching, and searching, and searching some more.

But where should she look? She didn’t know. It had been so long that he could be anywhere. There was a chance—a very likely chance—he wasn’t in Amity Park at all.

Especially if what she’d heard about him was true.

It was Johnny 13 who had let it slip. After a week of no leads, of no sleep, Valerie had the rather unfortunate pleasure of running into the biker ghost himself.

Or, maybe the fortunate pleasure. Because after cornering him and pressing her gun to his temple, his silver tongue was all too eager to spill.

“The kid?” Johnny had asked.

“Fenton. Son of the ghost hunters? Maybe you’ve heard of him.” Valerie wedged her gun into his skin just a little more.

“Jeez, cool it. Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Kid’s damn annoying enough on his own without his parents getting involved.”

Confusion sliced through her, but she had only just begun to react when Johnny slid out from her hold, reappearing on her other side.

“What are you talking about?” Valerie whirled around, nearly forgetting to keep her gun out in front of her. “Danny? The son? He doesn’t have anything to do with ghosts!”

Johnny barked a vicious laugh. “Oh, is that what he tells you? Man, you humans are so blind. Well, kid’s a good actor, I’ll give him that.”

Then, black cloaked her vision, and she could hardly escape the swirling shadows before she looked up and realized that Johnny 13 was gone. And then, so was his shadow.

That had happened almost a week ago, and since then she had questioned any ghost that crossed her path, but either no one knew or no one would tell her.

As the days stretched on, her suspicion about who could be behind Danny’s disappearance only grew, molted, and then solidified until there was only one ghost it could be.

The one ghost that had—not-so-coincidentally, Valerie was sure—disappeared as well.

In fact, Valerie was sure she hadn’t seen Phantom since before Danny’s disappearance. She tried to remember and…yeah, he hadn’t made any appearance grande nor small over the past two weeks.

That was unusual for him, the ghost that almost seemed to live in Amity Park for how much time he spent here.

So Phantom had to be involved somehow. He just had to. Perhaps he was the one who took Danny, or he could be just an accomplice. Either way, the timing was too exact for him not to be involved at all.

But he was just. Gone.

Valerie had searched high and low, but there didn’t seem to be any sign of him anywhere. And if he was the one who took Danny, then where had they gone? The Ghost Zone?

Valerie tried not to think about that possibility too much.

So when a frighteningly familiar ecto-signature reading popped up on her wristband, Valerie didn’t hesitate to jet over to the source of it. He was just around the block—so close—and soon, she would have answers.

That little asshole thought he could just appear after two weeks of Danny’s disappearance as if everyone was going to welcome him back with open arms? As if nothing ever happened?

Yeah, fuck that.

Drawing her weapons was a subconscious action at this point. Valerie didn’t have to think before her gun of choice had formed in her hand—black, with red on the side. Sleek and deadly, just like her.

She whipped around the corner of a building, looked out into the street, and there he was, hovering thirty feet above the sidewalk. Bathed in white with wild hair floating around him as if underwater and his black and white suit unmistakable against the Amity Park skyline, there was Phantom.

He was slow to face her, but that only worked to her advantage. Because as soon as it clicked in his head what was happening, Valerie was already on him, her gun trained at his forehead, her eyes fiery with weeks of untapped fury as she shouted, “What the hell did you do to him?”

Phantom blinked once, his eyes flickering to the gun, then Valerie, then to the gun again. He blinked again, this time slow, and perhaps so obtuse and obnoxious that Valerie couldn’t help but press her ectoweapon into his aura as she yelled, “I’ll fucking kill you again, Phantom! I’m not playing. Tell me what happened to him! What did you do to Fenton?”

Knitted eyebrows shot up along with his hands, and he jolted back as if seeing the gun for the first time. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on, what are you talking about?”

But that only enraged Valerie even more. “Don’t play dumb with me!”

“Seriously, I don’t know what’s going on! I don’t even know who that is!”

“You disappear for two weeks the same time as Fenton does, and now you’re claiming to not know anything?” Valerie’s glare narrowed as red tinged the edges of her vision. “Seriously, how much of a dumbass do you think I am? Spill! What the fuck happened to him? What did you do?”

He inched back more, his hands clasping, unclasping, then dropping once again. There was a nervous energy around him, and Valerie noticed—odd—that his chest seemed to be rising and falling almost as if he were hyperventilating.

But no, that wasn’t possible. “Answer me!” she snapped.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Do I even know you?”

Valerie could have laughed at the sheer audacity of Phantom, but then she looked at him—really looked at him. His wide eyes quivering in anxiety, his ears which seemed to be pointed lower than usual, his panicked stance, and his fast…breathing…and suddenly, Valerie wasn’t sure anymore. Because the Phantom she knew would have made a stupid quip, shot her gun, and darted away.

But this? This Phantom? The one having anxiety before her?

This Phantom was almost pitiful.

She felt her grip on her gun weaken, and her arm lowered ever so slightly. “You don’t…remember me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, but I think you have me confused for someone else!” he said, drawing his palms up once again in surrender. “I’ve never met you.”

…How?

She tried again, gritting her teeth and drawing her gun back to full force. “Oh no, you don’t get to do that game with me, ghost! Tell me what you did to Danny. Now.”

“I don’t know who that is!” he pleaded. “I’m serious! You have to believe me.”

Why did she believe him?

No, he was a ghost. Ghosts were conniving and evil. They were made to trick humans into getting their way. Valerie knew this. It was as ingrained into her as any self-defense move was.

So then, why? Why could she look into his acid-green eyes and instinctively know that he was telling the truth?

“What do you mean by that?” she pressed further. “I saw you just a few weeks ago. Hell, you live here. I know you do, even if you refuse to admit it.”

“I don’t—I don’t know. Really, I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve never been here, I promise! I was in the Infinite Realms and—”

“What? Where were you?”

The glow in his eyes flickered, and his nervous energy was suddenly so palpable that Valerie could almost taste it. “The Infinite Realms! You know, where all the ghosts live!”

But…Phantom had only ever called that the Ghost Zone. Like all the other humans did.

Infinite Realms? Was that…what the ghosts called it?

“I’ve only ever been there, I promise! I just…just woke up there one day, and I’ve been there ever since. I only got here—the Human World—a few minutes ago. There was a portal. Green, swirling light? You know? And I flew through it. I swear that’s the truth,” he insisted. “I promise I’ve never been here before. I didn’t know it was forbidden to come to your territory. I’m sorry! Once another portal comes, I can leave—uh, what’s your name?”

What. The. Fuck.

Valerie hovered in the air, stunned, staring into the eyes of a ghost she knew like the back of her hand, but one who didn’t seem to know…anything about her, about Amity, about anything.

“You are Phantom, right?” Valerie asked.

“That—that’s what the other ghosts call me,” he said.

So…this was Phantom. It wasn’t some strange clone or anything. So then, what the fuck was going on?

“But you don’t know who I am?”

“No,” he said, then his eyes widened once more. “Am I supposed to?”

A fit of hilarious anger surged through Valerie, and she wanted to snap at him that of course he should know! What was he, stupid? But almost as that spiked her, it dissolved away.

It wouldn’t have been fair to be angry at this Phantom. This one had no idea who she was, he didn’t know their history, and he apparently knew nothing about Amity Park, which Valerie had more than assumed had become his haunt.

Deep breaths, then. She needed to figure out what the hell was going on, then she could give Phantom a ginormous piece of her mind.

“You’ve been here before,” she explained. “A lot, actually.”

“I haven’t, I swear,” he insisted again in a panic, eyeing the gun that Valerie had forgotten was still between both of them.

She dropped her arm, though she didn’t retract the gun into her suit. One could never know, with ghosts as duplicative as they were.

“You have,” she retorted, now without the gun backing up her words. “I’ve seen you here more times than I can count. I’m The Red Huntress. That ring a bell at all?”

He shook his head, though his brow was furrowed. “I was born in the Realms like other ghosts, and I’ve only ever been there. I’ve never left!”

This game of ping-pong wasn’t going to work. At least, it could only work so long as Valerie was willing to sacrifice her entire night’s sleep for the cause of Phantom’s mental rehabilitation, which as it stood, she wasn’t.

Okay then. Time for plan B.

She pulled her cell phone out of the pocket in her suit’s thigh and opened TikTok, typing Phantom into the search bar.

“What are you doing?” a panicked voice asked.

She shushed him, eyeing past all the debate and theory videos until she found what she was looking for. Then, without so much as looking past her thumb clicking on the thumbnail, she shoved her phone in Phantom’s face.

He watched what sounded like some sort of compilation video with eyes expanding to comical proportions. Whatever weird fast “breathing” he’d been doing before was picking up again, and if it weren’t for Valerie’s adept reflexes, he probably would have swiped her phone out of her hands when he made to lunge for it.

“Nuh-uh!” Valerie said, holding her phone back.

“That can’t be right!” Phantom said, turning on her. “I swear, it’s not me!”

“It’s from a month ago, glow-boy!” she said. “There’s literally thousands of videos of you on here from the past year!”

He halted, his body growing rigid. “The past…how long?”

“Year,” Valerie repeated. She clicked another video and turned up her volume in time for the video Phantom to say a truly god-awful pun.

“Year?” Phantom’s voice was breathy. He wasn’t looking at the phone anymore, but Valerie could see him flinch at hearing his voice. “But that…no, that can’t be right.”

“I think your brain is having a hardware issue,” video Phantom said. “Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on?”

“You just don’t understand my BRILLIANCE!” a nasal voice screeched.

“Technus, your brain is slower than an Internet Explorer loading screen. I wouldn’t exactly call that brilliant.”

The Phantom in front of her shook his head incessantly. “That’s not me. It can’t be.” However, his voice sounded anything but convincing.

“It obviously is. What, you think I just made up a bunch of videos to confuse you?” Valerie snorted. “Give me a break.”

“But…I’ve only been a ghost for a few weeks! See? That can’t be me.”

A few weeks?

But that’s…

Valerie swiped down to the next video, this one a close-up of Phantom’s face grinning down at the camera below. He brought his gloved hands up behind his pointed ears like moose antlers, sticking his tongue out as he did. His white fangs poked out of the corners of his lips, his smile stretching until he broke into laughter.

The Phantom before her was sheet white.

“I’m only a few weeks old,” he begged quietly, hiding his eyes behind his hands as if Valerie’s phone screen was displaying imagery too horrific to look at. “This is impossible. I’ve been in the Infinite Realms. It’s…this is…no…”

“Phantom, I’ve known you for months.” Valerie leaned in, but as if sensing her, he reeled back, curling into himself.

“Is that how everyone knew who I was?” Phantom peered up from his hands.

“Who?”

“The other ghosts. They…they acted like they knew me. Like I should know them. But I’d never met them before.”

Valerie didn’t know what ghosts he was talking about specifically, but she had a general idea. “You have. You do know them.”

Phantom reached for her phone again, and this time Valerie let him have it. But, to her amusement, when he jabbed his finger at her screen, nothing happened.

“You have to take your gloves off.”

Phantom’s brows furrowed, and he surveyed his hands as if seeing the gloves for the first time.

“Do they come off?” he asked himself mildly.

“They do,” Valerie answered, even though she was sure he didn’t expect her to. And sure enough, at his look, she explained, “I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Oh.”

He handed her phone back to gently peel the white hazmat gloves from his suit. To his shock, but not Valerie’s, as soon as they left the vicinity of his aura, they simply dissolved into a green goo that began falling like rain before evaporating into the air.

“So that’s how that works,” he mused.

On one of his hands was the faint green glow of lightning that spindled up his wrists and disappeared into his suit. It was something that Valerie had seen before but never had the balls to ask about. Considering how much Phantom didn’t seem to know about, well, anything, she was sure as shit not getting that answer tonight either.

But on his other wrist was something interesting. And it was a small, skin-tight metal wristband.

“What’s that?” Valerie nodded toward the wristband.

“Huh?” Phantom asked, following her eyes to the bracelet. “Oh, I don’t know. I woke up with it, so I must have died in it. It’s how our outfits work, I think. Well, until you get powerful enough to change your appearance.”

Valerie filed away that bit of ghost lore for later. Her Phantom was never so forthcoming about the inner workings of ghosts as this.

“No, you didn’t. I’ve never seen that before, and I’ve seen you with your gloves off.”

“Well, I don’t remember. Maybe I was starting to figure out how to change my appearance before I got like this?” He reached for the phone, clearly uninterested in talking about a silly bracelet when his entire world seemed to be imploding.

Valerie relented, handing it over. But, to his growing agitation and her further amusement again, his fingers had little impact on the screen.

“How the hell do you work one of these?” he growled.

“You might be too cold. What are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to see if I knew that ghost! The metal one that was attacking me in the Realms yesterday!”

Valerie plucked her phone out of his fingers. “Okay, chill. Did he tell you his name?”

“Yeah. Said it about a million times.” He rolled his eyes. “Skulker, greatest hunter in the Ghost Zone. That’s what he said, anyway.”

“Oh, you definitely know him,” Valerie said, while still typing Ghost Skulker into the TikTok search bar. Sure enough, hundreds of videos appeared before her displaying the same annoying face in various poses on her screen. She clicked on one and handed her phone over to him.

His reaction made Valerie wonder if a ghost could jump out of its own skin. “What?! How? How is this possible?”

