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redrobin-detective · 3 years

Text

Half of

Danny Fenton was half ghost. Or something.

No one was quite sure what that meant exactly or if it was even true. A ghost in a pure white suit had announced it during an attack on the town until he was beaten and silenced by Phantom. It’s been three days since then and the nerd hasn’t been at school. Not that Dash was looking for him or anything.

Dash worried, for just a second, that something bad happened to him. The Guys in White creeps had been asking questions around school the last few days. There’d been a noticeable lack in ghost attacks around town, maybe another ghost got to him? What about his ghost obsessed parents? Surely they wouldn’t have done anything to their own kid...

“Think Danny will be in school today?” Kwan whispered nervously, leaning in close to Dash’s side. Talking too loudly about the elephant, or ghost he guesses, in the room got people very forcefully interviewed by the government.

“Why the hell would I know?” Dash grumbled, shaking his friend off to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “No one knows what’s going on, Manson and Foley haven’t shown up either.”

“I hope they’re ok,” Kwan said quietly, looking down at the floor.

“Why do you care?” Dash grumbled, harsher than he meant to.

“You and everyone ditched me for Danny when Paulina was dating him, remember? Sam and Tucker were real pals and Danny, well he’s weird but not really that bad.” Kwan said bitterly before his eyebrows twisted in confusion. “That was actually pretty out of character for Paulina to date him now that I think about it, maybe he was, like, using ghost magic to control her?”

“That’s stu-” Dash was interrupted by the usually noise of Casper High going dead silent. He and Kwan shrugged at each other. He saw Star down the hallway, staring at something. He caught her eye and mouthed What is it at her. Her eyes slid back over to the hall before mouthing Fenton back.

“Shit,” Dash couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Fenton’s here.” He glanced over at Kwan, trying to hide his nervousness. “Guess we’ll find out if he’s some sort of ghost freak after all.”

Kwan eyed him for a second, “you know if Danny really is half of a ghost then maybe you’ll want to quit it with the names.” The warning bell rang for first period. “You guys have homeroom together with Lancer, right? Just, I don’t know, don’t make him mad or anything.”

“Man, don’t even joke,” Dash said with a strained smile. “It’s Fenton, what’s the nerd gonna do?”

XxX

Fenton always sat in the back right of the class so seeing him there wasn’t that strange. What was strange was that he was there before the bell rang, not looking sweaty or exhausted or beaten up. Seeing him sitting there with an almost bored expression, casually leaning one arm over the back of his chair. It was eerie, seeing Fenton try to act normal. Dash felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on his head as he stiffly walked by the nerd he usually smacked when he walked by. He thought he felt Fenton’s icy eyes following him as he passed. Dash made sure he didn’t scurry like a wimp to his seat but it was a close thing.

“Class, please stop staring at Mr. Fenton and let us begin,” Lancer sighed, unsuccessfully trying to start the class.

“Do you know the ghost boy?” Paulina asked, slamming her palms on her desk and ignoring their teacher. “Because if you’ve been holding out on me-”

“I mean everyone in Amity Park knows him,” Fenton shrugged. He’d been so chill this morning, like the whole thing wasn’t bothering him. It only made Dash more antsy. He bounced his leg under the desk.

“Can you do anything cool? Like fly or shoot lasers from your eyes?” Mikey asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I can do lots of cool things,” Fenton sniffed. “I know a lot about the space program and local astronomy. I draw sometimes and I’m think I’m pretty good. I also have super flexible joints so I can do this.” He grinned a little as everyone squealed when he bent his thumb back so far it nearly touched his wrist. “Of course,” his grin turned into an eye roll, “no one really cares about that only my supposed superpowers.”

“What is a half of, exactly? What that ghost called you?” Dash found himself asking. He almost didn’t want to be heard but Fenton turned to look at him anyways.

“What do you think it means?” Fenton questioned back. Though he had a teasing smirk, his eyes looked dull and dead. Dash couldn’t look at them and ducked his head.

“Alright, alright, enough with the questions. The Fenton’s gave Danny a clean bill of health and allowed him to rejoin class so that’s all you kids need to know. Now, back to what we were actually talking about.” Class continued as expected but everyone still snuck glances at Fenton. He’s not sure what they were all waiting for, him to suddenly turn green or sprout horn or whatever. But Fenton just sat there, still as anything, trying to act normal and it just didn’t fit him right and it was all just. Wrong.

XxX

Dash was relieved Fenton wasn’t in his second or third period classes but they did have the same lunchtime. For the first time since he was skinny, bucktoothed 6th grader, Dash wanted to hide away and eat his lunch in private. But Fenton wasn’t the only one trying to keep up appearances.

“Alright, what has everyone got,” Paulina was whispering to the table by the time Dash was sitting down. “The day is halfway over, someone had to have seen him doing something ghostly.”

“I mean we don’t know how long he’s been like this,” Star commented, flipping her hair as pretense to sneak a glance at the loser trio near the back entrance of the cafeteria. “He could’ve been hiding his for a while.”

“Fenton’s always been weird,” Dale commented with a sneer, stabbing at his beefaroni. “Since day one, he’s been jumpy and clumsy and goes through weird mood swings.”

“Maybe he’s never been normal,” Kwan said with a little frown. Now Dash knows this wasn’t true. He was the only one at the table who’d gone to the same middle school as Fenton. The nerd had talked too much about space and was always tripping over something but he’d been like all the other annoying brats in middle school. Dale was onto something, Fenton had changed once high school hit which means whatever is up with him as been going on for a while. Years.

He suddenly felt eyes on him, a cold, crawling feeling that made his breath catch in his throat. Dash squeezed his eyes shut and breathed a silent sigh of relief as the eyes turned from him. They didn’t return but Dash found he couldn’t eat after that.

XxX

“Dude, did you hear about Fenton?” Victor said in an excited but still hushed whisper as Dash was leaving fifth period.

“No, what did he do?” Dash asked with dread.

“He had gym last period and apparently he’s been faking his loser weakness. He crawled up the rope climb like a goddamned spider monkey and then slid himself back down. Don’t know how he didn’t have intense rope burn from that. He also beat Charlie, Katie and Veronica on the sprinting portion. Must be those ghosty genes.”

“Fenton did all that?” Dash asked, he bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.

“Yeah it was crazy, I thought Tetslaf was gonna pass out,” Victor laughed. “Maybe we should get him to try out for the football team, he’d be a great running back or-”

“Come on, Vic,” Dash laughed but the sound came out wrong. “Why would we want Fenton on our team? He’s, he’s Fenton! Just a skinny, weird little wimp.” Vic side-eyed him a bit before clapping Dash on the back.

“World’s changing, Dash. First ghosts, now half ghosts, it’s all wrong but you just gotta roll with it. All I know is I have 2 years left in this hell hole before I leave this miserable place for Chicago and never look back. I recommend you do the same, after all,” Vic grinned again but it was sharper. “Fenton’s always been your personal punching bag, not every day you learn your victim has superpowers.”

“We don’t know what the hell is up with Fenton,” Dash defended. Vic just shrugged.

“Yeah but he’s always been a freak now we know he ain’t human. Who knows what else he’s hiding?” Vic said with a smug smile before wandering off, giving a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he left.

Dash stood in the hallway, trying to get himself under control until the warning and late bell rang. Only then, when he was certain he wouldn’t run into Fenton, did he head to class.

XxX

“Should we follow him, see where he goes?” Paulina said, biting onto one of her nails in nervous excitement. Paulie was gorgeous and overall pretty cool but her thing with ghosts sometimes tired Dash out. Now more than ever.

“Come on, that’s like stalking,” Kwan scolded. “Even if that wasn’t illegal or whatever it’s just not cool. They had a rough day today, leave ‘em alone.” That icy chill returned and Dash looked out of the corner of his eye to see Fenton and his cronies walking out of the school.

Truthfully, Dash didn’t think Fenton had that bad of a day. Yeah people were asking questions but he’d side stepped them all, gave non-answers. Other people talked about Fenton’s supposed strength in gym but there’d been conflicting reports, some said he flew up the rope climb, others said he levitated doing his push ups. Dash really didn’t know what to believe. Fenton was just acting, well, like Fenton. He paused for a second, stopped walking before catching up with the group.

Maybe... maybe Dash was getting caught up over nothing. There really was no proof Fenton was this ‘half of’ other than what one dumb ghost said. He thought back to Fenton’s grin during first period; stupid nerd was probably milking his 15 minutes of fame and bully free time. His earlier fear and uncertainty burst into flames until a familiar anger was burning in his gut. Now this he knew what to do with.

“Yeah, well his day is about to get rougher,” Dash heard himself say as he stomped off to where Fenton was smiling tiredly at something Manson was saying. “Hey Fentonio! Think you’re pretty cool with every paying attention to you but I-”

Fenton gasped suddenly, like a hiccup only his breath misted out in front of him cold as a winter’s day. Dash stopped midsentence watching as Fenton’s whole face twisted. His earlier weary but tolerant annoyance that he’d been projecting all day was stripped away. He glared at Dash with an expression that was hard as ice and full of an exhaustion and bitterness he couldn’t begin to understand.

“As payment for being forcibly outed,” Fenton spoke up loudly enough that most of the school yard could hear him. “I was promised a week.” His eyes slowly but methodically scanned the crowd who had frozen in place at his authoritative tone. “Where I didn’t have to deal with ghosts, so I want to know... Who is trespassing on my haunt.”

Fenton’s mouth opened impossibly wide revealing what seemed like rows of sharped teeth. He curled his fingers into claws and, looking closer, his fingernails had indeed become real claws, as sharp and deadly as his teeth. His eyes blazed an impossible, ectoplasmic green and his dark hair developed streaks of white. He was terrifying, monstrous, but he was still Fenton. That feeling that had been eating at dash all day came back full force. Not the realization that Fenton had powers or whatever but that he had been hiding it in plain sight through ghost attacks and bullies and failing grades. This had always been Fenton, they just hadn’t seen. Until now that is.

And now the script had flipped and Dash didn’t know how this Ghost Fenton, who still was the same Fenton Dash had wedgied last Wednesday, fit. A green blob ghost materialized over by stairs, quivering and wailing in some ghost language. It turned and fled, presumably in the direction of the Fenton Portal to escape Fenton’s wrath. Fenton’s glowing eyes tracked it for a moment before he straightened up from his hunched posture and... was human again.

He brushed his hands through his black hair, lazily blinked blue eyes and, when he smiled, his teeth were normal. But Dash had seen, they all had. He’d let them see but to what end, he had no idea. Fenton turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow and another small smirk, just as tired as earlier.

“Sorry about that Dash, I take my vacation time very seriously. You were saying?” Fenton said with a smug lilt but his eyes were still dead and there was a bit of fear in them now. Despite his powers, he still gripped his backpack tightly.

“When your dumb little vacation’s up, Fentionail,” Dash said with a shaky voice. “It’s-it’s back to business, okay? Punches and wedgies and locker shoving. You,” he voice cracked a bit and he fought it down. “It’ll ramp up now that I know you can take it.” Fenton blinked, once then twice before he smiled. This time it wasn’t annoyed or scary or fearful but like the dumb grins he usually gave his dumb friends.

“Yeah okay, we’ll start back up next week. The usual time?” Dash nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Alright, see you around.” He turned to walk away before pausing and turning back. “Actually you should be careful on who you shove into lockers, it can get hard to breathe in there and not everyone can phase out of them. You never know who’ll turn up dead,” he grinned and his eyes flashed green again, “if only half.”

That said, he and his friends walked away, ignoring the stares of the entire school on them. “Oh and it’s halfa, not half of,” Fenton called out over his shoulder. “I’m not half of anything, I’m just a whole me even if the details get a bit complicated.”

“Bye Danny, see you tomorrow,” Kwan called after with a grimace. No one else said anything for a minute until Dash found the strength to move his legs from where they’d been planted. He clenched his fists to hide his shaking and continued his walk home. Everyone else slowly did the same, talking quietly among themselves.

“What the hell was that?” Dale asked in a nervous high pitched voice. “What the hell did I just see?”

“Fenton being a weirdo but that’s nothing new,” Dash shrugged with a confidence he didn’t have yet. But if Fenton could show up to school after being outed and then willingly show them his inhumanity, then Dash needed to up his game. Couldn’t let the nerd be cool or anything. “So what if he glows or whatever, he’s still Fenton. Look I gotta get home, it’s Pookie’s feeding time and he is NOT going to believe the day I had.

#danny phantom #*presses fingers to lips* this is not the story I intended to write #not entirely sure what I did intend but it wasnt this #it started out with danny being outed as half ghost with no other context and ended up like this #i'll clean and edit in the morning but for now #here's whatever the hell this is #I'll fix it in the mornign

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 3 years

Text

Grabbing Smoke

As much time as Sam spent with her best friends, sometimes she enjoyed a little bit of time alone.

Tucker was helping his mother bake cookies for some kind of fundraiser for the hospital, and Danny was busy visiting Pandora for fighting lessons. Apparently they were using swords today.

As fun as it sounded, Sam opted to stay behind, it had been a while since she'd been down to the park to feed the ducks. She didn't get quiet moments like that very often any more.

There was an uncharacteristic skip to her gait as she walked to the park, a canvas tote bag swinging from her arm.

Living in Amity Park, and especially hanging around with Danny, gave her an eerie sense to when something was amiss. Nothing quite like Danny's ghost sense, but she'd learned to detect a particular chill to the air, a prickling at the back of her neck. It could easily be mistaken for a chilly breeze, but Sam knew better. The crunch of gravel under Sam's boots was the only sound permeating the still air, not even the trees were rustling.

She continued her walk through the park, past the wishing fountain and through a trail where the trees grew slightly more dense.

The trail opened up to a large pond, it wasn't anything especially picturesque, the reeds were a little overgrown, the ground was muddy, but there were a few simple weather worn benches by the path that looped around the water.

Sam took a seat, pulling out a bag of frozen peas. She opened it, tipped a few into her hand and tossed them into the water.

The ducks immediately sped across the pond toward her, fighting for the peas that the turtles hadn't already gotten to.

Instead of grabbing another handful, she held the bag out to the empty seat to her left, waiting for a moment before shaking the bag impatiently.

A green hand slipped into the bag, pulling out a handful of peas before tossing them into the water.

"How'd you know I was here?" Kitty asked, now sitting visibly on the other end of the bench as Sam poured out more peas for both of them.

"I have my ways." Sam smirked. "What I want to know is why you've been following me all week."

"You knew for that long and you didn't say nothin'?" Kitty huffed. "Damn, I gotta up my game."

A duck waddled up and nibbled on her boot.

"Alright alright, ya hungry little doofus." Kitty lowered a hand full of peas and cooed as the duck happily ate from her palm. "Aww these guys aren't shy at all, do you come here a lot?"

"When I can." Sam tossed a few more peas into the water for the turtles. "So why are you following me?"

Kitty sat back and pressed her lips together, thinking.

"Look it's just... I don't remember much from when I was livin', you know? It's all sorta grey and fuzzy, I can't remember what anyone looked like, except Johnny." she tossed some peas to a smaller duck at the back of the group. "But as soon as I showed up here in town and I saw your face, I thought I felt... I dunno, somethin'. Like I'd seen you before, or maybe you just reminded me of someone, but I can't remember who, it's like grabbing smoke."

She lobbed a few peas a little harder than was necessary at the water. The turtles sucked them up greedily.

"So you've just been following me hoping you might remember something else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Kitty sighed. "But it's not working."

Sam swung her foot idly between a pair of scuffling ducks, splitting them up before tossing out some more peas.

"Maybe I'm related to someone you knew. Where did you grow up?"

Kitty frowned down at the water.

"I... I don't know." she said, deflating somewhat. "I didn't even realise I forgot that."

Sam couldn't help but feel for her, Danny had told her that ghosts would often forget things from their past, especially once they'd been dead for longer than they'd been alive. Somehow she had never really considered how terrifying that must be.

"You know..." Sam started carefully. "I could show you some old family photos. Maybe you'll recognise someone?"

Kitty looked up, eyes shining brightly.

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"Why not?" Sam shrugged. "If you were here to cause trouble you would have done it by now."

"Aw, I never thought you'd wanna do something like that for me." said Kitty, smiling brightly. "You always seemed like such a bitch."

Sam laughed.

"If you'd spent a week being someone that wasn't Paulina, I would probably have seemed like less of a bitch."

"So you guys are big rivals or somethin'?" Kitty asked, grabbing some more peas and giggling as three ducks tried to eat from her hand at once.

"It's more that we have... conflicting ideologies. She thinks that appearances and reputation are the most important things in life, just like my parents." Sam lobbed some more peas into the water, they both watched them disappear as the turtles quickly snapped them up. "It's shallow and stupid, and I don't get why they have to push that shit on everyone. I don't care what people think, I just want to be whoever the hell I wanna be without having to fight for it all the time."

Kitty's face turned contemplative as she tapped her nails on the back of the bench.

"I think... I was like that." she said, slowly. "I wanted to feel fun and exciting, but my parents..."

She trailed off, frowning.

"My parents... I didn't like them. They didn't like me bein' the way I was, I can't really remember why."

Sam emptied out the last of the peas and scattered them over the ground, she scrunched up the empty packet and shoved it back into her tote bag.

"You know, if we went to school together we would probably have gotten along." said Sam as she stood up, gesturing toward the path. "Let's go check out those photos."

Instead of floating invisibly behind, Kitty walked by Sam's side as they headed back to her house. She idly waved at people as they drove past, grinning when someone stared a little too long and almost ran a red light.

"You know, it's nice bein' able to walk around in the day." Kitty said, skipping a little. "Wish I could do it more often."

"What's stopping you?"

