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flutteringdreams-matw · 3 years

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Out of Time (3/?)

Link to Ecto-Storm Series

First/Last

Summary: Paradoxes are tricky things - especially when it involves a 15 year old half ghost and his dark future living outside of the timeline. Danny is faced with impossible odds, out of control powers, haunting visions and three possible outcomes in his battle against his ultimate enemy. Sequel to Making to Grade - can be read as standalone. Updates on Sundays and the occasional Wednesday.

Sam rang the doorbell at Fentonworks three times, bouncing on her feet in anticipation. She glanced up at the green dome around the town, reflecting the sun that shone higher above. It had been up for a few hours now according to the news, but no word about why the shield was up in the first place. That included the lack of response from her half-ghost best friend.

"Sam!" Tucker called from behind. She turned to see the teen running up the sidewalk toward Fentonworks, waving to indicate his arrival.

"Any word?" She asked as he came to the steps.

"Not since Jazz texted," Tucker said, frowning.

The door swung open, revealing a tired looking Maddie Fenton to the teens. "Sorry kids, I was in the lab," she told them, ushering them inside. "It's been a long night."

"Where's Danny?" The question was out of Sam's mouth before the door even closed. "What happened?"

"Upstairs," Maddie replied, pursing her lips slightly as she looked up the stairs worriedly. "We'll explain in the kitchen."

The Fenton's kitchen looked like a war zone; various books and papers were scattered across the table with multiple broken inventions and cups of coffee filling whatever space they could. Jack was on the phone, talking loudly and pacing back and forth. Jazz sat staring at her laptop screen, glancing at the pile of weapons at her feet every so often. Sensing the newcomers, Jazz looked up. "Oh good, you're here," she said.

"What happened?" Sam repeated, looking at the chaos.

"Danny had another dream," Jazz explained, her expression turning dark. "Dad managed to wake him after a while, but he freaked out. He flew up to the Ops Center and put up the shield using one of his deeper energy levels. We've been up ever since making sure all our weapons are prepared."

"For what, exactly?" Tucker asked, eyebrow raised.

"Dan."

Sam gasped, exchanging worried looks with Tucker. "How long?" she probed.

"That, we're not sure about," Maddie said, leaning against the counter with a sigh. "Danny passed out after telling us about him."

Jack hung up the phone with a sigh, looking displeased. "Mads, Vladdy's going live at 9am; we're going to need to figure out what to say about the shield. He's going against it."

Maddie frowned at the mention of the mayor. "Jack, that's in 2 hours. We still don't know why he put it up in the first place!"

"You're sure it wasn't just a bad dream?" Tucker queried hopefully.

Jack nodded grimly. "There's no question. Whatever Danny saw, he believed it was real."

The group stood in silence as that sunk in. Sam frowned worriedly as she saw the toll of the night on the other Fentons. Realizing what was needed, she looked over at Jazz. "What can we do?"

Jazz looked at the girl gratefully. "I only met him briefly after Danny got stuck in the future," she said thoughtfully. "You guys saw more of what he can do. Other the peeler, what should we focus on in terms of weapons?"

"I think defense should be the top priority," Tucker rebutted, bringing his hand to his chin in thought. "Danny's not going to be able to keep the shield up and fight; getting a strong ghost shield could help buy some time. Something for the rest of the town too in case the shield goes down. Remember the Ghost King? Those creepy skeletons caused a lot of damage."

"If we recalibrate some of the bazookas for blasting use over transferring back to the Ghost Zone, that may also help," Sam added. "Dan's strong; we'll need things that will pack a punch."

Jack frowned. "Hold on - we're treating this like the Ghost King invasion? Isn't that overreacting a little bit?"

"No."

All five occupants of the kitchen turned to Danny's decisive response. He was dressed, but pale and clammy, leaning heavily against the door frame for support. In one arm he had a USB key, the other his backpack. He grimaced slightly as sparks of green ecto-energy appeared to move through his chest before he managed to suppress them and walk toward the table, silence following him.

"I didn't think you'd be up so soon," Jazz said with a frown, eying her brother worriedly.

Danny dropped into an open seat heavily, sighing. "Neither did I," he replied honestly. He turned to his attention to the information scattered in front of him. He sighed again, putting his elbows on the table and brought his thumbs to the bridge of his nose, holding his head up.

"You look awful," Tucker stated.

"Thanks Tuck, tell me more," Danny replied cynically. Maddie frowned in concern, walking over to the teen and knelt beside him.

"Danny, you really don't look well," Maddie told him softly. "How do you feel?"

"You mean other than holding up a shield above the entire town and dealing with the fact your worst enemy escaped?" he asked drily. Maddie didn't answer and waited until Danny exhaled. "I've been better," he admitted. "The shield is taking a lot out of me."

Maddie bit her lip, unsure if she should press him further on the topic. She looked over to Jack worriedly, who answered her unasked question by shaking his head. "What happened last night?" Maddie questioned instead.

Danny scrunched his eyes tightly as another set of sparks went through his chest. Once it subsided, he exhaled loudly. "I went into my mindscape again. We were in Clockwork's tower, but Clockwork wasn't there. The thermos Dan was trapped in was cracked and then it exploded, he escaped and then that set of dreams came back," he explained slowly. "Next thing I knew, Dad woke me up."

"And then you put up the shield," Sam surmised. Danny grunted in confirmation. "Are you sure what you saw was real?"

"Yeah," Danny breathed.

Sam sighed. "How long until he attacks Amity Park?"

Danny finally opened his eyes and sat up in the chair, looking at his family and friends around him. "I don't know," he said solemnly. "But that shield will buy us some time when he does show up. It's not letting anyone in."

"Wait… you're planning on keeping that shield up?" Sam asked him incredulously. "For how long?"

"As long as it takes," Danny said. Remembering the USB stick, he handed it to his Mother. "Here. It's my ghost file on Dan."

Maddie frowned at the offered storage device. "I thought we already had access to all your files?"

"Not this one," Danny replied darkly. "It has all the information that we need to figure out how to beat him." Danny glanced at the clock, frowning slightly. "We're going to be late," he announced, standing slowly.

"You're actually planning on going to school?!" Sam exclaimed angrily. "Danny, you just had electricity running through your body a minute ago. Don't you think you should take the day?"

Danny frowned, about to argue, before his left eye turned green and he faltered, more electricity flooding his body. With a cry of pain, he grabbed the chair he was just sitting on for support, vaguely hearing his name being called.

The green shield shone brilliantly, holding steady before he felt it shudder. Someone was attacking… from the inside? His vision shifted and he saw the white cape, blue skinned ghost attacking with various forms of pink energy. Vlad? Why was he attacking-

"Danny breathe!"

Danny was brought out of his vision, gasping for air, by his mother shaking his shoulders. As he readjusted, he realized he had fallen onto the floor. Sam was next to him, Tucker and Jazz were in front, all looking very worried. "What… happened?" he asked through gasps.

"Your eye changed colour," Sam told him. Maddie nodded to Sam and the girl moved closer to support her friend. "Then you lit up like Skulker's suit when it gets hacked and collapsed. You just sort of stared into space until your Mom got through to you."

"Did you see something?" Tucker queried. Danny nodded.

"Vlad," he said simply. "He's attacking the shield."

Maddie paused from where she was in the kitchen and turned to her son. "Are you sure?" she asked slowly. "Your father was just on the phone with him – he's doing a press conference about the shield this morning."

