Constellations and Reunions | Dr Flug x Reader

Origins.

Hey guys! This authors note comes first since I have to clear a few things up—this is the story of how you first met our lovable nerd, Flug! I actually wrote this chapter first before everything else, so that's why the first chapter seems a little rushed. I hope you like this!
-emeraldsprite

A Few Years Ago or so...

The darkness engulfed him, locker door slamming shut as he desperately pounded on it. "Hey! Open up or I swear, I'll-I'll...!" The only response that came was muffled laughter from outside.

"You'll what? Have fun getting weekly torture sessions when you don't turn up for class, dipshit." He heard the iconic blaring sneer of the girl in his baccalaureate class, then the laughter of his peers, the shuffling of footsteps...and silence dawned over the hall.

'Flug' groaned, tugging at his iconic paper bag in frustration.

It was all going so well, too. He was getting his stacks of books from his locker after a normal lunch routine when Nicole Senicourt had pushed him in and locked the door. It was always Nicole. He should've known. Her childish blue bob and small delicate hair clips shouldn't fool anyone with that attitude; fighting her way through every obstacle (quite literally when it came to the lunch lines).

His luminous clock (He'd put a clock in his locker, just in case he'd lost the watch he made when he was 5) showed 1:59 and by now he was already 19 minutes and 33 seconds late. Oh joy.

Panic settled in as situations and scenarios rushed through his head (which was currently and extremely uncomfortably pressed against the ceiling). If, and only if he got out, how would he explain to the (shrew) professor about how he had skipped his lesson, or the entire school day in entirety?

Ms. Tates would not be pleased, and with the thought of having to withstand a week in the torture chamber drove the trapped student to start pounding on the door again.

Flug doubted anyone would help him, considering that it was the Black Hat's Baccalaureate of Evil and Crime. Against all odds, lanky lousy Flug barely got in alive. Sure, he was a prodigy and still was a genius and to-be criminal mastermind, but was it enough?

Why did he even think he would even have a chance of getting in? His peers had both brawn and brains, and while they certainly weren't as intelligent as he was, they still had a chance going off, becoming a villain of their own and a higher chance of being accounted for something.

And here he was stuffed like a sardine in a can, or more specifically, in a steel locker with the volume of 0.0657 cubic centimeters that smelled faintly of mayo along with his school supplies for company.

What would he be, when and if he got out of school? What would become of him if he ever managed to survive it? It could be torture, like Nicole had said. He'd had the delightful experience of being in the closet for a week, and he had been trying the entire month to avoid another excuse for him to be sent there again. Or it would be a slow, painful death in front of all his peers as they laughed at what a miserable failure he was. That was what happened to Todd (Oh Todd, if only you had handed in your assignment one minute earlier), anyways.

Or even worse.

He'd get expelled.

Sent back empty handed to normal civilization where he'd be under his almighty brother's shadow again. Flug could already hear the taunts ringing in his ears, how his stupid superhero brother had been right about him all along, how he didn't deserve recognition; respect.

He'd have to lead a pointless life knowing deep down that his successes and genius would never be enough, that he would never be enough. The thought that years of studying and hard work (even if he a part of him was certain he didn't need it) would go to waste simply because he wasn't competent enough terrified him, because it meant that he really didn't have anything to prove.

He'd be a failure. He'd be the one thing he spent his entire life trying to prove that he wasn't.

He had long stopped trying to get help, sat down on his backpack. 2:13. It had only been minutes, and yet it seemed like hours had passed already. The class had long started. Maybe Ms Tates would find out about his...situation later. Or maybe she knew, and just didn't care enough to help him.

But then, footsteps rang through the hall outside, and immediately Flug got to his feet. He would soon regret it, though, when he bashed his head against the ceiling.

"Ow!" He cried out.

The footsteps stopped. "Hello?"

Flug immediately, sensing a way of escape, started pounding on his locker door again. "HI! HELP PLEASE! I'M STUCK IN LOCKER 666?"

"Uh, yeah? This one?" A knock came from the other side of the wall. "YES! THAT'S MY ONE! Uh, the password is 39210842026BLKHAT."

In a matter of seconds the lock clicked and the door swung open, and within seconds, he tumbled to the ground, groaning. Flug blinked a few times before realising the awkward position he was in with the person who'd helped him out; how close he was to you. "Woah! S-sorry," he stuttered, immediately getting to his feet and brushing nothing in particular off his jeans in an awkward fit.

"You have a really long password. You know that, right? Are you okay?" You smirked as you extended a hand to the boy sitting on the floor.

"O-oh? Yeah, I'm fine, but the password isn't that long if you have a genius memory like I do. All the other goons can't even remember the first 8 digits." He said as he took your hand and pulled himself up. You laughed a bit as his ego.

"Hey, you're the one who needed help out the locker, so don't get cocky here. I remember you. You're the one with the recycling bin on your head in the group photo, right? Word spreads quickly, and Nicole was being a bitch anyways."

"Yeah, that was me. And...you are?"

"(y/n) (l/n). You should be Flugger, right?"

"It's Kenning Flugslys, actually. That's just another bad nickname they came up with for me."

"Kenith...what? Your name is Kenith Flugslith?"

"Wh-what? No!"

"Fluggy. Is that better? Can I call you that?"

"Ur..."

"Flug, then. Rolls off the tongue."

"Y-yeah. Yeah, that sounds good enough." 'Flug' sounded better than whatever nickname Nicole gave him anyway. It sounded nice. In a weird way.

"Alright then. Look, I gotta go; super late. Just go to the nurses office. If you're a genius like you say you are, you'll figure a way out of your problem with Ms. Tates. See ya."

You left him standing in the hall, still staring at you as you left. By then you'd gone, but he still had to say something.

"Thanks."