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seb-owns-these-tatas · 5 years ago

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Witcher of the Night (Chapter 12)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 11

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Protectiveness for his child of surprise may be the only thing that could get a witcher confessing to a midget with all of his pent up aggression and kept up feelings that he has been dealing since day one because he knew he wasn’t just protecting Cirilla. Deep inside, he was also protecting you from the wicked that lurks throughout the continent; trying hard to wipe you out of their dimension by hook or by crook. One kiss is all it takes for all the frustration to stop...or maybe not?

Warnings: Slight angst? MEAN Geralt. Sweet Geralt too. Soft Geralt too. (It’s kind of a tough contrast don’t you think? HAHAHA!) Jaskier feeling...things that shouldn’t be felt. Uh-oh. Reader being frustrated and infuriated. Cirilla being a sweetheart! Modern references included!

Words: 7,1k

A/N: Smut will come in Chapter 14 and 15. Yes, two chapters for the filth! Because...Why not?! (*frustrated potato*) I THINK TUMBLR IS ACTING UP. I SEE FICS WHERE I’M TAGGED BUT I AM NOT INFORMED. ALSO, I CAN’T INCLUDE PICS OR GIFS FROM MY LAPTOP! *angry growls* I’m lucky because i’ve had my banners and other gifs in my drafts last night and Tumblr is acting up today!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Your days have been quite a torture. A mix of embarrassment and full blown flusters when Geralt was around. It was simply a slip of the moment as you were too enamored by the witcher and his succulent lips that you oh-so-idiotically swerved when you could've went straight for the target instead.

Yet, here you were. Torturing yourself by taunting the witcher the day after the time you've began your self-assuring tease by telling Geralt what you've been feeling since the day you've arrived.

Now, you were being punished? Or probably suffering from a serious case of insomnia and the idea of missing his presence because the witcher wasn't around and it has already been days.

What if he gets hurt? You mindlessly talked to your alter ego, receiving a response that he's a tough one and a pretty skillful swordsman, so worrying about it like a wife does to her husband who was a soldier can be toned down to the slightest.

God, those lips. You were an idiotic potato for even doing the first move and eventually failing as you do so; like a five year old giving her crush a kiss. Well, pretty much five year old were more confident than you in this condition.

Warm palms spread through your shoulder, giving you a fright as you sat back and your tushie fell to the ground with a soft thud; with Kolby giving you those scary smile of his that made you want to pat his head but today, it seems like you weren't in the mood and that there was something bothering you with your thoughts wandering about Geralt. The witcher himself and only him.

You were acting like a clingy girlfriend when you both weren't lovers at all. Maybe, being delusional and creating fan-fics about your celebrity crushes back at your apartment wasn't enough that you even had to think that Geralt would want to be with you forever like how such happy endings in stories must have been.

What if he was just one horny man who wanted to hulk-smash because you were different than his flock of felines?

Well, it wasn't like you weren't acting the same way like a toey teenager when he hauled you closer to his chest; giving him the heart eyes.

Why must he be a white-haired hunk of a man who knew how to fight and knew magic? Even skillful with his sword?

"Oh---Geralt!" you shrieked out of the blue, the body heat of Jaskier's presence radiating beside you as he sat crouched with a crooked smile, "I must say, you're quite obsessed with the witcher since that awfully intimate moment you've had in the bathing room,"

You ignored the teasing tone he omitted and went on to shooting a question you've been bothering him since the day Geralt was out and about, "Where's Geralt?" hence, the bard could already hear the tiny whines for the presence of the witcher and he couldn't help but scoff.

"You're hurting my poor heart for asking Geralt when it's actually a pretty handsome bard in front of you,"

Your lips instantaneously jutted out in a sad pout, exhaling a long sigh as you shifted your legs into a criss-cross position; staring into space, "I need Geralt," pause and another sigh, "---I miss Geralt,"

The sudden strong yearning was becoming worse each day without Geralt around. It felt incomplete, unsatisfying and utterly frustrating that he wasn't with you, nor can you even sleep without feeling those fingers of his raking your hair even though it was only done one time.

Heck, you were worried that maybe Geralt used magic within you when you've taken your slumber because the feelings you have for him was turning insufferable, irksome when you want something but has never been given and utmost round the bend.

All you wanted and ever asked for was Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. In which, confused the bard because you've become too attached after the Djinn incident.