"What do you think?" Kitty's lip pulled up in disgust. "Any time I show up your dumb friend sucks me up in his stupid thermos. Only reason I can walk around right now is because I got you as my get out of jail free card."

"Danny doesn't care if you just want to walk around." Sam scoffed. "He lets ghosts wander around town all the time, he only gets involved when you start breaking things."

"Uggghhh but just walking around is so boring." Kitty pouted. "I mean yeah it's nice and I like it but it gets old real quick."

"Then you'll have to get used to getting tossed back in the ghost zone. Do not pass go, do not collect $200."

"Don't you ever get sick of his goody goody attitude?" Kitty asked. "I mean you and I aren't so different right? You're all about the rebel gig, don't you ever feel like keyin' some asshole's car, or takin' a baseball bat to some mail boxes?"

"Only if they deserve it." said Sam with a smirk. "But I feel like you aren't especially picky about whose stuff you're breaking."

They approached the door to the Manson mansion, Sam hopped up the steps and stuck the key in the lock. She touched the mezuzah on the doorpost without a second thought before opening the door and standing aside to invite Kitty in.

The ghost stared up at her warily.

"I can't get past it."

"Past what?" Sam asked.

"The mezuzah, it keeps me out."

"What?" Sam frowned. "It hasn't stopped other ghosts from getting in."

"Well it stops me." Kitty insisted. "I think it's got somethin' to do with what we believed in when we were alive. I haven't got a problem with churches but when Johnny tried to ride his bike through one he couldn't get in. His mom raised him Catholic, he says he doesn't believe in any of that stuff, but I think he still does, deep down."

"So does that mean you were Jewish?" Sam asked, smiling curiously.

"I AM Jewish." Kitty crossed her arms. "Bein' a ghost hasn't changed that, it just... means that we got a few things a little wrong."

Sam thought about that for a moment, before stepping aside and gesturing toward the door again.

"Well, if you've been invited and you're not going to cause any trouble, then I don't see why you shouldn't be able to come in."

Kitty climbed the steps slowly, fingers reaching out and cautiously brushing over the mezuzah, she didn't feel anything unusual, no zap or burn or pain. She took a step through the doorway and passed the threshold without issue, no invisible force or barrier like the last time she tried to follow Sam inside.

"Well, what do you know." she said, grinning.

Sam lead her into a large, open planned kitchen and dining area, the tiles were bright white save for the specks of mud Sam's boots tracked through the room. The decor was minimalist, the atmosphere bland and sterile, she could smell some kind of citrus surface cleaner.

The back wall was all windows, leading to a patio surrounded by perfectly trimmed grass. As they approached, Sam turned, heading towards a door to their right.

The next room felt a lot more friendly, it was full of bookshelves and red tones. The lounges looked soft and inviting, a fireplace sat cold and empty against the back wall, but Kitty didn't have to try hard to imagine it roaring to life, filling the room with its warm glow.

"This is basically my Grandma's part of the house." Sam informed her, voice low. "Her bedroom is just through there, she's usually napping around this time of day so try not to make too much noise."

Kitty slipped off her jacket and laid it over the back of the lounge, already feeling at home in the cosy little room. She looked over the books as Sam fussed around some kind of large ornate chest.

"Here it is." She hefted a large photo album from the chest, carefully closing and latching it again. "Let's see if you recognise anyone in here."

Kitty sat down beside Sam as she opened up the pristine book, the outer cover was beige with the name Manson inscribed in golden cursive on the front. The first page was full of old faded photos, in greyscale or sepia tones.

"Ugh, I'm not that old." said Kitty, flicking ahead a few pages.

The pictures were colourful now, but still grainy, there was a young blonde boy in seventies style jeans leaning casually against a Chevrolet.

"Wait hold up," Kitty pointed at the boy. "Him, I feel like I've seen him before."

"That's my dad." said Sam, surprised. "His name is Jeremy, did you know him?"

Kitty hummed a little, gently tracing a finger over the picture.

"Jeremy... Jeremy, I'm not sure," she frowned. "But he definitely looks familiar."

They continued through the book, when suddenly Kitty slapped her hand down roughly on a photo of a pair of young women.

"Her! I know her! She was a mega bitch!"

"Shhh keep it down." Sam hissed.

"Sorry," Kitty pointed to the blonde girl in the photo. "That one! I don't know how I knew her, but I definitely knew her. She was a total brat."

Sam slipped the photo out of its sleeve and read the neat cursive on the back.

"This is... my Aunt Caroline, in 1985. She's my dad's sister." Sam looked up at Kitty, amused. "I can't believe you had beef with my family."

"Your family are snobs." Kitty sniffed. "Carrie was such a ditz, she thought she was sooo bitchin' because her daddy bought her a Mercedes."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Sam grimaced. "Did you guys go to school together or something?"

"Maybe..." Kitty took the photo from Sam's hand, staring intently. "I'm pretty sure I skipped school a lot, I hated it there. It was a private school, we had to wear uniforms, barf."

"I would never have guessed you were a private school kid." Sam shook her head. "But most people would say that about me so it's not like I can judge."

"You went to private school?" Kitty asked, "How'd you end up in that Casper High dump?"

"Got myself expelled." said Sam, voice thick with pride. "Elementary, middle and high school, got kicked out of all three."

"Damn, you're good."

Sam grinned, slipping the photo back in its sleeve and continuing to the next page.

Kitty pointed to a few other photos, remarking on their familiarity, but not quite able to grasp how she knew them, the memories only flickered in her periphery.

"Wait," Kitty whispered, fingers brushing over a polaroid containing three people. "This is..."

The picture looked as though it were taken at some kind of party, a man and a woman faced the camera, each with a glass of champagne raised in their hands. The woman's other hand rested on the shoulder of a teenage girl with auburn hair, pulled into a tidy braid. She stared glumly at the camera.

"That's Katherine." Sam said, pointing to the girl. "She was my dad's cousin, but she got hit by a car when she was-"

Sam paused, looking over at Kitty's wide eyes and then back to the photo.

"Noooo way." Sam pulled the photo out of the sleeve. "Is this you?"

Kitty took the photo in trembling hands.

"I... I forgot I used to look like that." she fiddled with a lock of her green, teased hair. "I remember this party, I didn't want to go but mom and dad threatened to take away all my records and cassettes if I didn't."

Sam stared at Kitty, mouth agape.

"You're Car Crash Katherine?! My dad talks about you all the time! He always told me about the shit you used to get up to, he'd tell me that any kind of 'rebellious behaviour' was a slippery slope to 'dying on the back of some delinquent's motorcycle'." Sam put a hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You were my bad influence role model."

Kitty's red eyes shone with tears, photo still in hand, she wrapped her arms around Sam.

"This is majorly wicked! My legacy lives on! Corrupting the youth from beyond the grave!" Kitty laughed. "My parents would go totally mental."

She stopped laughing, her face turning forlorn as she drew back from Sam and stared down at the picture.

"Are they still alive?" she asked, a tremble in her voice.

"Yeah..." said Sam. "They live in a retirement home in Florida. They don't come around very often."

Kitty traced a finger over their faces.

"I wonder if they miss me." she said quietly. "Or if they were glad to be rid of the family embarrassment."

Sam didn't answer, she had wondered the same thing herself, if her parents would even care if she died. They hadn't given her a lot of reason to think they would.

She rested a sympathetic hand on Kitty's arm.

"Oh, you have a friend over bubbeleh?" a croaky voice spoke from the bedroom doorway.

Sam and Kitty both turned to see Ida Manson shuffling into the room, cleaning her glasses with her sleeve.

"Sorry Grandma, we didn't mean to be too loud." Sam apologised. "This is my... um, friend, Kitty. Kitty this is my Grandma Ida-"

"Ida?!" Kitty shot to her feet, staring in shock at the old woman. "Aunt Ida?!"

Ida squinted at Kitty, before quickly setting her glasses back on her face.

"Well as I live and breath, is that you Kathy?"

"Oh my god this is getting super weird." Sam whispered.

Kitty leapt over the ottoman to wrap Ida up in a tight hug, the old woman was surprised for a moment, but held her warmly in return.

"It's me Aunt Ida! Not really living or breathing but it's me!" Kitty laughed breathlessly.

"Oh my goodness, when all the ghosts started showing up all over town I wondered if I would ever see someone I knew." She rubbed comforting circles on Kitty's back as the ghost choked on a few sobs. "It's good to see you again Kathy."

Ida pulled away and wiped a tear from Kitty's face.

"And I'm so glad you aren't stuck wearing what your parents buried you in."

Kitty couldn't help but laugh through her tears.

"Let me guess, it was that putrid blue dress, wasn't it?"

"The dress wasn't nearly as bad as what they did to your hair." Ida snickered, patting Kitty's hand. "It had little ribbons in it and everything."

"I almost forgot you." Kitty placed her palm gently against Ida's face. "You were the only one in the family who ever loved me for being me, and I almost forgot you. I'm so sorry, I should have come to find you sooner but I just-"

"Shhhh, it's okay bubbeleh." Ida grasped her hand tight. "I think being dead is a pretty good excuse for forgetting a few things."

Sam stood beside the lounge, watching the two in shock, she wasn't entirely certain whether or not to intrude. Whatever she had been expecting to discover with Kitty today, it certainly hadn't been this.

Though in hindsight, it did explain Kitty's familiarity with Sam, people always said she had taken after her Grandma.

Ida let go of Kitty and hobbled over to the photo album still sitting on the lounge.

"Oh you don't want to look at that album." she said, as she shoved it onto the coffee table. She wandered to the other side of the room and began rummaging around in a small cupboard. "You want this one."

She pulled out a book with well worn, peeling edges. Pieces of the plastic sleeves had cracked off and crumbled away. It was old, and weatherbeaten, it was obvious that Ida had looked through it many many times.

"Here we go." she sat down in the middle of the lounge, gesturing for the two girls to come sit beside her. "These are the forbidden photos."

She opened the pages, the photos inside were entirely different from the 'official' album, there were no perfectly poised, prim and proper photos of people in nice, presentable clothes. They were all candid shots, people in the middle of eating or laughing, some were stumbling around blind drunk, a few were smoking joints. There were pictures from parties and protest rallies, in backyards and drive ins.

There was a picture of Jeremy as a young boy, grinning with one of his front teeth missing and grass in his hair.

"Only in this family would losing your baby teeth make a photo 'unsavoury'." Ida grizzled as she continued through the album. "I saved so many pictures that my husband would have thrown out otherwise."

"Ugh, Uncle Peter was such a prude, he wouldn't even let me in the house if I didn't have my shoulders covered up." Kitty rolled her eyes.

"He used to be so much more relaxed when we were young." Ida sighed. "He changed when he inherited his father's business, he forgot how to have fun."

A few pages later Kitty squealed in excitement.

"Oh my god! That's Frankie! She was my best friend, we used to do everything together!"

The Kitty in the photo looked far more like the Kitty Sam knew. Her hair was teased up, and she was wearing a crop top and a miniskirt. The other girl, Frankie, had short curled hair and a leather jacket. They each had an arm around the others' shoulder and grinned wildly.

"I love this one." Ida smiled as she pulled the picture out of the sleeve. "That was the night I gave you a lift to that concert."

"Oh that show was sooo good! I got my nose pierced there! It got so infected, Mom grounded me for a month." Kitty laughed.

"Man, and I thought I was cool for skipping school to go see Circus Gothica." Sam grinned. "I'm gonna have to come home with a tattoo next time."

"I can't believe I forgot about Frankie, I can't believe I forgot about all of this." Kitty held the photo close to her chest, a few tears running down her face. "I'm so glad it's not gone for good."

She kept the photo in hand as they looked through the rest of the album. There were many pictures of Ida, all of them with other people of all walks of life.

"Oh this was when you took us to that pride parade!" Kitty smiled. "You made Frankie so happy, and you knew a lot of the drag queens there, like a LOT."

"Grandma took me to a drag show when I was 10," said Sam. "Even took me backstage to meet them all, my parents thought we went to the theatre to see Romeo and Juliet."

"Oh I have photos from that." Ida flipped through the pages, getting closer to the end of the album. "Here we are, oh Evelyn just LOVED you."

Sam looked at the picture of Evelyn, frowning slightly.

"Oh weird, she kinda looks like Mr Lancer's sister, he keeps her photo on his desk..." Sam paused as she processed what she just said. "That's not his sister is it?"

"You probably shouldn't bring it up." said Ida gently. "Teachers can get in trouble for associating with this sort of thing."

"That's so bogus!" Kitty cried. "I really thought this kinda stuff would be better in the future!"

"It is," Ida assured her. "But we're a long way from perfect."

Ida flipped back through the album, searching for more pictures of Kitty and Frankie. There were a good few of them, each one Ida pulled out and passed over for Kitty to look at and hold onto.

"Oh woah, is that Johnny?" Sam pointed to a picture of Kitty sitting on the back of a motorcycle with a blonde boy. "He looks exactly the same, just a little less pale."

"Oh, did Johnny come back as a ghost too?" Ida asked.

"Yeah! We've been together all this time, in sickness and in death." Kitty beamed. "Mom and dad blamed him for everything I did, even if he wasn't around when I did it. They said him and Frankie were 'corrupting' me."

She rolled her eyes.

"I bet they blamed him for my death too. They'd be so mad if they knew we were still together."

"Just goes to show they had no chance of keeping you two apart." Ida said. "Not even death could do that."

Kitty held the photo tight in both hands, her shoulders began to shake slightly.

"It was my fault you know." she said with a trembling little giggle. "Funny huh? My parents always blamed him for everything, but in the end it was my fault we got hit. We were havin' a fight over somethin' stupid and I distracted him-"

Ida wrapped an arm around Kitty, patting her head comfortingly as she laid it against the old woman's shoulder.

"I think you're being too hard on yourself bubbeleh." Ida whispered gently into her hair. "It was raining, the truck that hit you was running a red light, the driver was charged for both your deaths. Even if you did distract him, you weren't the only card at play that night."

She gave Kitty a light shake.

"And don't think I didn't see the way Johnny used to drive that thing, he was reckless. I have no doubt that he wasn't paying as much attention as he should have been." She placed a kiss on the girl's forehead and squeezed her tight. "It's not fair to hold all of that responsibility on yourself, even if you both did everything right, that truck still would have run that red light, it still would have been raining. It was just pure rotten luck."

Sam had never heard a ghost talk about their death before, even Danny didn't like talking about his accident, and asking about it was incredibly taboo. Sam had been pushing her luck earlier just by mentioning the car crash.

It said a lot about Kitty's love for Ida that she chose to open up about it. Sam couldn't say she was surprised, her Grandma had always been like that. Never anything but an endless well of love and support, and the occasional kick in the pants if you needed it.

"Johnny's always had rotten luck." Kitty sniffed. "Follows him like a shadow."

"Literally." Sam snorted.

After a few more moments, Ida pulled herself away from Kitty, she got up and began rooting through the cupboards, muttering to herself.

"Aha, here it is."

She brought over an empty photo album, it was roughly the size of a small pocketbook, containing only one photo sleeve per page.

"I meant to fill this with photos for Sam to keep." Ida admitted as she shuffled back over to the girls. "But I don't think she'll mind donating it to a good cause."

She winked at Sam, who nodded back.

"Here," Ida pressed the little album into Kitty's hands. "Memories are a fickle thing, but photos are forever."

"I can't take these!" Kitty insisted, pushing the album back. "They're your memories too!"

"Oh my god you're both so old." Sam laughed, "Dad has a printer/scanner. I can make copies."

As Sam took the polaroids to her dad's office, Ida and Kitty pored over the rest of the album, Kitty picking out more photos to copy. She chose a few of Ida and Sam, and even one of Carrie.

"She was a total loser and I hated her but I don't hate remembering her, you know? I want to remember everything, even the bad stuff."

She took a photo of her parents, just one.

When Sam came back with the last batch of photos, Ida finished slipping them into the little album.

"There's still a few sleeves left." Sam pointed out, holding up her phone with a smile. "We've got room for a couple of family reunion pics."

The two girls squished up against Ida as Sam snapped as many shots as she could. Ones where they smiled, ones where they laughed, ones where they laid haphazardly across the lounge together.

Then Sam took a few candids of just Kitty and Ida, as they looked through the new album they'd just made together. Capturing Kitty laughing at something as Ida looked at her with a soft, loving smile.

Kitty clutched the album to her chest as she gave Ida a long, drawn out hug.

"Thank you so much." she said, her voice thick with gratitude. "It's like I can see my life in colour again."

She left the house with the assurance that she would always be welcome back, at any time, and a promise that she would always be looking out for her 'new favourite cousin'.

Sam flicked through the photos she took on her phone, she would have to make sure to have copies printed by the time Kitty returned to visit.

She knew Kitty coming over regularly was going to make things complicated, her apparent newfound protectiveness over Sam could potentially backfire in many spectacular ways, she was petty and troublesome when in the right mood.

But then again, so was Ida, and so was Sam.

At least she had better things to do now than beat up strangers' mail boxes, Danny was certainly going to be glad to hear that.

#lula's fanfics #danny phantom #danny phantom fanfiction #kitty #sam manson #ida manson

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maseshine · 2 years

Text

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: where manson speaks truths to you, not knowing the consequences that would bring

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬: enemies, birthday party

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, alcohol consumption, angst

𝐚/𝐧: i'm open to requests! i write using a dash and my first language is not English!

𝗶 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲, parte ¹ || mason mount

You were immensely excited about your twenty-one year party, in the past few months you have multiplied in two to prepare the best party of all! The venue of the party was scheduled months earlier so that there would be no problem on the day, the guest list revolved around nearly two hundred people. Most people you wouldn’t know since they came as escorts.

