#my laptop keyboard is broken but i’m sure i can find a solution

[a-single-anonymous-duck]

hello

i wanna write something but i can’t decide what

i really want it to be a longer project or like a long fic maybe with plot?

that being said id like to do a few oneshots as warm up because i havent written in a while

any suggestions or ideas?

the fandoms i’m mostly considering are stars align/hoshiai no sora and ninjago but i’m open to ideas

[smoochkooks]

—chapter one: the beginning of an end

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.4k words

summary: loving jeon jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

previous || next

You’re positive your favourite sound in the whole world is the rhythmic, repetitive sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard.

Everyone has a different approach when it comes to coping with stress and anxiety. Some people drink away their unwanted emotions, some drown themselves in work, some watch yet another, mediocre Netflix show. But your solution, your little panacea has always been writing.

You’re not the best when it comes to expressing your true feelings. You can struggle with saying ‘I love you’ to your mother and then write a long, affectionate letter for her birthday that makes her eyes turn glossy. You may stutter and tumble on your own words while trying to order coffee and then complete academic essays with ease.  

Whenever you feel like you’re overwhelmed, boiled up with mixed emotions, you do exactly what your school counselor told you many years ago: you let it out. She never mentioned any specifics, simply encouraging you to find your own way. And that’s exactly what you did – you picked it up yourself. First, it was writing a diary. No less than two weeks into it, you got bored. Turns out describing in detail every single mundane day of your life was never your forté. You threw away your old notebook, bought a new one and decided to write there whenever you felt like you really wanted to, not out of obligation.  

And you continue to do so, these days you opt for a use of modern technology often. You open your laptop and pour your feelings onto a digital sheet of paper. It’s cathartic, in a way. Getting rid of what you feel like is weighing you down.  

Jungkook however, your dearest best friend, has always been on the other side of the spectrum. Loud, obnoxious, a life and soul of the party who happened to miraculously befriend the most quiet introvert in class. Sometimes you still wonder how your friendship has managed to survive almost twenty years. You’re two polar opposites. Fire and water. Storm and chilly breeze. A confession screamed in the middle of the night and handwritten love letter.  

You’re a dichotomy. Made of the same atoms, pulling in and pulling away. And if the phrase ‘opposites attract’ held any significance, maybe you would’ve ended up together. But in your case, it’s yet another platitude. Something that seems to work out only in books and movies. Because, if that was true, he would never fell in love with a female version of him, just graced with a sprinkle of pure sweetenes Jungkook sometimes lacks.

Soojin is everything you will never be. Polite, outgoing, sociable and so likeable you hate yourself for despising her. Truthfully, there’s nothing bad you could say about her. No wonder he’s fallen head over heels for her, not you.

What’s there to love about you, if you willing chose to pin for a boy that’s so out of your league? It’s actually hilarious to even dream about him returning your feelings.

You stare at the screen with half-lidded eyes. The clock reads quarter past midnight, letters start to blur into nothingness. Yet another chapter of your miserable life is completed as you save the document and slam your laptop shut. You don’t bother to shower or take off your clothes. Sleepiness hits you right when you close your eyes.  

You dream of wedding halls and never spoken love confessions.

You read once on Twitter that being an adult means checking your e-mail as a part of your morning social media routine and since then, you haven’t quite related to anything more in your life.  

At the very top of your inbox there’s yet another e-mail from your Creative Writing proffesor, Kim Namjoon. He’s a very stubborn man, you decide, as you scroll through the contents of his message. He still wants you to consider what he told you a few days ago after class, it seems.  

“Miss ___? Can I talk to you for a second?” 

“Sure.” you replied and awkwardly walked up to his podium.  

You might have been madly (and miserablely) in love with your best friend, but Kim Namjoon has never failed to make you feel like a silly teenager with a crush on her older teacher. To say Kim Namjoon was intimidating was an misunderstanding. His presence was thoroughly electrifying. You remembered a very disappointed sigh the girl sitting next you let out when she noticed a ring on his right hand. You couldn’t judge her. His wife had scored probably the finest man on this damn planet.  

“I read your latest assignment and I must say, your novelette was outstanding as always. Dare I say the best among others,” Namjoon said. You bowed your head in acknowledgement, praying he wouldn’t notice your rose-colored cheeks. “Regarding that, I actually have a proposition for you.”  

At that, your eyes widened. “What kind of proposition, sir?” you asked.  

He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to you. It was a flyer, you realised, and read it through quickly. VARIETÉ Publishing was organising an annual contest for young poets, which you had heard about before. Your English Literature proffesor mentioned it during her lecture a week ago. However, poetry had never been your strong suit. As much as you enjoyed reading it, you weren’t really fond of creating your own poems. So why did Kim Namjoon decide to tell you about this all of a sudden?

“I know what you might be thinking right now, but I’m not actually encouraging you to take part in this competition,” As he smiled, two dimples appeared on each side of his mouth. “Do you know anything about VARIETÉ Publishing?”  

Slightly confused, you gave him a nod. “It’s one if the biggest publishing companies in the country.” 

“That’s very much true,” Namjoon agreed. “VARIETÉ's vice-chairman, Lee Jongi, is actually my old friend. We used to study together here, at this university. When I chose a teaching career, he got a job in a foreign publishing company, climbed up the ladder until the very top and now he’s vice-chairman and I’m a simple college professor,” He chuckled. You were too stunned to form a coherent response let alone laugh along with him. Lee Jongi and Kim Namjoon being buddies? It was a small world, after all. “Jongi has always been very fond of young, aspiring writers. When I discover a student with huge potential, I send him their works. If he finds them interesting enough, he might even take a risk and propose a publishing deal. This doesn’t happen quite often, but I want you to know that you have a pretty big chance to impress him.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed because holy fucking shit, did he just say he can help you publish your first book?  

“I don’t know what to say, sir. I’m shocked.” you responded truthfully. You had heard people complimenting your skills before but this was extraordinary. “Let me just process all of this: you know personally VARIETÉ'S vice-chairman and you want to show him my works?” Even said out loud, it still sounded surreal to you.  

“Correct. But of course, I won’t do anything without your consent.” Namjoon said. “That novelette you sent me recently was amazing. I’d love to show it to Lee Jongi one day.”

The task was to incorporate a hidden, symbolic message into a story. You decided to use your favorite flowers, magnolias, and its meaning. They represent eternity, because once they bloom they will continue to bloom for a long time. In your story, a girl gave her best friend magnolia's seeds, wishing her love for him to be everlasting. A day later, she received a pack of seeds from the boy as well. She happily planted them in her garden and when they bloomed, she discovered they were yellow tulips. A symbol of love that will never be reciprocated.

“You make people feel things with your words, ___, and that’s a very rare gift,” You heard Namjoon add. “Promise me you’ll consider my proposition.”  

There was thousand thoughts per hour running in your head, but you gave him a curt nod. “I’ll think about it.”  