"This is certainly a huge relationship development if you're finding him that miserably all the time," Jaskier stated the obvious, his laugh sounding disturbed because of your new personality that he'd noticed; or maybe you were one of those types of women?

Though, what baffles him the most is that there are days where you actually don't try to find him; like you were being just you and not one needy lady whom asks for only the witcher when he'll be coming home. Just the timid, naive small rat he knew.

There were also strange instances whenever you sleep back in Geralt's chambers; as he was writing another new epic he'd ought to create, the bard heard you whimpering and sobbing like you were in pain when it was already two in the morning.

He'd wanted to check up on you. Though, he was quite doubtful because a woman deserves whatever space and respect; thinking that maybe you were spending some wonderful time with yourself and had the pleasant time to take it while Geralt wasn't around. But, your whimpers were something else. It was a mixture of pain and distress.

Therefore, Jaskier tried to ignore your hushed outcries, although he could technically hear it from the other side of the room. The draft of his epic now forgotten as he fidgeted; he went on with dipping the tip of his feather on the ink and write nothing on his piece of parchment.

After hearing those nightly weeps of yours, the bard never left your side. Especially when you were alone in the morning, thinking that you were having a mental breakdown and actually just missing the witcher.

He could do just that. Distract you with his talkative self and so he did.

"A witcher needs to do what he always does," the bard reassured, waving off Kolby who tried sniffing his ear.

You've snapped out of your stupor, giving the bard a stink eye as he was wailing his arms around to wave Kolby away from assaulting his face, "I thought you were his travel companion? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be protecting him as well?"

Jaskier continued his bellyaching, "You naughty Hirikka!" he scolded the doe-eyed Hirikka; the creature abruptly planting his tushie on the ground as he growled at the bard as the toubadour mockingly growled back as well, a sharp bark coming from the Hirikka, "---What? With a lute? Kill beasts with my singing?"

"Then, what are you even here for?" you deadpanned. Voice all nonplussed as you apathetically gave the bard your gaze.

Jaskier made a fuss, shifting on his crouched position and turned to completely give you his full attention, giving you back a stinky lour, "How rude of you! I wonder why the djinn has never sent you home!"

You had your cheeks hollowed looking like a chipmunk as you ignored his whingeing, "What if he dies?"

Jaskier was fighting off the feeling of rolling his eyes for your worry. Geralt has dealt with lots of beasts already and his current hunt wouldn't earn him a sweat as he'd already killed a lot of its kind, "He never does. Cease the worry. He can kill beasts even when he sleeps," the bard gave an abrupt pause, gesturing with his finger as he pointed it to you to add more effect as you tried to understand his point, "---Unless, if its you he's sleeping with then we all die from the beast! Cirilla and I know how his senses are disappointing because you're like the silver to his...his...monster?"

"He isn't a monster, Jaskier." you blankly pressed.

"Who even said he was?" he gave you a guileless shrug of his shoulders. Jaskier clicked his tongue, pretty blue eyes fixated on you as it twinkled along the sunny day while you sat in the middle of their living room, "---Besides, he's hunting down a bruxa for the whole week. My dagger won't be useful for the darn beast,"

A Bruxa. You hummed to yourself in understanding; remembering that Geralt has told stories about the monster. It was a type of vampire that takes on the appearance of a dark-haired, young woman whose natural form is that of a large black bat, with sharp fangs and claws. Technically, their form of vampires weren't all glitz and glimmer that they glitter against the sunlight nor are they rich dudes that were bloody pale, attractive and screams like a banshee.

"You have a dagger?" you grilled the bard. He gave you a nod and a laid-back answer, "Well, Geralt has given me one; taught me how to use it too,"

Jaskier hasn't left your side from the moment you woke up. He had been keeping you company like an injured person. It kept you cynical because it even got to the point of following you where ever you may go; which made you skeptical about his whole tailing the midget while Geralt wasn't around.

But, you were thankful. It got you distracted by not noticing that heavy, rattling feeling inside your chest.

"Smile!" you aimed the camera of your cellphone at the appalled trouvère who had his eyeballs popping out of his eye sockets as he was struck dumb, arms crossed in front of him, shielding himself from your digital phone.

Stifling titters wanted to come out of your lips when you've received a scared bard by aiming your camera at him. Jaskier tried peeking to see your guffawing self treating him as a laughing stock. He cocked his head to the side in suspicion as he heard a loud 'click', dropping his arms to the side as he gave a frown because you were giggling back at him.