“I told you, we all know you! You’ve been around for a little while longer than a few weeks, Phantom!”

She took the phone from his fingers. Just in time too, because he looked about ready to kneel over.

Could ghosts faint? As soon as the question popped into her mind, she realized that she didn’t want to test that theory. She barely knew what to do when a human fainted, let alone a ghost. And Valerie wasn’t one to start coddling ghosts.

She sighed, then glanced around. “Hey, wanna sit and talk for a minute?” She gestured over to the tall office building nearby. “If you like heights and privacy, I know a good rooftop.”

He squinted as if trying to figure out if he knew that roof. And then Valerie remembered all the nights on patrol, ambushing Phantom on that same building.

She thought back. What had he been doing those nights?

“Sure,” he said, breaking her out of her thoughts.

Right. She didn’t have time to waste on Phantom’s silly actions. She was here for Danny. And somehow, this amnesiac was connected—she was absolutely certain of it.

They flew over and touched down on the roof, Valerie’s hoverboard retracting into her boots. She looked over to see Phantom’s flight tail morph into legs before he cautiously hit the roof as if he were afraid of breaking it. He looked down curiously at the ply and gravel roof before crouching down and…touching it? With his ungloved fingers?

What the hell?

As if noticing her staring, he answered, “Everything here feels weird. It’s missing that charge.”

“Charge?”

He glanced back at Valerie. “Yeah, the charge from the ectoplasm.”

“You can feel that?”

“You can’t?”

Okay…yet another weird thing to file about ghosts. Apparently, they had some sort of sixth sense for ectoplasm.

It was like every single word out of this idiot’s mouth left Valerie with more questions. For a moment, she wondered if that was on purpose. If he was using his classic ghostly manipulation to try to distract her from asking about Danny.

But then, she looked back down at him rubbing the grains of rock and pebble between his fingers, and yeah…no freaking way this was an act. Her Phantom was an idiot, but not this stupid.

So what the hell was going on?

****

next chapter

[read all my works here]

#danny phantom #ectoimplosion2023 #phicc #my writing #the fog around us

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that-ari-blogger · 5 months

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Simple Answers

Who is Luz Noceda?

If I was to ask you this question after only seeing a scene or two from the Owl House, your answer would probably be very different to if you had watched the entire series.

This isn't groundbreaking, it's what happens when you spend time around any person or character, they start to appear more complex to you as you get to know them more.

But that's kind of the point here, because the Owl House is a series about embracing your weirdness and individuality in contrast to first impressions. A single question like "who is x person" is inadequate, and others should be added to understand the nuance there.

The First Day asks two more questions. "Who does everyone else think Luz is?" and "Who does Luz herself think she is?"

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

The Owl House has a thing for introductions. Luz gets so many over the course of the series, and it's fascinating to see how she changes just by the way in which she gives her title. She is the good witch, or the human, or hero, whatever she decides.

The opening scene to The First Day is interesting to me, because it's an audition. Luz is being asked to present her skills, but I don't think that's what she is being tested on.

"Spells cast with paper, I've never heard of such a thing. But is it enough to pass the exam?"

Bump deliberately leans into the theatricality here, messing with Luz's confidence to see what she does. The series has established that all Luz needs to do to pass the exam is cast two spells, so why is there a stage? And why does Bump ask this question?

Because Bump wants to know who Luz is. His first impression of her has been a troublemaker, and he has seen some skill, but what else? He wants is to see how she reacts to stress, is she resourceful? Is she imaginative? In my reading, Luz had already passed the test and Bump wanted to know more about the student.

This is an episode about breaking moulds and meeting expectations, and so we are introduced to the primary conflict of the episode, that being the track system. Students can only learn one kind of magic, or they are branded as troublemakers and can't learn magic at all. You have to colour within the lines, and make what kind of art will get points.

That works backwards into the test as well. Where at first glance, it is a test about skill, it is actually more complex, just like the students undertaking it.

The school is also trying to appeal to a perception as well, with the inspector. The school only shows its best and brightest, who have achieved exactly the point of their classes. This is what the school teaches, isn't it so perfect?

The basilisk scene is also interesting on a side note because it is why I like Bump so much. For all of his flaws, the second there is a student in danger, Bump interposes himself between the student and that danger. It doesn't work, but it's an attempt, and it kind of foreshadows later on in the episode, which I will get to in a bit.

If you are studying creative writing at a High School level, you have probably been told that first impressions are everything. You need to introduce your characters well, you need to open in the action, or with a question. And this isn't wrong, I literally opened this post with a question to grab your attention.

But if you are familiar with my blog, you will probably have guessed that I take issue with this advice. Write a story how you like, it doesn't have to be good, you just have to tell it. There are rules of art, yes, but they are more like guidelines, and often the way you make something incredible is by doing your own thing. Maybe what you want coincides with the rules, maybe it doesn't. It's art, do what you want.

I can't speak for other countries, but the Australian system for teaching literary studies is seriously lacking. You get told themes to analyse your texts with, instead of forming your own reasoning. I distinctly remember a teacher telling me that "your personal voice will be shown by how you write what the HSC wants." And this is understandable as a system. It's not agreeable, but I understand why it is what it is. The HSC is designed for evaluating thousands of students quickly and efficiently. It doesn't do personability because it can't.

This carries over into creative writing. If you want to do well in that area, you need to write from your own experience. The story has to open with action. It needs to be realism, so no weird fantastical elements. The marker needs to be able to check of elements of the story. It is draconian, but from what I have heard, it is somehow a more efficient system to certain other countries.

So, why am I ranting about school? Because The Owl House is a fantasy, and the fantasy it is exploring is "what if you could change the system?" And part of that is Bump, because Bump is a character who fundamentally has the students' best interests at heart. So when he clocks on to the system being unsuited, he changes it.

"I'm smart enough to know when I'm wrong"

But perceptions go both ways, and Luz has spent the series so far battling her own preconceived notions about what the story is about. When she enters the detention track, she immediately dismisses it as boring and that comes back to bite her later.

Viney keeps coming up when people mention first impressions, and I will mention her again when that happens. Her character design actually has a cool little detail that hints at that, and its her earring. It's quirky and weird, a fishhook through her ear. But its only on one ear, meaning that when she is introduced and she is leaning on her hand, it isn't visible. But when Luz makes her smile, she turns her head and the audience can see that earring and reveal something interesting that Luz missed.

Where the coven system stands for actively restricting people into areas, the track system stands for refining people into those boxes. Its a parody of the house system in a certain book series that I am dodging around the name of. In said book series, there are four houses that students are sorted into based on core personality traits - brave, clever, evil, and boring - and that system is scuffed as all hell, because not only does it not account for the fact that the character traits aren't mutually exclusive, it forms a self fulfilling prophecy.

Evil house students are assumed as villainous unless proven otherwise, so naturally they are outcasts who want to shake up the system, some are genuinely terrible folks, but at least one is only mean because he is expected to be. And the headmaster of that school explicitly notes that its a problem and doesn't make any attempt to change it.

So, what happens when you find a person who is both brainy and brave? Or a student who shows a skill for both healing and beast magic? What do you do?

Well, you stop relegating people who are complex as "troublemakers" for one, but you also stop forming stereotypes of people.

Final Thoughts

The First Day is a sound episode of the Owl House. It's fun and engages with the themes of the series in a neat way. This is the episode when then story makes itself clear about how it is engaging with archetypal storytelling, that being how actively it subverts it. This is also the episode with some of the funniest references in it, specifically the choosy hat is a favourite of mine.

Bump is a fan favourite character for a reason. He listens, and he adapts. This is an authority figure who gets called a dingus and his immediate reaction is "maybe I am a dingus."

Also, Basilisks are extinct. Remember this, this will come up again. The basilisks were dead to begin with, as dead as a doornail.

Anyway, next week I will be looking at Very Small Problems, so stick around if that interests you.

Previous - Next

#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #character analysis #what's so special about...?#the owl house #toh #the owl house luz #the owl house bump #principal bump #principal Hieronymus Bump #Hieronymus Bump #luz noceda #owl house #toh luz #toh bump

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draguta · 2 years

Text

.fairytale of new york | three.

pairing: professor!bucky x fem!reader

summary: a semester in new york. a handsome man in a bar. whiskey neat. to the lighthouse. christmas lights. this is the tale of a whirlwind romance. a forbidden fairytale. college au.

chapter word count: 3532

warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, age gap (reader 19, bucky 34), student/teacher relationship

a/n: not me adding in a little smut based on one of my actual fantasies (sex in a library honestly sounds like a dream to me).

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Bucky

Bucky was in an impossible position. His career had always been the most important thing to him, that was why he hadn’t had a relationship in nearly six years. It was the only thing he had ever focused on, always telling himself that everything else can wait. There had never been a point where he’d ever questioned his priority before. But now? Now he had a problem.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. The girl that had fallen into his lap when he had least expected it. The way that their encounter had occurred, the way that the coincidences seemed to simply pile up, made him think that it was something more. He felt drawn to her in a way that he’d never had with any other girl before. Her words spoken in the bar that very first night played on a loop in his brain during his waking hours, and the sight of her face as he brought her to finish on his tongue haunted his dreams each night.

He tried not to think about her, tried to avoid her. He kept himself distracted with work, with his colleagues, but every time he received a piece of work with her name written at the top in curled cursive letters, his mind snapped back to those memories.

He really was in trouble, but not in the way that he had originally thought. Not because there was the chance of them getting caught, but instead because he actually wanted to get to know her. Because he could see himself reading late at night with her cuddled up to his side. Because he could imagine waking her up in the morning with a kiss, making pancakes for her whilst she sat on the counter beside him with a cup of coffee, wearing his t-shirt from the night before.

It made no sense; he barely knew this girl. Sure, they’d had two incredible moments of intimacy together, moments that he would cherish, but he didn’t really know anything about her, besides the fact that she liked to read and that she wanted to be a writer some day. How could he possibly be feeling something for her already, even if it was miniscule.

“James.” The voice pulled Bucky out of his thoughts, and as he glanced up from his morning coffee he found Rhodey, one of the professors that worked under him in the English Department, taking a seat at the table that Bucky had found himself at during his lunch break.

“Rhodey,” he smiled. “Sorry, I was in my own little world there. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Rhodey explained. “Do you have a student named Y/N?”

Y/N

Days passed by, which quickly turned into weeks. You found yourself getting into the swing of college, the nerves that you had felt upon first arriving now long gone. You had finally met all of your roommates, from the quiet and slightly moody MJ who was studying Biology, eccentric and slightly clumsy Kate who was studying Art, and finally Shuri, who had an incredible mind according to her professor, Professor Stark, Head of Physics.

Ever since that moment in Bucky’s office so many weeks ago you had kept your distance from him. You often found yourself sitting at the very back of the lecture hall for your three lectures per week, hid behind your laptop refusing to make eye contact, and went to Professor Rhodes, another professor in the English department if you had any questions about the material. Whilst Professor Rhodes seemed rather confused as to why you would go to him and not your own professor, he was always happy to help.

You were doing well in your classes, and had become close with Yelena and Wanda, who still remained your favourite people on campus. You did everything that you could to distract yourself from him, but nothing seemed to quell the aching that you had for him. It was like nothing you had experienced for a man before, and there ultimately seemed to be no stopping it.

When you had seen him in line at a coffee shop near campus one afternoon you had rushed out of the door without him even seeing you, trying desperately to swallow down the butterflies in the pit of your stomach. You’d caught him one morning outside of the lecture hall laughing happily with a red-headed professor, one that you recognized from Kate’s course brochure as the head of the Art department, Professor Romanoff. He had his head swung back in raucous laughter at something she had said, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of jealousy that rang through your chest at the sight. You had rushed home and emailed in sick that day.

No problem, Y/N. Are you ok? Do you need anything? Let me know - Bucky.

That had been the only correspondence you’d had with him since that day in his office. He had signed it Bucky, an email from his work address, and a small moment of panic came to you, but passed quickly when you double checked and realised that he had replied from his personal account instead.

Around three days after that you found yourself in the school library. Professor Rhodes had suggested the day before that an extracurricular analysis of one of your favourite books was a great way to hone your skills, so you had taken his advice and begun work on it. He had advised handing it into ‘Professor Barnes’ for extra credit but you couldn’t bear the thought of having to speak to him face-to-face again, even if you knew that it would happen eventually.

‘To the Lighthouse’ is Woolf’s most autobiographical work of fiction, drawing on her own childhood and family experiences in the 1890s and early 1900s.

You wrote quickly and carefully, your fingers running over the keys of your laptop as if it were muscle memory. ‘To the Lighthouse’ your favourite book, the copy on the table beside you the same one you’d had since a child, filled with annotations and highlights.

Note that the title, ‘To the Lighthouse’ could suggest a journey steadily progressing towards an end goal, but what the novel actually gives us is a narrative in which that journey ‘to the lighthouse’ is delayed until the end of the novel.

You took a sip of your tea, still hot from the shop on the corner of campus, checking back to the book to compare your notes to your analysis. It was dark in the library, late in the evening, and quiet, with few students still there studying due to the lateness of the hour. But this was where you were happiest, the most at peace.