As you’re staring now at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, you think about the girl whose only dream was to be loved by her best friend. Maybe it’s finally time for you to move on. Bury the past and plant a seed of new life. Because, loving Jeon Jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

With shaky hands, you start writing a response to your proffesor.

[stxrvel]

cowboy like me

summary: a bad day for Bucky, a splendid week for the woman. mixed feelings and memories of a stormy past prevent Bucky from giving voice to his true feelings. (I'm really sorry I'm so bad at summary's)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k or so.

warnings: poor bucky letting his feelings get the better of him and saying mean things from time to time, sorry bout that. oh, and I wrote this in the third person, I don't know if that's a warning but still. and last but not least, English is not my native language so I apologise in advance for any mistakes.

also, the title of this and the part of the song quoted below only inspired the setting of this one-shot. the "plot" is independent of the theme song. I just have a bunch of taylor's songs that inspires me scenarios like this with independent plots, it's like a hobby. and ALSO, this is my first fic in here, and I really hope to do more parts in the future, especially when this semester is over. so, I hope you like it!

you're a bandit like me eyes full of stars hustling for the good life

It had not rained like this for quite some time. Lightning echoed in every part of the city and the drops were crashing against the window glass with the speed of a Maserati on a winding road; the sky was dark even though it was only four o'clock in the afternoon. Inside the room, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable, one of the reasons she stopped by at least five times a week. However, a few minutes before the downpour began, the whole atmosphere had turned so grey that for a moment it seemed as if the clouds were bringing a bad omen...

But no, it was only him.

The man who always sat next to her in the cafeteria to use one of the computers that the café provided as a service.

Besides the sound of the bell above the door and his soaked boots, it was his exasperated sigh that caught her attention before she looked away from her laptop screen.

His hair fell over his forehead with a few raindrops slipping from his forehead and temples, until they were lost under his jawline and mingling in the cotton of his shirt. The frown he kept on his face did not disappear as he tried, very unsuccessfully, to dry his clothes by shaking them slightly.

He would definitely do anything to keep that leather jacket and gloves on.

The smell of coffee and the hustle and bustle of the room contrasted with the calm but resignedly helpless attitude of the man who was running his hands heavily over his trousers as if they were a portable hairdryer.

Michael, one of the waiters who occasionally gave them ham and cheese croissants on Saturdays when they were both there, approached the sulking man and, seconds later, they both disappeared into the kitchen behind the till.

The screen of her mobile phone lit up as she tried to refocus on the reading she had to do.

Betty: I still don't understand how not wanting to visit your abusive dad in hospital is an important topic of conversation in a counselling session. I mean, the words abusive father say it all.

Tell me you're on my side.

Me: I still think you should change your psychologist.

Betty: I know! But at that clinic it's 30% cheaper than getting a private one. But, I already have a solution, next week I'll...

The squeak of the chair next to her being dragged startled her and her mobile phone almost flew out of her hands. The grumpy man, now a little drier, dropped the weight of his giant body on the poor chair so that it squeaked as if complaining about the man's rudeness. He stared at the computer screen on as if it held the solution to all his problems.

“Bad day?”

“Just an unfortunate string of inconveniences since I opened my eyes this morning,” he commented seriously and gravely as he began to move his hands over the keyboard. He hadn't looked at her when he spoke, which was not unusual, but at the moment it felt inappropriate, “Nothing I'm not used to.”

The woman turned her head to look at the twenty-seven pages she still had to read, and it seemed too tedious a thing to spend her time on now that Bucky had arrived.

“Is there anything I can do for you? I'm going to apply for a job at a daycare, maybe I could start practicing with you.”

Bucky faked a laugh, rather bitter and strained the kind she was used to hearing, “Very funny,” he said, his gaze dark and fixed on the screen.

“Sometimes you laugh at my jokes.”

“When they're funny,” he blurted out as soon as she finished speaking, instantly regretting it but not showing it in his body language.

“Hey! Don't hurt my feelings like that. What happened with your therapist? If you want to talk about it, sure.”

She watched his body tense and how he made no attempt to hide the bitter expression on his face as soon as the word "therapist" left her mouth. The woman thought she'd made a poor choice of words, yet Bucky felt unsettled by how strangely easily she seemed to be able to read his attitudes. Since when had she started doing such things? Had she always been that way? Had he let his guard down that much these past few weeks?

“Just... trouble, in general,” he pronounced her name with feigned gentleness, sending a shiver down her spine. Had he noticed by now? So soon? She thought, hastily.

“Okay,” she mumbled, trying to keep her composure as her mind worked at full speed, “I understand if you don't want to talk about it.”

No, he couldn't have noticed. Regardless of how damaged and broken she was inside, she knew that wasn't something Bucky paid the most detailed attention to. And, even if that were the case, there wasn't a person on the planet who knew her better than he did at this point, so if he wanted to walk away and leave her to not deal with her problems and constant chatter, he would have done so long ago.

Bucky sighed deeply, the movement of his chest aching from the lump in his throat. His hands moved on automatic over the keyboard, digging into things he already knew, spending the time just trying to divert the train of thought that wouldn't leave him alone. Anyway, is it really so bad for someone to know me like that? He thought, as the woman returned to her reading, it's not bad to be vulnerable once in a while, she's not going to hurt me. I know, I know.

Then why does it scare me so much?

His hands clasped as a third presence appeared between them. Michael, with a giant grin on his face, set two medium-sized cups of coffee on the small table they shared in front of the window. The woman's, with milk and sweetened with vanilla, as she always asked for. Bucky's, black, plain and cold, the way he always drank it.

The girl sitting next to him and the barista shared a couple of words in a conversation that seemed to be too funny, because she kept laughing. Why did he find her laughter annoying? Was it because it was too loud, or because it sounded too high-pitched unlike her normal laughter? When she laughed with Bucky, her tone was softer, gravelly, delicate and jovial. He couldn't describe the sensation that burned in his chest every time her eyes narrowed at her smile, or every time she brought her right hand to her chest, over her heart, as if she couldn't bear to laugh anymore, but at the same time holding back the pain in her cheeks so she wouldn't stop.

Michael didn't get that. No, he wasn't getting what Bucky was.

“Bucky?”

Her chuckling voice disconnected him from the bizarre conjectures in his mind, and he turned his eyes to her. She was looking at him with a rueful smile and her cheeks were too flushed.

“Are you all right?”

The aforementioned reveled in the sight that was plastered in front of him, with her sparkling eyes and the way her lips curved, before replying, “Yeah, all good.”

When he noticed Michael was still there, his shoulders tensed and quickly his gaze refocused on the sea of words displayed on the screen in front of him.

“You're too stiff,” he heard the woman's voice again a few seconds later, “Are you sure you don't want to do something to distract yourself? There are a lot of things coming to mind right now.”

Bucky turned to look at her with a frown.

“What things?”

“Um, last week you told me you've never played twenty questions before.”

The man arched an eyebrow, intrigued by how his mind played him, but quickly replied, “Do I look like the kind of person who plays the twenty questions?”

“Not really, but that day you told me you were willing to try it if I played it with you.”

Bucky was silent for a few seconds.