"What's that?" you've both sat on the dining table; close to each other. He'd scooted closer, trying to see what were you doing as you continued to tap on your phone that still had no time nor date listed. "A phone," you simply said; focused on the phone at hand as Jaskier's curiosity got the best of him, grasping nothing but the idea that your so called phone was out of this world and utterly magnificent when you've showed him the picture you've taken. The kaleidoscope of colors complimenting each picture which fascinated him.

"Is it a weapon?" he asked out of the blue, too absorbed by the phone on your hand as you've felt Jaskier lean in close, his hair touching yours as you were too concentrated with the thing you had in your hand.

Jaskier coincidentally raised his line of vision to look at your face. It was thoroughly unintentional especially when he'd seem to never break his eyes away from you; like he'd seen something worth to be stared at.

He didn't mean to outstare all of a sudden.

"I can throw it at your head, though my phone might be the one breaking rather than your head," you sent a harmless bon mot, being all smiles as you've sent a teasing jest.

Tranquil silence. Totally impossible for the bard to achieve with his chatty mouth. You've given him a look which was entirely a flicker of pure impeccability when you've lately realized that he was staring at you with a twinkle of his pretty ocean blue eyes.

The bard awkwardly cleared his throat, his face suddenly feeling warm when you've taken the time to look into his eyes. "Jaskier," he clicked his tongue and swallowed the ticklish feeling down his throat and avoided those eyes of yours while he'd pulled back from how the proximity was enough to remember Geralt who would tell him to 'fuck off.' for at least a thousand times, "Would you mind if I record your songs?"

He blinked back in curiosity. Record. Jaskier didn't know what it meant, "What? I cannot fathom whatever it is you're saying, rat---"

You've given him a wide grin, beaming before him with a twinkle of your eyes. "Just play your lute for me, will ya'?"

Thus, Jaskier did in a fraction of a second; like a demand from the queen. He did, surprisingly.

A distraction was best at the weird pain that spreads through your chest; along the valley of your breasts because of the realization that Geralt wasn't around. Your nightly weeps needed to have explanations because feeling the scorching pain that radiates off the symbol wasn't normal.

Including the thirst you had for the witcher himself; craving for his touches and existence. Alarming you that what you wanted from him wasn't just profound affection but also his virility as well and even a part of his soul.

The princess of Cintra was bored to tears. She'd pleaded and gave you the puppy eyes; thoroughly begging to wander through the woods and catching fireflies. Hearing something familiar that actually existed just like the same ones in earth amazed you because it was something that you've never get to see ever because of pollution and its habitat being endangered with the year you were in.

Apparently, you've followed her orders. Cirilla didn't want Jaskier to come because it's a bonding that only you and Cirilla should experience. Despite of how pushy he was, worried that Geralt would get mad at him for even letting you wander in the woods all by yourselves. He eventually agreed with a sigh and a bothered expression; telling you both that when the frog croaks in chorus, it was time to go home.

You've wondered, imagining how their frogs actually croak in chorus. Yet, having to experience it was rather much different than imagining as you've seen the whole scene unfold before you. A captivating sigh that had you cooing in the middle of the woods as there were balls of light that blinked within the thone ground like Christmas lights twinkling in the 25th of December.

It was beautiful.

Cirilla seemed to be rather used to it as she explained how it was already the croak of the night, her feet never leaving the ground as she was joyously catching a firefly that glowed with the frogs, swinging her jar till one was captured, "Is everything okay, Y/N? Oh! A firefly!" she excitedly mussed, giving you a glance and noticed that your expressions were twisted in a way that says you weren't comfortable.

You've given your symbol a caress; trying to relieve the utter worry and fury that was spreading through your chest with no reason. Why were you mad? At whom? on what? Also, the uncomfortable feeling came with knowing that Geralt already came home. He was finally home.

Howbeit, you didn't know why your intuitions tell you that he was finally home.

"Yes. It's just that...Geralt's home," you hesitatingly spoke, shaking your head to wash away the sensations as you honestly told the beaming Ashen child, "---and I feel worried even though I should be excited that he's already home,"

Cirilla was unaware of your worried face as she went on with the jests, "Told you he likes you---!" the princess teased, laughing when she'd caught a glimpse of your flustered face; remembering the awful kiss you've done back in the bath room when you were with Geralt, "---Midget."