In the final section, pointedly titled ‘The Lighthouse’, the preposition is dropped, but has the trip to the lighthouse really been achieved? It has, with the lighthouse simply resembling the goals that the children have for the future, not a tangible lighthouse to visit.

“Still working so late?”

It was a familiar voice that pulled you away from your work, away from the words of Virginia Woolf and back to reality. You swallowed but your throat was already dry from the thought of seeing him. Slowly you turned, coming face-to-face with Bucky. He was wearing a button-up shirt under a dark-blue blazer, a laptop bag draped over his shoulder, a pile of papers in his arms. He looked good - he always did.

“Just some extracurricular work,” you explained with a shrug. “Someone told me that it would be a good way to keep myself on track with my work, and maybe get some extra credit while I’m at it.”

He took a step forward, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Would that someone be Professor Rhodes?”

He slowly moved forward again until he was standing beside you by the desk.

“How did you know about that?” You asked slowly, your thumbs fiddling with each other in your lap awkwardly, nervously.

“We work in the same department, Y/N. You think he wouldn’t tell me that one of my students has been going to him for advice instead of me?” He pointed out, and you had to admit it made a lot of sense. You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky beat you to it. “I get it, I really do. And if that’s what you have to do to feel more…comfortable, then I’m ok with that.”

You frowned, taking in the words that he had just said, letting their meaning sink in. He thought that you were more comfortable around Professor Rhodes because of everything that had transpired between you and Bucky.

“You think you make me uncomfortable?” You asked slowly, looking up at him. He shuffled awkwardly before finally perching on the seat beside you, planting down the pile of papers in his hand on the desk.

“T-That’s not what I meant,” he stuttered. “But I would understand if you did.”

A light laugh echoed around the library, quickly followed by a ‘shush’ from the librarian at the front desk. Bucky looked at you with a deep frown, clearly thinking you were completely mad.

“I don’t feel uncomfortable around you Bucky,” you explained. You lowered your voice slightly for fear of being overheard, moving closer to him as you spoke. “I was just worried about you getting in trouble.”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh, a beaming smile on his face. It was nice, knowing that his smile was because of you, not some red-headed professor. “You don’t need to worry about me, doll,” he beamed. “I can look after myself. Now, let me have a look at this analysis you’re working on.”

The two of you sat there for the next few hours, Bucky reading over your shoulder as you wrote, pointing out errors or sentences that he thought could be expanded on. Your mind drifted back to the very first day of your course, his very first rule.

“One: I am here to support you, not do your work for you. I will not push you to the right answer. If you don’t know the answer, listen and study.”

It didn’t seem as though he was following his own rule as the two of you sat in that library. He was giving you hints, edging you in the right direction, even leaning over your shoulder to rewrite an entire sentence for you, which you were certain was completely against the rules that he had created for his class. But you didn’t care. He was with you again, even if it was in an academic sense. You could smell his scent once more, now close enough for it to engulf you again, the paper, the ink, the sandalwood, tobacco, leather, the vanilla, each one filling your nostrils, almost making you forget about the paper entirely. He placed a hand on the small of your back, leaning closer as he discussed a comparison paragraph between two characters, and you could help but clench your thighs at the contact. What you didn’t realise was that Bucky had noticed it, and a small smirk began to play at his lips.

“Out of curiosity,” he said suddenly after a few hours, leaning forward in his seat and leaning against the desk, placing a hand on the cover of your novel. “Why did you choose ‘To the Lighthouse’?”

“I first read it back in middle school, and I found it fascinating how it completely steered away from all of the literature that I’d read before from the same era,” you explained with a shrug. “Woolf used her own personal memories to create a story that is so intimate and poetic, and I just thought that was incredible.”

Bucky nodded slowly, his eyebrows raised in thought. “That’s a very analytic take on it,” he said, looking at you pointedly. “But what is the personal connection?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, leaning back in your chair and taking a sip of your tea, now cold.

“From experience, when someone has a favourite book, it’s usually because there is some kind of personal connection,” he urged. “Something that makes that story, that book, so important to the person. So what’s yours?”

You paused, shooting him a small smile before looking down at the cup in your hands. “Do you really want to know?” You asked quietly, and from the corner of your eye you saw him nod firmly. “That copy there was my grandma’s. It was her favourite book when I was growing up, and she always talked about it. I never read it, but after she died I found her copy.”

You spared a glance in his direction, but he didn’t speak, sitting patiently waiting for you to continue.

“It was filled with annotations that she’d made, and when I read it for the first time, it brought back so many memories,” you explained. “Every time I reached a part that she had talked about, or a paragraph that she had quoted, it felt as though she was with me at that moment. I began adding my own annotations to the same copy, started re-reading it over and over again to get that feeling back. After a while, it simply became my go-to book, the one that I always pick over anything else.”

You looked over at him when you had finished and found that he was smiling at you. It was a soft smile, understanding and perhaps a little sympathetic, and it made those butterflies in your stomach flutter to life once more. You wanted to pull him towards you, to kiss him and tell him how difficult it was to stay away from him. But you knew that you couldn’t - it was too risky.

“You know, this is my favourite book too,” he said eventually, lifting up your copy and flicking through the pages carefully. “It was the very first book that I ever studied, the one that made me find my passion for English and for writing. I owe my entire career to this book.”

You’d never had a conversation like this with him before, but you found that you were actually enjoying it. It was nice to know that he was someone outside of your professor, that you had so much in common with him.

“Looks like I picked a good book to analyse then,” you smiled, turning back to your laptop, trying to push away the smile that was threatening to spread across your face.

He leans forward to look over your shoulder once more, but this time it’s not the small of your back that his hand goes to. Instead, it finds its way to your thigh, squeezing gently at the flesh there as if asking if it was ok. Slowly you dipped your hand under the table, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one was looking, interlacing your fingers with yours.

He leaned in close to you, his voice low, his cheek brushing against your shoulder.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered. “You have no idea what you do to me. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Turning your head slightly you realised just how close you were, close enough that you could smell the coffee on his breath, and if you moved forward even just a few centimetres your lips would be connected.

“If I’m dangerous,” you whispered back, blinking at him slowly. “Then you’re irresistible.”

He twirled his hand around in yours, playing with your fingers, glancing down at your hand intertwined with his before glancing back up at you. You knew what was running through his mind - it was running through yours as well. You nodded, and he smiled back at you, rising to his feet, his hand never leaving yours as he led you away from the desk, leaving your computer and papers behind. He let go of your hand for only a second as you passed by the front desk, with him calling a ‘hello Maria’ to the librarian, before grabbing it again as soon as the pair of you were out of sight. He led you to the corner of the room and up the metal spiral staircase in the corner, one that was rarely used, leading to the section for the older books.

“No one comes up here, don’t worry,” he explained as he pulled you down a corridor, finally finding an aisle to his satisfaction and pulling you down it.

Within a moment he had slammed you against the bookcase, his lips crushing against yours, his hands sliding down to your thighs to help hoist you into the air, your legs wrapping around his waist as if it were habit.

You both knew that you didn’t have long, and so as your hands trailed down to his belt buckle, he did the same, undoing the button of your jeans and hoisting them down your thighs as you pulled his suit pants down to his knees. He was inside you within an instant, and you both groaned at the sensation of being connected once again, his forehead falling to rest on your shoulder as your hand reached out to grab onto the shelves beside you for support.

He began to thrust upwards, rough and quick, his hips snapping against yours in perfect rhythm. His hand tugged at your hair, revealing your throat to him, and he took it upon himself to latch his lips onto the skin just below your jaw, sucking and biting, before kissing it sweetly to null the pain.

“Tell me why I can’t stay away from you?” He mumbled against your skin. “Why can’t I stop thinking about you?”

“Me too, Bucky,” you whispered, gasping as he readjusted your hips, meaning that he hit your spot perfectly. “T-Think about you all the time.”

His thrusts became faster, messier. The bookcase rattled behind you, books falling from the shelves with each movement, but neither of you cared. You were simply chasing your highs, edging closer and closer to the fall. You wanted to fall with him, to feel him finish with you, at the same time. You slid your hand down his arm, finding his hand on your thigh, tangling your fingers with his, sweaty hands clasped together as you got closer and closer to ecstasy together.

“Stay with me tonight.” It wasn’t a request or a question, it was a command. He was telling you that you were staying with him even if you didn’t want to. Little did he know that was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to fall asleep on his chest, your skin sticking together, his spend dripping out of you onto his sheets.

The coil in your stomach snapped at the thought, and you leant forward, your teeth digging into his shoulder slightly as you tried desperately to swallow your screams from the bliss that took over your entire body., causing him to hiss at the slight pain. He finished at the same time, just as you had hoped for, the hot seed filling you up, certain to be dripping down your legs on the way back downstairs. He cursed, mumbling your name against your shoulder as he finished, his hips slowing to a stop. You were able to see his face this time, his lips parted slightly, eyes closed as if he were seeing heaven itself. You had never seen a sight more perfect.

The pair of you stayed like that for a moment simply catching your breaths before he finally pulled away, helping you down from your perch on the bookshelf.

“Did you really mean it?” You asked, buttoning up your jeans and looking back over to him as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

“What?” He asked with a frown, satisfied with his shirt, and moving on to wipe the fog from his glasses on his sleeve.

“When you asked me to stay with you tonight,” you explained slowly. It was very possible that he had simply said it in the heat of the moment, passion providing clouded judgement. But he paused, looking at you as if you had just said something idiotic.

“Of course I meant it.” He moved closer, placing his hands on your arms, and you took his glasses from him, slowly sliding them back onto his nose with a smile as he looked down at you. “I meant everything that I said. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s really becoming a problem.”

“So first I’m dangerous, and now I’m a problem,” you laughed, sliding your hands around his neck as he slipped his own around your waist. “I don’t know if I should be insulted, professor.”

Bucky groaned, his eyes squinting and his mouth curling into a smirk, and you raised your eyebrow at the view. “So, you like it when I call you professor, do you?” You asked, wearing a matching smirk. “I’ll have to remember that.”

You reached up onto your tiptoes, and planted a sweet and tender kiss to his lips, before the pair of you made your way back down the staircase, hand-in-hand.

| @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer | @moonlightreader649 |

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arcplaysgames · 1 year

Text

Breakin' the hearts of middle-aged cruise-loving housewives, Sojiro? I'm willing to walk but I guess you wanna linger around and remind me what a bad dude I am.

Reverie, we might need to speedrun the transformation from Quiet, Chill Dude to Absolute Fucking Menace out of spite. Fuck being a law-abiding citizen, i want to get a can of gasoline and set this dude's desk on fire.

squints

That's my student ID and what. She seemed kind of verklempt about it so I assume something risque.

Man, that'd just be the way of it, right? Everyone here giving Reverie shit for his trumped up charges and my teacher is doing something illicit on the side.

Bruh, this is less cold shoulder and more shoving my head into the arctic ocean. In my last life, I met a girl and within three minutes she'd kicked one of my classmates in the balls, and I feel like that'd be a warmer welcome than y'all been givin'.

One: I like actually seeing a portrait of our guy, it actually helps me feel like I know this sad sack.

Two: Why does every single thing I hear about this feel like Reverie is being set up for even more fall-guy-ification? Who the fuck asked you, Sojiro, and who the fuck paid you, and was it a guy with an enormous nose and voice like thunder echoing in a canyon?

Plot shit is happening. There are a lot of weird accidents around the city. Violent ones. It feels like something goopy is comin' out of the victims. Is that shadow goop or other goop? Time will tell.

Hey its our Seeker of Andraste, Sae, watching the news of the derailment. Apparently she thinks the weird incidents are connected. Which already means she Knows To Much and I bet her superiors will try to betray her later.

Also, THAT'S Akechi right? He looks like a beige origami towel decided to go to school, but Sae talks to him like he's knowledgeable. Naoto 2.0, This Time Not Hot?

Sojiro calls up the cafe to tell Reverie to lock up and turn the sign, and has this gemstone.

Dojima, hey, I'm sorry for comparing you to this guy earlier. Yeah, sorry about that, you didn't deserve it.

It's like trying to uninstall bloatware and it getting re-added every time you do a fucking security update, Motorola.

Sojiro does make us curry for breakfast, which would be thoughtful if I wasn't convinced he'd put us out on the street for vaping.

Also I love curry but curry for breakfast? I'm good, thanks.

YOUR PAL ARCHIE IS OFF TO A GREAT START. god this game doesn't give me a fast travel menu, I am Fucked.

Out in the rain, we spot a future party member. Her hair is incredible, look at that volume. Reverie stares for a while and I think he's just Super Awkward. Like, I've glimpsed Reverie The Cool Thief Guy in the opening sequence. It's like there's a Clark Kent thing going on here, where normal Reverie is such a Awkward Turtle you cannot imagine him as Sly Cooper.

... wait is she Moot? hey, girl, are you Moot?

fucking Evil Patrick Warburton drives by and offers Moot a ride in the rain. He also offers Reverie, and Reverie gives

THE MOST AWKWARD LITTLE WAVE

like oh honey. I'm trying to nail down his personality and so far I think it's I Got Audio Processing Issues And Rather Than Asking Everyone To Repeat Themselves I Just Make Affirming Noises And Wave. Boy howdy.