From football players to digital influencers, the guest list was quite varied. Since you were sixteen, you didn’t have as big a party as you had this year, so your parents saw no problem sponsoring the party, with you paying the other half. After all, his modelling income wasn't that bad.

The day and even the beginning of the party was just perfect for you, until the person who made you feel worse appeared. Mason Mount was your private hell, your best friend’s best friend. You loved Declan and you really didn’t understand how he could stand someone like Mount.

You didn’t always hate each other. As a matter of fact, when you first met Dec when you were ten, the three of you got along great, you were the group’s youngest, and Declan and Mason made it a point to always defend you and be around. You even took a pinky oath that you would always be friends. Half the oath worked.

Everything changed after you turned sixteen, the boys were eighteen. It was at that time to that you realized you had a little crush on Mason. But it was also at that time that Mason completely changed with you, from soft, sweet, he began to treat you with hardness and carelessness.

Cute nicknames became provocations that were always said to hurt you more and more. You didn’t understand your attitude, you didn’t accept it either, but Mason never gave you an explanation, he just hated you more. So you fought back and buried every good feeling there was for him. For five years, you endured all the bad things he said. You wouldn't turn your back on your best friend and other friends just because of him. It was painful, but you could do it.

So, when you saw him walk through the front doors with a beautiful girl by your side, you knew you were very likely to end the night crying in your bed. Mason had this unique talent for doing this.

Putting a fake smile on your face, you walked calmly to where they were standing, on the outside totally composed, but on the inside wanting to kill the troglodyte blues player.

━ Hi, thanks for coming to celebrate such a special date with me. ━ Your eyes were on the pretty brunette while you attempted to ignore Mason.

━ Apparently, that was the best thing we had today, and since most of my friends are here, I'll have to settle for that. ━ Mason’s acid words hit the target hard when you felt your eyes burn in the corners by his neglect for your birthday.

━ Thank you so much for the invitation, Y/N. I bought a gift, as I don’t know you well, I chose to go by default. ━ You tried to really smile at Mount’s partner while you were grabbing the designer bag, she at least knows how to be polite.

━ Thank you so much! I’m sure I’ll love it.

━ Of course you will, you’re a materialistic girl, Y/N. It’s not a surprise. ━ Mason’s scowling smile made new tears burn in your eyes, you need to come out right now.

━ Enjoy your party, and thank you for coming.

Without giving time for an answer, you turned and walked quickly to the place where the gifts were and left what was in your hand there, your eyes still burning from the unspent tears. That was so unfair, a few minutes ago you were beaming, but with just a few words from Mason, you wanted to fall apart.

━ Fucking feelings.

Almost three hours had passed since the beginning of the party, the congratulations had already been given and now everyone had fun on the dance floor. You spent most of the party with Declan and some of Chelsea’s boys. But he also made a point of talking to several other groups so that no one felt excluded.

You and Mason had not seen each other any more and you made sure to always observe if he was in a group before approaching, maybe the night would end without crying this time.

As you turned to walk towards the bar to grab another drink, a stronger body hit you, colourful drink splashing on your dress, a curse coming out of your lips.

━ Shit. ━ You proclaimed.

━ You could only be yourself, right? ━ The husky, slightly dull voice reached your ears.

━ I didn’t see you, Mount. I’m sorry I touched the precious London star. ━ Your sarcasm dripped with words.

━ Always with a smart-ass answer. When are you going to stop being a whiny little brat, Y/N? ━ You gave Mason your worst look before you left him.

Listening to your footsteps behind you, your walk to the bathroom became faster, reaching the hallway you felt know elbow being grabbed.

━ Don’t leave me talking to myself like I’m one of your doormats, Y/N! ━ Mason’s red eyes made contact with their own, their bodies a centimetre away.

━ Let me go, you idiot! ━ You talked away from him. ━ What the fuck is your problem, Mount? I made a point of avoiding you the whole damn night! Today is my fucking birthday, can’t you stop being an asshole to me for just a few hours? ━ You asked, your voice a little louder.

━ Am I the asshole? Are you sure? You can be so shallow that all that goes on in your head is worrying about a party. ━ Mason spoke while leaning his body against the wall, the expression on his face screaming superiority.

━ It’s my birthday! It may be nothing to you, but it’s a special day for me! And you don’t have to belittle it, I know you hate me, but this is low even for you! ━ Mason’s expression closed, his fists clenched.

━ You’re short, Y/N. You play with people like they’re nothing. Do you think all these people here today like you? ━ Mason’s tone of voice was low, the muffled sound of the dance floor in the background. ━ You’re just a father’s little girl who always had everything in her hand. You’re an empty little girl who tries to make up for it with expensive parties and gifts, you’re purely shallow.

During the five years of enmity you never saw Mason talk to you with so much poison. Your vision blurred when you blinked to ward off tears.

━ Why? ━ His embarrassed voice whispered. A quick expression of confusion painted Mason’s face.

━ What? ━ He questioned not understanding.

━ Why do you hate me? What have I done that’s so bad that you treat me like the worst person in the world? We were best friends for six years, I told you my dreams as I watched you run after yours, so I woke up one day and you hated me and I spent the last five years putting up with everything you had bad about me to tell me, And I’m the only one you have a problem with. So why? ━ At the end of your monologue, your tears would come down your cheeks, you had really held on too long.

━ I simply realized who you really were. ━ Mason replied with indifference. ━ Too bad Declan can’t observe the same. Our lives would be much better if you hadn’t entered them. ━ Your mocking smile only further confirmed your words.

You took a deep breath while wiping your cheeks, not caring a bit about your smudged makeup. A smile without emotion adorned his features.

━ Maybe you can do this faster than you think. ━ You didn’t wait for your answer, you just walked quickly until you were in the ladies' room.

Your back against the door as your body trembled at your silent cry, your joy at your long-dead birthday, the pain in your heart squeezing, liking someone who hated you was not recommended.

#football #chelsea fc #football imagine #london #premier league #footballer #masterlist #imagine #soccer player #enemies to friends to lovers #mason mount imagine #mason x reader #mason mount fanfic #mason mount #birthday #partytime #party

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

twelve hours, m | jjk | then...

pairing(s): jungkook x reader; implied taehyung x reader

summary: You have twelve hours to make Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you. He's about to get married. You're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. Long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. Nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

this is part i | click here for part ii | total wc: 23k

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; this story contains parental child abuse and graphic violence, including the reader becoming physically scarred and having panic attacks; alcohol consumption; rich, this bachelor party is on a fuckin' YACHT, the best man is LOADED; JK and reader interacted in high school and haven't seen each other until now; angst and fluff and feels; cheating; high school smut + (in part ii) intense adult smut (fem reader, striptease, semi-public sex at school, nipple play (he's a bit obsessed with them), dry humping, m-masturbation, handjob, cumming on tits (and diamonds), cum-eating, mirror kink, spitting, tit fucking, m-receiving oral, scratching / biting / marking, penetrative sex, doggy); shifts back and forth between Jungkook’s POV and your POV; the ask

non-idol!AU; film director!Jungkook x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader — ft best man, art trader!Kim Taehyung; dancer's bodyguard!Kim Namjoon and bodyguard!Kim Seokjin

> eyebrow pierced, tattooed, and long black-haired JK (with undercut) in a black suit because that's what we need in this life > reader's burlesque performance is heavily inspired by Dita Von Teese and her martini glass stage; music used is 'sweet dreams are made of this' and 'are you the rabbit?' both by Marilyn Manson.

"You have twelve hours."

"What happens after that?"

"He going to get married."

time left: 11:59

"Dude, she said anything goes."

Jeon Jungkook frowned, glaring at his best man. "You don't do dumb shit if you're going to marry them."

Kim Taehyung tilted his head, long black-brown stands curling around his defined cheekbones, dark brown eyes twinkling with slyness, looking handsome, amused, and devilishly single.

Because he was.

"Oh? You're finally admitting you're in love with your future wife?"

"... Of course."

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. "How convincing."

time left: --:--

Jeon Jungkook.

Hm.

Did he remember you? Probably not. It was a long time ago, high school and all that. He was more adorable then and you were more rebellious then. Too rebellious, putting yourself in detention far too many times, leaving you with the class representative after hours, who turned out to be Jeon Jungkook, not because he was a good student but because everyone liked him. Athletic, creative, attractive, the epitome of the face of the class.

The teachers left you with tons of remedial work that you didn't bother to do during detention, choosing instead to annoy the class representative. Sitting close to him, staring at him, toying with his school supplies, pointing out when he was using the wrong equation for the math problem he was trying to solve.

"Why are you like this?" he snapped one day, smacking his pencil down and glaring at you. "Why do you pick fights and beat up upperclassmen and skip class and sneak around? What's the point?"

You spun your pen on your fingertips.

"I just want to spend time with you."

And you had kissed him.

Whether those words were real or not at the time didn’t matter, because, in time, they would become all too real.

time left: 11:45

"You're on stage in five minutes. We're very sorry for the delay."

You smiled, lips painted red, teasing and sculptural, covered in red and black Swarovski crystals and lush velvet, chained by fabric and thick clasps holding each piece together. "That's alright. I understand."

The employee bowed and left. The bachelor party was already in full swing. Loud chattering, clinking of glasses, rowdy laughter. You could hear it through the thin walls backstage, through the curtains, into your soul. A big party on a yacht.

Rich, decadent, ripe with sin.

Arranged by Kim Taehyung, a successful art trader and the best man of Jeon Jungkook, well-known director of indie films and the bachelor who was about to get married to a wealthy, very well-known social media influencer turned socialite. She had her face all over social media, so she needed another face equally as beautiful for the likes and the sponsors.

Young money, they called it.

You stood up, looking at yourself in the mirror.

Being on stage was different than real life.

It required red lips, immaculate black eyeliner, sharp and distinct, manicured brows, and perfectly pinned hair, dyed a cool-toned black to bring out a kind of surreal quality to your skin, as if you were more of a doll than a human being. The show costume tonight was black and red, packed with crystals so you would be glittering from every angle. Handcrafted bustier, separate corset, strappy panties, slinky floor-length skirt with a high slit, sheer stockings, tall heels, even a long cape that trailed on the floor, completed with heavy choker around your throat, covered in black diamonds.

You turned from the mirror and exited your green room, walking slowly and carefully. Two security guards followed you, keeping all staff away from your path. They were holding your ostrich feather fans.

Black and red.

Taehyung couldn't afford you and your act unless he blew his entire budget on your performance alone. However, you made an exception for him, because he had something you wanted.

The lights were dimming.

You stood next to the stage, seeing the two-meter-tall, gem-encrusted martini glass waiting for you.

There was a spotlight on it, scattering light all over the dark room, barely illuminating the faces in the audience. You could see him because he was in the front row, looking confused, large brown eyes, long black hair, eyebrow piercing, and hand tattoos.

It was his party.

Jungkook had no idea the main event Taehyung had arranged was a professional burlesque dancer.

Sudden silence.

Being on stage was just like real life.

You always had to play a character.

The music began.

"Sweet dreams are made of this..."

You glided on stage, and the lights followed.

time left: --:--

You sat with the teacher, waiting.

The whole thirty minutes elapsed.

"We will have to reschedule this parent-teacher conference."

It was on the tip of your tongue. They won't come. They don't care. Last night my mother shoved my hand into boiling water until I screamed my apology for not folding the laundry fast enough.

You pulled the sleeve of your large hoodie over your bandaged left hand.

"I did the remedial work..." you mumbled.

"It doesn't matter even if you got full marks on it. Your behavior hasn't changed. You'll be on cleaning classroom duty for the rest of the month unless your parents attend a meeting to talk about your behavior."

That was the only reason you weren't expelled or suspended. Despite all your bullshit, your grades were good. Excellent, even. Strangely good despite only attending half of your classes. The teachers still gave you punishments to make an example of you, but you wouldn’t be getting away with this if your name wasn’t at the top five percent of the class.

You were mopping the floor when someone called your name. You looked up, and there he was.

The class representative.

"Hello, Jungkook."

He must have stayed late for taekwondo. He was still in uniform.

"This isn't your day for cleaning duty," he said, sounding confused.

You smirked at him, teasing and sculptural.

"Every day is my day for cleaning duty now."

His dark brows knitted together, frowning. He walked to the entrance but did not step in, seeing the wet floor. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think they enjoyed my graffiti on the gym building," you mused, recalling the strong scent of the paint spray cans. Students and teachers had to look up the English phrase you had outlined on there to understand it. It spread around the school like wildfire before you were forced to paint over it.

I got an F and a C and I got a K too and the only thing that's missing is a bitch like U.

You even left the period for proper grammar.

"Your shirt is untucked."

You flipped up the bottom of your white dress shirt and flashed him your red bra. Jungkook jerked his head away quickly, trying to avoid looking. His eyes lingered anyway, because, of course, he was a teenager and you were well-educated in the stages of puberty. Not really because of school.

Mostly because of the internet.

"Oops," you purred, leaning against the mop handle. His eyes flickered to your face and your tongue curled around the edge of your upper lip before disappearing into your mouth.

Jungkook's ears and cheeks turned red. He backed up, away from the door.

You cocked your chin.

"Run along now, golden boy."

You let the coldness show now, tone dropping.

"Wouldn't want someone to see you talking to me, right?" you snarled.

Guilt clouded his features.

He ran.

You went back to mopping.

time left: 11:37

Your clients usually wanted very specific things from you. Glamor, first and foremost. Fantasy. They wanted to descend into hell, or at least feel that way. It's not cheating if you're not touching, they loved to say. They were usually old, wealthy, and surprisingly respectful of the craft.

Not so much you, but the craft.

Well, that's what the bodyguards were for.

There was something about a woman who lived in shadow that was appealing and enticed all the worst behaviors. Alcohol was usually involved, a depressant to the mind and stimulant to sin.

Taehyung had given you free reign.

"Go off. Do whatever you want."

It began with Sweet Dreams, but not just any sweet dreams. Sweet dreams with a grating, smoked growl, darker with guitars and low bass, a remix with longer instrumental parts. They saw the black ostrich feathers and glowing dark crystals first, followed by your haunting movements and feline predatory grace.

“Travel the world and the seven seas, everybody's looking for something...”

You could see him through the vanes of the feathers, jaw dropped, trying to take it in. Unlikely he recognized the singer. Marilyn Manson wasn't exactly who people thought of when burlesque was involved.

Ah, but the pain and agony in that voice was exactly what you wanted to convey.

"Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to be used by you..."

You lowered the fan, smirk on your lips. Tipped your head back, letting the diamonds on the choker catch the light, swaying to the movement of the music. There was smoke creeping down the sides of the curtains, adding to the strangeness of it all, as if one was stepping into another world. You turned your wrists inward, feathers gliding over your body, pulling back slowly, tongue tracing your lips.

The tip lingered at the edge of your upper lip and slid back in as you lowered your lashes.

“I want to use you and abuse you…”

You transferred one of the fans to your left hand, careful to place them so it looked like one massive fan. You swept it over your head, grazing your hair, covering part of your back.

“I want to know what's inside you…”

You knew the easiest and most elegant way to flick off the cape, pulling the fan back as it cascaded down, stroking your torso and catching onto your ass.

A deliberate flick of your hips and it fell off, revealing your form.

You looked back over your shoulder and found those brown eyes, frozen in his seat.

You could hear some boisterous whistles and cheers but you focused on personifying the music.

“Movin’ on…”

Every action was practiced, sharp, attentive. You were very aware of every arm movement, every line of your legs, every facial expression, every finger and every wrist flick. You commanded the stage with every step, almost lazy in facial expression, but your eyes were sharp, clear of all your surroundings.

You cocked an eyebrow, hiding behind your fans again.

The art of tease was not something you took lightly.

Your hand slid down, visible against the dark fabrics and sparkling crystals, long fingers spreading out.

Two slid between your legs, pushing the fabric in, outlining your pussy.

The delicate but forceful thrust of your hips, implying that perhaps, maybe, if one was lucky, they could have it.

All lies.

Your hand danced back up, unhooking your skirt and tossing it aside. A smooth, practiced motion, glistening as it tumbled through the air. Your stagehand caught it, hidden in the dark, the same one that had collected your cape from the floor earlier. No one noticed.

All eyes were on you.

You closed the fan slowly, lowering it, tracing the inside of your thigh.

Gazing at Jeon Jungkook under your lashes.

“Sweet dreams…”

Your slim tongue slid out from between your painted lips.

Slow, curling around the edge of your upper lip before disappearing into your mouth.

Taehyung had met you by chance. He had been invited to a fancy dinner party and you were the guest performance. That was your opium stage, with the green bed and white smoke, long robes and snake motifs. Writhing on the bedsheets, slithering, serpentine. The deliberate plucking of each finger from the long black opera gloves before pulling it off with one smooth motion, mining a moan as you tossed it aside. One, then the other. Then the stockings, holding it by the toe and leaning over the edge of the bed, raising your bent leg and pulling it over your shoulder, ass in the air. One and then the other. Your head tipped back, unlacing the corset, paying attention to your body line.

Nothing but pure seduction.

The host decided to hold a drawing for a private show, just for fun, and, lo and behold Kim Taehyung's luck, clutching the called-out number and pushed into a dark room with you.

He had looked from the two bodyguards to you, uneasy.

You had climbed into his lap.

"W-Wait, I thought I couldn't t-touch..."

"You can't."

Young money was starting to take over and thank God for that, because private dancing for old, entitled men was rather annoying and required the presence of the guards. A young man winning was just as lucky for you as it was for him. You never, ever allowed any of the men to touch you.

You touching someone, well, that was your choice.

When you tilted your head, you shifted your torso too, making the green and clear crystals on your silk robes catch the light, fluid and serpentine, hair cascading down your shoulder.

"Unless you want me to get off you."