"Not you too, Cirilla." your face was burning in a trail of blush. You've quietly shrieked as she'd gave a teasing poke on your side; making you jump, "I was just playing with you!"

All was done and everyone was left satisfied. For the princess, that was what she felt. Great elation by having what she wanted all the time. Except for you, who appeared to be in a discordance when you took your trek back home.

The witcher was back earlier than he expected to. Unexpectedly running into some of the royal guards of Kaedwen and creating a skirmish with the knights who disturbed his peace after killing the bruxa he'd been hunting.

They had reasons for their disturbance. Conniving reasons just for him to agree for the favors that he has been asked to do; or wishes from a royal command that Geralt never accedes.

Bargains of giving enough coins that would last him for half a year, the cost of token higher than the previous deal which included women, coins and ale.

He was done with that lifestyle. Well, before you came around; that is.

The witcher was as stubborn as how the townspeople have been saying. They've came to the point of calling him a monster for butchering their fellow men in which Geralt never gave a damn about it because they were destined to die anyway by what evil they've chose to have.

He didn't need people giving him another moniker. He wouldn't let it live down if he'll have one but with just another city he'd tried to save. Some of the children and women they've abducted were homeless, taken in force or had slave contracts; saying they were owned by noblemen paying for their life despite of how they didn't want to agree in the first place.

The Butcher of Kaedwen? Blaviken? What else did he needed to do and have all those infamous monikers created for him?

Until, the men mentioned and threatened to kidnap a small woman who Tybalt had stabbed on the hip that made Geralt jump on his horse because he'd also heard them draw their swords; ought to bring bloodshed when the witcher never complies.

Hence, which is why he was now in the base of their home. All exhausted, droopy, worried and furious because you and Cirilla weren't home when he'd arrived. His temper rising off the roof.

Jaskier has received a sharp cuss from him and an intense rebuke from the witcher who came fully in Bruxa blood and a little bit splashes of human blood which answered the bard's question that a Bruxa hasn't been the only thing he'd encountered on the way home.

You promised Jaskier that you'll be back as soon as possible. However, it took you both an hour after the frogs have croaked in the night and a scary witcher who wore his all black armor and had a peevish expression on his face which explains the heavy feeling dropped on your chest; doubling more when you'd seen the impetuosity radiating off the brawny man.

Geralt heavily marched to meet you midway along the meadow; with Jaskier motioning something behind the witcher with his hands like a cat clawing and slicing his throat with his thumb when you couldn't understand what he wanted to say.

"Geralt---" the princess started, reading his rigid posture and instantly knowing what his current thoughts were. But, she was cut-off by a seething, curt query start of his interrogation.

This wasn't what you expected from him. Your imagination was that you'll try and get a hug out from the witcher himself, thankful that he'd arrived safely and with complete limbs; not this. Not an angered, bloody Geralt who had his nose flaring.

You were rooted on the ground; your mouth closing once he'd started to act volatile after a week of not seeing him.

"Where have you wandered in the forest in this wild hour of the night, Ciri? Y/N?"

Ah. Y/N. Not midget, but Y/N. You were now Y/N to him. Well, that kind of hurt. You didn't know that hearing him say your name in such fiery stung your heart; such sudden frustration riling your patience. The concern and melancholic desire to see him changing into ire.

You've shut your mouth, a forced small tremble of your lips turning into a guileless smile. Tilting your chin and realizing he was pretty much taller and utterly intimidating when mad. Those amber eyes of his that swirl in unfamiliar ferocity for wandering around the woods.

The witcher couldn't help it. After meeting some of the royal guards, his protectiveness took over as he traveled all the way home in haste to check his family if they were safe.

Especially you as he'd heard one of the cavaliers threaten to abduct you soon.

The naive pretense you've wanted to use through his anger wavered when you've heard your voice faintly quiver, "She's--She's with me, she's safe, Geralt. We were just catching fireflies or whatever this is called in your world---"

Albeit, it seemed like the witcher had a closed mind and didn't want to hear your explanations as he cut you off with a seething truth; his amber eyes blazing as his jaw was clenched so tight, "You think you can protect her?"

You swallowed the hurt for the truth that was sent out in the open, catching you off-guard by the harsh statement that was bound to be told because you were saved twice; like a princess who needed rescuing all the darn time.