“I don't remember saying that.”

“Sometimes you don't remember a lot of things for convenience, Barnes,” she teased innocently, but Bucky knew what that meant: you're always evading me when I'm trying to help you.

And well, it was true.

“I imagine you don't remember Sam's invitation to you three days ago either.”

“What invitation?” he played distracted, as he pretended to vehemently read what he'd Googled.

“He asked you to join him to watch a game at the bar two blocks from your flat.”

Bucky hummed as he pretended to think about what he'd just heard, even though he remembered it perfectly. And he knew that earlier in the day he'd left it on hold, which was a clear and express no, but he hadn't said that to the woman who was now staring at him.

“I don't like football.”

The woman let out a snort of exasperation.

“This is why you have no friends, Bucky.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Bucky knew it was a joke. She'd said things like that to him before and it had never bothered him; he knew she didn't mean it in a derogatory way or to make fun of him. She would never do that. But subconsciously, he couldn't stop his mouth from blurting out the words he didn't want to say; words he would never have thought to say to her.

“I know you've had a bad day, Buck,” she spoke again after a few seconds, “But I just want to distract you.”

“I don't need your help, I can manage on my own.”

“Okay, let's just... change the subject, shall we?”

Bucky pursed his lips, but didn't dare connect their gazes.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay," she mused, and didn't speak again until a couple of seconds later, “How was your date?”

He gave a small smile before saying, “I'm sure you waited for a reasonable amount of time so you could satiate your curiosity.”

The woman let out a laugh, the kind that had the ability to calm Bucky's countenance for a few moments, before replying, “It's just that ever since I met you I didn't think I'd ever see you going on a real date.”

“And you probably won't again.”

“That's how bad it went?”

Bucky twisted his mouth, only remembering the image in the background of his neighbour's flat.

“It could have been worse.”

“Maybe we're just not cut out for dating.”

After a long moment, Bucky turned his head to watch her pursed lips. Her expression seemed downcast, but she pulled herself together quickly when she felt his gaze on her.

“What we've done or who we've been in the past, doesn't define what we can do or be now,” he reminded her of the words she always said to him when he felt he didn't deserve something good, and watched her nod at his words with a small smile, “Don't torment yourself thinking about it, neither of us had a choice.”

“I could tell you the same thing.”

Bucky smiled, sincerely, and for the first time since he had awoken that morning.

“I apply the philosophy you preach perfectly, I'm a great disciple.”

She elongated a sarcastic laugh that widened Bucky's grin. What was it about her that drew you in and bewitched you like that?

“In a trauma contest, you'd take first place, Barnes.”

“We'd be tied, you mean.”

The woman smiled at him, and between their looks, they both knew they were only hiding the truth behind the humour. Bucky didn't often do it, but since he'd met her, and considering that was something she often did -using humour to cover up the truth she'd rather not accept, or simply to hide the pain-, he'd gotten such a habit of doing it every so often that even his therapist was a little put out the first time he joked about one of his traumas in front of her. It was a very strange scenario that was never repeated.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier,” Bucky took the floor again, a little more relaxed than when he'd arrived soaking wet in the cafeteria, “It's just... I killed my neighbour's son.”

“No,” she replied quickly and firmly, as she did every time a similar topic came up in their conversations, “It was the Winter Soldier. It was a person they created to control and disenfranchise, that wasn't you. It wasn't the Bucky I know. I'm sorry to hear that, but... it wasn't your fault, I know that whatever they did for your mind was always rejected by your body, even if you couldn't control it.”

The man half-opened his lips, wanting to say something, wanting to give voice to the jumble of thoughts concurring in his mind, but nothing managed to come out other than incoherent babbling.

“I... I don't know how to tell him.”

“You really want to?”

Bucky nodded, looking into the woman's shining, understanding eyes as she brought one of her hands up to cradle the side of his face.

“Then you'll find a way. Don't push yourself.”

He rested his right hand on the hand the woman held on his cheek, and leaned his head slightly into her touch. Although the stress and tension did not disappear completely, it did give way to a relaxing and lively sense of calm and stillness. Bucky didn't know if she had done it on purpose or not, but her words, though few, brought back a harmonic undertone he hadn't allowed himself to return to in a long time.

Then you'll find a way.

Don't push yourself.

[yonqha]

—- 📞

speed dial

the light bulb in your room goes bust, and you needed someone to fix it fast. you had absolutely no clue on how to change a light bulb. but allen ma, your ex-boyfriend, knows how.

allen x reader oneshot (requested) // semi-angst, fluff (?)

word count: 1.9k words

a/n: this was just lightly edited (i got too lazy) lmao so pls excuse any errors >< and :D let me know if y’all want an alternate ending for this i might write and post one soon ^^

masterlist

heavy hands on the keyboard, the smell of coffee suspended in the air, and light illuminating your weary face. this was the current situation as you were busy typing away your report for work. your hours at the office were seemingly not enough for the amount of tasks you needed to do, hence the urge to continue work at home instead of taking your time to rest.

you gave yourself no breaks, wanting to finish this as quickly as possible to stay on track. the only breaks you considered were mini sips of the instant coffee by your side and fast trips to the bathroom. notifications from your phone didn’t bother you at all, you were that driven to finish this report as soon as you could.

but the main light in your room didn’t seem to favor that. after taking a sip from your coffee mug, it flickered a few times and decided to die on you. the room suddenly went dark, minus the light coming from your laptop. this made you groan in frustration. standing up, you went to the light switch just by the door to check. you turned it on and off but to no avail-- it’s a busted light.

a loud sigh came out of your mouth. out of all the things that could happen, your light had to die on you. you thought of just continuing to work without the light, but your eyes were starting to get strained from looking at the screen for hours. this made you regret not buying a desk lamp in the first place.

you had to think of a solution, you didn’t want to stall for too long as you might lose your energy to work. grabbing your phone from the desk, you opened your contacts to try and see if you could call an electrician. but upon seeing the time, you immediately gave up.

there is no way an electrician would go to your place at 2 in the morning.

plus, the time for them to get here? you couldn’t wait that long.

so you decided for plan b: going to wikihow to search how to change a busted light bulb. scrolling through the steps, you just got more and more confused. you don’t even know how to differentiate light bulbs, how on earth are you going to change one by yourself?

so you settled for plan c: finding someone on your contact list that knows how to change a light bulb (and is possibly still awake at this hour). you paced back and forth inside your room, scanning each name in your contacts to find anyone that can help you.

your eyes then fell on a certain name, making your feet halt immediately. does this person know how to change light bulbs? yes. is this person still awake at this hour? you’re definitely sure about that. does this person live relatively close to you? yeah, somewhat.

but are you sure you want to call your ex-boyfriend to help change your broken light bulb? no answer.

you didn’t want to bother him, probably cooped up in his studio busy producing tracks like he always does. but you have no other option, well, unless you want to cite the rest of the alphabet starting from the letter d for other plans.

you took a deep breath. ‘you have a report to finish, y/n. get yourself together.’

you dialled his number and put the phone to your ear. it only took a couple of rings before the male answered. “hey, allen? i need some….help.”

just a few minutes after the call, allen was already by your doorstep ringing the doorbell. you took one quick look at the mirror to fix yourself, thinking you might be a complete mess from doing work, and opened the front door.

your eyes met and you swear you could feel the butterflies enter your stomach. those same pesky butterflies that gave you that fluttering feeling whenever you were with the male. you mentally cursed. you thought you’re already moving on from him, but it seems not. your body can’t lie, what else could be a possible explanation for this? the coffee?

yeah, probably.