Taehyung had stared into your eyes, tipsy and in awe of your movement.

"No."

He had placed his hands behind his back, baritone voice deep and heavy in anticipation.

"You can do whatever you want."

Now.

The song was changing.

You turned ninety degrees, balancing on the fans, bent over, staring into Jungkook's eyes.

Did you know?

You straightened slowly, turning your back to the crowd.

Reached back and undid the corset with one hand, slowly loosening the strings.

"I'm a kickstand in your mouth and I'm the tongue slamming on the brakes..."

Looked back and shook your ass, bending over again, tangling your fingers in the black cord as if you were trapped, strategic and deliberate, making eye contact with him, the one from long ago, class representative and all that. Still had that same handsomeness when he was dressed up, wearing an all-black suit, tailored and fitted. You could see his hand was tattooed, and he had a brow piercing, but still the same air of uncertainty when his eyes were on you. Whether that was simply the performance or because he recognized you remained to be seen.

You stood up and the corset slid down your legs, so heavy that it was a smooth motion.

You stepped out of it, flashing the iconic red soles.

The fans fell to the floor.

The ladder was set up.

You strode around the large martini glass, slow, long steps, all legs and ass, poised hands, and over-the-shoulder glances, promises unfulfilled.

"Don't want anyone else's hand on my gears..."

You placed a hand on the stem of the stage prop, lifting your leg and plucking off one Louboutin. You cast it aside. Then the other, keeping yourself balanced in tiptoe to maintain the illusion.

A lull in the music.

You toyed with the top of your stocking, loosening it.

“And I'll choke on all the diamonds…”

Leaned down, gripping the toe of the stocking. Balancing on one leg and leaning against the two-meter-tall martini glass, lifting your leg and bending your knee, tugging it off with one smooth motion, pulling up until it popped off your pointed toe.

Now the other.

"So ask yourself before you get in, know insurance won't cover this..."

Parted lips, lowered lashes, raw, sensual lust as the sheer fabric slid off your calf and foot.

"Are you the rabbit or the headlight?"

Guitars and bass, the music lulling at this part, accenting your actions.

Up the ladder.

The giant glass had water in it, complete with a sponge that looked like an ice cube.

You reached the top.

You traced the lip of the glass with your fingertips, bending over, cleavage and black diamonds, smirking.

Slid one leg in.

Cold.

Slid the other leg in.

Down, soaking yourself in the glittering water, tongue flickering, staring down at Jeon Jungkook.

"And is there room in your life... for one more breakdown?"

Now the real show was beginning, with a longer remixed version of Are you the Rabbit? as the backing music.

time left: --:--

You kissed him and he took more.

Not right away.

Slowly, with every detention.

First, it was just kisses.

You danced your fingertips on his arm and he shifted his body so it was over his chest. There wasn't much talking. Unbuttoning, yes. He was ashamed, so he didn't talk. You didn't need talking. No one was around except the janitors and they were cleaning the other wing of the school.

You knew. You served a lot of detentions.

Jeon Jungkook reached over and teased a button loose from your dress shirt, shivering.

He looked into your eyes.

You took his hand and lowered it to the next button.

He knew he shouldn't.

You scraped your chair across the floor and pressed your thigh against his, fingers gliding under his button placket, soft moan falling from your lips.

He didn't know what hit him.

He didn't know you caused trouble on purpose to stay late at school to avoid the war zone that awaited you at home. He didn't know that you were so starved for something that wasn't senseless reprimands that you were manipulating him. You didn't know either.

You only knew this was a different feeling than anger or pain, so you threw yourself in it.

Jungkook unbuttoned your school shirt and touched your skin as you touched his, breath catching in his throat as he came into contact with the softness.

The sun was setting.

Your head was tilting, placing your lips on his, sweet and intense, his fingers clumsy but gentle, curious at what was being offered, gasping as you crawled into his lap, hardness to heat.

There was no talking.

You lowered the straps of your bra, trapping your arms slightly, tugging it down. Not thinking about the consequence, not thinking that this was wrong, not thinking you shouldn't be doing this with the class representative who very clearly did not suffer from the same discourse you did.

Jungkook gasped, staring at your nipples with wide eyes.

Unlikely that he had ever seen any in real life and doubtful that he had ever thought it would be in this context of being stuck in detention with the class delinquent. It didn’t matter. He touched them first, hands on your breasts, and then looked up, startled, unsure.

Neither of you spoke.

You grabbed his fingers and made him pinch them as you kissed him, stifling your moan with his.

To be honest, you didn't even know if you liked that sort of thing.

It just seemed shocking, so you did it.

It sent sparks all over your skin and made you bounce in his lap, grinding down on his erection. The kisses were messy with too much tongue that did nothing, clearly done to avoid talking, his hands kneading and squeezing your breasts, a little too hard, but he didn't know. You had to grip his hand and loosen his hold, getting him to adjust pressure until it was a more comfortable.

Until it was pleasurable.

He broke the kiss suddenly and lowered his head, attaching his wet lips to your nipple.

Pain.

You whimpered and his touch softened to small licks, looking up at you for confirmation.

You nodded.

time left: 11:29

You picked up the ice cube sponge and drenched your front with cascading water again, gasping at the cold against your hot skin. It seeped into the crystal-covered bra, causing your nipples to harden.

"You can't escape, can't escape..."

You tipped your head, arching your back, gracefully leaning, unfolding your legs from under you and keeping them together as you raised them to the lip of the martini glass, delicately crossing at the ankles, toes pointed.

You spun on your ass, leaning back.

"All your demons, all you demons..."

Slow, flourishing.

Eyes on Jungkook the entire time.

"Watch out, watch out for your lovers..."

You stopped gradually, running your widespread fingers up your hips, your stomach, your breasts, touching everything, tracing the black diamonds on your neck. It was vanity, it was enviable, it was performance.

And every performance was a statement of lust.

It was the instrumental now. A friend had mixed this part for you, violins and piano bleeding into the original guitar and bass, slow and steady drums, a peculiar but mesmerizing blend of classical and rock.

You rose from the water, a few wet strands of hair sticking to your cheeks, but it only added to the elegant depravity.

Your nails, pointed, black, and covered in small gems, traced your cleavage, your flexible pink tongue dancing in the air, skin covered in glitter from the shimmering water, nearly blinding in the spotlight from your crystalline undergarments and glistening wet body. Most of the time, you would wear nipple covers. The fun ones with the cute tassels or the crystal-covered ones.

But this time.

You looked straight at Jungkook and formed his name with your lips.

This time, you had a message to send.

You unclasped your bra and revealed your bare nipples.

You saw Jungkook gasp, eyes widening.

Your stagehand came and you dropped the article of clothing over the edge, practiced and clean.

You picked up the ice cube and got on your knees, exquisite body line and open red lips, squeezing the sponge and drenching your front with rivers of water that followed your curves and dripped off your hard nipples.

Your body sparkled all over.

time left: --:--

He whispered your name against your skin, your nipples tingling and drenched in his saliva.

A clatter was heard down the hall.

You both scrambled to put your clothes on. He didn't wait for you to finish. He simply bolted from the room when he was dressed, leaving you there by yourself to somehow explain why you were in detention alone.

"He went to the bathroom," you drawled when the janitor asked. You were leaning on the two back legs of the chair and he scolded you to sit properly.

Jungkook didn't come back.

You went home after you had stayed for the time you were meant to be there.

Then the mop incident occurred.

You two never spoke outside of detention. Made it a point not to. You avoided him for that whole month. Skipped class, sure, but you always skipped class. The teachers didn’t bother to punish you for that anymore. You didn’t fight anyone though. Didn’t spray any more obscene phrases onto brick walls. Didn’t do anything to compound your month-long cleaning punishment.

After that was complete, well.

The next time you were alone with Jungkook, your lower lip was clotted with blood and you had strangled some girl who said some dumb shit. Something about you being a sloppy slut for your untucked shirt and short skirt. It didn’t really matter. The words didn’t really bother you. You just wanted to fight.

Needed to fight.

You had clamped your hand around her throat and dug your nails into her skin and refused to let go until security came and literally pried your fingers from her neck.

She had turned purple and was bleeding from multiple cuts.

You sat in the back, not looking at Jungkook when he came into the classroom. They always picked days when he wasn’t doing club activities like soccer or taekwondo.

Ah, no, that was a lie.

You always picked days to cause the most trouble when Jungkook didn’t have club activities.

Neither of you said anything. He sat in the front of the room and opened his textbook to work on something. Homework, probably. That’s what he always did. He wasn’t good at it, but it didn’t really matter. He still tried to be at least mildly diligent about it for the sake of education.

You had a stack of remedial work and you didn’t touch it.

You always did homework at home to occupy yourself. That seemed to be the one thing that stopped your parents from… doing the things they did. When the night was bad, you would get slapped or pinched, but that wasn’t the same as the thrown dishes, lashes with the rod, or being ordered to do things in unreasonable timeframes to receive some creative, twisted punishment.

You skipped class to sleep.

You parents didn’t like it when you slept. They found it to be a sign of weakness and laziness.

You did so much remedial work that you were actually knowledgeable at the subjects from doing all the deep diving and expansion on difficult topics. You were also good at taking tests. You felt no pressure during exams. Exams were much easier than crawling on your knees and pulling up your shirt to get belted.

Good grades were the only reason you weren’t suspended or expelled yet.

You stared at your desk.

“I’m… sorry.”

Your eyes shifted upward. Your head didn’t move. Jungkook had turned his body to you, chewing on his lower lip, brown eyes shifting under his dark hair.

“About…”

“Slobbering all over my tits and running away?” you replied coldly.

His ears turned red; expression clouded with shame. It was ugly. It made his handsome features ugly and you didn’t like that. You raised your head, cocking an eyebrow. You leaned back in your chair, lifting it and balancing on the two back legs.

“I don’t give a shit,” you scoffed. You saw him stiffen at your vulgar language. “Why should I give a fuck? You’re just like the rest of them, golden boy. You think I’m a dirty slut and a good-for-nothing waste of space. You’re probably happy that I’m so easy and fuckin’ ecstatic that you got to touch a girl.”

You weren’t being fair. You were being mean, destructive, hurtful.

That how it was then.

You saw Jungkook swallow and shake his head.

“I don’t think that.”

You snorted. “Sure. That’s why you’re sitting that far away from me.”

His eyes flickered to you, narrowing a little. You spread your legs and put your hands behind your head, leaning back, creaking and scarping the chair against the floor. Your lip hurt. The security guard had slipped while trying to untangle you and elbowed your snarling mouth, causing you to bite your own lip and slice it open. He hadn’t apologized and you hadn’t asked for one.

You held his gaze.

Jungkook looked away.

You slammed the chair down onto the floor.

He jumped, startled at the loud sound.

You snatched the pile of papers in front of you and shoved them into your backpack, zipping it forcefully and standing up, school skirt swishing as you kicked the chair aside and strode powerfully to the classroom door, no longer looking at him. Veins on fire, dying on the inside for no reason at all, sick of this, sick of everyone, but especially sick of Jeon Jungkook, so sick you might throw up if you stayed.

“Hey–”

You snapped your head back, scowling over your shoulder.

“Fuck off, Jungkook. You could care less if I lived or died,” you spat, wrenching the door open.

Then you walked out.

Or would have, if Jungkook hadn’t jumped over the desks and grabbed your arm, yanking you back and slamming the classroom door closed, shoving you against it. You snarled like a wounded animal, lifting your arm to push him back, but he put his whole weight on your body, sandwiching you between the door and himself, making you gasp, trapped between dead timber and muscular hardness.

Now his face was in your face, breathing hard, dark brown orbs shaking, the mole underneath his lower lip trembling at the suddenness of his own action.

“I care,” he panted, staring into your eyes.

You narrowed them, seething.

“I care a lot.”

And he tilted his head and kissed you.

Pain shot up your lip, and you flinched with an injured hiss, causing Jungkook to back up, realizing his mistake, clutching your shoulders.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have, that was stupid, I–”

You grabbed his hips and rammed them into yours, grinding into his crotch, sucking in a breath through your teeth, his hot gasp drifting over your open mouth, shuddering at the closeness, becoming instantly hard in his pants. The tip of your tongue danced between your teeth, touching the edge of your upper lip before sliding back in, smirking as you pressed against him.

Your backpack fell to the floor.

“I want to touch you all over,” you whispered into his quivering lips. “Want to feel your skin on mine.”

He was terrified.

“Someone… someone is going to see…”

“I can take you somewhere. You trust me?”

Jungkook bit his lip, but he stepped closer to you, shuddering, his hands sliding down your shoulders, drunk on something he didn’t understand, never having encountered such intense, sensual, raw lust. Youth and impulsivity mixed together.

Both him... and you.

His eyes darted back to yours, searching for lies.

“Yeah…”

time left: 11:11

Your hands cradled your breasts, tweaking your nipples, legs spread, head touching the lip of the two-meter-tall martini glass.

The music ended.

The lights turned off.

The curtains closed.

Fuck, the water was cold.

time left: --:--

“The Literature Club always meets in that coffee shop down the block. More vibey, they like to say. They never use their club room.”

Hands fumbling, nearly ripping off your buttons, despite to touch, trying to stay silent. You had more grace though. You found it came naturally to you, sliding your hand up his chest, undoing the buttons one by one, making Jungkook pause and gasp, savoring your touch. You kissed the exposed skin, his soft whimper, don’t hurt yourself, please, and you humming soothingly, pushing his shirt out of the way. He had a warm scent to his skin, light and clean.

Too young to own expensive cologne.

He tried to reach for your shirt again, but you stopped his hand, murmuring quietly, looking at him through your lashes.

“Let me do it.”

One by one, his eyes glued to your movements, entranced. Not the best, definitely a little awkward, but the sentiment was there, and Jungkook didn’t know any better, sitting on the edge of the table in the middle of the abandoned club room.

You lowered your shoulders and your dress shirt and blazer fell onto the floor.

“It’s dirty,” he gasped, breath hitching as you pressed your body to him.

“Not as dirty as the things I want to do to you,” you purred, tracing his jaw gently, stroking his skin. Something you saw in porn but it was having its desired effect, Jungkook swallowing hard, rolling his erection into your skirt.

“Sorry I can’t kiss you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your eyes and his, lost in sweet dreams.

“I want to kiss you.”

You leaned forward, forehead to forehead.

“I want to kiss you all the time,” you said to his lips.

It was different, touching him. You made note of his sounds, his voice, the way he said your name, his shaking hands, the delicateness he used to remove your bra and place it on the table. He way his lips feathered over your skin, gentle at first, learned from last time, the way he fixated on your nipples, fascinated by them and the sounds you made when he touched them, watching your face as he licked them, hotly whispering to your shivering skin.

“They’re so big… And they taste good…”

You hadn’t asked, but he was telling you anyway. Or maybe rationalizing with himself.

“And they’re soft…”

His index fingers on your nipples, pushing them around, squeezing your breasts with the rest of his hand, gasping with you, mesmerized by the way you squirmed between his legs.

You unzipped his pants and he unzipped your skirt and everything was falling to the floor.

Touching everything, raising one of your legs so he could run his fingers from your thigh to shin, warm exhale against your neck, exploring.

“Your skin is so soft and smooth,” he breathed, his other arm around your waist, holding you to his chest.

“I guess…” you mumbled, suddenly uncertain in light of his praise.

The sun was setting, casting your bodies in orange glow.

“You’re really pretty.”

You glanced at him with your busted lip and raised an eyebrow. He noticed your inquiring expression and nodded, unclear whether he was assuring you or himself. He leaned in, lashes lowering, kissing the side of your lips gently.

“You are,” he sighed against your cheek.

You took his hand and shoved it into your panties.

time left 10:20

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Dried off now, hair and makeup redone, still wearing the black diamond choker. The show costume was now cleaned off and set aside, locked back into your luggage and escorted back to your room by one of your bodyguards.

Now you wore a slinky black dress with a low V-neck and boned bodice. The hem skimmed the floor. It had a high side slit, revealing your legs and your sleek black pumps with red soles that really were too impractical for walking, but that was the nature of glamor.

You stepped out and your other bodyguard met you, escorting you to your table.

Back to the party, but this time as a guest.

time left: --:--

You weren’t stupid enough to even think about losing your virginity in some abandoned club room with the class representative. You were horny, not an idiot.

Jungkook would have, but that was because he was horny and seduced.

You weren’t, however, above climbing onto the table and rubbing your clit as Jungkook kneeled over you and jacked off while watching.

“Oh, f-fuck…”

He was embarrassed, but again, too horny and seduced to care at the current moment.

You placed your left hand on his tense thigh and licked the edge of your upper lip, heart racing, skin singing, pleasure shooting up from your core, knowing what to do because you discovered self-pleasure at a very young age. It seemed wrong.

So, you explored it.

You could tell, however, that Jungkook was not as practiced. He was wincing and his knuckles were white. Nervousness? Or inexperience?

“Wait...”

You tapped his hand.

“Let me try.”

Not that you’ve ever jacked off a dick, but your right hand was wet from your own juices, so you closed your hand around his length, surprised at the warmth. Your fingertips were slick, starting off barely grazing him, ghosting over the head.

“A-a-ah…”

Your name fell from his lips in a strangely erotic, silvery moan.

It made your blood hot and your core throb.

“Shh,” you murmured quietly, rubbing his thigh. It was strong and muscular under your palm. “Cover your mouth.”

Jeon Jungkook looked very sexy with his bangs all over his forehead and his lean torso trembling, slowly placing his right hand over his lips with a soft whimper. Not that you had seen many naked bodies in real life, but you had seen enough porn and he looked much more attractive than those guys.

You stroked him slowly, slicking your pussy juices over his length.

He groaned behind his hand, thrusting his hips into yours.