Oh and Moot looks about as thrilled to be in that car as I would be thrilled to sit on a knife. So this Kamoshida guy is not a safe dude I presume. Sorry, Moot, next time I'll come up with an excuse to get you outta there.

Already met another party member! Also, WOW your bleach job is AMAZING? Look at that texture you have, look at the fullness of the color. What are you using, bro, is that Ion Sensitive Scalp, I find that one is great for aggressive lightening without making shit feel like straw. What's your conditioner?

Also, king of the castle, huh. Given what's about to happen, that's an interesting 'coincidence.'

Then the story jumps back to the Framing Device all of a sudden.

"Psychotic breakdown incidents" wow, could you guys not come up with something that rolls off the tongue, like Apathy Syndrome?

Was Reverie ordinary, idk man, what do you think happens when you hear "hey you fucking suck and will be homeless if you so much as smoke a single solitary weed" 7 times a day?

I bet Reverie could use a weed tbh.

#p5 #persona liveblog

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jojotier · 1 year

Note

so for your spy au you have Rose adopting both Dirk and Roxy, but later on you say that Dave is taking care of Dirk? how does Dirk end up with Dave?

yeah!! so basically Rose adopts both Roxy and Dirk bc for her spy mission she needs kids to send to a prestigious school so she can slide in and make connections with the parents, but later on Dirk ends up kinda moving more in with Dave, though he officially still lives with Rose, and the crux of that comes down to

Dirk cannot function in a traditional school.

He's a smart kid, but traditional schooling kinda eats him alive- it's both incredibly understimulating and overstimulating for a 7-yr-old, and he's not particularly good at playing with other kids or socializing the way Roxy does.

Compounding it all, though, is his telepathy. He can't turn it off. So every day he's in a classroom with about 30 or so other voices loudly talking in his brain over the teacher, who has two monologues going simultaneously, and he's got his own internal monologue- it's a Mess. eventually comes the moment where he kinda breaks and, with the special ed resources lacking, Rose agrees to pull him from the school.

but that leaves Rose in a Predicament. Because Dirk still needs an education, but she can't stay with him during the day, because she has spywork to attend to. There's the option of hiring private tutors, but that also adds unnecessary risk to the mission, since anyone onto her could try to slide in as a tutor to counteract her spying.

And Rose absolutely cannot send Dirk back to the orphanage (because she loves him) because with Roxy being her only in with this prestigious school, the mission rests on Roxy's mental health being intact, and sending Dirk away would cause unnecessary stress.

So Rose tries to get a few of her civilian friends' help. Kanaya turns her down (because as Auxiliatrix, Kanaya has to hunt down Agent Arachnid and her house is just full of weapons), as does Ms Vris (because as Agent Arachnid, there's this fucking terminator esque character trying to murder her???). Karkat just flatly tells her that she doesn't want any of his connections teaching her kid shit. Jade agrees to help a bit, since she homeschools Jake, but she's fairly STEM-heavy and tends to get lost in her (nuclear research) florist work fairly easily, so it's not a long-term solution. June is still likely in the enemy camp, to Rose's knowledge, so that's a no-go.

So finally in comes Dave for weekend babysitting duty and finally he sighs real big and goes hey Rose? I can take it from here. And Rose is a bit... dubious, about having Dave be in charge of teaching any children, and Dave's just like you do realize I have a master's, right, I know how school works, and Rose is like I didn't realize you went to school, and it just kind of goes unsaid that 'maybe you'd know if you didn't disappear for 15 years and make me think you were dead'. But they both silently know it's there.

and lo and behold- Dave's actually probably the most well-suited for teaching Dirk. He's got a working knowledge of politics, philosophy, economics, history, anthropology, archaeology, art history, literature, art and more, and even if he doesn't quite know science or the real advanced mathematics, he can usually outsource to Jade and teach himself first before passing it on to Dirk. (And hey- if that knowledge just so happens to make the wheels of the propaganda machine he runs turn to trying to turn the Prospitian public against nuclear power, that's just a coincidence)

so at first Dirk bounces between being taught at Dave's apartment during the day and then going home to Rose at night, but as the months go on and he starts being able to stomach not being in the buddy system he and Roxy have been in since they broke out the lab, he starts asking to stay over with his Bro more.

It suits Rose fine. In fact, it makes things easier in the long-term- when the mission is finally over, and when she is asked to shed this identity and become someone else once more, kill this persona and burn the name Rose from her memory- when she has to leave this pretend family behind- she won't have to send the kids back to foster care. Dave will take good care of them. She doesn't trust anyone in the world more than her twin.

#homestuck #sxfstuck #rose lalonde #dirk strider #dave strider #roxy lalonde #and that's my emotional burden for the day ghbjkn like oooof yknow #sometimes a family is a bundle of lies in a trenchcoat that still loves so so dearly yknow

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skellebonez · 2 years

Text

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @animemoonprincess !

So. I didn’t want to write you another Phantom Thief AU inspired story for your birthday two years in a row…. but I couldn’t help it. I love it TOO much. This is, however, also inspired by the Masquerade in your Fruit Smoothie AU! I was reading it the other day and just had “but what if Macaque and Sun Wukong crossed paths at one of those in this au too?” and my brain kept going.

It’s a bit nonsensical, likely VERY non-canon to the actual Phantom Thief AU, but gosh do I hope you enjoy it!

Sun Wukong should have known that something would have gone wrong.

It as a perfect storm for at least one thing to go sideways on this particular mission. The amount of people, while making it so that more chaos could be caused in the event of something happening and more likely to cause enough distraction to keep eyes off them, also leant either of them to being found if not careful. The full moon provided excellent lighting to see by… which also meant that either was more likely to be seen if they weren’t careful. The high security, though faulty and full of exploits, meant it was impossible for either of them to take this on as a solo mission.

Sun Wukong just didn’t expect things to go wrong as fast as they did… or in a similar way.

“Why is it always you?” He hissed out from behind his glass of water, staying far away from the alcoholic choices for obvious reasons. “This is the fifth time. This cannot be a coincidence.”

“I assure you it is,” his less than welcome guest said with a smirk, slightly tense but no less filled with amusement, right below the purple velvet mask that only covered half his upper face. It was adorned with just enough tiny jewels and feathers to be eye catching, but not enough to seem gaudy. Combined with his human form’s beard, the form fitted suit, and the slightly embellished purple cape he wore he looked the part of any well dressed Masquerade ball guest.

The fact it almost mirrored his own orange and red colored outfit made Sun Wukong scowl.

It just had to be Macaque. Or, as his mind immediately auto corrected into code names for him, New Moon. Which meant Red Son, or Firestorm, was likely to be somewhere nearby. The other immortal was the most experienced in phantom thievery than any of them, so he was certain that there was no way Macaque would come here without a backup.

That, or he had at least one clone somewhere else in the building. Doubtful, though, as Macaque was much more likely to trust his student than a clone to do what needed to be done when their clones were equally as fragile.

And it was definitely not a clone he was talking to.

“I never expected to see you at a place like this,” Macaque continued smoothly as he moved around the Monkey King to pick up one of the glasses of water himself. Much easier to look like you belonged at the snack tables when you were partaking in one. “I would have thought you’d avoid a crowd as much as possible.”

Sun Wukong kept quiet at that for a moment, barely looking back at the door that lead further into the mansion they were currently “enjoying” the festivities of.

“You know as well as I do that keeping up appearances is important in our line of work,” he countered.

“... oh my gosh, MK has you out here as a scout, doesn’t he?” Macaque said with a half there snicker. “You know, it is still incredibly funny that your student and successor swapped places with you to become your teacher in this field.”

“Golden Money-!” Sun Wukong started to raise his voice, thinking better of it and taking in a calming breathe. He could not draw any excess attention to himself. Not like THAT anyway. “MK knows what he is doing better than I do when it comes to these things, the way I know what I am doing better than he does when it comes to Monkey Kinging, if he thinks I would benefit from this more than I trust him.”

“Huh…” Macaque said after a moment, seeming to give this some consideration. “Gotta admit, kid made a good call.”

“Huh?”

Sun Wukong looked at the other immortal in incredulous surprise, not even once expecting Macaque to actually say anything complimentary.

“He’s less of a known figure than you,” Macaque continued with a nod. “And you getting attention on yourself on purpose if you need to, or on accident, would only be a benefit to whatever he is doing. Given how open this room is, it’s also much easier for you to get away in here than deeper areas of the mansion.”

“And you didn’t do the same with your own student because…?”

“That was my original plan,” Macaque offered with a shrug. His honesty was… odd. “But a certain someone wanted to prove himself… and should any of these people prove too rude for his taste I did not want this place to burn down. That’s for AFTER the job is done, if they’re an asshole.”

It was just said too… simply. Too bluntly. Sun Wukong couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, completely ignoring the small glower from the other.

“And what’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing!” Sun Wukong said quickly. “It’s just… the idea of you two deciding ‘yes, this one is enough of a jerk, let’s burn his house down after the deed is done’ is just. It’s SOMETHING.”

There was a split second before a smile finally jerked onto Macaque face as he held in a laugh of his own.

“OK, yeah, it is kind of funny,” he admitted. “But I don’t think we’ll be doing that this time.”

“Even so,” Sun Wukong said, clearing his throat for a moment to calm himself back down. “There’s also the matter of… you know. The fact we’re aiming for the same things?”

“Oh, there’s no need to worry about that,” Macaque said with a shrug once again. “I already told my student not to worry about what he gets, just that he gets something. Should my student and your teacher cross paths I am sure they’ll negotiate a split. They seem pretty chummy with each other anyway.”

The last part was thrown in under his breath, as if the other wasn’t happy to see his student in phantom thievery getting along with the competition.

Before the Monkey King could vocalize a rebuttal the sound of the a bell chiming 1 AM rang through the ballroom, the orchestra soon changing it’s music to something more upbeat.

“That’s my que,” Macaque announced as he took a swig of his water, grabbing the other’s hand without warning. “I assume you had one much the same?”

The scowl that crossed his face was unbidden but gave away the fact that, yes, it was his cue. One to cause at least a bit of a small distraction.

“Good,” Macaque said, and Sun Wukong barely had time to put his glass down before he was pulled away from the table by the other leading him toward the middle of the room. “Perhaps we can help each other out. Follow my lead.”

He almost didn’t want to, just to see what would happen. It would accomplish the goal of causing a distraction just as well. But…

Damn it, his curiosity was piqued. He wanted to know exactly what the other had in mind.

The second the rest of the room parted into a circle around them, looking on in curiosity as Macaque held his hand and took a flourishing pose, he had his answer. Admittedly it was the obvious answer, given they were at a Masquerade Ball.

And out of everything that could be done as a distraction? This was the worst choice for Sun Wukong. He could feel his stage fright picking up as everyone stared at them.

But when the other’s smirk lifted a bit he realized this was a challenge. Macaque knew he had stage fright. He’d known it since they were friends, although it was much less intense back then. He did this on purpose. This was a competition amongst Phantom Thieves. Alright…

For once, why not just give into expectations?

The Monkey King was not much of a ballroom dancer, but it seemed none of the onlookers really cared. Nor did Macaque. They followed each other’s rhythm and the beat of the orchestra and gave a captivating enough show with spins and dips and maybe one or two back flips just to show off that everyone in the room seemed entranced by the two ex-friends.

They’d danced together like this when they were younger, before everything else and back when they were still good friends, back when there were parties on Mount Huaguo with all the monkeys that they could fit into one area. It was different, of course, but similar nonetheless.

Despite his stage fright screaming at him in the back of his head this time he managed to keep up with the other just enough by letting himself think “this is for your success as a Phantom Thief”. And when they finally ceased, bowing to each other at the final note of the orchestra, the roaring applause from the other guests proved to him that he could still put on a damn good show.

But damn was his glad the lights cut at that exact moment, because if he had to do that again he was going to scream. He was, somehow, going to get Macaque back for this stunt.

When he heard “Corridor to your left, up one flight, balcony door is unlocked Peach” whispered behind him he booked it out of there in that direction.

“You did amazing!” MK said once they reached the rendezvous point. “I don’t know how you distracted everyone, but no one except the guards was in our way!”

“Red Son?” He asked as they inspected their heist haul. Some very fine, possibly magical, jewelry. He could feel the power some of them were giving off before he even touched them.

“I assume you bumped into Macaque.”

“You could say that,” Sun Wukong said with little amusement in his voice. His anxiety was still a little piqued from the dancing stunt the other pulled. “I’m gonna steal his couch again.”

“No you're not, never steal the same thing twice.”

“His TV then.”

MK laughed, shaking his head in exasperation. “Ok, as long as he doesn’t steal yours in return. I like playing games on that one.”

“His has 3D,” Sun Wukong countered in a sing songy tone.

“... so my next available night for heisting is next Tuesday-”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #phantom thief au #phantom thieves au #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk six eared macaque #lmk liu er mihou #lmk mk #lmk qi xiaotian #gift fic #I cannot believe I wrote THE SAME AU TWO BIRTHDAYS IN A ROW

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maxattax · 8 months

Text

Zombie

Ectoberhaunt Day 4: Zombies

CW: Body horror / gore, claustrophobia, major character death

When I got zapped by my parents’ ghost portal, I thought it was a miracle I survived. Now I’m not so sure I did.