“hey, y/n.” allen greeted, giving you a small smile.

“hey.” you replied back. sensing the forming awkward atmosphere, you moved aside to give allen space to enter your unit. it honestly felt weird for you to be letting allen in like this, especially when you’re used to him just entering the unit without your help. after all, this used to be allen’s apartment as well. the both of you lived together in this space you both could call home.

without hesitation, allen headed to the room just by the kitchen. “everything’s still here, right?” he pointed at the door. standing by the kitchen counter, you nodded in reply.

“i never really touched that room, you were the one who took care of it after all.” you commented as allen turned the knob. he opened the door to see that his arrangement of the supplies inside remained as it was. he let out a chuckle. “i can definitely see that.”

after getting the brand new light bulb and a flashlight from the stockroom, the two of you headed over to your bedroom to have the light bulb changed. allen grabbed a spare chair from the room to stand on and proceeded to work. you sat on your office chair, taking a sip of your already cold coffee.

“just an idea but, i think you should be teaching me how to change a light bulb,” you set down your mug. “or any home repairs in general.”

“i’d be willing to offer you lessons,” allen replied as he unscrewed the broken light bulb. “that’d be 5 bucks per lesson. deal? we can start now if you want to.”

you kicked his leg from your seat, and the two of you laughed at the exchange. “i can’t believe you.” you muttered and shook your head.

it was just like how it was before— exchanging jokes, having playful conversations. except, you two broke up. it reminded you of how the two of you first hung out together, enjoying each other’s company through hours of talking and joking around. but that reminder came with the small pang in your heart, another reminder that it is now just a memory living in your head. something you don’t experience as often as before, and something you have to get used to not having.

allen took out the new bulb out of its box, and broke the momentary silence. “so, how have you been?”

it took you quite a while to answer, coming up with something that isn’t about you thinking about your breakup and starting to move on. “i’ve been….well. just busy with work as usual. you?”

“just the same. i’m finishing up an EP, just a few final touches and it’s ready for release.”

hearing that made you smile instantly. allen’s music was your favorite, and hearing that he’ll be releasing new songs soon brightened up your mood. “oh? that’s great! finally, i have something new to listen to.”

“and something new to have on repeat for hours.” allen remarked as he started to screw on the new light bulb. you rolled your eyes at his words and at how he still remembered your habit of leaving songs on repeat.

“okay, done.” allen turned off the flashlight, got off the chair he was standing on and went to turn on the light. the room was illuminated, and that meant you can finally start working again.

“thank you so much, allen. i’ll treat you to a meal for the help.” you stood up from your chair, watching as allen returned the chair to its earlier position.

“no need, y/n. but thank you.” he flashed you a smile and exited the room. you followed shortly behind.

allen went to return the flashlight back in the stockroom. closing the door once he was done, he suddenly searched for something in is pocket. seeing as he couldn’t find it, he faced you and asked for a favor. “can i borrow your phone? i think i left mine in the car. i just have to make a quick call, if it’s alright?”

“oh, sure, it’s in my room.” you replied as you made your way to your room, grabbing your phone from your desk and heading back to allen. you unlocked your phone and handed it over to the male.

as he was busy inputting the number and making the call, you awkwardly looked away and gave him the space to make his call.

soon after, you heard a phone ring beside you. you turned to face allen who just fished out his phone out of his back pocket. the confused look on your face made allen chuckle.

“here, thanks.” he handed back your phone. “i placed my number on speed dial. so if you’re ready for those lessons, or just need some more help in general, just give me a call.”

taking your phone from his hands, you smiled. “thanks, allen. i appreciate it.”

allen paused, gathering his words, and spoke. “i…know you’re trying to move on and maybe you don’t wanna see me,” he started. “and you’re probably still a bit sensitive from the breakup. but i hope you know that i’m still sorry for the way i acted that day.” his eyes met yours, showing how much he means it. “we both weren’t in the right minds to talk, and it led to...this. maybe it’s for the best, but, i wish i could’ve handled my emotions better. and i’m truly sorry for that.”

as if on cue, your brain played the memory of that day. two stressed individuals fighting with each other under the control of raw and ugly emotions. you both decided after that it wasn’t working anymore, and it led to a mutual breakup. it still hurts for you, though. someone you held so dear to your heart suddenly leaving just like that. the two of you didn’t meet ever since that day. well, until your light bulb decided stop working. is this fate doing its work?

“as cliche as it may sound, i hope we can stay friends at least.” allen smiled at you, hoping you would agree to the idea. it hurts for you knowing the most you two can become are friends, but you thought that maybe this is for the best. maybe this is what it should be. and i guess it’s better than losing allen in your life. besides being your partner, he was like a best friend to you. why waste this chance?

“can i still be your best friend?” you asked after a short while, and allen gave a lighthearted laugh.

“that would be great, y/n.”

the thick air between the two of you dissipated, and the heavy feeling in your heart started to fade away. meeting allen one more time was what you needed all this time.

you escorted allen to the door and bid him goodbye. the apartment was now empty again besides your presence, but it felt much more lighter. like the invisible cloud of black smoke around your unit was finally gone.

with a light feeling in your heart, you went back to your room. you headed to your desk, the laptop screen flashing for you to finish the report. after giving it a good stare, you closed it.

you deserve a break. the report could wait.

[insfiringyou]

BTS - Jungkook accidentally catches RM’s girlfriend naked on webcam

Contains: Humour. Accidental smut. 

This fanfiction can be enjoyed on its own or as part of our headcanon universe. This is set around seven months after Jungkook meets his second girlfriend, Young-soon. Find out more about our headcanon plot here.

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin /   Suga /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated content below cut

The screen stayed black despite him turning the switch off and on again at the wall. He shook his head, trying the power button again to no avail. He had been playing an online game of League of Legends for the past three hours, about to swarm the enemy tower when the laptop screen had flashed, once, before fading to black. He unplugged the power cord and pushed it back in, half expecting the machine to spring back to life. Knowing he should stop and eat something, or at least take a shower, he started to pace around the room. He knew he should stop but was so close to exploring the turret of the enemy tower! Eventually, with a sigh, he opened his bedroom door and entered the hallway. He had heard Namjoon, Jimin, Jin and Taehyung leave the shared house earlier on in the afternoon to go to the cinema. They had invited him but he had been late to rise, spending all the previous evening glued to his laptop, playing the game. He had heard Yoongi in the kitchen earlier; clattering pans as he cooked for himself and talking to someone on his phone. There had been a lot of laughter on his part and there was a lingering smell of Bulgogi in the air, so he was likely still home.