“Faster?” you whispered.

He nodded quickly and you obeyed.

“Harder?”

Nod, nod, nod. Your grip tightened.

Surreal, jacking off the class representative above your mostly naked body, still wearing your fucking shoes because it didn’t make much sense to take them off.

“Do you want to cum on my tits?” you asked, the sudden idea popping in your head.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your suggestion. His cock twitched in your hand. You gradually sped up, building the intensity as you waited for his answer. He peeled off a few fingers and shuddered, barely able to croak out his words.

“I… c-couldn’t… do that to you…” he moaned, pitch hiking with pleasure.

“Cover your mouth,” you hissed.

He clamped his palm onto his mouth and panted, nostrils flaring, eyes glazing over, legs shaking.

“Sure you can, Jungkook,” you continued sweetly, as if you hadn’t just scolded him. “You want to, don’t you?”

His eyes seemed panicked. He didn’t know whether he wanted to or not. Had he never thought about it? Or did he think the act was too dirty to do, an act that was purely reserved for porn stars?

“Look at me.”

He did. Jungkook looked down at you, whole torso trembling, pupils blown out.

You gazed back at him, lowering your voice, smooth, silky, gentle.

“You want to cum on my tits, Jungkook?”

The orange sunset lit up his face and his eyes, reflecting the lust and trust in them.

He nodded.

You slid down a little, tiptoes touching the floor, one hand on his thigh, rubbing the tenseness out as you fixed your other arm, pumping him faster, harder, following the sounds of his voice and the shivering of his skin. Later in life, you would look back on that moment and realize you didn’t have good rhythm, and your arm had been burning, causing your grip to weaken.

It didn’t really matter though, because suggesting that Jungkook could orgasm on your tits took him literal seconds to explode all over you.

“Oh, fuck–”

He choked, pitching forward, smashing the head of his cock into your right nipple and making you wince, spilling hot streams of sticky white cum all over your breast, your hand pushing it to the side, gasping at the scent, feeling his stiff length twitch and jerk in your cleavage, dribbling out more all over your skin. He lost strength in his legs, sliding down and groaning loudly, rubbing the tip in his own slick cum, smearing it everywhere.

“Shhh, damnnit!”

You clapped your left hand over his moaning mouth, half-crushed by his weight, his balls touching your cum-covered skin and sending Jungkook into another fit of wanton whines, your fingers tightly gripping his cheeks to try and get him to shut the fuck up.

You lifted your right hand, seeing his release glistening off it.

You licked your palm.

A little bitter, somewhat salty, very strong and masculine.

You liked it.

time left: 10:00

“You ready to meet her?”

“What…? N-No.”

Kim Taehyung chuckled, grabbing Jeon Jungkook’s arm, dragging him along.

“Come on.”

The thing was…

Jungkook was pretty sure he knew this woman.

He wasn’t sure how or why, but he just did. He knew her somehow. It wasn’t the same body. This one was fuller, more womanly, long legs and sophistication. It couldn’t be, he thought. He was being dragged to the table with the lone woman and the two men in dark suits and sunglasses standing behind her, her chin resting on her palm, tongue flickering out between red lips.

This face.

Not a teenager anymore.

Elegant and stylish with a hint of mischief.

It can’t be.

Her tongue touched the edge of your upper lip and slid back in, slowly.

Taehyung forced him into the chair in front of her.

“Good evening. You’re the star of the party, aren’t you?” she purred.

Smooth, silky, gentle.

“The golden boy, one might say.”

Her name left his lips before he could stop it, shock and awe.

It wasn’t the name she used on stage. It was her real name emitted from his lips, the same name he uttered that day in the abandoned literature club room, struggling with the tiny pack of leftover tissues he kept in his schoolbag to wipe off her chest, stuttering, apologizing, saying he didn’t know how to reciprocate, and her hand gripping his shoulder, telling him to shut up and worry about it later because they had to get the fuck out of here since it was dark already.

And now.

She smiled at him.

“Hello, Jungkook.”

time left: --:--

They snuck around and it was euphoria.

Even now, Jungkook didn't know why he did it. It seemed dangerous and ill-advised. She was the class delinquent, after all. She knew all the empty classrooms no one ever used, the side closets, the forgotten halls. She even knew the usual paths the janitors and security guards used and the time they spent in those areas of the school. They would hide behind corners and dash past, holding their breath, light steps, leaping from shadow to shadow, bodies close, breath mixing.

They didn't even talk during school hours.

He saw her sometimes, in the hallways.

Untucked shirt and skirt too short, not looking at anyone, wandering about.

He never noticed before, but everyone avoided being in her path.

On the days after school when he didn't have club activities, he would find himself standing in front of the abandoned literature club door and opening it. She would be laying down in the table, legs dangling over the edge, staring out the window. She would sit up and they'd run around.

And she would touch him.

And he would touch her.

"Stop that, I'm not a stress ball."

"Ah, slow down."

"Jungkook..."

It was the weirdest feeling, touching someone like that.

Thinking about now, he realized how patient she was with him. Occasionally, he'd be too overzealous and discomfort flashed in her eyes, but she didn't snap at him outright, didn't put him down when she could have. She knew all the words to do so. But she didn't. She just sighed and put up with it. She didn't fight anymore, because she was spending all her time with him.

There were no more detentions, because after hours was now reserved for touching.

Jungkook would catch her smiling sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking. The first time was when he was putting his shirt back on and her face was reflected in the window.

She was gazing at his back, smiling.

He had never seen her smile like that, ever.

It always disappeared when she caught him looking at her face.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Every time, only through reflection – mirrors, windows, a polished beaker in the science lab. His body pressed against the window, gasping at the coldness of the glass, worried that someone would see even though they were on the third floor of the back building and no one was going to come here, but he never said it because her reflection was smiling at him, her hands sliding up his body, and it made him speechless, seeing that smile. A smile those lips only made when she was with him.

It was his smile.

Her mouth on his neck, kisses and licks, setting his skin on fire, the kind of sensuality that only came with undeniable attraction.

It wasn't until after her that he realized how easy it had been to tell her things, small things, simple things. Things he didn't even realize he said until he felt her shiver a little in his arms, eyes shifting away from him, pink tinge to her cheeks.

"I like the way you sound."

"Your hands are beautiful."

"I like looking into your eyes."

Little by little, though.

She skipped class more and more.

He found bruises on her sometimes.

"I fell down the stairs. It's nothing."

He found welts.

"Stupid fight with some dumbass."

He found a criss-cross pattern of cuts on her leg.

"I tried to jump over a fence and fucked up."

Jungkook would look into her eyes and realize they were lies.

She would scoff. "I'm just a dumbass."

"No."

And he would kiss her and kiss her until she shoved him away and told him he was being weird.

One time, before he was about to leave, she asked him a question.

"What do you want to do, Jungkook?"

"Huh?"

She snickered. "As a job. You know, when you become an adult."

He frowned. "I don't know. I want to create things. I think it would be cool to tell stories. But I don't know if I have enough imagination for that... or know the words to say what I want..."

"Films, then."

"Huh?"

A small smirk. "Movies, dork. Make movies."

He blinked slowly. "O... oh."

When Jungkook looked into her eyes, he realized he didn't want to look away. "What about you?"

She smiled.

The only time she smiled in front of him.

And it was a lie.

He could tell, because it didn't reach her eyes, his favorite feature of her face.

"I might not make it there."

She turned and walked away from him.

He never saw her again.

She never came back to school. Nobody seemed to notice and, when they did, students and teachers alike seemed relieved. Jungkook had no one to talk to about his sudden emptiness, because she had been his accidental secret, his little taste of heaven turned hell because she never came back. The eventual rumors said that she had done something very bad and was sent away.

It was only then that Jungkook realized how happy he had been and how he never told her.

There was no reason to dwell on it. In retrospect, it didn't even last that long. He hadn't even fully lost his virginity to her. But time after time, relationship after relationship, smile after smile, he realized he missed the moments, the sneaking around, the touches, the look into the window and her genuine smile as she looked at his back.

He never found a smile like that one.

He accepted that he never would.

Settled for a fun girl who made him laugh and laughed at his awkward jokes and accepted that was enough, that he shouldn't chase ghosts, should try to find what ultimately was dangerous, ill-advised, and...

It wasn't love, right?

I want to kiss you all the time.

Jungkook didn't know why, but every time he remembered those words, he wanted to cry.

time left: 09:55

This smile, too, was fake.

“Hello, Jungkook.”

This isn’t real, right?

“Did you enjoy the show?” she, his ghost, asked, tilting her head, foxy smile on those lips, more of a smirk, teasing and sculptural. Those eyes were guarded, eyes that he thought he knew well, but there were walls between him and her now, walls he found himself banging his fists against, sudden panic and anxiousness at the moment, abruptly slamming his hands on table and scraping his chair back, throwing his body aside.

She looked at him.

For a single second, they were in high school again and they were in that abandoned literature club room, her on the table, waiting for him.

Jungkook ran.

He ran away from the table and left her there.

time left: 09:52

You watched him go.

time left: 08:27

You threw your glass into the hotel wall and screamed.

Screamed at the top of your lungs, screamed so loud it felt like your eardrums burst, screamed in agony and loss, the crystal shattering as it hit the wall, cracking and spilling the whiskey within all over the paint and onto the floor.

Then, silence.

You panted, staring at the mess, feeling the floor rock under you. You had a private room on the yacht, considering you were the entertainment. If they were paying for you, you made them pay for room and board too, and that was no exception with Kim Taehyung, the one who hired you. After all, there was no reason not to have some fun, right?

The door opened and your two bodyguards entered, saying your name gently.

“Is something wrong?”

His voice was deep, compassionate. He could tell from your stance that it wasn’t an outward influence, but an inward one. You were breathing hard, staring at the broken glass and the alcohol, mind racing, throat dry, despair threatening.

“I’m fine,” you replied shakily.

You were still dressed in your long gown, black, slinky, sexy, still wearing your black diamond choker, still wearing your Louboutins, the epitome of style and class.

Still.

You dropped to your knees and began to crawl to the glass, a child again.

“I’ll clean it up…”

Your voice was cracking.

In two steps, long legs crossed the room and a strong hand grabbed your shoulder, stopping you.

“Let Seokjin do it.”

The world was very small now, just you and the fallen glass, small and tiny and condensed, screaming, pain, memories flashing in your mind, your hands bleeding as you picked up the broken glass, surrounded by it on all sides, flinching as multiple glasses were thrown at the wall, showering you with shards and alcohol, the stink of blood and drink surrounding you. You barely registered the other bodyguard bending over with a towel, sweeping up the shards, because you were trapped in that night, that night after asking Jeon Jungkook what he wanted to do for a living, coming back to a house full of hate and rage, harshly questioning where you’ve been, slapping you across the face, threatening that they were going to withdraw you from the school because clearly you didn’t need it, a flood of blood in your mouth as your teeth sliced the inside of your cheek.

I might not make it there.

The hand was holding your shoulder, holding you back, but your mind was throwing you to the wolves.

You almost screamed again.

You did scream that night, clutching handfuls of glass, driving them into those accusing faces, driving them over and over into those faces that used you as their punching bag for years and years, slashing them up, tearing up skin and flesh, dying on the inside, because the only thing that kept you alive was Jeon Jungkook and those touches.

Did you mean them?

Even now, you didn’t know.

Did you just chase them because they felt real?

Even now, you didn’t know.

I want to kiss you all the time.

They sent you to correctional school, which was really just a nice way to say jail for children.

Your name, spoken softly, two hands on your shoulders now, pulling you away from the scene of Kim Seokjin cleaning up your mess, forcing you to look away and at him instead, sunglasses removed now, deep brown eyes bringing you back to the present.

“N… Namjoon…?”

He smiled at you. “Yeah, it’s me.”

You almost looked away again, but he held your cheeks, not letting you.

“What’s my full name?” His tone was stern, but grounded.

“K… Kim Namjoon.”

“And yours?”

Your voice didn’t hesitate this time.

He smiled. When Namjoon smiled, his dimples showed and his normally stone-face expression changed, becoming bright and serene. He lowered his hands, holding one out to you.

“Come on now. You don’t belong on the floor like this.”

You took his hand, swallowing hard. One leg, then the other. With each passing second, you fell back into your grace, breathing out, slow, controlled. Namjoon held your hand tightly, not letting go. They both had training in psychology, for threats.

Not all threats were outward threats.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been like that in a while,” you exhaled evenly, shaking your head. “I didn’t think…”

“Seeing someone from your past can do that.”

Seokjin walked up to you, black-haired and sunglasses removed as well, brown eyes softening as he neared, wiping off his hands. He was only slightly shorter than Namjoon, but possibly more handsome, with even fuller lips and a symmetrical face. Namjoon had slightly lighter hair, cut shorter, and he was the stoic one, whereas Seokjin was the one who spoke when pleasantries were required.

“Ah…”

You frowned.

“It was just a high school fling. Nothing serious.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. Seokjin snorted.

“Right. Do you think we don’t have eyeballs? We do. Two of them, in fact,” Seokjin remarked coolly, rolling his. “Two on two people, making four, and all four eyeballs saw the way you and him looked at each other, not to mention your sudden interest in bachelor parties and working at a lower base rate for literally no reason whatsoever.”

You cleared your throat, eyes narrowing. “Taehyung’s a friend.”

“Taehyung’s an airhead you bonked because old men don’t have virility,” Namjoon pointed out.

“You should just hook up with Taehyung again instead of bachelor boy. He seemed like a damn virgin.”

Namjoon elbowed Seokjin in the ribs and the older man winced, giving him a ‘what-the-fuck-was-that-for’ look. Namjoon rolled his eyes, as if to say, ‘isn’t-it-fucking-obvious-bro’ and Seokjin’s expression remained confused.

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t… going to hook up with him.”

Now they both gave you the ‘stop-bullshitting’ face.

You sighed, about to run your fingers through your hair, but stopped when your realized it was still styled. You lowered your hand, not wanting to disturb it. “He’s getting married. I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“That’s a lie.”

Your eyes flickered up to Namjoon. He shrugged.

“It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize you don’t want him to get married. Maybe only because you want to wreck it. Maybe to make his life miserable. Maybe because you love him.”

“I don’t love him,” was your instant reply.

Seokjin seemed to have a lightbulb moment and plunked his fist in his palm. “Oooooooh.”

You narrowed your eyes. Namjoon sighed. “Okay, you don’t.”

A knock on the door.

time left: 07:59

Jeon Jungkook was throwing up in the bathroom.

His hands were flat on the wall and the toilet was swaying. Of course, it was. He was on a boat. He heaved again and hurled into the bowl, mind swimming.

“Dude, the fuck was your problem? Why did you run like that? I know she wasn’t mean to you. That’s not like her. You know, if you asked, you could have fucked her. She’s a burlesque dancer! It would have been amazing. One last hurrah before you commit single suicide. But, no, you fucking booked it like a cockroach when the lights turn on. Hah,” Kim Taehyung, his best man, had scolded him, shaking his head. “Eh, fine, whatever. Let’s just get wasted them. I can’t believe you would do that. She came here as a favor to me, dude. I wanted you to have a really good time tonight. She’s one of the coolest people I’ve ever met or fucked.”

“You fucked her?” Jungkook had sputtered.

Taehyung had raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, once. Was fuckin’ sick. She’s a banger.”

He had drunk so much. Why, he didn’t know. He flushed the toilet, coughing. His blazer was gone. He had no idea where it was. His sleeves were rolled up and his shirt half-unbuttoned. It was so damn hot. Where was his tie? No idea. His brain was a jumbled mess.

His chest hurt too.

Jungkook stumbled out of the stall, pushing his long black hair back and away from his face. It was a one-person bathroom, but the toilet was in a separate area. Probably for sanitary reasons. He clutched the sink, running the water, staring at his reflection.

His own face looked back at him, silver brow piercing gleaming in the harsh overhead light, his skin pale and lips shiny from vomiting.

Were there walls in his eyes too?

He cupped some water and rinsed out his mouth, spitting it out. Ugh, the taste was disgusting. He kept doing it, splashing his face, trying to clear his head. He didn’t really remember what he did or what happened. It was all a blur. It was very late now, but the party was still going. After the burlesque show, there were musical acts, and, at the moment, a DJ was tearing it up.

He should be out there.

Jungkook knew this and yet the thought of going back out there was making him sick again.

He looked back to the mirror, his face dripping water. He wasn’t a teenager anymore either. He was older now, cheek fat gone, turned into an angled jaw. Dark circles under his eyes from long nights. His life after high school was university and filmmaking, spending all his spare time creating his films from the ground up, from casting to storyboarding to finding film locations to the actual shooting and editing and production. As he got better at it, more people became involved and he had help, attending film festivals and showcasing his work despite his young age. Met lots of cool people.

Met his future wife, a reasonable union, but not a replacement for his broken heart.

His brows furrowed.

What kind of thought was that?

True, they both came to an agreement that it made sense to get married. They liked each other enough, everyone said they looked nice together, and there wasn’t any reason not to, right? And starting a family would be good for her career too. She could transition to that kind of lifestyle content after a couple years of marriage. They would figure that out when the time came, buy a nice place to live, have maybe one or two children, housewife and working husband.

And she wasn’t going to come back to him anyway.

Except she did.

Jungkook breathed out.

“What are you doing?” he said to his reflection, but his reflection only repeated the question back to him.

The class delinquent and the class representative.

“That was a long time ago,” he said to himself. “Those kinds of things don’t matter anymore.”

In his mind, her smile appeared in the mirror, because she only smiled at him when she thought he didn’t see. His smile. The smile she reserved for him. The smile when she looked at his back, the smile when her hands traced his torso, her breath on his skin, murmuring his name, wonderment and desire, putting up with his clumsiness and overzealous touch, things he continued to do after her with other people, and yet it never felt…

“It never felt the same,” he whispered.