The accident was yesterday, and I’ve been feeling weird ever since. I haven’t been hungry, I haven’t been able to sleep, and my body just feels… wrong. Like I don’t belong in it.

I call Sam. “I’m feeling really sick,” I say.

“Do you think the accident yesterday has anything to do with it?” Concern is clear in her voice, tinny over the crackling phone line.

“Probably. Unlikely it’s a coincidence, right?” I take as deep a breath as I can manage. Do I want to tell her? I find myself saying, “It’s fine though. I’m okay, just under the weather.”

“If you’re sure…” Sam doesn’t believe me.

“Yeah. I’m alright. How are you doing?” I ask.

She responds, “Well, my mom bought me a new pink dress. I cut it into confetti. So, nothing new or interesting.”

“Ha,” I laugh with a wheeze. “You’d think she would have learned by now.”

“Oh boy, she’s calling me again. I’ve got to go. You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I lie. “I’ll talk to you later.”

I disconnect the call. My breaths are labored; I’m struggling to get air. Hopefully this passes by tomorrow.

---

It got worse. I feel bloated, although I haven’t eaten. My muscles feel stiff, and it takes real effort to move. This isn’t right. There’s something seriously wrong with me.

School is difficult. I really don’t want to be here, but I couldn’t exactly tell my parents why I wanted to stay home. “Hey, I was messing around with your equipment, I got injured, and now I’m feeling all weird.” They’d be incredibly angry that I was in their lab.

So I’m here. I’m wearing a hoodie, hoping to hide… whatever’s going on. Even my teachers can tell something is off. They’re noticeably ignoring me, not calling on me in class. Lancer doesn’t even comment when I show up five minutes late. I’m grateful. I really don’t feel like talking, and I certainly can’t think of any excuses.

Sam and Tucker meet me at my locker. “What’s going on, dude?” Tucker asks. “You’re not acting like yourself. You didn’t eat anything at lunch, and you’ve had this glazed look on your face all day.”

“I’m okay.” I brush him off. I don’t need to worry them.

Sam says, “I don’t know, Danny. I’m worried about you.” Welp, too late.

I sigh and decide that downplaying is better than lying. “I’m not feeling well. Maybe I should have stayed home.” I fiddle with the zipper on my hoodie. “I’ll be alright,” I reassure them.

---

I’m not alright. I’m staying home from school today. When Mom came in to check on me this morning, my voice was so hoarse that she immediately told me to go back to sleep, didn’t even come in. Thank God, because I’m in no shape to go to school.

My skin is sloughing off my arms and legs, chunks of black flesh peeling away from the muscle. Every time I move, the skin cracks and I want to cry out in agony. Honestly, I’m freaking out.

I call Sam and Tucker. “I’m not okay,” I admit. “I haven’t been, ever since the accident. I’m falling apart, literally. I think I’m dying.”

Silence on the line. Just as I start to wonder if the call disconnected, Tucker speaks. “That… that’s messed up.”

Sam asks, “Falling apart? Are you like, losing skin? Feeling stiff? Constant pain, especially when you move?”

“Yeah, basically,” I reply.

“Oh.” Sam is quiet for a moment. “That sounds like widespread necrosis. That’s… not good. You should tell your parents.”

“No. I’ll… this will pass. They would worry and dote over me, and I don’t need that. I just need time to get better.”

“Danny, I don’t think this is going to go away on its own,” Tucker says with uncharacteristic gravity in his voice.

“I’ll be fine.” I once again brush them off. I am confident that I’ll get better. This is temporary. Maybe I’m in denial, maybe I’m delirious, but I do not want to deal with my parents freaking out over this.

---

I should have told my parents. I woke up today, but I can’t move. I’m stuck in my bed. At the edges of my vision, I can see my muscles showing between patches of black, rotted skin.

Mom is yelling from downstairs. “Danny, you’re going to be late for school! Get up!” But I can’t. I’m trapped in a useless, decomposing body.

Some time later, I hear the door open. “Danny?” Mom says. “Danny, get up.” I can’t respond. She takes a step forward, and sees I’m not moving. “Jack!” she shouts. “Jack, something’s wrong with Danny!”

I will never forget the anguished screams I heard when my parents discovered my body.

---

There are more people at the funeral than I expected, judging by the sounds of chatter. It’s dark in the coffin, and my hearing is all I have to go on. I recognize the voices of my family, of Sam and Tucker, even my teachers are there. Everybody is crying. “He was so young. He should have had so much more time,” they say.

I try to scream, to lift the lid, to bang on the sides. But I’m completely immobile. They’ll never know I’m alive in here. Oh God. They’ll never know.

---

I hear dirt dropping on the coffin lid. My grieving family’s sobs get quieter and more muffled. I keep trying to scream. I’m still alive! I’m in here! I can hear you! Help me!

But nothing comes out.

---

It’s lonely in my coffin, too dark, too quiet. I wonder if I can die. I have no clue how long I’ve been down here.

Forever is a long time to spend alone in the dark.

#Danny Phantom #ectoberhaunt23 #eh magic #day 4 #zombies #horror #body horror #claustrophobia #major character death #gore #My writing #fanfiction

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deweydecimalchickens · 2 years

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Mid-Nona-the-Ninth thoughts in no particular order, spoilers up to the broadcast in the park:

What is going on with Ianthe's gender and presentation?

What is going on with the Angel (is it a coincidence that she kind of has Teacher's voice in the audiobook) and why is she 'she' to Nona but 'sir' to Honesty?

Hard to say how much we should rely on voices - spotted Ianthe immediately, but Pyrrha has changed to more of a Fourth accent since HtN. Also the most talented narrator can only do so many and we have Loads and Loads Of Characters, many of whom are not who they seem to be at any given time

God and Ianthe have Gideon's corpse and are puppeting it for reasons, which Josses my three-way switcheroo theory, unless Alecto is incredibly docile/biding her time

Palamedes possessed a yellow-eyed woman (either Alecto or Gideon's corpse) while giving CPR instructions when Gideon-in-Harrow was pulled out of the River. Subsequently he possessed Camilla in something that isn't full Lyctorhood.

If you thought Gideon had chaotic lesbian energy, meet Pyrrha Dve

Saltwater remains key (Nona's comfort in it calls back to the pool scene and Harrow's parents' rules)

Pretty sure Nona is Harrow's body (small, thin, eating disorder, sad face, Lyctor regeneration, fast-growing hair), possessed by one of our superpowered yellow-eyed women (I still think Gideon and Alecto is...astral projecting somewhere)

Nona's 'tantrums' are clearly some kind of explosion of power, probably linked to Harrow's murdery amnesiac episodes in her early days after Lyctorhood

WHAT SECRET DID YOU TELL HOT SAUCE, NONA?!?!?! Not the obvious, since Hot Sauce is still treating her like a person

The non-Empire, non-BoE characters use 'zombies' to mean not just necromantic constructs and puppets, but *anyone* from the Nine Houses? Prejudice against the products of the Resurrection, or is there something genuinely weird about post-Resurrection biology? The Nine Houses need technological life support and their people die from trauma and blood loss, so I don't think they actually are all zombies

ULYSSES AND TITANIA WERE ZOMBIES THOUGH?!

John knows he's talking to Harrow. Harrow was... around before the Resurrection? Everything was to save her? But John also wanted Harrow "fixed or put down" last book. John is talking to one of the other souls making up Harrow? Either from her parents' necromantic genocide or subsequently? Is Alecto in there? (Are Nona's tantrums/Harrow's little episodes Alecto coming out?) When exactly did these discussions happen?

Camilla Perfection Hect don't burn yourself out or hand yourself over to BoE you're worth more than that

#Nona the Ninth #Nona the Ninth spoilers #Brb going feral

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alternamarian · 1 year

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It's the quality of last night's experience [...] that makes it worth putting down. It was quite incredibly unemotional. [...] Up to now [...] absence of emotion repelled me. But in this contact (whether real or apparent) it didn't do anything of the sort. One didn't need emotion.

A Grief Observed by C.S Lewis

While I was posting (mostly) chronologically, I posted as events happened in the book. And sometimes, the topic/s would coincide with what was going on at that point in my own life. However, now that I have decided to pick and choose as is fitting, I am faced with the problem of picking and choosing. I have things to write; and I have several passages that I want to connect my posts to (or must contrast against). And this is a problem even with the additional allowance of featuring more than one quote. Which one starts the post, and which will be at the closing?

This series will really be as un-neat as I.

One afternoon at school I was speaking with a teacher and a classmate in her department’s office. We three were at her desk, and I was standing with my back to the doorway. The day was glaring and humid, so if anyone entered into the comparative cool and dimness of the room I would be able to tell.

I forget the specifics of our discussion. Nor I can say what made me half-turn towards the doorway: I remember hearing no sound or noticing any change in my surroundings. What I remember is glimpsing another girl's uniform (the swirl of the patterned blue skirt in particular), and wondering confusedly who she was and where she came from, for I could have sworn the doorway had not been opened. And as I squinted against the glare from outside the room, I watched the blouse and skirt disappear into the haze (I saw nothing of the girl’s features, whether of her face or her body) before the door slammed shut.

"Did you see that?" the teacher asked my classmate and I, after a moment of silence. We both said yes.

"She's been known to do that," was her calm, almost casual reply.

"Who is she?" asked my classmate.

"The dead student."

Years later, while heavy rains poured continuously outside, I looked up to see a massive rat in the doorway. It was the biggest rat I’ve seen; perhaps it still is. Its dark fur was wet from the deluge. But it was relatively still, standing on the threshold; and it was facing me directly.

I wasn’t sure what I should do: it did not seem very acquiescent, and I had nothing with which to deal with it other than my own hands. But I could not just sit and stare at it. I was apprehensive of what it might do, and I knew I must be careful in my approach. I stood up, and in the process looked away for a moment.

When I raised my head again, the rat was gone.

I searched and searched. I could not find it anywhere. I saw no tracks, no dirt, no droplets of rain on the floor. And to this day I do not know how it could have entered from outside to begin with.

And several years before these two occurrences, I was in another child’s house, when three strange women were ushered in by the ladies of the household. I did not know who they were, and nor did the other children, I think. The grown-ups did not tell us. What I did gather from the fragments that I overheard was that they were supposed to perform ... something.

Eventually they were led to the parlor. We children were invited to watch, and so I did; or at least I tried to, from the fringes of the group. I don’t remember the specifics of their words or actions, but I understood the women were (supposedly) opening themselves to channel some entity or another. Their eyelids lowered, but not entirely. Their voices grew higher in pitch. Then, one by one, they got up from their seats. I think they were making pronouncements of some sort, but since no one would tell me what exactly was happening, I did not quite understand what they said. They might as well have made meaningless noises.

The ladies of the house, entranced by the spectacle (or entertained, I cannot say), then turned to us children and bid us to approach the women, and dance with them. So I did, along with the other kids. I am not a good dancer, so I just moved my limbs haphazardly. And I was still on the edge of the group. I did manage to face one of the women: she was smiling the polite social gathering smile, with her eyelids lowered. But I knew she was looking at me, and I think she knew that I knew she was looking at me.

Then the grown-ups sent us away.

I think the sensation of ‘getting chills’ is stronger now, as I am writing this, than it was — if there was any at all — in those incidents. They may not have been typical in human routines, but none of them seemed ‘supernatural’ or even ‘uncanny’. There was little of that which is often called spookiness; there certainly was no creepy sound effects / music. I did not get the sense of having been transported to some other realm, or that the reality I was in had been somehow interrupted or intruded upon. And I was not afraid.

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness [...].

Now, however, in my present grief, I am quite conscious of fear, which I experience as distinct from sadness.

Fear is often described as a necessary thing; it said to keep people safe. What, then, did my lack of fear do for me in those moments when I was not safe? For what purpose is this surplus of fear? I’ve had trouble sleeping before all this. I was already aware that I am a coward. And I was already aware of my (in human terms) lonely sorrow. What is this heightened cognizance meant to effect in me?