Cautiously, Jungkook opened the studio door and crept his head around the frame, half-expecting Yoongi to be sat at the desk on the far side wall, headphones blaring as his fingers pressed down on the electronic keyboard. The room was, to his relief, empty. His eyes scanned the space and found what he was looking for almost immediately. Closing the door softly behind him, he walked over to the small wooden desk, adjacent to the door. His bare feet barely made a sound against the soft carpet as he sat at the chair and opened the lid to the black laptop in front of him. The fact it was left in the studio told Jungkook that the laptop belonged to Namjoon. Yoongi was always careful to take his laptop to his room with him and Hoseok had been using a tablet recently. He knew that the game was downloaded on Namjoon’s machine; he had installed it himself the week before when he accidently left his laptop at Donghyuk’s house, much to Namjoon’s protests that it would slow the machine down. Jungkook had argued; his girlfriend, Young-soon, had left the day before to visit relatives in China and the two week long vacation without her seemed both ill-timed and pointless. The new game seemed like the perfect solution to stop himself from going too stir-crazy without her.

He turned on the machine and spread his fingers over the keyboard; hovering as the screen asked for a password. He clicked his tongue, thinking. After a few seconds he started typing. G-A-L-I-L-E-O. He pressed enter and, to his luck, the screen began to load. It took longer than anticipated; the icons on the desktop slowly appeared one at a time; bright against the plain, dark background. Jungkook sighed loudly as a pop-up box appeared in the centre of the screen, alerting him that the PC needed to run an anti-virus program. He was sure, without actually knowing for certain, that it had been Yoongi and Hoseok’s idea to infect Namjoon’s PC with viruses, the whole thing a deliberately hilarious joke intent on winding up the leader. Jungkook had certainly learned Namjoon’s peculiarly obscure password from Hoseok on one occasion when he used the laptop to check his emails. He just hoped that nothing in his inbox revealed his bank details.

He clicked the red X in the corner of the pop-up and the white box disappeared, leaving him a clear image of the desktop. He searched the icons quickly, looking for the tell-tale bronze L which would take him to the game. His hand paused on the touch mouse as a sound began to ring out through the laptop’s small speakers, a little muffled by the wooden desk. He froze, suddenly worried that the PC was infected with another virus. His shoulders relaxed after a few seconds, after his initial shock, when he realised that it was just the alert to tell him that someone was calling him on Skype.  A moment later, a little delayed by the slow speed of the internet, another box popped up on the screen, informing him that Ji-eun wanted to chat.

His first thought, as always whenever he saw the name, was that IU was calling. He felt his heart thud, a little unpleasantly in his chest. A closer look at the small avatar icon showed him that it was just Namjoon’s girlfriend who shared the same name. The picture showed her on against the gold and blue backdrop of a tropical beach, her long black hair glistening in the sunlight; a pair of sunglasses perched on her small nose. Automatically, he clicked on the green Answer button. There was a delay before the annoying beeping stopped and the black desktop screen was replaced with the heavily pixilated image of a tall girl against a plain white backdrop. It took a few seconds for the little squares to blend, showing him the recognisable profile of Ji-eun standing in what was presumably her bedroom. He could see her large bed behind her; the covers and pillows crisp, clean white to match the plain, whitewashed walls. The first thing he noticed was that her hair, usually long and impeccably straight, was tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, making her look younger. The second was that she was only wearing a long, white shirt which buttoned up the centre. He vaguely wondered if it was Namjoon’s. It would fit him.

 She smiled as she came into focus and Jungkook found himself smiling back automatically. She was pretty, he realised for perhaps the first time. He had only met her a handful of times, a couple of occasions Namjoon had brought her around to the house and, on one memorable occasion, he had seen her get incredibly drunk at a boat party. He knew that she was a successful legal solicitor, one of the youngest in the city, and her usual look, consisting of well-tailored suits and impossibly high heels, made her look incredibly intimidating. Now she seemed relaxed and, strangely vulnerable. She took a step back from her camera, presumably a webcam, to perch on the edge of her bed. She waved softly.

“Hi.” She said, her voice coming in clear through the speaker. The picture pixelated again, momentarily, before righting itself.

“Hi.” Jungkook replied easily. Her expression didn’t change.

“Is your camera still not working?” She asked.

Jungkook shook his shoulders and touched his thumb to the small circle at the top of the laptop. “I don’t know. If you can’t see me, I guess not.”

Her grin remained fixed on her face and it took Jungkook a few moments to realise that she could neither hear nor see him. He looked around the screen to see if the webcam icon had been selected. He found it and clicked it, hoping it would work. The icon didn’t change and her smile didn’t falter on the other side of the screen. She took a step closer, standing up from the bed.

“Maybe you’re kidding me.” She smiled, her voice full of humour. “Maybe your camera isn’t really broken and you just want to do things without me seeing.” She was now standing directly in front of the camera, her upper body to her thighs in view.

Jungkook realised, a little belatedly, that she thought she was talking to Namjoon. He searched the screen once more and found what he was looking for. Leaning forward, he started to type in the little message box at the bottom of the screen: “This is Jungkoo….”

He stopped and looked up as a flash of white caught his eye on screen. In the seconds it had taken him to find the box and start typing, Ji-eun had moved her long, slim fingers to the centre of her chest and had begun to swiftly undo the row of buttons along the centre of the fabric. Jungkook’s eyes widened as a bare strip of skin was exposed from her uncovered neck to her bellybutton, a creamy line the colour of condensed milk. He froze his hands above the keyboard as she eased the fabric away from her flesh, revealing her bare breasts. His gaze dropped automatically from her soft, beaming face, to the soft, round mounds on her chest. Her breasts were both perky and a little bigger than he had expected. Her nipples were the colour of coffee with cream. He didn’t notice his mouth drop, both in shock and, if he was honest with himself, arousal.

Her mouth curled upwards in a grin as she took a step backwards, revealing the V shape of her white boxer-briefs. Before his brain had fully registered what was happening, she bent down and removed the fabric in one smooth motion. Jungkook’s eyes widened even further as they dropped to her impeccably neat line of brown pubic hair, visible just above her labia. He could feel his heart beginning to speed in his chest and his cheeks turning red as she slowly turned around on the spot, revealing the soft curves of her backside.

“I know you missed this last week…” She said in a low, sexy voice. “I’m sorry we got interrupted at the restaurant. I’ll turn my phone off next time, in case my boss tries to call…” Her words rang out through the small studio which was, thankfully, soundproof. The meaning was lost on Jungkook. His gaze remained fixed on the screen as she leaned over the bed and, slowly, began to crawl onto the sheets on all fours. Once she was comfortable, she spread her thighs, revealing the space between her arse cheeks. Even from this distance, Jungkook could see the soft pink of her inner lips, the glisten of her labia, and the small, pretty mound of her clit. He licked his lips subconsciously as she moaned through the speakers, a little showily as she reached behind with one hand and used the other to balance her slender body on the bed. She spread apart her backside and moved her hips sensually.