"Plasmius," Danny corrected quickly. Maddie pressed her lips together at the swift correction but said nothing. "I think he's trying to test the strength of it and whether he could bring it down."

"Here we go!" Jack boomed as he ran up the stairs from the lab; Danny hadn't even realized the man had left until now. In his hand, he held a small silver device with the shiny green Fenton logo on it. "The Fenton E-Scanner! Good thing we finished it yesterday."

Maddie took the device from her husband and walked over to her son, who eyed the device warily. "It's just an ecto-energy reader Danny," she assured, showing him the device. "Whatever you're doing is taking more energy than you realize." Once he nodded his consent, Maddie brought the scanner to his forehead. After a few seconds, it beeped and Maddie read the readings. She frowned slightly as she looked at the teens in front of her. "No school for you, young man," she told him. "The last thing you need is to have another episode like this. We'll call Ethelwulf after we deal with that press conference – that way we can create an excuse to stop anyone attacking the shield."

Danny frowned, but nodded his confirmation to Maddie. "Just don't tell the school a ghost stole my face again, would you?" Maddie scowled at the reminder of the flimsy excuse but nodded all the same. She looked at Jack, glanced at their son worriedly, before they headed down to the lab, leaving the four teens in the kitchen.

Jazz sighed. "You guys want a ride?" she asked Sam and Tucker, standing.

"Thanks Jazz!" Tucker exclaimed happily.

Jazz waved off his gratitude. "Least I can do for calling you over so early." She turned to her brother in fake annoyance. "Don't do anything stupid while we're gone okay?"

Danny made a face. "No promises."

She gave a pointed look at Tucker before leaving the kitchen. Danny felt the eyes of his friends move toward him and readied himself for the double attack.

"You're using raw energy with the shield, aren't you?" Tucker accused.

Danny, to his credit, didn't deny it. "More like a combination of core and raw energy."

"I know Frostbite said to trust your instincts, but don't you think this is a little much?"

"You saw what he could do," Danny argued. "If I'm able to block him out, even for a bit, then I'm going to risk it."

"And what happens when you face him?" Sam asked, anger starting to lace her voice. "Are you going to try and keep the shield up too? Cause I hate to tell you, but you're barely able to stand without looking like a malfunctioning toaster oven."

Danny let out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know okay?" he said. "I just wanted to make sure he couldn't get to Amity Park."

"Gee, if only you could ask world renowned ghost hunters to put up a ghost shield around the town," Tucker said sarcastically.

"Remember, the wail can go through shields," Danny told him, voice rising. "Managed to get through the one in the future at any rate. Besides, if I learned anything from Fear's little science experiment, I know that he'll have trouble with this shield."

"Right, the shield you put up when you had lost control of your powers," Sam reminded angrily. "The one where you were unconscious for almost a week after you defeated him. The one where you almost died after discovering those powers in order to save us."

Danny flinched at the unsaid accusation. Apologetic blue eyes found fearful violet ones before the boy sighed, all the fight draining from him. "I don't want to lose you," he admitted quietly.

Sensing her victory, Sam's face softened at the admission. "Well, we don't want to lose you," she said softly. "You're not alone. I'm here."

Danny realized how close Sam was to him in that moment, still holding him upright, vaguely understanding the weight of those words. He stared at her and she stared back, almost frozen with anticipation of who would say what next.

And then Tucker coughed, making both teens jump out of their thoughts. Sam let go of Danny and looked away, blushing, while Danny caught eyes with his other best friend. Tucker's smug smile made Danny's cheeks grow warmer as he cursed his friend's presence. "I'm here too, in case you're wondering," Tucker teased lightly. Danny glared half-heartedly before the dark skinned boy continued. "Your parents, Jazz, us – we have your back. Sam's right, this shield is going to take a lot of energy from you. If you want to defeat your older jerky self, you'll need to not have your raw energy powers in that shield."

Danny sighed as his sister came back into the kitchen, backpack in tow. He pushed himself upright, Sam hovering over him like a mother hen, as he sat back down at the table. He shot a grateful smile at the girl before frowning at the information in front of him. "I guess I'll go through this stuff," he said distastefully, gesturing toward the pile of weapons at the opposite end.

"Don't hurt yourself," Jazz warned, jingling her car keys toward their backdoor.

Danny smiled wryly. "That's the point, isn't it? The best weapons against him are the best weapons against me."

:-=-:

Dome Watch – Day Three

Three days since the mysterious shield went up around Amity Park and residents are wondering why here? Why now?

Word from City Hall yesterday confirmed that town hero Danny Phantom is responsible for the shield around the town. There is still no confirmation on what warranted the attack but it's brought many residents back to last year, where the town was taken hostage by the Ghost King and again in the summer when Phantom did this last. Unlike the previous domes, residents can leave the town, but require a more forceful approach before being allowed back in.

Resident ghost experts Jack and Maddie Fenton assured the public two days ago that the shield means no harm, but many of their critics, including Mayor Masters, have questioned their authority of the matter with the truce with Phantom being quite new.

More on page 7.

William Lancer frowned as the school bell rang, putting the paper down as he watched his English Class come into the classroom in various forms of enthusiasm – most of them low. This particular class had changed quite in the past year though he supposed the now constant ghost attacks contributed to most of it. Valerie Gray, for instance, sat herself in the front corner; away from everyone she once called her friend. She was a loner, keeping her head down, doing the work and working at least 3 jobs to start saving for college.

Dash Baxter and Kwan Wu's laughter brought the teacher's attention to the A-list of the grade. They were chatting openly about something, occasionally catching the attention of Paulina Sanchez. Lancer assumed they were either talking about the dome or about Phantom. Due to the look on the latter's face, he'd guess Phantom.

He scanned the room as the second bell rang, looking for any missing seats; Only one today. "No Mr. Fenton? Third day in a row," He mused out loud. His two friends at the back looked at each other worriedly. That got the man's attention.

Sam Manson's love of protests, nature, and veganism only amplified this year, but now that they moved onto subjects that peaked her interest, she was easily a top student. Tucker Foley seemed to buckle down a little more this year, getting in nowhere near as much trouble as he did last year and continued his A streak from the year before.

Daniel Fenton on the other hand? Almost two years in High School and he was still an enigma that Lancer still couldn't crack. The only clue the man had that something was going on with him was when his friends shared that look. The one where they knew more to whatever the Fentons claimed him to miss school. The excuses were rather ridiculous – sleeping in, stuck in the weapons vault, trapped in an alternate dimension. Lancer's personal favourite was when they claimed a ghost stole his face and went across town broadcasting him missing. Whether the Fentons knew what Danny was into, Lancer wasn't sure, but that exchange between Manson and Foley, the one of worry, concern and downright fear that they exchange when he's not in the room? There was definitely something going on with Danny Fenton.

"Pens out, desks clear," Mr. Lancer announced, brushing aside his thoughts for a moment. "Test time." The groans of teenage angst and lack of preparedness reach his ears. "Essay question is on the board people. Tell me if Macbeth's choices led to his downfall or if it was all fated to happen. You have the period."

The murmurings of the teens in front of him petered out as he passed out the test, and eventually the scratching of pens to paper greeted his ears. Once the group of sophomores were writing, Lancer sat back at his desk and absently looked down out at the paper once more. The truce between Phantom and the Fentons, however new it might be, seemed to help keep most of the attacks away from the school – it had done wonders for his curriculum delivery. Thankfully, there hadn't been a ghost attack since Phantom put up the shield, but there was no sign of the ghost in question since all of this began. Come to think of it, Lancer couldn't remember when he last saw the Fentons not on a news conference.