It has not made me withdraw into myself; rather the opposite, actually. I keep reaching out — not only beseech; but, in a foolish desire, to also offer —

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mistbornthief · 2 years

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im calling it now: by the end of kei x yaku, it’ll be revealed that the REAL mastermind behind everything isn’t that nameless dude we keep seeing glimpses of, but - and bear with me here - it’s actually chika

#childhood friend of ichiro? works in a pastry shop that is protected by shiro's gang? shiro who was a known sweet tooth?#*teacher from the incredibles voice* coincidence? I THINK NOT #didnt she only start working there recently anyway. the boss 'pulled her in' from a restaurant. a likely story.#kei x yaku #'oh no chika's in trouble because of us' thats what she wants you to think smh

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heymacy · 3 years

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#today was the first day in a long time that i think i actually felt joyful? like really truly joyful when i thought about my life #and the direction that i’m going and the things i’m finally pursuing after all these years of writing them off as pipe dreams #and the people i’m surrounded by and the relationships i’ve cultivated in person and online #like i’m surrounded by some of the best people i’ve ever known #the customers at my job may be straight demons but my coworkers are fucking incredible #like when i told them about cutting off my mom today and literally everyone high fived me? and hugged me? like wtf 😭#idk i just feel like yeah things are kinda hard right now and yeah i’ve had a lot of bad days recently #more bad days than good days but the good days and the good moments of the bad days have been the best times of my life #and i don’t want to bring astrology into this #but i’ve begun my saturn return and saturn is about to move into retrograde until october #and october was when i set myself my deadline to finish my book and i didn’t even know about the retrograde when i did that #all this shit is lining up because the retrograde started #✨TODAY✨#the day after i released myself from my toxic family #coincidence?#*teacher from the incredibles voice* I THINK NOT #anyway #this is just a long winded way of saying yeah mental illness has been kicking my ass lately #but i’m also incredibly and profoundly happy in a real and tangible way for the first time in a long long long fucking time #i’m talking like #a decade. maybe even more #idk i’m getting weird now i am a little high on my porch with my cat right now #my cat is not high. for clarification purposes #he’s just sitting out here #i am the only one who is high #ANYWAY HERE’S WONDERWALL OR WHATEVER #MACY SHUT UP 🗣

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boglog · 6 years

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ELSIE HUGHES

#westworld #downton abbey #west world #downtown abbey #[the incredibles teacher voice] COINCIDENCE? I think NOT #mrs Hughes #Elsie Hughes #u

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floralseokjin · 3 years

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⤑ made-up love song vii (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, smut; includes jacuzzi (oral) sex, outdoor sex, the angst/drama comes knocking! words; 8,336

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

A few days after Arin’s birthday party school started back, and just as you’d known you got incredibly busy, incredibly fast. With admin and getting to know your new students you found that you were too distracted to dwell on all the things that had been worrying you. Yes, it was strange not being able to see Seokjin practically whenever you wanted, and yes, you missed him – and the summer, but with work so hectic it cushioned the blow. You didn’t have time to live inside your own head or get sad about stupid, tiny things.

Letting the school know about your relationship wasn’t mandatory now that you weren’t Arin’s teacher, but you felt better for it, meeting with Hoseok one morning to inform him. Eunbi already knew, being quite a close a friend to you, and slowly, over the next few days you let some of the other teachers you were friendly with know too. You found it quite exciting. You’d been single for such a long time so finding yourself in conversations about your boyfriend filled you with a happiness you weren’t quite used to. You liked talking about Seokjin, bigging him up, some could call it bragging… He’d even very kindly donated money for a new playground to be built in the kindergarten area. He wanted to help Primrose Hill any which way he could. It meant a lot to you and his daughter.

It only took around three weeks to get yourself into a routine. For both of you to find a rhythm and make it work well. Your lunch break wasn’t long enough for you to zip to Seokjin’s office and join him so he always made an effort to come to you. Sometimes you’d eat in his car, sometimes yours, or sometimes you’d meet in a small café near the school. You cherished that short time together because sometimes that’s all you could have. Depending on how busy you both were you often couldn’t spend time together in the evenings. You tried to at least once in the week, but weekends were reserved for things like spending the night.

It was Tuesday today and you somehow had a night free from lesson planning which meant you could join Seokjin and Arin for dinner. You were glad really, because Seokjin had been stressed since yesterday and you hadn’t had a chance to see him properly. He had to go away on last minute business this weekend but it coincided with Misook’s family vacation. He’d asked Nana if Arin could stay with her this weekend but she was busy too. He didn’t know what to do, other than try and postpone the trip. Key word: try.

Misook had left for the day just as you were arriving, Arin in her room, too busy playing on the Nintendo Switch she’d gotten from Nana for her birthday, so it gave you some brief time alone with Seokjin. You were shocked to see him still in his suit, sat in contemplation alone in the family room. Oh, boy. You hated seeing him so stressed. He was never one to mope or even show his mood. You knew him well enough by now to be able to tell when he was drained, but he still didn’t let it affect him too much, always smiling, always joking around. This evening was different. He’d barely said a few sentences, mostly it involved apologising for his bad mood. He felt selfish, not being much company, yet still needing yours. He had nothing to be sorry for, you reassured, resting your head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. You reached for his hand, and there you stayed like that for a little while, fingers laced together.

Arin made her way in soon enough, stomach rumbling, a hopeful lilt to her voice as she walked over to you both, hands behind her back. “Can we have pizza for dinner?”

Seokjin shifted, unlacing your fingers and dropping his arm from your shoulders as you both sat up straighter. “Didn’t we have that yesterday, Arin?”

Arin didn’t miss. She was a professional. “But Y/N wasn’t here yesterday. She missed out.”

Her comeback even managed to draw a quiet chuckle out of her dad. “We’re not having pizza, sweetie.”

She sighed softly, crossing her arms around her chest as she looked your way. “Daddy is moody today.”

You raised an eyebrow, your mouth unable to stop quirking up in amusement. “He is?”

“Why do you say that?” Seokjin asked. His tone was light, but you could tell by his frown lines her casual words had him worrying.

“I heard you on the phone this morning to mommy. There’s no one to look after me when you go away this weekend and she can’t do it.”

Seokjin faltered, not expecting such a frank answer. He composed himself quickly. “She’s just really busy, Arin. She wanted to look after you, she just couldn’t this time.”

“I know,” she replied simply, nodding her head.

There was a beat of silence and then Seokjin reached for her, kissing her cheek, his voice quiet with apology. “I’m sorry. Was I really moody today?” He looked unsurely your way too.

“Uh huh. You hardly smiled, and when I tried telling you about the field trip I’m going on next week you weren’t even listening properly.” Arin’s small voice filled with such attitude was comical.

Seokjin chuckled. “Daddy’s really sorry. I’m smiling now, though, right?” Arin nodded. “And if you’re kind enough, you can tell me about your trip again over dinner. Is that okay?”

“Hmm.” She thought allowed. “So can we get pizza?”

Seokjin snorted. “Nice try, young lady. It’s still a no.”

Seokjin ordered from one of his favourite restaurants, helping you set the table as Arin went to check on her rabbits. You ate together, listening as Arin spoke all about her upcoming field trip, finally having her father’s undivided (and interested) attention. However, halfway in, she completely changed the topic, throwing you both.

“Can’t I stay with Y/N this weekend?”

“Hm?” Seokjin looked over at her, visibly surprised.

You swallowed what was left in your mouth just as Arin’s eyes found yours. “I can just stay with you while daddy has to go away.” Your lips parted, trying to think of something to say, your years of teacher training falling short.

Seokjin beat you to it. “No, no, sweetie,” he shook his head, sounded a little flustered, taken by surprise. “Y/N will probably be busy on the weekend. That’s her only free time, she can’t look after you.”

With a small shrug, she put her fork to her mouth. “It was just a thought.”

Seokjin looked over at you, expression apologetic as he mouthed sorry.

Hey, listen…” You began, feeling oddly nervous as you looked up at your boyfriend. It was a couple of hours later, Arin was in bed, time was getting on, you had to leave soon, but cuddled up against him, both curled up on the sofa as you watched mindless television, you really didn’t want to go anywhere. Seokjin had relaxed a little by now (the wonders of food), but you could still tell his mind was exhausted as his gaze fell on yours. You took a breath, deeper than intended, psyching yourself up. “I really don’t mind looking after Arin this weekend.”

You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened a tad, obviously taken by surprise, but then his mouth lifted at the side, his head shaking from side to side lightly as he let out a breathy chuckle. “Y/N, don’t feel like you have to just because she brought it up.”

You found yourself relaxing. He didn’t want you to feel obligated. You’d thought so, but the teeniest tiniest most worrisome part of your brain had thought he might now have wanted, or trusted you, to look after Arin. That wasn’t the case. You could tell by the look on his face. He didn’t want to put you out, ask too much of you.

You moved and straightened your back, eye to eye now. “No, I honestly don’t mind at all, Seokjin.” You reassured, talking faster as you noticed him open his mouth. “Seeing as Arin was the one who suggested it, I guess she’s fine with the idea. I…” Hesitating, you added something else. “I wanted to suggest it myself but… If she’s comfortable with it, I’d love to.”

It was the truth. Ever since Seokjin had called you at lunch time, telling you Nana couldn’t manage this weekend, you’d wanted to tell him you were up for it but something had stopped you. Even as he’d tried to think of options this evening – maybe his mom could stay for the weekend, his aunt – you’d held back and bitten your tongue. What if you were pushing boundaries? Inserting yourself into situations that didn’t concern you? Arin liked you, yes, but being entirely in your care for 48 hours was different. She might not want to, she might feel uncomfortable. However knowing that it wasn’t the case, suggesting it herself so casually over dinner had given you the confidence to push through. Seokjin needn’t be worried about asking too much of you.

Regarding you silently, he considered your words. Lovingly, you glided your hand up his arm, reaching out for his cheek. He pressed into your touch automatically. “I want to help you out.” At that, he smiled gently, lips turning up in a way that rounded his cheeks, making him appear at least a decade younger. It was wholly unfair.

Turning slightly, his lips grazed your palm. “I’ll ask her about it in the morning.” You grinned, visibly pleased, and Seokjin took your hand to tug you gently to his chest. This time he placed a kiss on your mouth, humming happily. “Thank you.”

Arin was more than happy about it. Seokjin suggested you stay at his home for the weekend, seeing as that would be easier for the both of you, but she was pretty adamant she wanted to stay at your place. You understood, kid’s curiosity and all. She wanted to know what your home looked like, she wanted to meet your “pretty best friend” she liked to ask about sometimes. Honestly, you felt touched that she wanted to learn more about your life. It was just another reminder of her acceptance when it came to you, and you’d be forever touched by how easily she’d let you into her life. She was more than welcome to come stay at your place, but of course you’d run it by Soojung first. She’d agreed quite easily, even after you informed her you’d be sharing her bed all weekend, Arin of course using yours.

On Thursday night Seokjin’s guilt was getting the better of him. He had you on the phone, making sure you were 100% okay with looking after Arin. He didn’t want you to feel as if you were trapped just because you felt compelled to help him. He could cancel his trip. You told him how stupid he was being. Cancelling would put so many people out, including himself. Besides, you not only wanted to help him out, you wanted to take care of Arin. You felt as though you were capable, and if you were being even more honest with him, you felt really happy it was happening. Knowing Arin trusted you this much was a great feeling. Knowing he trusted you enough…

“Why wouldn’t I trust you?” He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re great with her. She loves you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you laughed.

“How come?” He was hellbent on proving you wrong, voice softening as he continued. “You’re so easy to love.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. He’d said it so casually, so easily, you felt dumb searching too much into his words. It was far too early to think of things like that – for confessions like that. Right? Still, he sounded genuine enough. He meant it, even if it wasn’t in that way. Not that you were expecting anything. You were perfectly happy with how things were, your feelings growing stronger each day. You weren’t in a rush, neither was he. That’s what made your relationship so great. But your heart still felt all fuzzy regardless. You found yourself smiling down the line, your thanks obvious in your tone. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more.” He ignored your noises of complaint. “I’ll video call you a lot – and Arin of course.” Then he laughed. “Although, I’ll have a feeling she won’t miss me at all this weekend.”

The next day you finished up work early, it was a Friday anyway, so you never made a habit of sticking around too long, but this time you were packed and ready to go the same time as the kids. Arin would be waiting in her classroom, ready to go home with you for the weekend. Seokjin had dropped off her things early this morning before his flight, indulging you in a few sleepy kisses before he had to go, a promise of ‘I’ll see you Sunday night,” slipping from his slightly downturned lips, hands reluctant to let you go.

Arin was visibly excited when she saw you, seconds away from jumping up and down on the spot, your first name rushing out of her mouth without realising. It was no big deal of course, but her reaction was cute, eyes widening as her lips parted into a circle, a noise of realisation leaving her. She looked very much like her father, which made it even funnier. You took her hand, saying your goodbyes to Mr. Moon, her second grade teacher, and left the building for your car.

“This is a really nice car, Y/N,” she complimented as you made sure she was strapped in properly. You weren’t nervous, but you were slightly on edge, cautious, being a better word, to make sure everything was okay. You needed all bases covered. Arin was in your care for 48 hours after all. You told yourself to calm down, if Seokjin knew you were being this antsy he’d be highly amused. You wouldn’t stop hearing about it for a week.

“I’ve always wanted to ride in it,” Arin continued.

You smiled down at her. “Thank you.” She was one of the sweetest kids you knew. Your car was average. Not that she knew anything about makes and prices and whatever else there was. You didn’t either. As long as it drove you from point A to B you didn’t care what it looked like.

“Will your best friend be home when we arrive?” She asked as you got inside the driver’s seat, sticking the key in the ignition.

“Soojung? She’ll be still in work. Remember I told she works at a department store?” It was adorable how excited she was to meet Soo. Your best friend’s head would be double the size soon, ego inflated.

“Mhmm,” Arin hummed responsively.

“She won’t be done until around 6.” You turned back to look at her, knowing your next sentence would make her day. “I think she wanted to get pizza for dinner. Would you like that?”

“YES!” Arin exclaimed immediately, eyes lighting up. “Soojung likes pizza too?”

With a chuckle, you started the vehicle up and started backing out of your spot, replying as you did so. “She does.” But in truth, the pizza tonight was Seokjin’s idea. He’d given you one of his bank cards to spend on the food bill with strict instructions to only feed her the doughy delicacy once this weekend. He knew what she was like – you both did. She’d eat pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner if she could. If you suggested it tonight, then that was it. She’d be eating your menu come Saturday and Sunday.