“Don’t you want to kiss my pussy?” She asked, her voice a low murmur. Jungkook blinked. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he switched the web call off? His thoughts, which seemed to have been placed on mute for the past forty seconds, suddenly caught up with him and he found himself shaking his head, almost violently. Just what did he think he was doing? This was Namjoon’s girlfriend, someone he was too scared to talk to if she was invited to dinner. Furthermore, he had never even looked at her in a vaguely romantic light, never mind wished to see her in this compromising position. He had his own girlfriend, someone he treasured with all his heart, who would be returning to him in three more days. He quickly reached for the round, red button at the bottom of the screen with the touch mouse which terminated the web call. The image took a second to disappear; the girl’s body becoming distorted in a series of pink and cream squares before vanishing all together. The background once more turned to black; a few colourful icons were dotted around the screen. Jungkook breathed a sigh of relief. He suddenly didn’t want to play the web game anymore. Slowly, and incredibly sheepishly, he shut down the PC and closed the laptop lid gently. He left the room quietly and headed down the corridor to his own bedroom, being careful not to alert Yoongi or Hoseok, who may or may not have been home, to his presence.

 *

Jungkook spent the following day in Incheon with Jimin. They decided to go shopping for a new mobile phone after Jimin’s was mysteriously broken during a trip to Gangnam with his girlfriend, Angel. The trip was a fortunate escape for the pair. Ji-eun had telephoned Namjoon that morning, wishing to know whether his laptop had broken. Namjoon, who had returned early in the evening from his trip, replied that no, it wasn’t and why was she asking. She had explained that she had been worried when he hadn’t called her back on Skype, and that she had to watch a porno to get off. Namjoon frowned, not quite understanding, but knowing not to pursue the subject with her further that evening. He had confronted Yoongi first. Both he and Hoseok had been sat in the small home studio, meters away from his infected laptop. He had stormed in the room and asked whether he had been using his laptop recently. Yoongi shook his head slowly, a look of confusion fixed on his face. Hoseok had looked equally baffled and, flicking his eyes from his best friend’s to the leader, had questioned why he had been asking. The twin looks of confusion and, beneath that, hurt on their face at having being accused of something without really understanding what made Namjoon blush. Perhaps it was just a virus which had caused his laptop to malfunction.  Heaven knew, his machine was infected with every bug under the sun. He shook his head, half-muttering an apology as he skulked out of the room.

***

Thanks for reading

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM   /   Jin  /   Suga  /   J-Hope   /   Jimin   /   V   /   Jungkook 

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[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Homo Ecto Sapiens

Chapter 2 Fandom: Danny Phantom Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Jack Fenton/Maddie Fenton, Danny Fenton & Jack Fenton & Maddie Fenton, Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Tucker Foley & Sam Manson Characters: Danny Fenton, Jack Fenton, Maddie Fenton, Jazz Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Mr. Lancer (Danny Phantom), Dash Baxter, Lunch Lady (Danny Phantom), Dorathea "Dora" (Danny Phantom), Paulina Sanchez, Valerie Gray, Princess Dorothea, Princess Dora, Skulker (Danny Phantom) Additional Tags: Fix-It, Danny Fenton has ADHD, Multilingual Tucker, Trans Male Character, Multilingual Danny, Bisexual Danny Fenton, Bisexual Tucker Foley Summary:

Danny Fenton stood inside the dark tunnel of the only portal his parents couldn't get to work because he couldn't say no to a dare. He tripped on his way out. Now he has to deal with figuring out how to come out to his parents as being half ghost, while dealing with all the ghosts that come out of the portal.

Tucker and Sam stare at each other.  For a handful of moments, neither is entirely sure what they should do.  Sam is full of shock and anger and regret and terror.  She could've died.  Her best friends could have died.  How is a teenager even meant to process that?  She wants to curl up on the ground and hide from everything in that moment, will all the nasty reality that is Ghosts away.  But Tucker is bent over Danny, and Danny is out cold.  So she packs away the emotions, cools her shit, and bends down.  "You get his legs, I'll take his shoulders.  FentonWorks?"

They get him there.  Danny's parents are downstairs, working on something.  They get Danny on his bed, and Sam slumps against the door.  Tucker and Danny skipped over a detention essentially and all three have skipped school.  So Tucker goes down to erase the Fenton's voice mailbox and sends out a bug to his own.  Sam has no clue why he has that ready but asks if he can do it with her folks' line.  He asks for a few minutes. The silence passes, Tucker gets on Danny's laptop.  He always fled to the tech when he needed somewhere safe.  Eventually, he asks.  "You ok?  Today went to shit."

"No, I don't think I am.  Like, the worst I've got is some bruising that my make up can handle.  I need a shower, I guess."  They both know why she isn't actually ok.  Neither wants to bring it up.  So instead, Sam checks Danny's closet and finds something she'd left there a couple months back.  "I'm gonna do that actually.  Keep an eye on him?" Tucker grunted in acknowledgment.  That was the best she'd get so Sam grabbed a spare towel from the dresser and headed to the shower.

When Sam got back she looked over Tucker's shoulder.  Images of old ladies in familiar looking uniforms were all over the screen.  "Looking her up?"

"If we know more about her then we can talk it out with her right?"  Tucker's fingers paused over the keyboard.  He stretched, looking over at her.  "Right?"

"Probably.  Looking to work that Foley Charm on her?"  Sam elbowed him lightly in the ribs.  Tucker clutched his chest as though he'd been broken.  Thank gods for that smile on his face.  "Tell me you aren't planning to flirt with her.  Danny might get jealous."  Tucker snorted.

"I don't think Danny is into old ladies who occasionally burst into flames." Tucker went back to typing and clicking, screen light glaring off his lenses.  "So, my theory is that ghosts draw on ambient energy to sustain themselves.  When we went into that fight my phone was on like… 50 percent.  When we got here it was at 17.  So maybe we should carry batteries on us?"

"And our wrist rays."  Sam was never letting herself be helpless like that again.  "what've you got on her so far?"

"She said the menu hasn't changed in 50 years and she wasn't kidding.  So I'm looking back at people employed by Casper back when she was alive, and hoping I can recognize her facial structure."

"Impressive."  Sam sighed and looked over at Danny.

He zipped up his suit.  Sam made a face at him and pulled off the logo of his dad's face.  "You can't go around with this on your chest."  He agreed. If Danny ever met aliens of the extradimensional kind, he didn't want them to see his dad's face plastered on him.  Danny walked into the tunnel that was his parents' ghost portal, looking all around it.  The whispers of those other worlds called out in his head again.  As he walked deeper into the portal, Danny saw nothing wrong.  Not a nut or bolt out of place.  He got to the end. It was dark.  Too dark to see anything.  Turning back, he kept a hand on the wall to steady himself.  His foot hit a raised panel, and Danny leaned to the left for support. There was a click.