Looking up at the empty desk, Lancer sighed as his thoughts came back to his missing pupil. Danny's attendance was far from perfect, but the boy had made a large effort to be at school more often. His random disappearances were less frequent than the previous year, and his overall grades had improved. Even his general demeanour had improved; Danny's start to the school year seemed brighter than anytime the man had seen since the boy started at Casper. The weight he seemingly carried with him was still there, but wasn't as soul crushing as it appeared to be.

"Mr. Lancer?"

The teacher jumped out of his thoughts as Danny Fenton himself stood at his desk. "Mr. Fenton!" Lancer exclaimed, surprised. Right on cue, Manson and Foley's heads flew up from their tests, agape at the teen. "You startled me!"

"Sorry," Danny said sheepishly. Lancer frowned as he noticed the bags under his student's eyes and the paleness of his complexion. "My Mom told me to give this to you." He waved a piece of paper from his hand before he handed it to the teacher.

Lancer opened it and saw the neat handwriting of Maddie Fenton. "Please excuse Danny after first period due to illness." Lancer looked the teen over again; Danny did look very ill. "You know Mr. Fenton, I would've been happy to give you a makeup test once you felt better."

Danny smiled at the man, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Mom's overreacting," he said with a shrug. "Besides, I didn't want to miss anymore school. This was the compromise."

Doubting the boy's words, Lancer sighed. "Very well," he said, handing Danny the test. "Essay question's on the board."

With a small nod, Danny turned to get to his desk. Mr. Lancer watched his slow, staggered steps curiously. Danny moved liked he was injured, stiffly moving as if he favoured one side. Lancer glanced at his two best friends and almost gasped at their expression. Tucker looked almost exasperated but mostly concerned. However Sam… she had so many emotions on her face directed at the boy, Lancer wasn't sure how Danny could weather it. He must have given them some sort of gesture, because both teens softened their expressions slightly, but still looked extremely concerned as Danny took his seat.

Lancer glanced at the student once more as he started writing, before looking out the window. The shield illuminated the town in a sickly green, creating eerie shadows across the school. Lancer shuddered in remembrance of how the town looked during the Ghost King invasion.

About halfway through the period, Lancer started to walk through the aisles of desks, attracting wandering eyes back to their tests. Sure enough, his star students were already finished and just waiting for the end of class. As he got the final row, he sensed something was off. Sam was still writing, with the occasional glimpses toward Danny, whereas Tucker had completed the test and was staring directly at his friend, concerned. Frowning, Lancer moved to Fenton's desk.

Danny was writing, slowly, but his body was shaking. He was paler than before and ultimately looked like he might be sick. "Mr. Fenton?" Lancer asked quietly. The boy didn't answer. Some of the students looked up and toward the commotion in the back; Lancer could swear he hear Baxter snickering slightly. "Danny?" Lancer touched his shoulder and with a soft groan Danny fell sideways. "All the Bright Places!" Lancer exclaimed, quickly moving to catch the boy. His eyes were closed, breathing ragged as the teacher tried to rouse him. "Daniel! Are you alright!?" Lancer moved the boy back upright in his seat, holding him steady. Eventually, Danny opened his eyes, blinking a few times before his gaze settled on his teacher.

"Mr. Lancer?" he asked, confused. Whispers started around the classroom.

"Fenton fainted!" Dash exclaimed unhelpfully, earning laughter from a group of his peers in his direct vicinity.

"Thank you for that, Mr. Baxter," Lancer said curtly, still looking Danny over as the boy tried to regain his bearings. "Daniel, perhaps you should go to the Nurse's office." When the teen in front of him didn't register his voice, Lancer frowned; he doubted the boy would make it on his own.

"I'll go with him!" The teacher turned, eyebrows raised at the three voices. He had expected Manson and Foley, but Ms. Gray's outburst? She hadn't shown interest in her peers since last year.

Manson and Gray were glaring at each other from across the room, some sort of rivalry shining in both their eyes. The concern for the boy was evident, but Lancer could sense the anger, worry and concern that Sam felt for Danny ooze out of her body. Mr. Foley on the other hand? It was a testament to how dire the situation must be for the teen to volunteer to go to the nurse's office.

Glancing back toward the ill teen, Lancer sighed. They didn't have time for the teacher to be suspicious. "Alright Mr. Foley, as you've finished."

Tucker hastily got out of his seat, gathered Danny's items and helped the sick student upright. Danny faltered as he stood, but regained his balance and managed to get himself out of the room, Tucker following closely behind him. Mr. Lancer watched them go, frowning slightly. There was something nagging him about this situation, but he couldn't place it. Once the students were down the hall, the teacher sighed as he pushed aside his worry yet again.

"Back at it Sophomores. The more you dally, the lower the grade."

:-=-:

The world exploded as he finally escaped that foul prison. Dan stretched, moving his stiff limbs as he looked at his surroundings. "Finally," he said, looking around the burning lair around him. "Now, where is that infernal Time Ghost." Flying upwards in the tower, Dan started to launch ecto-blasts at various clocks, trying to goad Clockwork into appearing. "Clockwork!" He yelled dramatically as he continued to destroy the lair.

A large chime made Dan stopped suddenly, enveloped in the chaos surrounding him. His eyes drifted to Clockwork's time glass as various battles involving his younger self played back at him through the blue flames. Dan frowned. "Of course, new timeline." He floated in place, watching his past self grow stronger in the time he was detained. It couldn't have been more than a year. The flames cracked the orb, running directly through an image of Danny fighting what looked like a large plant ghost.

"Perhaps I should show him what it's like to have a blast from your past," he mused, a small smile appearing at his face. He chuckled darkly as his hands lit up with green energy and broke the time glass in front of him. "Or rather, his future." Dan Phantom flew up and out of the burning tower, leaving behind a fading image of fifteen year old Danny Phantom on Clockwork's broken time glass. A few seconds later, horrific sonic waves reverberated through the tower, enhancing the flames and making the tower itself rumble. With a final crash, Clockwork's Clock Tower imploded, engulfed in flames.

:-=-:

Danny stumbled into a series of lockers, gripping it tightly as he heard Tucker come up behind him. They were out of earshot from Lancer's class and halfway to the nurse's office.

"What the hell Danny!?" Tucker asked angrily, arms crossed and a dangerous glare on his face. Danny sighed as he turned to his friend. "You're lucky you only passed out in there!"

"We still haven't gotten a hold of Ethelwulf," Danny told him, standing up straighter. "It's been three days; the school would be looking for answers if I missed another one. I needed to make an appearance somehow."

Tucker sighed, the anger still not leaving his face. "Why'd you pass out this time? Someone trying to get into the shield or another vision?"

"Vision," Danny said, looking away.

Tucker frowned. "It's another of Dan escaping, isn't it?" Tucker accused. The teen in question stayed silent. Taking that as his answer, Tucker sighed again. "Danny, that's the sixth one since the shield began! Don't you think some of these are just dreams?"

"Maybe," he conceded, frowning slightly. "But it doesn't explain why I keep getting them, or why they're appearing at random."