His fingertips were touching the mirror, the place where his mind had conjured her smile.

“I thought it was only because you were my first.”

He thought of the woman on stage hours before, that beautiful face shrouded by ostrich feathers and painted with makeup, immaculate body lines and sensual movement, and it was like no time had passed at all, because she had always been like that, naturally sensual and erotic, teasing and sculptural. Untucked shirt and short skirt or crystal undergarments, it didn’t matter.

“You were always like that, weren’t you?”

She wasn’t there.

His fingertips lowered from the mirror. His black hair was damp from pushing it away from his face with wet hands. Lots of people told him he was good-looking. Handsome. Attractive. But he couldn’t move like that, like how she did on stage. He was better behind the camera. That was where he had always been. The director, the class representative.

And now, she, the class delinquent, was the main stage, all cameras and eyes on her.

He shook his head.

“You’re better off now. Look at you. Wearing beautiful clothes and followed by bodyguards. I bet you have a really nice guy waiting for you at home, wherever that is for you.”

He couldn’t see her face, couldn’t conjure it in his mind’s eye anymore. He wouldn’t be able to see it anyway, mostly because his vision was suddenly blurry.

“I hope you’re happy, because a long time ago, you made me really happy.”

He wiped his eyes, smiling at his reflection. It didn’t reach his eyes, because his eyes were full of tears.

His smile was a lie.

“I should have told you that I love you, but I didn’t know. I know now.”

A knock on the door.

time left 07:22

“I’m so sorry he’s a dork, I don’t know what got into him, I swear you’re not ugly, you’re super sexy, like, impossibly sexy, god, he’s such a fucking idiot, I should have convinced him to whip his dick out or somethin’, I thought he’d get the hint, you know, I bet he’s good in bed, have you seen him, he’s real fit, works out a ton, a muscle pig, haha, yeah…”

“Taehyung, how did you get so drunk?”

You sighed as you hurried after Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon who were both carrying Kim Taehyung, one arm on each of their broad shoulders, the brown-haired man babbling the entire time. He showed up at your door, maybe by chance, maybe by knocking on every single room until he got to yours, who knew, but he had clearly been looking for you, bursting in when he saw you, pushing past Seokjin, nearly making you trip on your Louboutins, spouting nonsense about Jeon Jungkook, apologizing profusely for his friend, not listening to you saying that it was perfectly fine.

The three of your concluded it would be best to bring Taehyung back to his friend, but Taehyung would not leave without you, saying he didn’t want to be left with the ‘big-scary-dudes-with-massive-shoulders’. Namjoon and Seokjin had stared at each other, pointing to themselves sin disbelief, sharing a ‘we’re-scary?’ expression. You had given up.

“Sure, fine, I’ll come, I was meaning to go back to the bar anyway. I don’t have to interact with him. Soekjin can do it.”

“Ah, of course. I got this!”

You were on your way back to the grand hall, when Taehyung had a declaration.

“I gotta hurl.”

Then it was a mad scramble to find a restroom, hurriedly banging on the doors. There was many single gender-neutral restrooms everywhere on the yacht, but all seemed occupied. Taehyung was rapidly turning an unpleasant shade of green, until one opened.

“Oh, hey, Jungkook. I’m gonna vomit.”

“Sorry, if you could–”

The tall man in black was shoved aside, and all three – Seokjin, Namjoon, and Taehyung – crammed themselves into the restroom, wrenching open the door to the toilet and then there was a loud retching sound.

You winced, recoiling a little. “Oh, dear.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Guess he was trying to enjoy his night a little too much,” you chuckled, amused as you watched Seokjin rub Taehyung’s back soothingly while jerking his head back, looking incredibly perturbed. Seokjin didn’t like gross things. He was a bit of a prince like that.

“I guess.”

It suddenly occurred to you that the voice beside you was Jeon Jungkook.

He was standing right next to you.

You turned your head.

Time seemed to stop.

He almost seemed to the same, but different. He had long, black hair that was currently swept back, the sides buzzed short and ears adorned with earrings. An eyebrow piercing. Chiseled jaw and high cheekbones like a marble statue, with dark brows and shapely lips. Muscular chest, broad shoulders, slim waist, long legs. A right sleeve of ink-black tattoos, going all the way down to his hand. You could tell because his dress shirt sleeves were rolled up.

Who was the delinquent now?

Your eyes found his.

Those eyes were still the same, staring at you, entranced with your gaze.

Still the class representative everyone picked because of his good looks.

Even you voted for him, although you didn’t really care who won. You only picked him because he seemed the least qualified and you thought it would be funny if he won, because he wasn’t even trying to get the position.

Taehyung groaned and declared he was never drinking again.

“I don’t know you, but I don’t believe you,” Seokjin scoffed.

“I’m inclined to believe this isn’t your normal behavior, so don’t be too hard on yourself,” Namjoon chuckled.

Taehyung heaved again.

You noticed Jungkook’s complexion had that paleness to him too. His lips and hair were glistening with water. A droplet collected on his chin and fell to the floor.

“Two peas in a pod, huh?” you said with a smirk. “Seems like you two have the same drinking habits.”

His ears turned red, but he didn’t look away, electing instead to raise his hands and cover his ears, pretending to tuck spare strands back. “A-ah… well… I’m much better now…”

You nodded, bouncing an eyebrow. “Back to the party you go. Only to attend another one with your beloved. Maybe you both will end up in the same bathroom. Wouldn’t that be fun?” you added with a dry chuckle.

It died out quickly, for something seemed to cloud Jungkook’s eyes at your words.

“Your performance was breathtaking,” he said, changing the subject.

You bowed. “Thank you.” You lifted your head. “It was, after all, for you. I am pleased to hear you enjoyed it.”

His hands lowered. He still didn’t look away from you, ears tinted pink.

“Your movements are unreal.”

He always had beautiful eyes, even back then.

“But they always were. Now and back then.”

You were different people now though. He had someone else. You were too busy being booked to have someone else. You didn’t want someone else. After graduating correctional school, which basically meant being released from jail, you had run away before your parents could pick you up, hitchhiking until you met an older woman. She was a traveling woman, an independent one. A dancer. She stuck with you with her words and her brashness, not letting you run off on your own any longer.

Don’t be stupid. I’m not trying to control you. I’m trying to teach you. You can have any kind of life you want. You can live any way you want. But it’s no good to think that everyone is out to get you, you silly bean. You have to find some dorks to trust and have your back with things get shit. You have to have a job to sustain yourself so you can be financially secure. What do you have to lose? Why not try this?

She was a strange woman, but a wise one. One that was retiring soon and wanted a protégé to teach, for fun, for picking up her clients, it didn’t matter. She gave you a chance when you didn’t have one.

What if you live like this?

You thought, fuck it. Why not?

Wasn’t like you were going to see Jeon Jungkook again anyway.

Except he was right here.

You chuckled. “It takes a lot of practice. I’ve spent many hours tripping on my own feet, believe me.”

The side of his lips quirked upward. “I’m sure you look graceful even when you trip. You were pretty even when you were beating up upperclassmen and sulking in detention with a busted lip.”

You scoffed, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked back to him.

There was sharpness in your chest as you realized there was pinkness to the whites of his eyes and sadness in his voice. It was like you were back in the classroom for a moment and he was meters away from you, saying I’m sorry, but this time you were adults and he was right next to you and you didn’t know the reason why he was sorry, because there was nothing to be sorry for.

You frowned, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

“We’re going to bring him back to his room.”

You jerked your head to Namjoon, who was carrying a now extremely unsteady Taehyung. Seokjin was nowhere to be seen. Namjoon spoke curtly, stone-faced and serious.

“Hyung went to ask for his exact room number. In the meantime, Taehyung pointed us in the general direction while he was rinsing out his mouth. It would be hazardous to leave him alone. I will assist him and rendezvous with hyung midway.”

You blinked at him. Namjoon tended to speak this way around strangers when he was putting his professional mode on. He looked from you to Jungkook, eyes narrowing, looking down at him. With his short hair and stern gaze, he was intimidating, even while holding a woozy Taehyung with a lolling head.

“I expect you to escort her back to her room safely.”

And he turned and marched off, dragging Taehyung along with him.

“Hey, you like bees? I like bees. They help flowers…”

“That they do. They’re vital for all ecosystems by aiding pollination.”

“Bees are fuckin’ lit, dude…”

You watched them go, wincing. Maybe this was better. The bodyguards were for your safety, but it wasn’t like you didn’t know how to disarm someone with your Louboutins. Also, you didn’t really want to wander around the yacht listening to Taehyung ramble about bees.

Now, you were alone with Jungkook.

You looked at him over your shoulder, the side of your lips curving upwards.

“I’ll be fine on my own. It’s only a short walk. Good night.”

You began to walk away from him, and, in turn, the classroom from back then, away from his I’m sorry, away from those eyes, away from his care, because Jeon Jungkook did not care about you. There was no reason to care about you. Those events happened a long time ago. You were different people now, grown up, living separate lives.

Changed.

No longer class representative and class delinquent.

He was about to have a wife and you were swimming with too much money you had no idea what to do with, busy planning ideas for your next performance and organizing venues for a possible tour. This was just a favor to Kim Taehyung, nothing more. It was fine to leave it like this.

It was foolish to think anything would be same.

It was time to move on.

part ii

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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bellarkeselection · 2 years

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Ned's Daughter

Request from @whateverthecostner Reader being Ned Stark's oldest daughter and goes with him to King's Landing. I would love to see Tyrion's reaction to the curvy stark girl and maybe her reaction to the charming, intelligent Lannister.

When the Lion's came to our home I didn't meet the third Lannister child of Tywin Lannister. Until I rode to the capital King's Landing with my father Eddard Stark and my two sisters. Sansa was off hanging around the prince and Arya was at her dance lessons learning how to sword fight. Leaving me alone to roam the unknown halls of a place that seems to be twice the size of Winterfell. Brushing my hands down my dress the sunlight streaming through the windows highlights my curvy sides that I've always been ashamed of. My mother and father said I shouldn't worry about it, that I'm beautiful no matter what.

"Looks like you need a bigger dress then girl." Whipping my head towards the voice I realized it belongs to a member of the Kingsgaurd who snickers my direction. "I'm suprised the Queen let someone like you inside the castle. You must be an embarrassment to your house." Dropping my head I try to not let tears show from his hurtful words. But it's hard when my younger sister Sansa has the perfect body that men can't help but not stare at. Footsteps approach as I feel some tears starting to fall down my face. "How dare you make a Lady cry, Ser Manson."

Lifting my eyes open to see Lord Tyrion standing before the Kingsgaurd arms crossed over his chest. Arya had kept asking if she could meet him when King Robert Baratheon came to my home. The rumors were indeed true of him being a dwarf. "This doesn't concern you imp. She needs to be judged for how she looks-" Tyrion clicked his tongue staring up at the guard. "Then I guess I can bring to light that you've broken your vows and have been planning to marry, oh what's her name. Chloe, my sister the Queen's handmaiden." The guard shuts up at that, still standing there so Tyrion throws his hands up. "Are you waiting for an escort. Leave my sight before I decide to tell my sister of your plans!"

"That takes care of him..." Tyrion dusted his hands on his pants stepping closer to me. "Please no more tears my lady. I'd much rather see a smile on your beautiful face." He wipes away stray tears as I sniffed. Hearing him call me beautiful makes me feel a lot better about myself. "Thank you my lord-" Tyrion waves his hand around. "No my lord, Please call me Tyrion." I simply nod my head offering my hand that he shakes. "Y/n, thank you so saving me Tyrion." He eyes me up and down stopping at my eyes holding a weak smile. "Can I give you some advice Y/n. Don't pay any attention to that idiot. He's a fool to not see how beautiful you, just as you are."

I blushed a little hearing him saying that word for the second time about me. There was something about when he says it that holds a different feeling than when my parents said it. He extends his hand out for me to take suggesting a walk. "Would you like to accompany me on a walk through the castle?" Placing his hand in mine I smiled down at the Lannister. "Could we stroll to the library perhaps?" Tyrion's green eyes lit up at your words, never meeting a woman who enjoy or at least could read. "Y/n Stark, I believe I'll find your company quit enjoyable." Squezzing his hand intertwined with mine I replied. "I feel the same about you, Tyrion Lannister."

Comments really appreciated 😊

#tyrion lannister #tyrion lannister x reader #tyrion lannister one shot #tyrion lannister imagine #peter dinklage #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones asks #requests open #ask box is open for anything #comments appreciated

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tuttifuckinfruttifriday · 3 years

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Slashers scaring their S/O and finding out they're an angel:

Warnings: a bit funny?, language, small mention of blood/gore and bodies, some fluff + some OOC characters, mention of God and heaven

Song I used: Better Of Two Evils - Marilyn Manson

Summary: You're their 'angel', until they scare you and you're literally their Angel. (makes a lot of sense Ik)

Not proofread!

Don't hesitate to tell me if I did any mistakes, it would be greatly appreciated!

Likes, comments and reblogs mean the world to me though!

Michael Myers

It's a miracle that your wings didn't show earlier, because this guy scares you at least twice a day. It was already evident that you were the 'angel' in the relationship, being able to calm the murderous man down and deal with his tempers or blood stains everywhere. When we talk about angel though, they didn't mean it like that.

You were in the kitchen, for once not even paying attention to your surroundings, the radio blasting some old rock band that you like. You were currently trying to make some dinner, but you didn't have most of the ingredients so you improvised with what you had, going back and forth to the fridge and cupboards. Since you were so concentrated, you were totally oblivious to the back door opening and the soft sound of Michael's boot tapping the ground, coming closer and closer to the kitchen.

As soon as you turned around in a haste, wanting to get it over with, you felt as if your soul left your body, your boyfriend's tall and bloodied figure less than a foot close to you. You were so startled and scared that you dropped your wooden spoon and the wings ripped through the back of your shirt. The Boogeyman had never been so scared in his life, taking some steps back as he looked wide-eyed at the new additions to your body. Everything was knocked from the counter as you let out a pained gasp, clutching your shoulders and stumbling forward a bit. When you opened your eyes, you were shocked to see that your wings had opened and Michael was standing before you, his now maskless face showing pure shock.... and what seemed like a bit of fear...? It was there for five seconds before he frowned, his face now blank as he slowly walked towards you, his intentions unclear as he put one of his hands out.

His eyes were fixed on the white feathers as he carefully put his hand on one, surprising you with his gentleness as you looked at him with raised brows.

Now he was sure that he needed to keep you to himself (selfish bastard). Nothing will change in your relationship though, except that he'll look down at you more, trying to intimidate you and show you 'your place'. Because he ain't going to be intimidated by no creation of God.

Baby Firefly

At the start of your relationship, it's not a surprise that she already called you her angel (because of your purity and beauty). She would sometimes tease you with any cute names she could find, until angel literally stuck out. That's how it started.

You were always pretty aware of your surroundings in the Firefly's household, so it was a surprise when she really scared you. You were placing some things and cleaning her your room, totally concentrated on what you were doing. You couldn't put anything anywhere that you knew Baby wasn't going to like it, knowing that she liked her things were she wanted them to be. Your girlfriend was actually going to show you something cute she found, giddily running up the stairs with a cute top in her hands.''-Hey Y/N!! -'' You screamed at the top of your lungs as you panicked, your heart doing a three sixty in your chest as you turned around, just in time for your wings to rip the back of your tank top. Before she had any chance to react other than to freeze in the doorway, you doubled over in pain as your wings opened even more, knocking what you just put on a shelf. When you realized they opened and she was here, you looked fearfully at her, waiting for her actions before you almost had a heart attack at her running at you.

She was still careful as she hugged you, her face buried in one of your fluffy wings as she mumble some incoherent words. A smile came onto your face as she kissed your cheek a grin on her face once she calmed down. ''That's so freaking cool!! '' She'll say as her eyes seem almost sparkling. You have an admirer<3.

If you don't want her to tell the family, she's totally okay with it and will just invent a story for why she screeched. ''But with one condition'', even if she wouldn't tell if you didn't aggreed.

- Cuddle with her with your wings out! She'd love it.

Be prepared for her to ask you tons of things about being an angel:

''Can you see if someone is a sinner...?'' ''Do you come from heaven??? How is it?''

Otis Driftwood

Normal people wouldn't even understand how you two met, since you're literally the polar opposites in public. Mama likes to say that you literally look like an angel, and that you were sent to them because of what they do and all that crap. Otis tried to play it off and tell her to stop with that with a grumble multiple times, which resulted in you laughing silently, a small smile at the corner of your lips. He'd never really scare you, only when he has those outbursts or he's feeling moody. The time he really scared you would probably be in your bedroom as you're cleaning. Hunched over and with your arms under the bed as you're trying to get something that fell under, you're totally unaware of him coming up the stairs grumpily, just wanting to cuddle with you on your bed. Since he was bored.

He was fiddling with a knife on his way as your upper body was now fully under the bed and threw it right above your head, not even knowing you're there until he hears your startled scream and hears the thump of your head hitting the bed frame. He'll be almost as scared as you, probably hitting his head/shoulder on the doorframe as he'd jump out of his skin. Good job! Even if you don't know it yet, you successfully scared your boyfriend for the first time in his life-

Rubbing the sore spot, he'll close his eyes for a second. ''F u c k.'' Before he stares wide-eyed at your snow colored wings unfolding. As you hunch over and cradle your shoulders, you'll sadly miss the amazement in his eyes as they stay fixated on the fluffy feathers.