Danny opened his eyes and saw Sam looking down at him.  Not unusual.  The soreness in his muscles, however, was.  Danny stopped mid-stretch and winced.  "Oh. Right.  20-foot meat monster."  Tucker was at his desk, turned around in the chair and giving him that frown he had when Dash had slammed Danny into a locker.  "How long was I out for?"

"Four days."  Tucker reached under Danny's bed and lifted up a bag of Nasty Burger.

"Four Days?!"

"Nah, like, 2 hours dude."  Tuck chuckled and handed him a wrapped burger.  "You need this dude, that fight took a shit ton outta you."

“Don’t I know it.”  Danny unwrapped the burger and sank his teeth in.  He'd been hungrier than he thought.  It felt like a blink before the burger was gone.  "Thanks, dude, I really needed that.  We basically skipped lunch, didn't we?"  That thought had a horrible domino effect and Danny tore the burger wrapping in half.  "Fuck, my parents are gonna kill me!"

"I erased the voicemail from your box, mine, and Sam's.  Don't worry about that."

"Speaking of, how ya doin Sam?"  Danny turned, looking his friend over and wincing at the bruises on her arms.  “Fuck, the meat pile did that?”

“Yeah, turns out being grabbed up by a bunch of proceeded corpses can do some damage.”  Sam shrugged.  “It’s nothing I can’t fix with some concealer and sleeves.”

“It’s still warm though,” Danny said.  “You good baking yourself?”

“The heaters in the school barely work, and it’s nearly October, Danny.  Things have cooled down plenty.”  Sam frowned and looked over to Tucker.  “Do head injuries affect the perception of temperature?”

“I’m sure they can.  If only someone hadn’t summoned up a meat-obsessed lunch lady with a menu change.”  Tucker paused and raised a brow.  “Actually, how in the hell did you even get them to change it?  Nevermind the why.”

“The why, Tucker, is that schools need to promote healthier changes in the food we consume.”  Sam had that fire in her eyes.  Again.  Danny let out a long sigh, which went ignored by his bickering friends.

“And removing an entire food group from the menu was your solution?”

“It’s one we don’t even need Tucker!  Do you know how inefficient the transfer of calories from meat into our bodies is?”

“We need protein, Sam!  If there’s anything that the Lunch Lady said truthfully it’s that!  Look at Danny!  He barely gets any protein, you can see how that’s turned out for him.”

“My dude, I’m not the only skinny person here.”

“And whether or not we have meat and protein isn’t your decision to make for us all, Sam!”  Tucker glared balefully at the vegan and stood up from Danny’s chair.  “You had to be an individual and have all your individual needs met over what anyone else wanted, didn’t you?  No one but you even wanted this menu change and I’m going to fix it!”  Tucker stormed out of the room, leaving the door open.

“Oh like Hell you’re gonna undo all my hard work!”  Sam barged out as well, completely forgetting Danny as she slammed his door shut.  And Danny stared at that door for a moment before groaning into his pillow.

“This is going to be a whole thing, isn’t it?”  For several moments, Danny laid there and stared up at the constellations he’d put up on his ceiling in glow in the dark stickers.  His stomach reminded him of its existence, and Danny groaned again.  He still had some allowance left, so he went out and headed to the Nasty Burger.  Considering Tucker’s words and how much he’d done that day, Danny ordered a full meal.

After he’d eaten and walked it off on the way home, Danny let what had happened that day go through his mind.  Even as he fought off a small angry blob with his wrist ray, growling at it.  “Ghosts aren’t mindlessly violent beings. I know that.”  He needed to believe that.  “So, that means that she can be calmed, somehow.  She kept going on and on about the benefits of meat, and she died years ago…”  An email notification popped up on Danny’s computer, and he sighed.  “Right, homework assigned by Lancer.  What would I do without Tuck?”

The next day, Danny pulled on one of his darker shirts - a gift from Sam with some constellation’s accurately displayed - and some jeans.  His parents didn’t come up to join him and Jazz that morning, which was likely for the best.  Danny didn’t need their ghost radar pointing at him before he could figure out how to break their biases.  The second his cereal was finished, though, Danny pulled out his journal and attached pencil.  “No,” Danny snapped when he heard Jazz take a familiar breath.  “It’s not a diary, no you may not read it.  For the 11th time, Spazz.”  One weird benefit of super hearing - I can tell when she’s about to speak.  Everyone had different rhythms for when they spoke and when they were thinking etcetera.  Danny knew his sister’s patterns almost as well as Tucker and Sam’s.

Danny wrote into his journal a goal of recording his encounters with apparently sapient ghosts and how quickly he managed to pacify them.  If only he could think of how to pacify this one.

Once the hybrid got to school - later than he would’ve been had those damned blobs not been so interested in fucking with him - Danny groaned as he was dragged to the Vice Principal’s office.  There he found Tucker, who was glaring down at the desk in just the right angle to look like he was glaring directly ahead.  A trick he’d developed for gathering valuable passwords while tricking Lancer and other authorities into thinking he was just a semi-rebellious teen.  Danny couldn’t tell what Tucker could possibly be trying to gather from the desk now, but he may have just been scowling.  Tucker was complicated that way.

“Take a seat, Mr. Fenton.”  Danny obeyed and took his seat, looking steadfastly at the space just behind Lancer’s head.  “Tell me, gentlemen, how and why did you leave my office when both of you were already being punished for starting a food fight in the cafeteria?”  Before either could come up with an answer, Lancer slammed his hand down hard on the desk, and Danny flinched.  “What could possibly have possessed you two to skip school for the rest of the day?”

Danny squirmed a bit, while Tucker took even, obviously measured breaths.  He then looked up at Lancer directly.  “We were worried about Sam, sir.  She hadn’t answered any of her texts, and she always answers even when we’re fighting to make sure we know she’s safe.”  Not untrue, Sam wouldn’t have been able to answer a text if they tried that.  Danny nodded along to Tucker’s story.

“We left out the window to find her, which took forever since she had gone to find a way to help organize something for the school.”  Danny put on his most apologetic face.  “We’re truly sorry about ditching you, Mr. Lancer, but we had to make sure our friend was safe, you see.  We wanted to make sure none of the jocks or anyone had gone and done something horrible to her as revenge for getting the menu changed for a week.”

Lancer glared between the two of them for several seconds more, and Danny fought to keep himself still.  “Fine,” Lancer finally allowed.  “I will be following up with Ms. Manson to confirm all of this, but you won’t be receiving too harsh a punishment for looking out for your friend.  For endangering yourselves by leaving through the window, however, and for leaving without simply telling me, you will be serving both lunch detention and after-school detention.  Do you understand, boys?”

“Of course, Mr. Lancer.”  It amazed Danny, at times, that he and Tucker could speak in unison.  They were like twins.

“Dismissed.  You two best not be late to my class.”

On the way to class, Danny brought up his thoughts on trying to appease the Lunch Lady.  “Her name is Agatha,” Tuck said.  “Agatha Reece.  And maybe you could, I dunno, teach her about the health crisis in America?  Help me organize the school to reform the menu the right way?”