The two teens stood silent, waiting for the other to make the first move. Tucker sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he walked closer to his friend. "Danny, you need to take the shield down," Tucker told him quietly, staring out the large window of the Casper High Hallway to their football field. Danny also turned his vision to the outside world. He felt the shield hum through his powers, frowning as he considered his friend's plea. "It's taking way too much energy to sustain and for what? Just a hunch that the worst villain you ever faced might be coming back?"

"Isn't that a reason to keep it up?" Danny refuted, eyebrow raised.

"Not at the risk to yourself!" Tucker exclaimed exasperatedly. "Let's say you're right, and he attacks the town. How are you going defend yourself? How are you going to fight?"

"It affects me less as Phantom."

"Bull," Tucker said angrily. "We both know it affects you regardless. You're using raw energy remember? There's a balance between you overextending the amount of core energy, which makes you relive the portal accident, and your base powers." Tucker's anger lessened a bit, trying to get his friend to see reason. "At least take back some of your energy; if you feel something attacking the shield then go nuts. This is too dangerous and there's no point in draining yourself."

Danny sighed, taking inventory of his powers. Tucker was right; he felt exhausted. He opened his mouth to agree, but gasped instead, doubling over in pain. Something was wrong. His eyes went green, mouth agape at an unseen foe.

"Danny!" Tucker exclaimed worriedly. The half-ghost looked up at his friend, alarmed.

"Duck," he gritted out, before the world was drowned out by a deep wail. The ground beneath them shook as Danny, biting back a scream, held the shield up. The windows shattered, leaving glass scattered around the teens as Tucker tried to keep his friend upright. After what felt like hours, the wail stopped, sending both teens crashing to the floor. Tucker looked at Danny with concern, watching his friend pant from exertion as the shield shuddered above them. Dread pooled in the pit of Tucker's stomach as he realized what that attack meant.

"Danny…" Tucker trailed off, wide eyed. Danny didn't answer; once he reclaimed his breathing, he gave Tucker a long look, causing the dark skinned teen's eyes to widen further in alarm. "Danny wait!" Tucker exclaimed, reaching out to his friend. It was too late; Danny transformed, grunting slightly, and took off, leaving his best friend behind in the destroyed hallway.

Tucker stood, watching him fly off in the distance before cursing. "Sam's going to kill me," he muttered, jumping up and running down the halls toward Jazz's homeroom.

#cartoons #danny phantom #fanfiction #danny fenton #split!danny #Fenton bonding #action #adventure #cross posted on ao3 #friendship #no phantom planet #But his parents know #Tucker being a bro #Mr. Lancer appears #pls like and reblog #ecto storm series #Out of Time #whump incoming #multichapter

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jjkpls · 5 years

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The Freaks (m) (Harry Potter!AU #4)

> genre : filth, fluff

> pairing : jung hoseok x reader (f)

> words : 5.4k

> warning : unprotected sex (stay safe kids, but they’re wizards so u know they take care of those things), derogatory terms

> Jung Hoseok (Hufflepuff, 7th yr) is a freak and a pervert. He spends his whole time in Hogwarts between intensive sexcapades with you, his girlfriend, and intensive research in magic to find new ways to spice up said sexcapades. (public sex, use of magical sex toy, anal, mention of cum play...)

/The Harry Potter!AU Masterlist/

It's Tuesday morning, 9am just clocked in and most students struggle to keep their eyes and ears opened. Professor Edgecomb had just finished going through the reminder of the last lessons, introducing the three new potions they will be working on for the month ahead and after having wasted a good fifteen minutes waiting for someone to raise their hand to either ask a question or answer to one of his, he's decided he had enough of standing in front of those dumbfounded gaping mouths staring at him like he was some kind of intellectual performance their tiny brains could not grasp. Therefore, he deemed it was time to just let them be.

Assigning them to different cauldrons they'll share by pair, he proceeded to summarize, once again, the whole procedure to make a successful Wiggenweld potion -they were supposed to master it the year prior, but he's not that gullible anymore-. Besides being a healing potion, it's also one useful to reverse the effects of a Sleeping Draught and he hopes, secretly, that the vapours the room will be filled in soon enough will have some effect on those apparent sleep-deprived teenagers.

And then and there, the lesson becomes more pleasant. It's sad to admit, but him staying at his own desk, manipulating his own sets of jars and test tubes and mess of recipe sheets, sorting them out and organizing them, has become way more fulfilling than attempting to teach anything to these kids. He's realized quite soon after the beginning of his career as Professor of Potions in Hogwarts that youngsters were simply not interested in this art. Because it is a form of art. It requires patience, talent, delicacy and respect for the elements and ingredients, none of those butchers could find within themselves. And it's a hard discipline too. Not given to the first moron that wants to try a shot at it.

The students, in Hogwarts, fancy Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration classes. Which he can understand. The satisfaction is way more immediate and proactive in the execution of strong and decisive wand shakings. He also heard about how successful History classes -both Magic and Muggle- are and this, he deems the incoming of career orientation is responsible for. Because those lessons open so many doors, especially within the Ministry of Magic which a lot of young wizards seek a position in.

Potions, on the other hand, leads to a path, ambushed, full-life-committed, long and complexed that, inevitably, is not met with a glorious and profitable life. Alchemists spend their existence enclosed in dangerous fume-filled labs, they hardly leave to introduce a new invention once in a very long while -because those discoveries take time, and some actually waste their whole life away not finding any. As useful ground-breaking potions and spells tend to be owned in a way or another by the Ministry of Magic, they don't make much money out of them. If one desires to make a living out of making potions, they shall commit to producing mass love potions and everklena* ones. It's hard to cope with: lowering yourself to make those miserable preparations when you dream of grandeur and wonderful historical discoveries. Therefore, yes, he is become a professor in Hogwarts teaching a subject that rises very low interest.

Sometimes, Professor Edgecomb gets a glimpse of hope and joy from teaching. It's when he, exceptionally, has to teach one of the first years to cover another's professor lesson that they can't attend to. They're too young and inexperienced, so eager to be blown away to have any opinion on Potion making yet and it's terrific, he feels like a miracle maker, floating around the room, spreading herbs and mythical animals' claws in the air, in front of those wide shiny eyes. There's also the lessons he gives to the late-year Ravenclaw wizards. Most of them, like most of their peers, couldn't care less about his lessons but the ones that do, really, really do. They listen, ask questions and even share opinions on methods or big names in the Potion history. They're interested. As opposed to all those Slytherin slackers and Hufflepuffs morons.

Professor Edgecomb, fortunately for him, doesn't know to what extent he is right. How uninterested some of you are. He thinks the group of girls chatting away about the latest Quidditch game, or the loud pair of energumens too close to his own desk are obnoxious and disrespectful. But he would probably lose his marbles if he were to notice the young couple, occupying the last row of desks.

Hoseok's mouth is attached to your neck, lapping and sucking hard, biting where he knows the bruised skin to already feel tingly from prior ministrations. He's chuckling against your ear when he hears you whimper, your hand sprayed on his crotch clenching his hidden hard member in its grip. “Babe, you need to be quiet.”

Except if you'd like to get caught. And honestly, the thought is so tempting you can feel a gush of arousal soaking your panties.

But it's not your boyfriend's plan for the day. Maybe he'll want to do it on your last day at Hogwarts. How salacious would that be, you think with a grin painting your lips. You'll have to mention this to him. He'd probably say yes. You know your Hobi not to be good at denying any of your resquests.