Thus, it added more stones to the weight dragging your heart to the ground.

"I--I--" a pathetic stutter has been uttered before the angered witcher seemed to have lost his temper and lashed out on you. He was chirlish and brusque as he does so; like how everyone pointed him out to be and this was the first time you've seen the witcher acting the way he is now, "You can't because you also need saving," pause. "---Your rash behavior can get the both of you dying!"

The latter shook his head in thwart, his gaze burning you in a way that made you want to turn into dust.

"It was fucking dangerous out there!"

The more he gnarled felt like he was blaming you on whatever caused his life to turn the way it is; even the desire for Cirilla to wander in the woods to catch fireflies was all on you to be brought on your shoulders. You huffed out a shaky breath, disbelieving the way he was throwing his surly attitude towards you made you puff your cheeks in utter vexation; wanting nothing but to scream back at the witcher.

Jaskier has managed to saunter towards where Cirilla is, her eyes completely panic-stricken by Geralt's rage; watching between the both of you and seeming to want to step in between but it seems like there were also other issues as well that made you both angry at each other. Matters that should be truly said and not be kept on the inside.

"Ciri, come with me." the bard hushed, catching the princess by the arm and dragging her away till he brought her to the door way, around a hundred meters away from the pair as the both of you tried to withstand each other's glares.

She struggled against his hold, "But, Jaskier! It was my fault! It's not Y/N's fault. Why is she being scolded when I should be the one who must be? Geralt shouldn't be mad at her! What if he---"

"He won't hurt her physically, Princess. He never does. When did he ever hurt us no matter how irking we are? You know Geralt more than anyone in this world,"

Kolby was howling inside their home, his instincts knowing that there was something happening which added more noise to the argument you had with the butcher of Blaviken; shaking the night with your kept frustrations against each other.

"---He just knows how to ruin everything with his teetering, strong feelings. He isn't the best at expressing it but you know the lout knows how to care," he went on, trying to dispel her fears for the both of you, thinking that you would eventually hurt each other with heart-breaking words, "---He'll deal with it. Come on now,"

Jaskier ushered the princess to come inside. She was hesitant at first, giving you both glances before he pulled her in; giving you both the space that is needed. The bard knew that Geralt won't start talking in a sensible manner when they're around. He wouldn't try and open his heart with people hearing what he wanted to truly say.

Your eyes started to cloud, the sensitivity of yourself beginning to take over. One fact about you was that you didn't like people yelling like you were an idiot; as well as people who were mad at you for something you've done which adds more regret to the grief, "I know I'm useless. You didn't need to yell it out loud." you deadpanned, biting the insides of your lips; trying hard not to start sobbing because you've already felt the familiar tremble.

"---You know I would spare my life just for hers because she's a princess, Geralt." your voice got the best of you, quaking in a way that got the witcher knowing that you were in the midst of crying; but somehow reluctant to break down because of his doing, "---Is this how badly you want to kick me out of your house?"

You've blinked and try to ignore the warmth pooling around your eyes, never giving him the opportunity to see right through you before you've snapped your eyes back up to the witcher who had a grimace as he stared you down. The twinkle of your eyes that was an epitome of stars in the night was now loosing its gleam and it was because of him. He'd done something wrong again; like how he was used to. Mistakes that seem to go along with his name.

Geralt had his nose scrunched; having another set of his internal battles within himself as he watched you pour out your anger at him like he'd done to you. Sharing each other's frustration since the days prior that you weren't there for each other.

Your weeping at night. He'd knew. The witcher felt what you were feeling every damn night even though he wasn't with you and he didn't know why.

"I've had Ciri close to me! You know I wouldn't let her get hurt by anyone especially from the people of Nilfgaard!" Your raving was ceaseless; impulsively bringing out pasts you heard from Cirilla and Jaskier as they've tried to tell you important things that should be avoided or was evident of danger. They were the only ones who were openly alarming you about them and never the witcher.

"How did you know about that?" Geralt's scowl grew tighter, his question sounding like a vibrating snarl that warned you he was utterly vexed.

"Because your surprise child and Jaskier had the respect to tell me what's happening in this world you're in!"

You've felt yourself choking from the hysteria raging in your veins, angrily snapping at the witcher who also appeared to be in total dismay as his scowl turned into a frown; his gaze solely on you alone, never leaving your sight. Fists were tightened on either side of you, wanting to throw things out of madness for how rude he was when you remembered how he'd wanted to kiss you back at that certain day.