“You want it changed too now?  I thought you were gonna get it changed back early, or something?”

“Oh no, the food around here sucks either way.”  Tucker rolled his eyes.  “I just wish we had like, a better storage of better food in general.  I could recommend my uncle and aunt’s farm for fresh, nearby food products.”

“If only we knew how Sam had convinced the school to do this whole ‘vegie week’ thing.”  Danny shook his head.  “That’s what really doesn’t make sense to me.  We’ve only been in school for like, a month or so.  How the hell did Sam ‘wear them down’ so quickly?”

“No clue,” Tucker growled.  For a moment the hair on Danny’s nape stood on end at the sound.  “But, I’m going to make a petition, and head around the school getting signatures for a better permanent change decided on by the students.”

Danny patted Tucker’s shoulder and nodded somberly.  “Leave some printer paper for the rest of us at least?”

Tucker raised his nose, Danny now straining to hold in the laughter in front of the door.  “Sorry Danny, but a man on a mission has to go to all lengths to complete his quest.”

Danny bowed at the waist.  “Of course, Friar Tuck, how could I possibly forget?”

“You are forgiven, peasant Daniel.”  Tucker laughed and pulled Danny into the classroom.  Things would be alright.  Danny just needed to weather the storm and make sure both of his friends were still friends by the end of it.

It proved far more difficult a task done than said.  The three had most classes together, but Tucker was busily writing something down every few seconds in a second journal in his desk while he worked.  Tuck had the most fascinating form of ambidextrousness.  He barely paid any attention to Danny’s attempts to start a conversation and crumpled up any notes about Sam he slid over.

Similarly, Sam was ignoring him almost entirely.  She took her notes, but every time she caught him whispering to Tucker, she glared and went cold on Danny himself.  Am I not allowed to talk to both of my friends?

Lunch came around, Lancer had them eating in his room, and Danny had never been more grateful to Tucker’s mom than he had been when Tuck handed him an extra bagged lunch.  “Tuck, you are the best.”

“I know it, dude.”

“Gentlemen!  This is meant to be a time of quiet reflection upon your misdeeds.”  Lancer glared at them until the teens went to silently eating, and Lancer went back to whatever he was doing on his computer.  If Danny focused on the man’s headphones hard enough he could pick up the faint sound of… blasters?  Weird.

At the end of the day, however, while the two were meant to be heading to detention, Tucker was going around and asking groups of friends who were lingering about something and holding up a clipboard that Danny was almost certain he stole from his dad’s office.  Along with that pen.  Never was Danny ever earlier than Tucker to something, but apparently, detention was one of those things.  Sam, surprisingly, was also there.

“Lancer got you too?”  Danny asked as he swept a bit nearer to the goth

“I was gone all day.”  Sam shrugged, pushing the few remains of grass and mud into a pile and then grabbing a dustpan.  “Plus I wanted to help clean it up anyway.  We need this place to eat in after all.”

“Actually, I heard Jerry and Katelyn at least were eating on the theater stage.”  The two scooped everything up into a trash bag with the dustpan.  “They were inviting some other people to bring sandwiches and chips and stuff.”

“Oh wow,” Tucker called out from where Danny was very sure he shouldn’t have been able to hear them.  “No one wanted to eat garbage right from the ground?  I’m surprised, shocked even.”

“Had you actually been there to see, Tucker, there were plenty of people eating peacefully in the cafeteria today!”  Sam looked downright murderous and stomped off to clean away from Tucker.  Danny sighed a heavy sigh and shook his head.

The detention had gone on for an hour, but it’d felt like forever.  Danny watched both his friends march off in different directions and groaned.  Another friendless night for him.  After a trip to the Nasty Burger, Danny did a little walk around the city.  A few ghosts that he could see when the world lost focus skittered away from him, or ignored him entirely.  Some attacked, but his wrist ray had yet to run out of juice even though he forgot to charge it last night.  “Maybe something to do with my other self.  Gonna have to ask mom and dad about that.”  A shiver ran down Danny’s spine, a puff of mist coming out of his mouth and he looked around, letting his senses shift into that surreal state of his ghostly self.  He saw nothing out of the ordinary.  Relaxing, Danny sighed and headed home.

"Danny!"  His dad, Jack Fenton, only seemed to speak in exclamation marks. Danny wondered if he'd ever had an inside voice.  "C'mon, dinner's ready son!"

Danny raised a brow.  "Who cooked?" He'd eaten his Nasty Burger meal and was pretty sure he got all he needed.

"I did!"  On the other hand, more food that wasn't infected with ectoplasmic residue sounded nice.  Danny set down his bag and headed into the kitchen, where his dad had set out chicken, mashed potatoes, garlic bread, and spinach.  His mom and sister were already sitting and eating, and Danny gave them both a wave.

"Hi, Danny!  Juice is in the fridge.  Jazz reminded your father and I we need to refresh our minds with some air every now and then.  I thought, why not a family dinner?"  Mom shrugged as she picked up a chicken leg.  "Jack insisted on cooking."

"Mom," Jazz said in her best calming voice, "Dad never mutates the food."

While Mom and Jazz debated who had the bigger mishaps with ectoplasm - Danny felt the Christmas turkey and Dad dragging them into a world of blinding perpetual light ranked as the biggest mishaps period - Danny grabbed himself a plate and fruit punch.  Jazz clearly grabbed some groceries before telling their parents to surface.

Halfway through his meal, a thought struck Danny.  "Hey Dad, Mom?  How does ectoplasm interact with electricity in its rawest most natural form?  The ectoplasm not the electricity."

Jazz stared at him in betrayal, Why written in her expression.  His parents, however, jumped on the thought of their son having an interest in their work.  Danny had never seen his dad swallow food that fast.

"Ya see Danno, ectoplasm as it is when we retrieve it is naturally an energy thief.  In relation to electromagnetic radiation, it soaks in any and all of it from the area with the exclusion of green visible light.  That's why it feels so cold."

"If we can refine our engines properly we can utilize the flip side of  that natural state," his mom added, "We could revolutionize energy efficiency in technology around the world!"

"It can store up a lot of power, but once it hits it's maximum?"  Dad held his hands together then spread them out so fast he almost smacked Jazz and Danny.  "It all comes out in an intense burn!  Ectoplasm is either plasma hot or cold as space.  When it's cold, it'd drain the power out of everything around it."

Danny nodded, letting the info process for a couple of moments while he ate.  "So if, say, a ghost was to eat human food…?"

"Well," his mom twirled her fork around.  "It likely wouldn't, but if it did the ghost would soak up all the energy that could be gotten out of the material in the food, leaving nothing but ashes."

Danny nodded, curiosity satisfied, and steered the conversation elsewhere.  Once he was done clearing off his plate, Danny was struck with a realization.  It was the sort of thing that happened all the time, when a thought lingered in his head, waiting to present itself.  Usually, that was artistic inspiration.  Now he knew exactly how to calm down Agatha.  Up the stairs, he ran to his computer.

AO3