But for today, he rules as he is the one who came up with the very elaborate spell allowing you two to mess around during class without nobody noticing. More than noticing, they can't actually see you. Two perfectly conform copies of you are standing at your desk, seemingly working on your cauldron, obliterating your real bodies. They hide what's to see but not what's to hear. Hoseok didn't master that just yet. Apparently, the whole screen thing behind which you're hiding is very complexed. It's a sort of a hallucinatory cloud. Anyone who would attempt to look your way would be met with this cloud that would distort their perception into interpreting precisely what they're expecting to see: Hoseok and you, chatting away while working on your potion. Certainly not him devouring your neck and collarbones, squeezing you hard against him for your ass to grind on his cock.

It feels hot. So dirty and bad, it should make your head spin and your pussy dripping gallons. But it doesn't. You're hot and bothered because it's Hoseok, he's always been excellent at toying you into becoming a powerless rag doll. But this whole trick is not enough. It's great but you already want more. You wish they could see you. You wish they'd see how Hoseok is treating you, how harsh his fingers are owning your cunt and how red and gaping he's letting it each time he's pulling back. You wish you could raise your eyes and meet the pair of someone else's, staring right back and ogling shamefully at you two.

Until you do. You meet those eyes. They're Do Kyungsoo's. He's watching you from two tables away, his big round eyes wide and mouth agape. He doesn't seem embarrassed though. His dark bushy eyebrows are frown and he looks about to interject.

And here, the thought of you two getting caught by the whole room actually hits you. You realize maybe it's not a good idea. For the last day, yes, but definitely not now, only two months in when you'll have to spend the rest of the year looked over by all of those same peers. If you even get to stay and don't get expelled for the worst case of public indecency to ever take place in Hogwarts. “Hoseok, he can see us.”

Mistaking your claim for role-playing, the tension in your tone simply flying over his head, he mutters hotly in your ear, “You love that, don't you? My little minx gets so w-”

“No, I mean, he can actually see us. We're not invisible.”

“What?” Hoseok turns around, so fast his hair flaps audibly on his forehead, to witness their classmate, obnoxiously watching you. In the swiftest of movement, he slips out of your panties -making you wince when his fingers sting a bit by the haste- and sits properly, adjusting his robe and pretending like nothing has happened, as if his crimson cheeks were not telling enough.

After some time, Kyungsoo, smiling like the little shit everybody knows him to be, turns around and gets back to his own duty.

“What happened to the spell?”

“I don't know.” His eyebrows drop sadly when he finally looks at you again. His mouth is shaped in an upset pout you have to look away to not place a bit smooch on. He caresses your thigh gently. “I'm really sorry, baby girl...” You're frowning too now. You were so close. So close. You're sure if you were to open your robe for the air to hit your clit, you might actually come. “We'll finish later.”

You gasp aloud.

Probably too dramatic.

Some heads turn around, throwing you a curious gaze to which you simply smile, waving a friendly hand until they're all back to their conversations.

There's the clock on the wall, stating 9:39. There's still an hour and a half to go. There is no way you're not having your release now. “Hoseok, I can't wait.”

“You'll have to, babe.” His voice is strained and his back stiff. He's not mad. You can tell he's just frustrated and probably feels guilty for having fucked up, resulting in that guy seeing you in this position. You want to make him feel better, along with yourself. That's your reasoning behind your hand slipping discreetly under the table, and sneaking under your skirt uniform.

The thick wooden table will hide you, if you're stealthy enough, you're sure you'll be fine. When it comes to sex -and especially sex with your boyfriend- you know what you want. You know what to grant yourself. And he knows it too. Therefore, when he takes a glimpse at you, checking to ask you about an ingredient he thinks he's never heard of -even though he did, as it was the one used in all of his fourth year recipes-, he's not surprised to see you hunch slightly over, smiling mischievously at him, with your clothing shaking obnoxiously over where your hand is working.

His pink tongue swipes over his grin, the tip stopping on the edge of his canine. He doesn't really know how to keep his composure. You're incredibly hot, like that, acting like a slut in the middle of class after having been caught; looking at him this way, with that familiar spark winking at him, you're so hot and so sweet, when he knows it's not even to tease him but so you can share with him a likeliness of release. You're so dirty and you're his. He wants to lean over and swallow you whole.

It doesn't take long for you to reach your climax. Grinding on your chair, like a bitch in heat, he can tell when you really hit it from how hard it's become for you to minimize your movements. Through the haze of your blurry gaze, you can see his lovesome eyes and bright smile. God, is he handsome.

“You're crazy.” He lets out behind his hand, concealing the blatant grin he can't withhold. You grab the said hand, dragging it and sneaking it between your legs for him to touch and feel the mess he's responsible for. When he brings the hand back to his face, he kisses the fingertips, pink tongue peeking out, tasting with utter pleasure your nectar like a pollinating bee.

“Wow.” She sounds unenthusiastic. Blank and fairly bored. Half of your face scrunched up by the hand holding your head up from hitting the top of the table, you stare with a wondering eye. “You're so whipped for... this guy's dick.” She notes, pointing with a lean finger at your textbook.

The book is opened on the index page, messed up on the corners with traces of ink here and there, scribbles of pieces of information concerning the lessons to be found ahead. You're not responsible for those. Your personal touch consists of little drawings of penises and pointy noses and slender hands gathered here and there. Your quill stops mid-movement when you realize that you're drawing one of those shafts again.

Maybe you're a bit obsessed with him, yeah.

“By 'this guy' you mean my boyfriend?” Your best friend rolls her eyes before bringing a hand to her mouth and feign to stick two fingers in to make herself throw up. You're the one rolling your eyes now. She's always been dramatic. Icy queen pretending anything more or less romance-related irks her to no end. She tries so hard though, you're sure she hides something.

The thing is your best friend is not, necessarily, the sweetest of soul. She's actually very far from it. So as much as the questions have been piling up in the back of your mind -especially when you see her disappear for hours on end to then come back to you, with a new glint in her eyes, throwing suspicious glances to this one younger Slytherin guy who always seems to be sulking- you decide to let them just where they are, not ready to be lashed out by the furious dragon she can turn herself into. If she wants to open up about it, probably she will. It's complicated sometimes to be friends with someone so secretive. But you chose her.

“D'you have some gold?” She asks. Her attention is not on you. It's focused on something or someone else, far behind you. You're tempted to look but you're not sure, given the expression on her face -it's the one look she harbours when she's up to mess with someone. You're still frustrated from this morning virtual blue balls. You're planning on getting Hoseok's glorious dick in three hours time, and it's all that fucking matters right now. Hence the bunch of precum beads winking at you from the top of your doodled cocks. Would he think those representations are accurate? Maybe you should ask him to pose for you. All naked. Damn. “Do you?”

For good measures, you ask, knowing you won't get involved in anything today, no matter what her response happens to be, “What for?”

“I'd like to send someone a letter.”

Oh?

“That's nice!” You clap your hands quite loudly, handing her generously more than she needs to purchase a magical card and even pay the fee to send it away as happy as you are that she's doing something sweet for a change.

“It is nice.” She smiles at you in a way you don't like. Eyes dark, grin resembling a wolf hungry snarl. She's more Slytherin than most. Way more than you. You sigh, deeply.