He was confusing you by how he was acting tonight which also left you enraged for his complicated hot and cold demeanor.

"I don't even know where I am! What this dimension is called! Nor do I know people! Who's bad or who's good! I don't know your map or any of your kingdom!"

"You don't need to know any of that!" because the more you knew about the continent, the more it can bring darkness to you. He'd thought that keeping some things within the family was better because he didn't want you to get involved by whatever problems they may bring.

The witcher wanted you to himself. He wants to protect you from any cruelty that the continent may offer because you were his little secret.

You were his midget. His.

You've roughly bit your lips, fighting the urge for the first tear to fall; howbeit, it was a traitor as you rolled your eyes and avoided his amber peepers searching through the emotions that you oh-so wanted to convey. But, all that was evident was disappointment, anger, sadness and grief because of expecting something that wasn't supposed to be expected from a monster-slayer.

Perhaps, hoping to see through what his good heart could offer was too delusional for you.

"---Don't worry, witcher. The princess comes first before I do. I know that and it should be as well. Thanks for making me come to my senses that I'm useless and a burden for you! I'll leave tomorrow morning so your baggage of having someone needed protecting would lessen on your shoulders," you kept a straight face, blankly looking away as inscrutable as possible; not giving him the benefit of seeing you mourning for the stab of your heart.

Mayhaps, wishing for the fondness to be reciprocated by a witcher was too much of a dream for you. Definitely too high to achieve nor hoped for.

Geralt deeply growled, his forehead creased like he was hurting. You've never seen the pain that spread through his face, letting the emotion he's been keeping to himself burst like he was showing vulnerability.

He didn't like it when you've deadpanned and called him a witcher. It sounded too cold and distant, like he was made to only be seen as a witcher to you, a stranger, a mutated human who slaughters beasts and nothing else.

"Don't call me that!" he snarled, invading the space you've had and your forehead was now in line with his massive chest. You peered up at him with the same ire pooling through your peepers, your gaze hostile as you spoke with thick sarcasm.

"Aren't you a witcher? What do you want me to call you, then? Your job description changed now?"

Geralt roughly breathed out of his nose, his broad shoulders going up and down as he was controlling those emotions that he had which always seemed to be stronger and uncontrollable. He narrowed his blazing amber eyes, genuinely staring into you as he kept his hands to himself; on either side of him. Wanting nothing but to grab onto your face and make you believe that he was earnest about not wanting to be called that when it came to you.

"Don't...Don't make it sound like I'm just a trifling matter to you,"

You scoffed out of the blue for his wishes that he suddenly seem to want, "But, aren't I also just a trifling matter to you, witcher? Or do you want to be called in full name? Geralt of Rivia? Is that your full name? Oh! Maybe, the butcher of Blaviken, then?"

The sound of you calling him witcher felt so distant because he knew that, for you; he was Geralt and not a witcher who people see him as a mutant who kills beasts. To you, he was more than human and less than a witcher. In your mind, he was Geralt. Only Geralt and nothing else because he was a man whom you see that had a good heart and hearing you call him with his monikers was shattering his stronghold.

"No!" he suddenly groaned out of the blue. You gave him the death stare, stepping a foot away from the man himself as his presence was too bewitching in the rage of fire that you both cast upon each other tonight, "What do you mean no?!"

"No," the witcher hoarsely repeated, snapping his head to the side as he gravelly spat out profanities out of those mouth that you've been dying to kiss.

"---Fuck! Don't."

You shook your head in utter disappointment. Your face in a baffling twist, "Are you a broken record or something? no? don't, what?"

He had his share of breaths; seeming to be straightening his thoughts before lowly muttering out his next words, his jaw still clenched as he turned his head to see those eyes waving the white flag like he was submitting and wanted all the anger to just vanish.

"Don't spare your life for anyone, midget." it was straight to the point, giving you what he wanted you to hear.

Yet, because of his unstable attitude; you've chose to weigh down the options as to what his words meant. Choosing the platonic sense of a thought before you even smash your heart into pieces by praying that he meant something more.

"But, she's a princess---"

"---Because you are also important,"

You could see the anger dissipating from his glowing eyes; shifting into such ire that also had a hint of dithering and abrupt acquiescence. Your heart skipped a beat when his words echoed inside your heated head.