It's probably the only time you'll see him that careful as he walks towards you, trying not to scare you more than you already are. Before you can take some steps back, he'll simply look into your eyes softly, something that's pretty rare of him, before he gently pets one wing.

''...amazing..'' If you catch what he said, he'll be kind of flustered but won't say anything else. You might not know it, but it gave him a boost of inspiration<3 He might even ask you to pose for some of his work :p

Like Baby, he'll ask questions, but he'll be more discreet about it.

Captain Spaulding

He always calls you his angel/sweetheart or honey when you're alone. It's just an habit and it's because of how much he loves you! But the thing he found the most fitting is angel.

Cutter, scaring you? Everyday! He'd always apologies though, That day, he seriously wasn't expecting what he found.

You were in the back-store looking over some things and making sure no one happened to come by since he wasn't there rn. It's as he was coming back from whatever he was doing that you jumped three feet in the air, your heart exploding and your wings tearing through your back and slapping him in the face-

As soon as you recovered, you'd turn around, only to be greeted by his shocked face and him on his ass.

''What in the fucking baby Jesus is that..-? '' It would be silent as you two would look at each other, until he shakes his head as you slowly approach him with an extended hand. He'd take it, obviously, but he'd also say only one thing (with a soft tone that you almost never hear) that would leave you speechless even more than you are.

''That *pointing* is amazing, darling. '' If you're shocked, he'd only let out a laugh or smirk at you before patting your head. It'd take some time for him to become familiar with them, but he'd always pet your beautiful wings whenever he'd have your consent. He have seen lots of weird shit in his life, but this isn't. If you're feeling insecure, he'll tell you everyday how gorgeous they are.

Plus, he's now definitely less of an ass and will try not to curse too much when you're there or be rude, don't ask why.

He's just got this whole idea that you'll become a 'fallen angel', which in a very small way is probably true, if he shows you too much impoliteness or anything like that.

Art The Clown

Fun fact: One time, your boyfriend really wanted you to dress like an angel for halloween, even if he didn't know you were one at that time.

It's not rare that Art scares you, but this time it was pretty interesting since it was when he came back from killing.

Everything was silent (like always) as you sorted some things out, your back to the door as you were totally oblivious to your boyfriend entering with a mischievous glint in his eyes. His outfit was bloodied and gory, not like you're used to see him. He normally always made sure it wasn't too bad, not wanting you to be repulsed by him. He was just pretty lazy today and wanted to really scare you. It sure did when you turned around, your eyes widening and a scream leaving your lips as your heart spun in your chest. Joke on him when he saw the extensions ripping through your back. He was so shocked that he feigned fainting and dramatically put his hands on his cheeks in a silent scream. It was short lived though when he saw you bending over with a pained look on your face. As soon as the shock wore off, he went to your side and gently lifted your chin, seeing your pained and scared face. It...It was a shock like I said, but surprisingly, he didn't seem to be too surprised nor scared of you... which made you happy. If you're happy, he's happy<3

It was pretty funny that as soon as you saw the blood and flesh on his costume, your face immediatly changed for one of irritation. He laughed silently at that until he remembered your wings and looked at your back, seeing the soft feathers glistening in the light. When he'd see you'd be comfortable, that's when he'd reach out and overly gently pet one wing.

He'll literally and figurately look up at you since he'll consider you 'supperior' than him, even if you tell him not to.

Bo Sinclair

This guy; he calls you any pet name that can sound cute. It's mostly when he wants to tease you or when he's feeling soft that he calls you angel. It's one of the name that pops in his head whenever he sees you though!

It was totally not expected when he scared you, he didn't even know you were there.

Since you liked helping him with cars and all his work, you were under one, focused on what needed to be done and totally unsuspecting of Bo walking in and searching for something on the other side of the car. As you got out silently and got up, your boyfriend went towards your side with the intention of going back out until heard you scream and one of his own got out. Normally, he would have been extremely embarrassed if it wasn't for the fact that he heard the popping and saw your wings breaking through your back, his eyes widening in a second.

''What the f-'' He caught himself on a table as he looked at you and blinked as he saw you hunched over.

He surely didn't freaking except almost having a heart attack today.

He'll obviously be silent for sometime, only worrying you more until he walks slowly towards you like you were a wounded animal. If you let him touch your wings, he'll be so careful and soft that you might faint!

That man will be totally speechless as he caresses the soft feathers and looks between you and them.

Later on, when you'll be comfortable with showing them more often, he'll definitely tease you to see you flustered about them, but will compliment your wings as soon as he sees you're insecure about them.

He won't ask any questions about what you are if you're not comfortable with it, and he's got better things to do! But he sure will find a way to tease you.

Vincent Sinclair

Vin, scaring you?! N e v e r (not intentionally at least)

You've always been his angel and sweetheart even if he doesn't say it<3

Poor guy actually thought he died when he scared you, almost freaking fainted when he saw what popped out of your back.

You would probably be in the kitchen from being back from the grocery store with Bo, putting things in the cupboards and fridge as Bo worked in the garage, so it means just you and your sweet boyfriend in the house. He was coming up from working on a sketch, knowing that you were now back and wanting your opinion on it. As he entered the kitchen and tapped your shoulder, thinking that you heard him, he'll stumble back with a hoarse but almost silent scream as he hears yours and sees you almost banging your head on the cupboard's door.

He was going to help you until he saw your wings suddenly appearing and his eye widened. This poor guy had to take a minute as he was so mesmerized by your beauty, his thoughts clouded. As soon as he saw you just standing there and obviously in pain, he went and hugged you, his big hands shyly caressing your fluffy wings.If he could speak correctly, he would have asked so many questions about being an angel! For now, though, he'll be satisfied with you telling him some bits of your life, sensing his obvious curiosity.

#michael myers #baby firefly #otis driftwood #captain spaulding #art the clown #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #slasher imagines #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #slasher x s/o

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q-gorgeous · 2 years

Text

Hideout

Prompt: Danny, Sam, and Tucker have created a series of emergency hideouts throughout Amity. Someone comes across one of these hideouts. How does the trio react? (PR280) by @autisticghostkids

Word Count: 1902

ao3

ffn

Content Warning: Abusive parent

wow this didnt quite turn into a reveal fic thats impressive for me

Danny limped his way through the woods. He had taken a particularly hard hit to the ground and had taken a slash to his back. Sam and Tucker followed behind him, Tucker helping Sam walk. She had also gotten scratched along her leg. Both their wounds needed to be stitched up so the three of them were headed to one of their hideouts that they had hidden throughout Amity Park.

This one that they were headed to was an old abandoned gazebo that they had boarded up. It looked like nobody had been there in years so they figured it would be a safe place to build a hideout. They had boarded it up well enough to keep the wind out and added a makeshift door. Danny could see it getting closer.

“We’re almost there you guys.” He called over his shoulder. “Just a little bit further.”

They made it to the gazebo and Danny sighed, closing his eyes as he pushed the door open. Then he heard something fall to the ground.

When he looks up, he sees Dash Baxter standing in the middle of their gazebo, a fire started in the firepit and a pot of water spilled on the ground. He’s gaping at Danny, staring at the boy’s face.

“What? Phantom? What- what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what are we doing here?” Sam asks as her and Tucker walk in. “This is our hideout. What are you doing here?”

“That’s none of your business, Manson.” Dash shoots back at her. “Why does Phantom need a hideout anyways?”

“Uh.” Tucker says. “Because he needs somewhere to hide from both humans and ghosts. He can’t do that in the ghost zone, you know?”

“Yeah yeah.” Danny says. “Gotta have somewhere to rest away from everyone who hates me.”

“Listen here.” Sam says, walking up to Dash and shoving a finger in his face. “If you tell anyone that Phantom has these hideouts, you’ll be in big trouble.”

Dash rolls his eyes. “Why would I tell anyone about this place? I’m here all the time.” His eyes widened. “Not that I need a hideout. No. I come here to get away from the bustle of the city. Yeah. Not to escape from anything at all.”

“Yeah, okay. Come on Tucker. Let’s get ourselves cleaned up.”

Sam walked over to the mattress they had laying on the floor while Tucker got the first aid kit out of the tote that was sitting next to it. As Danny looked around the room, he saw that there were a couple of additions to the stuff sitting in the room that hadn’t been there the last time they came to this particular hideout.

“Dash, how often do you come here?”

“What?” Dash looked at Phantom and then looked away. “Oh, uh, not often at all. Just every once in a while. It’s fine.”

“Are you sure? There’s a lot of new stuff here.”

Dash nodded and looked away, grabbing his pot off the ground and pouring water from a gallon jug into it before placing it on the fire. Danny could see a bruise peeking out from under Dash’s collar.

“Well.” Danny started, turning towards Tucker who had gestured for Danny to come over now that he finished stitching Sam’s wound up. “If you need to, feel free to keep coming here. This one’s pretty out of the way so we probably won’t need to use this one for awhile again.”

Dash nodded again, not making eye contact with Danny. “Okay, thanks.”

Sam glared at Danny when he sat on the mattress between her and Tucker. “Are you really going to let him keep coming here?”

Danny shrugged and whispered. “I saw a bruise on his neck. That might be why he’s here.”

“Because he has a hickey?”

“No!” Danny shoots her a look. “Not that kind of bruise! The kind you get from being hit.”

“Oh.” Sam said quietly.

“Hate to interrupt the conversation.” Tucker said. “But I need to get at the scratch on your back Danny.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.” Danny unzipped the front of his jumpsuit and pulled his arms out, pulling down the top half to his waist. He hissed as Tucker dabbed a cotton swab of hydrogen peroxide on the wound. When he opened his eyes again he saw Dash staring at him. Dash looked back at his pot of boiling water.

“If you’re a ghost.” Dash started, pouring a box of macaroni noodles into the water. “Why do you need to get stitches? Why do you even have an injury like that anyways?”

“Um. Because I don’t live in the ghost zone. So it’s harder for my injuries to disappear? Yeah.”

“I’ve never seen another ghost with injuries like that before. Why are you so different?”

“Leave it alone, Dash. It’s none of your business. You’re lucky I didn’t kick you out when we got here. If you wanna stay, maybe you should keep your mouth shut.” Sam shot at him.

“Sam, lay off him for once.” Tucker said as he stitched Danny up.

“What-”

“Leave him be.”

Sam laid back on the mattress, crossing her arms as she huffed at the ceiling.

The four of them sat in silence while Tucker finished stitching Danny up. Soon he was done and placed a bandage over the wound.

“Okay. We’re all done.” Tucker closed up the first aid kit and put it away. Danny pulled his jumpsuit back up and when he looked up he saw Dash watching him again. Dash looked away.

“Finally.” Sam stood up, gingerly putting her foot on the ground as she tested her leg. “I’m about ready to fall asleep.”

Danny yawned. “Me too.” He looked at Dash. “We’ll see you later, Dash. Stay safe.” He grabbed onto Sam and Tucker and flew intangibly through the ceiling, not giving Dash a chance to respond.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

“What?” Danny shot her a look.

“‘Stay safe.’”

Danny looked back towards the gazebo. “I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this. Why is he staying here in the middle of the night? Why isn’t he at home?”

“I don’t know. Why should we care though? He causes a lot of problems for us at school.” Sam glares at the ground below them.

“Yeah, Danny.” Tucker says. “It’s one thing to let him stay there, but we should probably stay out of his business.”

Danny sighed.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

QQQQQ

Danny was in line at the Nasty Burger. It was a couple days after they had found Dash at one of their hideouts. He was looking up at the menu, trying to decide what he was going to get. The bell over the door rings and shortly after someone runs into him. Looking up, Danny sees Dash.

“Watch it freak.” Dash looked really flustered. He clearly wasn’t paying attention to where he was going.

Danny rolls his eyes. “Just as meatheaded as always, Dash.” “Listen here, you little-” Dash grabs Danny by the front of his shirt but he’s interrupted by the sound of the bell above the door ringing again. They both turn to look and walking through the door is Dash’s dad.

Dash lets go of Danny. “Shit. I didn’t think he saw me come in here. There’s nowhere for me to go.”

Dash’s breathing gets faster and he just stands there, not moving. Danny looks past him and makes eye contact with Dash’s dad. When he sees the fury in the man’s eyes, he grabs Dash by the arm and drags him to the one person bathroom. They get in and lock the door just before Dash’s dad starts banging on the door and yelling. Dash stares at the door with wide eyes, backing away from it.

“Let me in you piece of shit!” He shouts, his fist hitting the door.

The more he bangs and yells, the more Danny debates whether or not he needs to use his powers.

“Once I get in there I’ll kill you!”

That was it. Once Danny hears the jingling of keys on the other side and one being inserted into the lock, Danny grabs onto Dash’s arm.

He’s grabbing onto Dash’s arm and phasing him through the wall and outside the Nasty Burger right as the door is being opened. He can hear Dash’s dad yell one last thing before they run away.

Dash stumbles as he’s pulled away by Danny, clearly surprised by both his strength and the fact that they just phased through the wall, but he says nothing yet.

Danny leads them away from the Nasty Burger to the nearest emergency hideout that he, Sam, and Tucker had, running towards the edge of town. When the city starts turning into trees, Danny slows down until they come to a small abandoned shed with boarded up windows. Dash frowns.

“This looks familiar.” He says.

When they get inside, it’s very similar to what was inside of the other hideout. There were totes sitting around the room with first aid supplies, a fireplace in the center of the room, and an old mattress.

“Another hideout?” Dash looks at Danny. “How did you know where this is? And how the fuck did you phase us through the bathroom wall at the Nasty Burger?”

“Because my friends and I are friends with Phantom.” Danny said. “And it doesn’t matter how I got us out, all that matters is that we got out before he could get to you.”

Dash squinted at Danny. It looked like he still had more questions but for the time being he just sighed and walked over to the mattress, flopping down on top of it.

Danny sat down next to him on the edge of the mattress. “Does anybody know this is happening?”

Dash shook his head, his eyes closed. “Kwan knows me and my dad don’t get along but he doesn't know how bad it is. I don’t want him to worry about me.”

“You gotta tell someone.” Danny says. “Someone needs to be able to be there for you. Your dad literally threatened to kill you, you can’t keep going back to that.”

Dash scoffed and opened his eyes, frowning at Danny. “Yeah? And who’s gonna be able to keep him from getting to me?”

“My parents.” Danny said without hesitation.

“What?”

“My parents are extremely protective. Yeah, they can be kind of air headed sometimes but they’d kick someone’s ass if it meant protecting their kids. I’m sure if we explained the situation to them they’d keep your dad away from you.”

“I don’t need their help. I’ve got a good system right now. I’ve even got another hideaway I can go to now. Why would they help the kid who bullies their son anyways?”

“Dash.” Danny said, looking at him. “You can’t just keep living in these cold, barely held together buildings on moldy mattresses.” Dash eyed the mattress they were currently sitting on. “I don’t really care what our deal is, you need to get out of this situation.”

Dash just looked at him. “They won’t mind?” He asked quietly.

“No, they won’t. They’d rather keep you safe more than anything else.”

Dash took a deep breath, pushing his hands against his eyes.

“Thanks.” He said shakily.

“No problem.” He patted a hand on Dash’s arm.

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #dash baxter #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic #phic phight 2022 #phic phight #phic phight team ghost #cw abusive parents

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imekitty · 3 years

Text

Star Error III

Part 1, Part 2

Star investigates Danny's glowing freckles.

-----

Fenton was still dodging her.

Anytime Star entered the same room as him or started to approach him, he would leave the area or find a teacher to talk to.

Or sometimes he’d disappear altogether. He would somehow just be gone, just like that.

“Are you checking out Fenton again?” asked Dash in the hall after the final bell rang.

Star scowled. “I’m not checking him out.”

“You keep looking at him,” said Kwan.

“I thought he wasn’t your type?” said Paulina.

“He’s not,” insisted Star. “I’m just trying to figure something out, okay?”

“Is this still about his glowing freckles?” asked Dash. “Because I really think you were just seeing things.”

“I was not! I saw them. And you would see them too if I could just get him to—”

“Whatever.” Dash clapped a hand on Kwan’s shoulder. “We need to get to practice.”

“Me too,” said Paulina. “I’m supposed to start teaching the girls a new routine.”

Star watched her friends walk away and checked the nearest clock. She still had time before she had to start tutoring.

She looked down the hall and saw Fenton at his locker with Manson and Foley.

This was her last chance of the day to catch him.

And she wasn’t going to miss it.

She headed down the hall toward him. Fenton looked up and started walking away from her.

Star quickened her pace. Fenton rounded a corner.

Star dashed to the corner and located Fenton already halfway down the next hall.

She swerved and maneuvered around bustling students, never taking her eyes off that messy dark hair and lavender backpack as he weaved through the crowded hall.

He pulled off to the side and entered the boys’ restroom. Star stopped short and stood next to the door.

If he thought he had lost her, he was wrong. She was going to wait right here until he came out, even if she ended up being late for tutoring. Not like she was getting paid for it anyway.

The restroom door opened. A boy exited and gave Star a confused look before proceeding on his way down the hall. Star pretended to play with a strand of her hair.

Another boy walked down the hall and pulled open the restroom door, giving Star a puzzled look as he went inside. Star pretended to study her nails and looked up again to stare at the door once he was gone.

Less than a minute later, the same boy reappeared, looking perplexed that Star was still standing there as he shuffled away.

A minute passed. Then another. Several minutes.

Fenton surely knew she was waiting for him to come out. He was probably hoping she would give up and leave.

But she wasn’t about to lose to Fenton of all people.

She kept her eyes fixed on the door. There were no windows in this particular restroom, she knew that. There was no other way for him to get out. Soon, soon, he couldn’t possibly hang out in there all day, she just had to keep waiting, keep watching, keep—

“Hey, Star.”

Star jumped and turned around. She jumped again when she saw Fenton standing right behind her.