“Miss, I'd appreciate if you would quiet it down a bit. It might not be your case, but some students here have a future they would like to study for.” Your friend is staring at you with a smirk biting her lips. You raise your face, smiling the most honey-coated beam you own at Mr Filch. He's not happy about you. Which you can understand. You tend to be loud and obnoxious. But you don't even remember being loud just now. It is "study hours" but you are in the Great Hall, not in the fucking library. Still, you know better than to upset the old man so you excuse yourself smoothly leaving him to mumble and grumble away between his teeth.

“He's right. Look at you drawing all those mushrooms,” You chuckle loudly at that. “-instead of thinking about your future-” “I thought about my future for your information. I'm planning on becoming the biggest legend of Quidditch's bitch for the rest of my life. Isn't it great?”

“Wow. Sounds phenomenal.” The sarcasm is dripping from her very breath.

“It is! You know, Muggles, they have this thing called sugar daddy and I've decided that Hoseok will be mine.”

“You know I hate Muggles. Stop talking to me about the weird shits that they do.”

“It's not weird!”

“MISS Y/N!” Yells Mr Filch from the other end of the Great Hall. And when you see him lumping furiously through the whole room, expression looking like he's ready to grab you and throw you in one of his alleged torture basements, you pack your things in a rush, waving goodbye to your friend who's cackling her ass off on top of her parchments.

When Hoseok walks in through the door, you're waiting for him, your fingers prepared in the air, ready to catch his ear in a crab-like hold. Catching sight of you, he loses too much time startling and is left with not enough to avoid your attack, therefore, you seize him and pulling hard on your prey.

“Aa-ah-aah-” He screeches, voice loud and high, trying to follow your movement to limit the pain but you're mad and make it so that it hurts as much as possible.

“Where were you? I've been waiting for you forever!”

“The team had- AAAH” Your nails dig in the sensitive flesh. Irritating. This stupid team. You do want him to become the next Quidditch legend of the wizarding world, sure. But you know he's already good enough to become it. He doesn't need extra training, unlike those lame asses that compose the rest of the team. He's been carrying the team and its victories for years, since the very first game he's played, five years ago. Why they drag him through never-ending extra practices is beyond you.

Usually, you wouldn't be scorching his ear but the rest of the Slytherin team's. It has happened before when he's come back to his or your dorm at fucking ridiculous hours of the night, sometimes hurt because that's how bad his team players are. But you're not in the mood today. The three hours you thought you had to wait for your boyfriend to come back to you and spoil you the way you need, turned into seven. It's not anyone else's fault but his now.

“You made me wait all fucking day, Hoseok.” You're a sulking mess, now. Letting your grip go, you walk backwards for him to witness the pouty lip, the sad puppy eye.

Massaging his red ear mindlessly, he breathes out, “I'm sorry, baby.” Shoulders shrug dismissively -he's here now- allowing at the same time your robe to slide along your arms to reveal your naked form. Your skin is shimmering slightly from the body lotion you've applied carefully earlier while waiting for him and he catches sight of it immediately, smiling softly.

You lie on your back, watching him trying to undress so fast, he almost knocks his own forehead on the bed frame when he tries to rip his left foot free from his pants. His face is all cute frowns, funny grimaces and corny winks; his voice all overwrought groans, adorable whines, he's biting on his lip, savouring with his eyes what his mouth can't feast on just yet. You're overwhelmed by excitation. It's your Hoseok and you're about to have him all for your own. You're delighted.

“Are you that hard from me pinching your ear, Hobi?” He flushes, minuscule dimples poking at the corner of his silky mouth, eyes darting to the straight, hard haft waving your way.

“You know how hot you look when you're mad.” He climbs over you, predatory gaze melting with the mirror of its own. His mouth smashes against yours as his hips do yours, one set of slender fingers wrapping around your neck. He's grinding insistently, ending in you panting already, mouth wide open for his tongue to lap inside.

“Fuck, Hobi...” He falls down from your gaping lips, teeth grazing your neck hard enough to turn the skin red while your fingers deep in his mop of satiny chestnut hair, scratching his scalp, pulling at the strand to make him grind harder, groan and breath louder.

“You smell so good...” You grin to yourself. You deserve a tap on the back for the choice of lotion you've made. It was new and expensive as hell, as tend to be Muggles' cosmetics, but it was worth it from the way he's lapping at your skin with such eagerness, inhaling obscenely, his pretty eyes reflecting the shimmer recovering your body. “Uhm. Should I eat you out?”

“No...” A harsh bite, a whimper. “Later. Once you've filled me up.”

His chest constricts, letting the loud and notably high in pitch laughter of your boyfriend bursts in your ear, rendering you deaf for a second. When he relatively succeeds to calm down, Hoseok raises on his arms, taking a good look at your inquiring expression.

“You're so fucking nasty, baby girl...” He thrusts downward, his tip grazes precisely where you need him and you decide you are done waiting. Pushing him away for you to turn around, getting on all fours, ass shaking for his greatest enjoyement.

“Hobi, I've waited so long, please, I'm ready.” And maybe you sound a bit desperate, look a bit obscene with your ass straight in the air, shaking for the sole purpose of making his determination to take his time waver and just fuck you already. You just don't like to wait. If your little sexcapade from this morning tells anything about you, it's how impatient you are, how spoiled you like yourself to be, especially by your boyfriend. He has another rhythm in mind but no matter how exciting it feels to have his big hands spread on your ass cheeks, squeezing and parting so he can see you better, no matter how nice the idea of his gaze burning your sex, his heavy breath hitting the wetness you're covered in, it's not enough and you don't want it now. “Baby, please. I deserve it.”

“You do, baby girl. I'm gonna give it to you.” He is so hard, tip an angry crimson and balls tight as hell but he can't help but lean over to bite the flesh of one of your cheeks and place a sloppy kiss on the other. Merlin, he hopes he'll have more time later to indulge in his urges to eat your ass until he makes you tear up enough for you to be able to taste the salty yet sweet pearls on your lip.

The first thrust feels painful for the both of you. You're so wet he just slides in but the sensation of being filled up again, so nice, so full, by Hoseok makes your walls hug him roughly; and he can feel you, hugging, compressing him too many times, he doesn't know if it's simple projection from his dick but he found it harder for him to breathe.

You're getting used to him progressively and soon enough he's able to back all the way out to slam back in, even further than he had before. “I've missed you, ___.” He chokes out, mouth pressed to your shoulder blade, kissing pure love that aims and shoots directly in your heart.

You're buried in the pillows, mumbling, “Missed you too. So much.” It's been less than a week, actually, since the last time you were able to get in bed and have him buried deep in your cunt. Fucking school assignments, fucking Quidditch practices and matches, fucking ridiculous new dormitory policies, and fucking uncooperative housemates. The past week had been a bitch.

Your relationship is based on way more than sex -even if this is how it actually started, with you walking on a certain freaky Hufflepuff rubbing one-off in the middle of the little pool-like bathtub of the prefects' bathroom-. Hoseok is hilarious, dorky and exuberant. You match, carrying around the same riotus energy and you two are each other's ideal crowd. Also Hoseok, when he needs to be, can be the sweetest, most tender shoulder to lean on. He is easy to talk to, about anything. He's funny, he's soft, he's so good, benevolent, and you're in love, so deeply in love with this boy. That being said his dick is a piece of art and works a magic none of the biggest wizards of this world could ever attempt to master. And, when you don't get to feel it, not only do you miss it but feel an upsetting emotion constantly troubling your mood. I guess your best friend is right: You're pretty whipped for the guy's cock.