'Because you are also important,' Howbeit, your assertion for the truth had you turning his words into the chaste part of options.

"Cirilla is more important than me, Geralt. She's your child of surprise. You know I would risk my life for her. No one would really care for my death anyway. I'm probably already dead for my family back in earth," you scorned, huffing out a breath that hitched when he started giving you the doubts again.

The witcher appeared to be more frustrated as time goes by, your denial making it all too difficult for him to explain, "I.....care!" he prolonged the simplicity in his words, his teeth showing as he gritted and deeply snarled, "I do care, midget. I care about you!"

"Ah." you impassively muttered, eyes vacant as there was a void hidden behind those peepers of yours, "---you mean that because I'm your responsibility. Noted." and a simple shrug of your shoulders was enough to draw a stressed-out growl from the man who kept your heart on the line, always.

"Fuck--no! Not that!"

A simple shake of your head and a chance to leave his presence was all it could take for Geralt to grab onto your wrists, surprising you to say the least. His hold on you was tight, never letting go as you tried and uselessly battled with his strength.

You skeptically sent him a sharp look as he appeared to be groaning out deep within those sturdy chest of his that was still clothed in armor, "Let go, Geralt. I swear to God, if you don't let go and use magic or your Harry Potter slash witcher styled---Wingardium Levi-O-sa on me---!"

"You know I will never do that!" he fumed, his expressions telling you that he was offended by even thinking he would hurt you in any way, disregarding your modern references that he simply couldn't understand. Therefore, Geralt carried on with his kept feelings and raved.

"You...You are important to me! I care because you're you..."

You've exhaled a huff of frustration, never believing his words that was always been said whenever he was caught up in a moment.

"You're speaking in riddles that I couldn't comprehend, my lord." a mock of his accent made you done for. The deathless struggle you've tried to escape in his hold; both hands prying him away but he was utterly stronger than you imagined him to be.

You were utmost naive that it was making him want to just kiss you hard for you to understand his feelings.

The witcher breathed fire. Features thoroughly livid for your naivity and denial, "You're too fucking blind and too naive!" he barked, completely infuriated for your nonsense.

You loudly whined as you tried wrenching his hand away. It was better to escape his presence because you could sense that the more you stayed, the more you would forgive this man in a heartbeat with his words that seem to confuse you.

It took one more struggle and a stumble of your own foot for how forcibly you were trying to get away his hold that Geralt swiftly hung that arm he holds; slipping it around his broad shoulders, catching you completely off-guard as he leaned down entirely to your height; your eyes bulging out of your eye sockets for his surprising gesture.

"Witcher---!!!"

However, those flamed words were forgotten as you've felt those pillowy, succulent lips of his fall onto yours in a feathery touch that got your insides growing wild.

Your eyes were all open, soul flying out of its chambers when you've felt his warm lips falling in between yours. A fluttering connection of both bodies that got your body turning rigid before he'd tried to snap you out of your shock and softly kissed tips of your lower lip, his fingers gently grabbing onto the side of your face; thumb falling into the tip of your chin to chide you into kissing him back.

He hoped he wasn't just imagining things; thoroughly thinking that what he felt about you can somehow also be reciprocated and that it wasn't just him.

You've eventually given a satisfied sigh and fluttered your eyes closed, entirely giving into what your heart desires; molding your vermillion to his with a soft pucker of your lips and your other hand falling onto the side of his chiseled face that got a low grumble of his chest out of him from the tender touch of your fingers he'd anticipated to feel.

You were finally kissing Geralt and your heart seemed to be flying out of its cage.

The kiss was how you imagined it to be. Soft and candied like a precised choreography dance that was satisfying for both of your beings; yet aching for more. Your breath hitched when you've felt the tip of his luscious tongue caress your lips in a way that got the warmth pooling in your stomach turn wild.

You've snapped your eyes open and broke the kiss before it escalated further; hardly pulling away with a faint smooch that got you wanting another.

It was definitely difficult to believe. Before the witcher could even flutter his eyes open, you've timidly puckered; your face boiling in such a high temperature as you reach for his lips, planting another chaste kiss that got Geralt in a small beam that you were blinded with; finding your actions adorable as if you were timid of kissing him.

So, it was real. You've kissed him again and he let you. The feelings were actually true.