“How far away is your house from the school?”

You’d lost count of how many questions she’d already asked you since you’d arrived to collect her. It was comical. Seokjin had not warned you about that, but your years of experience had told you to expect it. What was a kid without questions? You’d be worried if she was silent.

“Not too long.” You replied, glancing in the rear view mirror to see her happily looking out of the window. “When we get in, I’ll text daddy and see if he’s free to videocall.”

“Okay.”

You tried to stop the smile that wanted to break across your face at her nonchalance. “Do you miss him yet?”

With a brief shake of her head, still staring at the whizzing scenery outside she answered pretty simply. “Not really.”

This time you burst out laughing, unable to stop. She looked over at the noise, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you took a right turn, giggling along. “Don’t tell him though, Y/N. It might make him sad.”

“I won’t, Arin.” You reassured with another chuckle. “It can be our little secret.”

She settled in well that night, immediately warming to Soojung (who despite her lifelong insistence, was great with children). You thought perhaps Arin would begin to get homesick once it was time for bed, but after watching a movie you tucked her in and said goodnight. You thought she’d have trouble sleeping because she was in a strange bed but checking in on her twenty minutes later you found her fast asleep, hugging her rabbit plushie. You on the other hand got ready to share a bed with Soojung – the bed cover hogger…

The next day Arin had you awake at 6am. You already knew about her liveliness in the mornings, so it was no surprise. You’d been woken up countless times over the summer by a knock at Seokjin’s door, Arin’s voice calling out for him. On days you weren’t there she’d even barge in and jump on the bed. Where she got her energy from so early in the morning was a mystery. This morning however, she caught you on the way out of the bathroom. You’d been tossing and turning all night, wresting the covers from Soo. You’d thought about maybe taking a blanket and having an hours nap on the sofa, but there Arin was creeping out of your room, a smile on her face as she saw it was you.

There was no tempting her back to bed, so you sat her down at the table and made her some breakfast, snapping a picture to send to her father. (Captioned: Guess who had me up at 6am 😴) You had a few things planned today. Seokjin always made sure Arin was busy on the weekends, it was the only time he got to spend with her fully unless she was with her mom, especially now that she was back in school. Even if it was just something as simple as going to the park, he always made plans. So, to do your part and to keep her entertained, you were going to run by her house to make sure the rabbits were fine (fed and watered), then go to the mall. It was simple, yes, but you needed to get a few things anyway, and you promised after all that walking around you’d stop by the food court. Then she had to accompany you to the grocery store to get ingredients for tonight’s dinner.

She was pretty damn excited regardless. “I like going to the mall with mommy because daddy finds it boring,” she informed you as she picked out her clothes that you’d helped her unpack yesterday. That definitely sounded like Seokjin, you thought to yourself, laughing along with her. “Mommy told me that next weekend she’s going to take me shopping and buy me anyyy-thing I want.”

“That sounds like great fun,” you smiled, telling yourself you’d pretend you never heard that… Seokjin was keen not to spoil Arin so you didn’t think he’d be best pleased to find this out. “What do you want to buy?”

“Hmm. Something for Olive and Ariel, I think.”

You smiled again, admiring her caring nature. Her rabbits were the most well looked after in this entire country. She adored them. “I think they’ll really appreciate that.”

You continued helping Arin get ready first, and thankfully by the time you were done Soojung had risen. You left them watching cartoons together while you showered, eager to leave by 10am.

Arin you found out, didn’t just like the mall, she loved it very much. She was practically skipping around the place as she held your hand, helping you pick out the things you needed for your craft session with the students on Monday. While she was recommending paint colours to you, she surprised you with a confession. “I wish you were still my teacher, Y/N.”

“How come?” You asked gently.

She gave a tiny shrug. “I’d get to see you every day.”

Oh. You didn’t know what to say to that, touched at her matter-of-fact revelation. Instead you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a loving squeeze.

“But actually, maybe I wouldn’t like it.” She added as an afterthought. You waited, curious as to why she’d changed her mind so suddenly. “I’d have to call you Miss Y/L/N. I’d get too confused.”

You laughed, this child was far too funny for her own good. “Me too, Arin. It’s better this way, right?”

“Right,” she agreed with a nod.

“Y/N, this is pretty,” Arin cooed, calling your attention as you rounded the stand. You’d gotten everything you needed and were now browsing around some other stores. You’d let Arin pick a couple out, worrying she might be getting bored, and one of her choices had been Claire’s. She was holding up a charm bracelet.

“Very pretty,” you agreed.

And then she struck. “Can I have it?” She didn’t give you time to answer, eyes widening as she began to beg, voice soft and hopeful. “Please. Pretty please.”

You chuckled. You were practically immune to cute kids, so that wouldn’t work on you. However, she had been really well-behaved all morning, in your eyes she deserved a small treat. “You can. But just this one thing, okay?”

“Thank you, Y/N!” She squealed, rushing up to you. She gave your arm a squeeze. “I like you much better than daddy.”

“That will hurt his feelings,” you burst out laughing. She didn’t have to butter you up, you’d already said yes.

As you were paying the cashier, she wondered off to a stand of keychains, her eyes catching something instantly. “Oooh, pretty,” she purred and the cashier, a woman no more than a few years older than you, laughed.

“Best escape before she wants something else,” you joked, handing over some cash.

“My daughter is just the same. Kids, who’d have them, right? We’re glutton for punishment.” She joked.

“Oh, no, I’m –” You stopped yourself dead, unsure what to say. Had this woman just mistaken you for Arin’s mother? It definitely sounded that way. But just how could you correct her?

“Don’t get me wrong,” the cashier said, shaking her head. “They’re definitely worth it.”

You forced yourself to smile, feeling a little wooden, but the chuckle you got out sounded better. “Yeah, yeah they are.” You glanced over at Arin, thankfully she was too distracted by the abundance of cute animal keychains. You turned back and took your bag from the woman, trying to shake off how awkward you felt. “Thank you. Bye.”

Walking over to Arin you took her hand. “Hope to see you again soon,” the cashier called behind you and you gave a wave, telling Arin to do the same.

“Thank you,” she sang sweetly as she did so.

“So, something weird happened today,” you told Soojung as you prepared food, careful to keep your voice low even though Arin was well and truly distracted inside the living room. Taehyung was a master with children. The guy needed a career change immediately. You’d never heard Arin laugh so hard. She’d been in stitches for the last hour. You were worried she’d be way to hyperactive for bedtime once it came.

Soojung looked up from where she was chopping onion, interested as her eyebrow raised.

“The woman at Claire’s mistook me for Arin’s mother.”

Soojung scoffed, lifting her shoulders in a casual shrug. “I’m not surprised. It was bound to happen. It’s normal.” She added, reassuring you as she saw the look on your face. “People just naturally assume.”

“I guess…”

“What did you tell her?”

Your expression turned sheepish. “I just went along with it,” you confessed, placing spaghetti in a pan of bubbling water. You caught the look she gave you. “I didn’t know what to say!” It was the truth. “I’m her father’s girlfriend seemed too… I don’t know…” Too impersonal?

“That’s what you are though,” Soo snorted.

You gave up, knowing you were probably making a huge deal out of this. Was it that serious? Probably not. “I just felt awkward.”

“Because you hate correcting people, or because you didn’t like someone mistaking you for Arin’s mother,” your best friend pried.

“It’s definitely not that. It’s just…” You sighed. “How would Arin feel about it? What if she’d heard?”

Soojung shrugged. “She loves you. You’re great with her.”

That wasn’t the point you were trying to make. “It still might have upset her though. She adores her mom.” You weren’t trying to take Nana’s place and you didn’t want her to ever think that.

It was Soo’s turn to sigh, dropping the chopped onions into a fry pan. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Please,” you requested meekly.

“I think you’re looking way too much into it.” Obviously. “It’s not a big deal at all, and Arin didn’t hear anything so nothing to worry about.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, telling yourself to shake it off.

“Of course I am,” she quipped, rooting around in a cupboard now. She turned back, a can of tomatoes in her hand. “I’m sure Seokjin will be able to ease your mind with his sexy Dilf powers or whatever he calls them.”

“Shut up,” you groaned. You weren’t even sure if you were going to tell him. Like she kept saying, it wasn’t a big deal, right? It was an easy mistake to make. Probably happened all the time.

From inside the living room you heard Taehyung roar loudly, mimicking a lion (possibly) and Arin shrieked out his name, laughter exploding from her. “Quick, let’s get dinner ready as soon as possible.” Soojung begged, dramatic as always. “I’m scared Tae might be getting ideas. I’m too young for kids!”

The rest of the weekend went by smoothly. Despite the excitement levels that Saturday night brought, Arin was knocked out by 9pm. You, Soojung and Taehyung stayed up for another hour before he had to leave and then Soo made her way to bed, needing to wake up early tomorrow for work. That left you on the couch, awaiting Seokjin’s video call. He’d already called once today, but Arin was so hyped, talking a mile a minute about her day, you couldn’t get a word in edgeways. (Neither could he.) You were thankful for some alone time. You were missing him. He’d gone away on business trips a couple of times in the summer but it didn’t mean you’d get used to it. You both talked about your day, and you decided there and then not to tell him about the Claire’s “incident.” Soojung was right, it was no big deal. It was a common misunderstanding, one you’d probably made unknowingly before too. After you’d said your goodbyes you went to bed, already strategizing how you were going to steal the covers back from Soojung. As much as you’d enjoyed looking after Arin, you couldn’t wait to have your own bed back. Sharing with your bestie was torture. Taehyung was an admirable man.

Sunday was a chillout day, although Arin still had you awake at 6am. You made her breakfast, watched some cartoons and shared turns on her Switch before you both got ready for the day. You checked in on Olive and Ariel briefly before driving back to your place. There was a park nearby and you promised you’d take her. The weather was still warm despite September trickling by. It was crazy how fast this year had gone, autumn already nearly here. For the rest of the day you both relaxed in front of the TV, waiting until Soojung was home to watch a movie, and then you made dinner. Seokjin was due back around 7pm, so you made sure all of Arin’s things were packed up ready to go. It was just gone eight when he turned up at your door. Arin had already passed out on the sofa after her hot chocolate so he couldn’t stay long. You thought with how entertaining this weekend had been it had finally all caught up with her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?” He asked, careful to keep his voice down as he strapped Arin inside his car. (Still sleeping.) You’d followed him out as he carried her towards the vehicle, wanting to say your goodbyes.

He straightened up, closing the car door as he stepped closer to you. You rubbed his arm. “You must be exhausted.”

“Don’t baby me.” Reaching forward, he wrapped his arms around you, squishing your arms to your side. “I missed you.”

You hummed, pressing your lips to his, careful to keep your voice a whisper. “Your dick missed me.”

He scoffed in disbelief but couldn’t argue. “That’s…not a lie. My heart missed you too though.”

“How sweet,” you joked, but couldn’t keep your charade up for much longer. “I missed you too.” This time the press of your mouth was much firmer. He matched it, letting you slip your arms around his sides, holding him too.

“Tomorrow, then?” He asked hopefully, tip of his tongue wetting his bottom lip slightly as he pulled away. “I know it’s a school night but I swear I only get a good night’s sleep lying next to you.”

Laughing, you nodded your head. “Tomorrow.” You agreed wholeheartedly. Sleeping alone was no fun anymore.

He captured your mouth again, humming happily. “Can’t wait.”

The following weekend Arin was with her mom so you and Seokjin had the entire weekend to yourselves. Saturday was busy, you’d both probably been a little too ambitious when you’d decided to cram as many different activities as you could into the day, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You didn’t get many days to spend together likes this; walking hand in hand as you explored the local market, having brunch together, checking out a new museum exhibit, watching a movie at the theatre… You treasured days like these. And what better way to end one with? Jacuzzi time!

Seokjin’s jacuzzi was fast becoming one of life’s staples lately. Who were you? A changed woman, that’s who. This was your favourite space in Seokjin’s garden(s). An area of decking, solar lights draped over the sleek fencing. In the middle was the jacuzzi, set into the wood. Now that the nights were drawing in, it was especially cosy out here, summer holding on for just a little bit longer as the weather stayed quite warm. It wouldn’t be like this for long so you had to make the most of it right now.

You were sat inside the jacuzzi, water gently bubbling around you as you gazed up at the stars that had just started to appear when you heard Seokjin emerging from the house. His footsteps sounded against the wooden steps as he made his way towards you. You didn’t bother looking but when he didn’t join you straight away, you glanced over curiously. To be met with a rather naked boyfriend.

“What are you doing?!” You exclaimed, eyes bugging out.

He grinned. It was hardly innocent. “Jacuzzi’s are much more enjoyable naked, didn’t you know?”

You tsked, watching him climb into the tub and make his way over to you. His mouth was immediately on yours, arms around your waist as he tugged for you to stand up. This wasn’t just any type of kiss. Like you’d said before, you knew Seokjin very well by now, and besides, you’d already noticed his dick was half aroused as he stood above you… He had a plan.

On cue, he broke away, corners of his plump lips tugging upwards with a suggestion.

“Join me?”

“Seokjin…” You warned, voice low, hands grazing the tops of his arms. He couldn’t be serious.

“No one can see us,” he reassured you with a wider smile.