“What are you doing here?” she squealed.

“I know you’ve been trying to catch me.” Fenton leaned against the wall, folding his arms and crossing one leg over the other. “Just thought I’d say hi.”

“But how—” Star whipped her head to look at the restroom door, then back at him. “How did you get there?”

Fenton smirked.

“You never came out this door! I was watching.”

“I have many hidden talents.”

Star narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose.

“So what can I do for you, Star?”

“You know what I want from you, Fenton.”

Fenton sighed and looked at the far wall. “Yeah, I do.”

Star waited, tapping the toe of her shoe against the floor.

Fenton looked at her again. “You want to get dinner with me.”

Star rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re not cute, Fenton. You should know that by now.”

Fenton shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve had a couple girls tell me I’m cute.”

“No girls that matter,” Star retorted.

Fenton inclined his head and chuckled through pressed lips.

“Are you gonna give me what I really want, Fenton?” asked Star, checking the clock and grimacing. She was ten minutes late for tutoring now.

“Sure.” Fenton’s top teeth scraped over his bottom lip. “Just meet me at Belinda’s later today. I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

Star scoffed. “Seriously? Belinda’s Café? You’re trying to get a date with me out of this?”

Fenton scratched his chin, his expression turning more serious. “Well, the truth is, I really do need help with math.”

“Yeah. No kidding.”

“And our tutoring session yesterday was cut short.”

“Hey, you’re the one who walked out on me.” Star held up her hands, palms up. “I was willing to keep helping you even with your freaky glowing face.”

Fenton’s face turned slightly pink in the cheeks. But his freckles remained light brown.

“I know you know what I’m talking about.” Star put her hands on her hips. “I didn’t imagine that.”

Fenton clutched one of his backpack straps and looked down at the floor before looking up again. “Tell you what. If you meet me later to help me with math, I’ll answer five questions for you. Any five questions you want.”

Star raised a brow. “Any five questions I want?”

“Mmm hmm. And I promise I’ll be completely honest.” Fenton moved off the wall and stood up straight. “But they have to be yes-or-no questions.”

Star scrunched her mouth, swishing her lips side to side. “Fine. But not Belinda’s. It’s way too popular. I’m not about to risk being seen out in public with you.”

Fenton smiled amicably.

“Let’s do Station 11 instead,” said Star. “No one from our school ever goes there. Four-thirty. After I’m done with tutoring.”

“All right,” said Fenton. “Meet you there, Star.”

He gave a small wave and walked away from her down the hall. Star glared at the back of his head, not sure if she liked the familiar way he used her name.

“Saturn! Mercury!” she yelled. “Black holes! Neil Armstrong!”

Fenton froze, his back still to her. Star gripped one hand with the other and watched him, waiting.

He turned around and looked at her. He gave her a knowing smile before turning again and leaving.

His freckles stayed ordinary.

Star’s glare hardened.

Part 4

#danny phantom #danny fenton #star rainsdon #imekitty writes #star error

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triplexdoublex · 2 years

Note

Disturbing shit about Colson keeps coming out, like his comments on minors and Black women. He was young when he said that stuff and has showed some remorse in saying he used to say shit just to say it. What are your thoughts? As a fan I’m struggling with my opinion on it 😭

I just wanna start of by saying this is the first and LAST ask I’m answering regarding this … first off as a white woman it’s not my place to tell anyone how to feel about his comment on black woman which was “black girls give the best head”. Moving on to the minors thing… I am in no way a “pedophile apologist” or whatever other dumb shit cancel culture is calling people who defend Kells I am simply someone who grew up around the same time Kells did and saw how differently people thought of age gaps and shit back then it was extremely common for senior guys to date freshman girls , literally no one bat and eye … so if they stayed together for a year or whatever after he graduated he’d be 19ish and she’d be 15ish just like kells tweets ect . Also around that time turning 18 was highly sexualized there was literally multiple countdowns online and in the media to when the Olsen Twins would turn 18… I’m not saying any of this is ‘OK’ I’m simply stating this is the kind of stuff that was “normalized” at that time .. Don’t you ever wonder why no one gave a shit when he first said it but now 10 years later people wanna bring it up and try ruining his life over it, because times change and it probably literally didn’t phase anyone when he said it back then. But now that he’s on top of the world right now everyone wants to tear him down. Notice how everyone was talking about this when TTMD first came out and then it died down for a while but now with Mainstream Sellouts success it’s back worse than ever even fuckinh Perez Hilton is reporting on it … they don’t actually care about what he said they only care about bringing him down. Where was this energy when Tyga was 25 dating 17 year old Kylie Jenner … oh that’s right no one cared because he wasn’t as successful as Kells who’s already an easy target. Where’s this same energy for Drake dating freshly turned 18 year olds he’s been talking to for years , or Scott Disick pushing 40 dating 19 year old models … all “legal” but far more Sus than a teenager being attracted to another teenager. Kells has never dated young barely legal girls in fact Megan is older than him! Not to mention Kells has never had not one single allegation against him but yet he gets shit on more that artists who actually have on going current allegations. I’ve seen kells get more hate than Marilyn fuckin Manson who has a whole ass documentary about what a disgusting human being he is. I’m so over the hate he gets and I’m so over the old tweets and old Kendal Jenner nonsense, he’s said multiple times and even in the new billboard interview that’s he’s embarrassed and ashamed of some of the things he’s said in the past and he no longer stands by them. Let the man live, let him learn and grow and move on from dumb shit he’s said. End Rant.

#machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk

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herrlindemann · 2 years

Photo

Till Lindemann interview with Playboy, January 2006

Another interview from the archives. Till talks about Rammstein, writing, fire, his life at the time of the GDR, his personal life,...

Playboy : Is Rammstein art?

Till : There are moments in this band that have become art, that have been immortalized. In general, I would say: We make light music.

PLAYBOY: Was that planned?

Till : In the beginning we just wanted to attract attention. With extreme lyrics and extreme music. It annoyed us that after the Wall came down, all the other East German bands sounded like American rock folk music. They copied everything, the sound, the hairstyles, the tattoos. We really wanted to kick these copycats in the face.

Playboy : Is your provocation calculated?

Till : What is provocation nowadays? In Eastern times it was provocative to walk around with a plastic bag that said 'Axel Springer Verlag'. Being provocative involves risking reprisals. Talking about provocation in the entertainment industry doesn't work.

PLAYBOY: But you understand that a song like 'Mein Teil', which is about the cannibal of Rothenburg, can be found provocative? You sing: 'Today I meet a gentleman/He likes me to eat/Soft parts as well as hard/It's on the menu/Because you are what you eat/And you know what it is/It's my part.'

Till : We didn't come up with that, it all happened. We found it so incredible that a man roasts another man's penis and they eat the part together. The Pet Shop Boys, who by the way remixed the title for us, seem to have really liked the song.

Playboy: Rammstein has been the most successful German band at home and abroad for years. Which nerve do you hit?

Till : We reveal feelings. Necrophiles and child molester do not exist in the mainstream songs. We write about it, that upsets many. And at the same time it excites them.

PLAYBOY: Particularly disturbing is that you mostly sing about these topics in the first person. Why?

Till : It's more direct. That's the polarizing effect: I'm the cannibal, I'm the child molester. I think it would be cowardly to write it in the third person.

Playboy: Has your American shock counterpart, Marilyn Manson, ever visited you at your US concerts?

Till : We met him often, yes. Good guy. He lives his role wholeheartedly, is never without bodyguards and still feels like a rock star when he's showering. This is his curse too. I take off my pants after the concert and that's it.

PLAYBOY: Talking to you, it's striking that you have a surprisingly soft voice, quite unlike your deep organ voice on the records.

Till : That's my normal baritone voice, when I sing I push my voice with force from below. I’m not a professional. There's no technic involved.

Playboy: Deep vocals and rolling 'Rrrrr' — is that why Rammstein sounds so harsch?

Till : Maybe. I sing on instinct. It's a deep feeling — singing out about something bad, rough, what's buried deep in the soul. You process your life, a little bit like therapy.

Playboy : The audience too?

Till : I firmly believe that our music and our concerts are good for the soul. We get a lot of mail saying we're the only band that addresses issues like violence and incest. People write to us that they have experienced something like this and are grateful that these songs exist. In the meantime, women often write, too. That wasn't the case at all in the beginning. It used to be more of a men's sauna that we organized. Today, half of our concert-goers are women.

Playboy: Rammstein as a replacement for therapy?

Till : There are many aspects. We're also just the heavier David Copperfield show. Fathers come to us with their children to see great fireworks.

Playboy: Were Rammstein concerts always with pyrotechnics?

Till : Yes, right from the start, even in the smallest clubs. At that time we released a gas mixture from a Coke bottle in the hall and let it explode. The whole room burned for a moment.

Playboy : Is fire your passion?

Till : Not at all, but I hated being watched on stage. I used to stand glued to the mic during guitar solos. I figured I have to do something or I'll die of loneliness and boredom. Luckily a friend of mine was a pyrotechnician.

PLAYBOY: You stand on fire on stage. How dangerous is that?

Till: I once burned my leg because the inside of my trousers caught fire. My coat is now so well insulated that nothing happens. It consists of a protective shield made of metal sheets and three centimeters of thick insulating fabric. I can easily be on fire with this for four minutes before it burns out. After that I'm full of adrenaline. And I feel great.

Playboy: Where's the line?

Till : Once the fans really thought I was on fire: we staged an accident that burned my leg. Flake came with the fire extinguisher, but it contained flammable powder. I was on fire, the music stopped, the hall lights came on. I rolled on the ground and helpers came with real fire extinguishers. We did that at 20 concerts, then we had to stop because the fans thought it was too much and complained on the internet. They were really shocked.

PLAYBOY: Would you like to invent a Welden effect for the stage?

Till : Continuous rain. It's so cool to play in the rain, we did it for a video, but it's unthinkable on stage. You'll die of electrocution.

PLAYBOY: Why are you so martial on stage?

Till : If we were playing hippie music, we would wear flared pants and sunflower shirts. With our stage outfit we built a framework for the picture that we are painting. This also includes the war paint and the naked upper body. 'OF' is what we call it, shirtless. We ask each other in the dressing room before the concerts: are you doing OF today? Nah, I've gotten too fat, maybe next week.

Playboy: What was your weirdest outfit?

Till : We wore it to a shabby little club when we did our three first shows in New York. The thing was jam-packed, and we played OF and in traditional Lederhosen.

Playboy: Not afraid to use German folklore clichés?

Till : Sure. Over there Germany is Mercedes, Sauerkraut and Lederhosen. After the concert two black guys came to us, hip hoppers, and said: We hate this metal shit, but you guys are cool.

PLAYBOY: Have you ever performed under drugs?

Till : Used to be constant. We've tried everything except injections. From smoking weed to cocaine. It was a competition: how extreme is this band? Pure showmanship.

Playboy : Why did you quit?

Till : For one thing, the shows have gotten too big. On the other hand, my body gave me a warning. When I was recording in Sweden I couldn't take two flights of stairs because I was so full of cigarettes, alcohol and coke. A small white flag came out and told me : If I continue like this, I will experience some problems.

Playboy: In the meantime, Rammstein even has famous supporters like Heino.

Till : Yes, he recently came out as a Rammstein fan. He liked our hiking video ‘Ohne ‘Dich. Udo Jürgens approached us at the Echo Awards and wanted to take a photo with us because he thinks we're great, he said. But who knows who will shake our hands tomorrow when the success is over.

Playboy: Do you want to be loved?

Till : At all costs. Anyone who says no is lying.

Playboy: People seem to love you more abroad than in Germany.

Till : Acceptance is much higher there. It's incredible when 20,000 French sing along to our lyrics in German in Paris-Bercy, the most legendary hall in France. In German! Where the French otherwise refuse to speak any foreign language. If I may put it that way: we are pioneers of Franco-German friendship.

Playboy: Because the French sing 'Bück Disch' to the song 'Bück Dich'?

Till : Exactly. That's wonderful. In Mexico they even sing along to the whole song, not just the choruses. Every line in perfect German. Despite the gringo hatred there, despite their refusal to progress. I love the Mexicans.

Playboy: Your new song 'Benzin' and the video show self-ironic traits for the first time.

Till : It doesn't have much to do with irony, the thirst for petrol stands for the desire for a lot of things. But it's true: we're making too many funny videos at the moment. It's time to sail the dark waters again.

Playboy: How do you write your lyrics?

Till : In absolute silence. view of nature. Laptop. The music always comes first, and I think about what goes with it. This song might have something to do with water. Or with a lousy guy hanging around in front of a kindergarten.

Playboy: On your new album 'Rosenrot' there is also a song about gays, 'Mann gegen Mann' ». You will probably soon be accused of homophobia. Or?

Till : Possibly. My impulse was completely different: envy of the boys who just wink at each other in the pub and pick each other up without the whole quark with flowers and three dates before you can get to it. They have it easier than heteros. The gays look at each other and have fast, good sex. I have a vague hope that it will become an anthem in gay clubs.

Playboy: For your video 'Stripped' you used scenes from Leni Riefenstahl's Olympia films. Would you still do that today?

Till : No. Because I'm tired of hearing that we're a right-wing band. My daughter - the dearest thing I have - came to me at the time and asked: Tell me, do you play in a Nazi band? That was a point where I said to myself, we've crossed a line. That was too much.

Playboy: Is your daughter your only child?

Till : I have many children.

Playboy: By how many women?

Till : Many.

Playboy: Why have these relationships always failed?

Till : The feeling wasn't there because I wasn't willing to commit myself. I have always been dumped and was completely appalled by it. I realized every time: Actually, she's right. The only good thing that came out of it was whenever one went, the pain triggered an incredible creative boost.

Playboy: Were you faithful?

Till : Never. I always thought I had to fuck, in case bad times come. It was a quite a mingle of one-night stands and affairs.

Playboy: So you are still single today?

Till : I met a woman I want to grow old with. Ever since I've known her, I haven't felt the need to hang around.

Playboy: Bad for the creative spurts.

Till : I think I kept a dark little room in the back of my soul. I can settle into the abysses quickly if I need to.

Playboy: Then what do you remember?

Till : The longing for death. I used to be completely indifferent to a lot of things. I thought I wouldn’t reach the age of 50. But now, with this woman, that has changed. I'm a really lucky man. I now wish to get old.

Playboy: You are 42 years old. how old is your girlfriend ?

Till : 28. I couldn't imagine living with a woman the same age.

Playboy: You almost competed as a swimmer for East Germany at the 1980 Olympic Games in Moscow. Is it true that you got kicked out because you sneaked out of the hotel at a competition in Florence?

Till : I didn't want to flee, I wanted to see the city. The cars, the bikes, the girls. I got caught, that was one reason for being kicked out, but I didn't perform well enough either.

Playboy: Was it bad?

Till : It was terrible. Before that, I swam up to 30 kilometers a day, got up at five in the morning and went to bed dead tired at night. Suddenly I had free time and was standing around in the prefab district and had to fight to be accepted. And drinking a lot of schnapps, that counted for something.

Playboy: What do you feel when you think of the GDR?

Till : Up until the day everyone left and took off, I had a very warm feeling. It was really bearable. As a punk band we were allowed to play with a state license, and although there were Stasi people in the audience, there were never any problems. The horror of the GDR only came later, when I realized what had happened.

Playboy: Not yet in GDR times?

Till : Of course you noticed, at the latest when you did an apprenticeship, that a lot of it was lies and deceit. For example, when the entire production of a factory was immediately thrown onto the heap. Those were employment programs. Today it is called ABM (Arbeitsbeschäftigungsmaßnahme).

Playboy: Do you miss the GDR?

Till : No. But the way people treated each other was warmer. Who still meets at home these days? The restaurant used to close at ten and then you went to friends. There was a lot of closeness. That's dead today.

Playboy: Have you never been watched by friends for the Stasi?

Till : Yes. Partly from people who were very close to me. It was a shock, but I make a very clear distinction between who caused existential damage and who just submitted irrelevant reports. And I differentiate according to the motives: Who wanted to get an advantage as an IM and who was forced to cooperate by the Stasi with threats.

Playboy: Are you for the demolition of the Berlin Palace of the Republic?

Till : I would leave him there. I think it's like a kidney stone. You keep it because it somehow belongs to you, even if it hurt.

Playboy: Where did you collect your welcome money in 1989?

Till : At Lübeck on the border. And then I went to an Edeka (German supermarket) and bought sweets, gummies, Bärchen, and yoghurt gums. I said to myself: Now I'll eat until I burst. Previously, a bag of Haribo from the shop had to last a whole year.

Playboy: Would you like to play in small clubs again?

Till : No, I don't want to drive a Trabant again either. I enjoy my car's electronic windows, even if none of that is necessary.

Playboy: What car do you drive?

Till : An off-roader, it's very practical because I live in the country. Between Schwerin and Wismar. That's my home. Totally boring there. After ten years of touring the world, it's the best thing that can happen to me. I no longer like staying in big cities for more than three days.

Playboy: How big is your village?

Till : Twelve houses. My cottage has a small fishing pond and a beautiful view of the nature reserve with gray herons. Fantastic.

Playboy: Will Rammstein, like the Stones, still be on stage at the age of 60?

Till : I believe that it will end sooner or later. With a concert in the Berlin Olympic Stadium.

Playboy: The band has six months off in early 2006. What are you going to do during that time?

Till : I'm flying to Costa Rica with my girlfriend, so we'll buy a car and drive around South America. I did survival training with her in the jungle. How to drink water from lianas and feed on lemon ants.

Playboy : How do they taste?

Till : Great. Like lime pie.

#Till Lindemann #Rammstein #Interview #translation #2006 #*#*scans

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