You know you're not the only one feeling this way though. The way he melts into you, showering your back with kisses and bites, hands digging everywhere, trying to tattoo your skin with his love, he misses you as much as you miss him.

When he's done being so overwhelmed by finally feeling you the way he craved to for days, he can tear his chest away from you to stand straight and tall on his knees, allowing himself to pound into you the way you both love. It feels amazing, you like to think that it's the idea of being with you again that helps him reach new hidden resources the four hours he's passed on a field playing Quidditch with a bunch of losers did not manage to dry out.

Hoseok sucks his thumb in his own mouth, soaking it in saliva before he's pressing it between your ass cheeks, circling tentatively on your surprisingly not so tight ring. He chuckles to himself. Because it's always like that. He's not complaining, he knows -and he can feel it as he moves his finger in and out, at a terribly slow path as opposed to the hard one followed by his hips- that you did not overdo it. You always make sure to prep yourself to not waste any fun time, not too much though so to guarantee the lovely stretch will still be here. It's once he's fit three fingers in that he squeals, “I almost forgot! Babe, I've made something!”

He gets fidgety behind you, reaching out for something you can't see, as you sigh, struggling to contain your impatience. He's thoughtful enough to hold your hips still with one hand, either it is for your comfort or by fear of his dick catching a cold, you're not quite sure. “You're gonna love it.” He prophesizes once his attention is back on you, leaning on his heels to have you relax on his lap.

His voice turns low, focused on each syllables as he enounces a bunch of different words you never would fit together, so close, in the same sentence; pronouncing a self-made spell you know won't ever appear in one of Hogwart's textbooks -which is probably for the best.

There's a warmth finding itself and spreading around your empty hole and slowly, something seems to grow from nothingness, progressively filling your ass up entirely. It's bigger than Hoseok's lean fingers, hotter, wetter, soft like the silky skin of his cock, rather than the rougher one of his hands. It starts moving in and out slowly, and you assume Hoseok has grabbed the end of it and is now testing it apprehensively. “I've been working on it for weeks.”

“Fuck, Hobi-” You choke out between pants and whines, back bending always further, desperate to get the most of the experience.

“How does it feel?” Ugh. “Wait, there's more!” He's picking up his wand again, shaking it in the air and mumbling more words that this time, brain so fucked up and intoxicated, you can't even decipher. Not that you really try.

Suddenly, there's a little buzz. You hear it before you feel it because it wavers, it faints away and comes back but never quite strong enough to be shaking you from the inside. Observing you from up there, he giggles, “From now on, please refer to me as Genius- Genhobi? Hobi-brai- Hobrain? That sounds a bit off but-”

That's when you burst out in a fit of laughter, so strong it shakes you up more than his spell did and makes his cock slip out of you. Hoseok grins in return. With a quick gesture of his wand, he turns his spell off. Leaning over your back, he brushes the hair out of the way to get a good look at the hilarity rolling down your cheek, fondness burning painfully his heart.

“It's not-” A wheeze. He's all ears, mouth stretched from one ear to the other. “It exists already. Muggles created this decades ago, probably a century even...” His face falls, mouth in a button and big wide eyes sceptical hanging under a set of terribly sad-looking droopy eyebrows. “What?” He asks quietly.

“It's called a vibrator. They make it and sell it in sex shops and-” You're mid-cackle when his whole demeanour, slopping down miserably on himself, eyes shiny with so much disappointment, you suspect he might actually start crying. You stop right away, turning around and reaching for his neck you wrap your arms lovingly around, pressing his face to your breast. “Oh, baby... It's okay.”

“I thought-”

“I know, it's fine. I appreciate you trying, hm? That's really cute.” He groans, nose scrunching up. “You're cute. Come on!” Getting back on all fours, you smile brightly at him. “It's whatever! Don't you wanna come? Cause I do...” Hoseok grabs you by the thighs, dragging you hard enough for you to lose balance and fall flat on your stomach, before he flips you over and leans in between your legs, mouth pressing to yours on reflex when his face is close enough.

“It's your fault. If you didn't know all those Muggles' stupid shits-”

“I grew up as a Muggle, dickhead.”

“And then why-” He hisses when he finally slips back in the comfort of your sex. “-did you not bring one of those for us?”

“To have my dad find it during one of his impromptu friskings through my stuff?”

“Fair-” His hips stutter at a particularly unforgiving squeeze of your walls around him, he groans loud mouth pressed hard to your ear, “You feel so good, baby.”

“You feel good. You fill me up so well, Hobi.” He does. He'll never know, no matter how many times you say it, how much you mean it. How perfect he fits in you as if your walls were craved for his cock only. And he fucks you so good. Hips rolling expertly against your pelvis to make sure your clit is taken care of, brushed over and pressed hard between you two as he's just started doing, knowing the both of you are not that far from finishing. You love when he does that. It's harsh, ruthless and stimulates you just right but it always leaves you red and abused and stinging a little for the hours and sometimes days to come. You love that. With Hogwarts' decency policies, you can't even wear a few purple marks on your neck as a reminder of who owns you and how well he's treated you. That sting is sometimes all you have to do so, to distract you when sitting in History of Magic class you wonder why the hell you're still wasting your fucking time with all those informations you couldn't care less about.

“Hobi, m'gonna come.”

“Come for me, baby. Come with me-” He's panting against your face, sweat droplets threatening to fall on it from how hard he is beating his hips against yours.

“Fuck! I need-”

Of course, Hoseok knows exactly what you need, therefore he hastens to growl, “Iloveyou- fuck, Iloveyou! Comewith-” The ball of light that has been growing inside both your bellies burst, blinding you both for a few seconds, rendering you deaf to the earsplitting, probably embarrassing, screams and earthshaking moans. You can feel him, coating your walls, as they clench repeatedly and smother him entirely, milking him out of every last drop he has to offer.

“Fucking Merlin...” Hoseok mumbles, body melting into yours as you tighten your grasp around him. You're stuck in a blur, barely conscious it seems, actively trying not to cry for some reason. It's Hoseok's lively laughter that brings you back from how far you've gone. “How come you're so nasty but you only get there when you're reminded how much I love you? You big baby.”

You're already too hot and red-cheeked to flush at his teasing, but your ego bruises a little bit. Not much though as you know how right he is. And how alike you two are anyway.

“Isn't your mouth supposed to be doing something else right now?” Hoseok shoots you his glorious grin before he's sliding down along your body, disappearing from your sight, eager to give you what you asked for earlier.

#btssmutclub #btswriterscollective #bts smut #jhope smut #bts x reader #jhope x reader #jhope fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #bts fanfic #jhope fanfic #jhope scenario #my writing

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63824peace · 5 years

Text

Thursday, 13th of october 2005

China successfully launched its second manned spacecraft. Shenzhou-6 blasted off riding a Long March 2F rocket booster. The spacecraft entered orbit within ten minutes. This launch cements China's place as the third nation in spaceflight history able to launch its own citizens out of Earth's atmosphere. Like its predecessors Russia and the United States, China made history by performing the launch without assistance.

My boyhood dream was to fly into outer space, and the dream remains within me. I would trade everything to go into outer space... my job and even my life.

I heard that Shenzhou-6's pilots are astronauts in their early forties. God, I envy them.

Japan has given up the pursuit of a national space program capable of independently launching a Japanese vessel into space. My generation laments the situation. We dreamed about outer space. I definitely want my country to persevere. I want Japanese children to inherit my generation's dream of space travel.