You mean, he was correct. This time you let your hands make their way to his shoulders, massaging them lightly. “You’re crazy.”

“Yeah, crazy for you,” he smirked, leaning in to kiss you once again. His lips were slow, coaxing. Even more so as they made their way down your jaw and to your neck. You keened into his touch, his hands grazing down your sides, fingers toying with the sides of your bikini bottoms. “C’mon…” He sunk his teeth into your skin gently and you whined. “I know you want to.” You did indeed. Very much so. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, voice suddenly hoarse. You cleared your throat just as his fingers began to untie the strings of your bra, mouth still peppering your neck with kisses. Until that was your chest was bare, and then his lips were wrapped around one nipple, water rippling with the sudden movement. You moaned as quietly as you could, wanting to encourage him because it felt good, but also nervous as hell because you were outside. You didn’t care if there was no one around for a good mile, you were still out in the open.

Cupping your breasts in his palms he gazed down at them, sighing dreamily. “Have I ever told you how much I love your tits?”

You raised an eyebrow. “One. Don’t be so crude.” (Not that you didn’t like it.) “And two. Yes, yes you have.” You broke off with a laugh, reaching for him to mesh your mouths together. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, but elsewhere he had a hand down your bikini to grab your ass.

“What’s gotten – Seokjin!” You practically roared, cutting yourself off as he suddenly dived down into the water, fully submerged, hands attempting to tear your bottoms off. “What are you doing,” you giggled, clinging to his back as you tried to stay upright. He had one of your ankles in his hand, wrestling with the fabric.

A few moments later he arose successful, flicking his head back to stop his wet hair from dripping in his eyes. He pushed it back further with his hands, forehead now devastating, skin glistening with water droplets. You heart stilled, he looked gorgeous – and naughty. Behind him your bikini bottoms floated to the surface. A smirk spread across his face as he finally replied. “Getting you naked.” And then he was on you.

He kissed you hungrily, his erection pressed up against you, hot and eager now, just like his tongue. Your fingers threaded through his wet locks, letting him push his body weight into you until the backs of your legs hit the seat.

“Up here for me,” he pulled away briefly, command light, tapping his hand against the deck behind you. You let him slip his hands around your hips and lift you up, legs spread to accommodate his body, feet still in the water atop of the seat.

“You’re not too cold?” He made sure to ask, concerned despite being ravenous. You shook your head, desire for him enough despite the night air cooling the water against your skin. Satisfied he immediately dove in, leaning forward to place a kiss against your wetness. You pulsed against the touch, moving back on your elbows to get comfier just as his tongue came out and flicked against your clit. Suddenly you didn’t care that you were outside.

From up here you had a great view of the expanse of his broad, wet back, muscles rippling as he ate you out. You moaned softly, running a hand through his hair, gaze falling to his face. His eyes were closed, water droplets caught in his dark eyebrows and as if he could feel your eyes watching him, he looked up, smirking against you before he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth, actions growing more eager as he heard you go crazy for it.

He knew your body well, which is why he cruelly held off slipping a finger inside of you. Actually, on second thought, he knew damn well that the second he did so, your orgasm would soon follow. It wasn’t hard to tease your body, to control it how he wanted. As soon as you felt his middle digit push inside, you clenched around it, hips bucking into Seokjin’s face as a stifled cry forced its way out of your mouth. He grunted, inserting another finger, curling and uncurling them as his other hand gripped your hip, trying his best to keep you still. It was no use, you were a woman possessed, pleasure beginning to hurtle through your body at an alarming rate. You stretched out, fingers of one hand sliding along the wood beneath you, desperately trying to cling onto something as you moaned uncontrollably. Seokjin hummed along, encouraging you, coaxing the orgasm through your body. With each wave your breath shuddered harder.

You only started coming to when you felt his fingers slip out of you, his tongue ceasing, mouth now at your inner thigh, kissing you wetly, passionately. Your hands reached for him, wanting him close, but he was already on it, straightening up to meet your mouth. “I need you,” he breathed. You could taste yourself, it was intoxicating. “Here.”

“Here?!” You exclaimed weakly, unfocused eyes trying to concentrate on his face.

He kissed you once more, moaning a little. “Yeah.” His hands wrapped around your hips, lifting you further up the decking before he climbed out of the water and crawled over your body, reaching for something behind you. “Look – let’s use this.” He had a beach towel in his hand, the one you’d left draped over one of the wicker chairs, and he hurriedly laid it out, pressing you into it to kiss you again. His cock was hard and wet, bobbing against your inner thighs.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” He asked, wet hair now having fallen in his eyes.

You cupped his face, nodding your head as you leaned up. You were still thrumming from your high. “Yes.” Your tongue curled against his open mouth, slipping in to meet his own. The kiss was messy, distracted, as he spread your legs, hooking one up under your thigh.

Breaking away from your mouth, he straightened his back and aligned himself at your entrance, needing no hands he was so erect. You clung to his shoulders, waiting for the first thrust. His skin was still dotted with water droplets. “I’m too impatient, baby,” he told you simply, and then he pushed inside.

Slowly, savouring the feeling of your walls stretching around him, both of you gasping as he bottomed out. With a slow thrust he groaned. “You feel like heaven.” As he leaned in to kiss you, he noticed you trying to hold back a giggle. “What?”

You burst. “That was so cheesy.”

Chuckling, he kissed you again, tips of his ears turning red. “Don’t laugh at me.” You snorted, unable to help it, reaching for him in silent apology, despite laughter still escaping you. “Seriously, stoppp,” he whined, dropping his head.

You grinned. “Or what?”

That got his attention. Looking up, his top lip twitched. His hand cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lips. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson,” he murmured, voice an octave lower. You opened up, sucking the digit into your mouth, looking up at him knowingly. He knew what you were thinking. That didn’t sound so bad.

“My mistake.” He smiled, gaze intense as he pulled away, his thumb leaving you with a silent pop. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

You were seconds away from agreeing but became distracted, watching him lift both legs up by the back of your thighs now, hiking them above his shoulders. He dick slipped so deep you choked, feeling so full you didn’t know what to do.

“S-seokjin,” you panicked, your hands clutching his arms.

He cocked his head to the side, voice soft. “Trust me?”

You nodded, something already so addicting about feeling him inside you like this. You felt beyond sensitive, beginning to tremble as he slowly thrust in and out of you, bringing the tip of his cock almost all the way out before sinking back into your warmth. You moaned out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with a pleasure so overwhelming. He sped up, going harder now that he was certain you were enjoying yourself, wet squelches sounding along with your moans and his grunts. You loved watching him fuck you like this, towering down over you, the wet spikes of hair falling down around his face, fucking you with his entire body weight, your ass sliding back and forth against the towel.

However, you also loved kissing him. Holding him as he thrust inside, keeping him to you.

“Seokjin,” you breathed, voice tight, hands reaching for him. He got the message, easing your legs to the ground carefully as he took one of your hands and brought it up to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, your name slipping from his lips, breathless and husky.

He moved closer, capturing your lips eagerly and you hooked your legs around his waist, clinging to the back of his neck in the process as your hips jutted up to meet each roll of his own. You were both panting by now, grunts of exertion slipping from your mouths as you continued to make out. His movements were messier, wet bodies pressed up close, enough to provide enough friction for a second orgasm.

“Ah… I’m close,” he panted, mouth grazing down your throat as he attempted to keep the same momentum.

“M-me too.”

That spurred him on, hips snapping into yours with a cry, newfound determination, lips pressing into yours once more. You came together, out of breath and quite sweaty, but mouths unrelenting. You’d never get enough of kissing him. It was addictive – especially like this.

Spent, he slid out of your dampness naturally, having grown flaccid, kissing you slowly now, indulgently, until he was moving south, capturing your left breast in his mouth, tongue encircling your nipple. You shuddered as he pulled back, one of his hands cupping the right breast to give that a parting kiss too. It wouldn’t be long before you started growing cold, but you were so content here you didn’t care.

Seokjin lifted his head up, gazing straight into your eyes. His were warm and soft, drunk on your beauty (or so he would say). “I want to give you the world,” he breathed, sealing his confession with a press of his mouth.

Your heart swelled, heat prickling your skin and you clung to him. But despite that, you felt the need to joke around. Call it a defence mechanism, who knew. “Men are so weak,” you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair to pull it back, revealing his face again. The tips had already started to dry. “Let them cum inside you and they’re like putty in your hands.”

He laughed too, genuinely amused, but his eyes were still soft and he leaned into your touch, content with the way you held his face now. “I mean it though,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll make it happen.”

You raised an eyebrow. He was being ridiculous, acting drunk. Still, you were pretty simple. You didn’t have many wishes, many dreams. “I want to travel on a plane.”

It was his turn to lift an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like a private jet or?”

“No,” you giggled, “just a plane in general.” You kissed his nose. “You know I’ve never been out of the country before.”

“You want me to take you on vacation?” He hummed, turning suggestive pretty quickly. “A sexcation?”

“Seokjinn,” you whined, dropping your hands from his face.

He nudged his nose against yours playfully. “Well, of course there’ll be sex involved, but,” he grew serious, genuinely interested, “where do you want to go?”

“Hm, anywhere?”

“Anywhere,” he confirmed, adding, “unless it’s another planet, or the moon.”

You smiled, amused, yet deeply preoccupied now. Where did you want to go? What was your dream destination? You’d had one place in mind since you were a child. Running a hand down his bare chest you suddenly felt coy. “I want to visit Paris.”

He grinned. “France, Mademoiselle?”

You matched it. “Oui.”

“Done.” He kissed you, sealing the deal. “Let’s go there tonight.”

You burst out laughing at his idiocy. “I have school. You have work – a daughter!”

He laughed too, but he was distracted, gazing at you tenderly once more. He opened his mouth, about to say something but hesitated. Instead he smiled, nodding his head resolutely. “Okay, soon. Very soon.” He laughed when you squealed in excitement, bringing one of your hands to his lips. “I’m going to take you to the most romantic city on earth, baby.”

It was Sunday the next day, which meant only one thing. Lazy morning sex. It was his favourite, his time to indulge in all things beautiful and pleasurable he told you. (i.e. You). You’d grown used to his lame lines, he couldn’t help it, and deep down you secretly loved them. A man so shameless with his desire, his devotion. You really had hit the jackpot.

Sundays were also your excuse to just be lazy in general. You usually skipped breakfast in choice of an early lunch, but today you wanted to picnic outside. You knew in a week or so the weather would begin to change more drastically so this was your last chance. You made a reluctant Seokjin get out of bed and shower with you, ignoring his advances as you did so. He was like a dog in heat. Not that you usually complained, but today you really wanted to hit the grocery store before rush hour. Sundays were always busy.

A few hours later you had everything ready, outside in the spot that saw the most sun. It bleated down on you as you kneeled, arranging all the dishes across the blanket you’d placed down across the lawn.

“Oh, shoot. I forgot the salad.” Seokjin realised by the side of you. “I’ll be one sec, honey.” He kissed your cheek as he stood, smacking your ass playfully in the process. “Don’t start without me.”

“What will you do about it?” You called out to him, unable to help it.

“If you’re feeling brave, I guess you’ll find out.” He called back with a laugh, retreating into the house.

A good girl, you waited patiently, but then time started to tick on. One minute, then five… At ten you stood up with a sigh. Where was he? You had visions of the salad bowl on the floor smashed to smithereens. You made your way through the doors that led inside the back of the house. You past his study, calling his name. “Seokjin? Did you get lost?”

You were met with silence, which wasn’t surprising, his home was big after all. Down the corridor, closer to the kitchen you began to hear voices. Seokjin’s familiar rumble, although you couldn’t make it out, and then a louder, unfamiliar voice – female. You followed the sound, realising it was coming from the living room nearest the front door. A sick feeling was slowly creeping its way up your throat, but you didn’t understand why. As you got closer your heart began to race, blood rushing through your ears. There was this sudden feeling of dread. It was so strong you could practically taste it, and you were so frazzled you couldn’t concentrate on the words you were hearing as you rounded the corner of the open door, although you did acknowledge them.

Immediately as you came into view you heard them loud and clear though. Directed at you.

“Oh, and this is her, right?”

They were coming from a woman, her dark eyes piercing into yours. She was beautiful, was your first thought. Tall and slim, with long black hair, so silky she could have come straight from a shampoo commercial. It reminded you of someone. Her hair just as dark and shiny. Arin.

At the thought of the child’s name, you looked down, spotting her beside the stranger, clinging to her hand, eyes wide and shiny with worried tears. Everything clicked into place then. Confusion clearing, yet the sick feeling got stronger. This wasn’t a stranger. It was Arin’s mother. Seokjin’s ex-wife. Nana. And she looked angry.

You glanced around, spotting Seokjin who was looking your way with apologetic eyes. His face looked torn. He murmured your name, stepping towards you, a protective hand reaching for your own. He held it tight, giving you a comforting squeeze. His palm was clammy.

“Yes, here she is!” Nana laughed harshly, needing no reply. It made you wince. Beside you Seokjin groaned quietly, rubbing his free hand across his face before he took a deep breath. As if he was gearing himself up.

You looked at Nana, chest a little tight, something heavy in your stomach. When your eyes locked the corners of her mouth curled upwards.

“The stepmom!” She sneered.

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