I read in the newspaper that Horiemon (CEO of Livedoor Co., Ltd.) recently began investing in the space industry. Perhaps now we should pin our hopes on the efforts of private companies.

I had my endoscopic examination scheduled today, so I slept in a little. I would feel so much better physically if I could get up like this every day. It seems bad to leave the house after the children though.

Here's how things generally work: the head of the family leaves home in the morning. His family sees him off to work. Then the children leave home to go to either school or work. At night, the father returns last.

"The breadwinner leaves home first." There is a subtle luxury in leaving home before all others and returning last of all. The family head can feel a sense of dignity through these routines. We live in the wrong times for these habits though, since both parents work in more and more families.

I usually get up around 6am because I have a managerial job. I arrive in my office for the morning meeting at 7am. If no morning meeting is scheduled, then I at least arrive by 9am. Kojima Productions head creative staff normally arrives in the office at 10:30am, which means they probably leave their homes between 9am and 10am. If this is so . . . are they seeing their children off to school? I have a hard time imagining that.

I left home for the exam. Of course, I didn't see any students or businessmen on their ways to the train station. I didn't even see anyone walking their dog. I didn't hear a single bark.

"Okay, I get it," I realized. "So this is how it is."

Morning had already passed. I felt guilty for some reason. I walked through the fully awakened city like a student who had overslept. The weather is really nice, by the way. Since my endoscopic procedure has been scheduled for such a sunny day, surely it means that my insides are as sharp, crisp, and clean as a fine autumn day.

Right? I really hope so...

I had to take 1800ml of Magukoloolu-P when I arrived at the hospital. (It was the same medicine that I had to take last night.) I drank two 500ml bottles of a sports drink after that.

Drink, excrete, wait fifteen minutes... drink, excrete, wait fifteen minutes... I repeated the process for two full hours in order to clean my insides. It was the most painful part of the exam. I kept up the masochism until the nurse signaled for me to stop.

The annual procedure cleans out my esophagus, stomach, duodenum, small intestine, and large intestine. The whole affair seems surreal when it is finished. I can drink clear water, and it emerges as an equally clear fluid after running from my top to my bottom. It makes me remember that the human body connects directly from the mouth to the anus.

Life forms originally used the same orifice for consumption and excretion. The mouth and the anus were one. When our great evolutionary ancestors were living in pre-sentience, they only had their intestines to handle food and waste. The complex differentiation that resulted in a separate mouth and anus had not occurred. Maybe this is why human beings have gastrointestinal trouble when we suffer too much stress.

I started reading Eiichi Ikegami's book Shangri La since I had plenty of time to wait. It's interesting. I had started reading the book before, but I quit midway.

The purification procedure concluded and the afternoon examination finally began. Even though I undergo this procedure as an annual checkup, I still feel nervous right before it begins.

I hadn't seen my doctor in six months. He refreshed me as always. He is a warm and welcoming man. The look on his face alone relieves me. I feel eased by a relationship with my doctor based on mutual trust.

The examination concluded by evening. Nothing is wrong inside my body ; I seem to be a pretty healthy man. My doctor and I agreed that we should have dinner together sometime, although I don't know when we'll be able to. He's quite busy.

We can now see inside our own hidden organs thanks to technological developments. I am like another creature inside. Today I met the secret self inside. It's a weird thought, but internal organs carry their own idiosyncratic expressions. Despite what you'd expect, they are even good looking. They looked so nice that I asked my doctor for a copy of the pictures of my innards.

I will be charged with sexual harassment if I hang these pictures around my work booth. I think I'll just keep them inside my desk drawer.

I went into the office at 5pm. It's about time for the first flood of evening's homebound rush hour. I press through those who hurry home. I move toward the Hills. I feel a strange embarrassment as I walk against the crowd's current.

I think as I walk. Nothing remains inside my body. I have nothing to digest. I don't even have the need to digest. My emptied body has an unstrained, natural repose.

I relish the emptiness. I want this feeling to endure a while longer. Perhaps an insight exists that is exclusive to people who forsake digestion: a vision only for the emptied ones. I decided not to eat until nightfall.

What is this lightness inside my body... inside my heart and mind? The laxative must have flushed out all my clotted stress.

I took care of the day's mail at the office. I dealt with the documents that needed my signature. My schedule had filled to the brim while I wasn't looking.

I am supposed to write project plans for both MGS4 and a new PSP project. Once again, I find myself unable to make a single schedule; I don't think I can write them.

My field training outfit has been delivered. We are supposed to be on different teams, so each team's camouflage pattern differs. We have a variety of camo patterns, such as Woodland and Desert. For some reason my team got black camouflage.

I doubt it will help us during daylight. Can't you do something about this Toyopy?

After twenty-four hours, I finally put food in my stomach ; I went to the restaurant ROTI for supper with Kenichiro and Ryan. It was a bit chilly, but we decided to eat on the terrace anyway.

I ordered the Roti Burger, with mushrooms of course. I held back on drinking wine, due to having just had a physical exam.

I took care of miscellaneous mundane tasks at the office, a monotonous affair of ticking checkboxes. Creativity is impossible today.

I stood in front of a four-passenger seat as I rode the train home. This was in the portion of the train connecting the cars. I listened to Depeche Mode's new album on my iPod. Across from where I stood sat two women in their thirties, a middle aged grandpa, and a young girl dressed as though she were older than her age.

I glanced down at them. My eyes paused when I saw three white cords attached individually to both women and the older man. (The young girl didn't have one.) My mind wandered a bit. "All three of them have white cords. Is this a new fashion?"

Then I noticed that I had a white cord myself.

The reality was simpler than I had imagined. The three older passengers in front of me were listening to their iPods. As I gradually realized this, the woman on the left took out her iPod.

The other woman remarked: "Oh! It's just like my iPod-Mini! It's even the same blue color!"

While I thought about this, the old grandpa took out his iPod. "W-What?!" I thought. "This old man has an iPod-Mini too?!"

I was taken aback. I own the same device as this grandpa?! I admit that I'm something of a grandpa myself, but it's still depressing to know that I have the same thing as this guy whose hair is so thinned that it looks like a barcode when combed to the side.

Few things are as awkward or irritating as having a model identical to others. Still, we should be listening to different music even though we have the same type of device. I wonder if we could invent an iPod that changes color according to the music it is playing, kind of like a chameleon changes color according to its environment.

I pushed my iPod deeper into my pocket so that no one would notice the similarities. The train arrived at the station. Passengers who needed to switch trains exited. The woman who hadn't shown her iPod put hers into her bag.

"Thank God," I sighed. "She has an iPod Shuffle."

Maybe I ought to trade my iPod-Mini for the newly released iPod-Nano. It's less of an I-Pod and more of a We-Pod now that everyone owns one.

I swam at the gym just before midnight. I need to have physical stamina for next week's field training.

Well... technically that's true. I had another reason for swimming tonight though. I wanted to know how my internal purification had affected me.

I only had an undigested burger in my body. I suspected that I had lost a lot of weight… no, I was sure of it. I slowly mounted the scales.

"What?! I only lost half a kilogram!"

Is that all I get for my pain and discomfort?

According to Sean Penn's character Paul Rivers, we all lose 21 grams of weight when we die. A person's soul therefore weighs 21 grams. So… what's the total weight of a person's stress?

I drank a chu-hai after I returned home, even though it's normally forbidden for someone in my position. Then I went to bed.

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