He was met with those ingenuous flicker inside your eyes as you stared back at him, a sheepish smile and a coy twinkle of your eyes got him sighing; breathing in your delectable scent and never believing you actually felt the same way, "I am...done leaving people," Geralt breathed through his nose, whispering sweet and soft nothings that got your heart twerking inside your chest.

The latter tenderly leaned his forehead against yours; eyelids shut closed as he deeply murmured. The anger simmering out of the way once he'd gotten to kiss those lips that he wanted to have a taste since the day he'd felt something for you, "---Nor am I done being left by people who are important to me,"

You felt his gentle fingers graze your chin, the dimples of his nose tickling yours; urging for just another harmless kiss that tells you it all isn't a dream you've forged to create.

"Forgive me," he gravelly whispered, hearing your thoughts as to how you wanted to be kissed; though, it was just Geralt and his self that couldn't get enough of you.

The witcher planted another uncluttered kiss to the tips of your vermillion, catching your breath away as you blinked repeatedly to get a hold of yourself when he'd pulled away with a mischievous grin, "I...didn't mean to yell,"

You've bit your lips; trying to fight yourself from squealing hard at what just happened, feeling your toes tickling your bashful heart. You took a glimpse of those amber eyes that held a roguish gaze to it, "You're...You're mean!" was all you managed to say, eyes downcast and your nose scrunched from being utterly cringe; feeling his soft lips still lingering.

Oh dear, you weren't going to sleep without squealing for the next couple of hours.

"I know," his dashing face was filled of remorse. You've given him a blink of surprise, astounded by his sheer admission towards being a big meanie for yelling at you.

A soft narrow of your eyes was the only thing he'd receive and he did the same way, his amber eyes bright and free from pique as he cocked his head to the side, a dubious impression from how you were still giving him that hostile but shy gaze of yours.

"You're still mad," the ivory-haired witcher straightened his back as he stated as a matter of fact with that rough baritone timbre of his voice. You ungracefully cleared your throat for the second time; his gaze heavy on you and it was making your heart turn wild.

"And the night is dark, Geralt." was enough for Geralt of Rivia to trail behind you like a guilty puppy as you hurriedly jogged back to their house; your nose scrunched to the extent as you delicately held onto your lips in which the witcher has kissed; your face burning from the blush that wanted you squealing out loud.

"---Utterly mad." he scoffed to himself as he groaned in regret, rolling his eyes from how you were brushing him aside.

Geralt tailed behind with a frown on his face, "Forgive me, midget." he repeated in a stern but clearer tone, utterly bothered by how you were disregarding him after all he confessed.

The door to their house were sprightly shut closed when Jaskier and Cirilla left the hatch ajar. It was Jaskier's idea to eavesdrop over the both of you and much to say, he'd already awaited for this moment to happen because of the tension that seemed palpable by everyone who surrounded you both.

"That's character development right out there, Cirilla." the bard peeked out of the small opening, watching how Geralt has leaned down to give you the kiss that was bound to happen.

Cirilla moved away from the doorway, an incredulous haze of her eyes as she had her hands on her hips, "I thought Geralt didn't know romance, Bard?"

Jaskier didn't back down from her sassy gestures and also did the same as he began to reason out, standing away from the door way when he'd heard Geralt asking you for forgiveness. The princess of Cintra has a smug look on her face, teasing the bard, "Some people improve when it's been a long time since his heartbreak---Stop judging me like that!"

He'd seen you walk back to the house, a fathomless cringe carving your features which looked like you were constipated as the witcher jogged up from behind, calling you out in the middle of the night. Jaskier was quick to shut the door closed for the second time, hauling an arm around Cirilla as he pulled her wrists till she was crouching with the bard and Kolby, acting like they were playing Knucklebones and not snooping over you and Geralt, "---Also, act like you didn't see them kiss!"

Y’ALL ARE PROLLY WAITING FOR CHAPTER 14 AND 15 NOW. 😂😂 (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, bb. Please do check your settings. 🥰 Thank you!)

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547 @angelofthorr @carrieannewaywardson

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averagesmw · 4 years ago

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Penny Haywood x MC- A risk far too great

Game: Harry Potter Hogwarts Mystery

_____________________________

My stay at Hogwarts so far has been... interesting, to say the least

Unwillingly, I became responsible for breaking the horrible curses that came as a result of the Cursed Vaults. All in pursue of my missing brother, Jacob.

Not that I didn't want to save everyone or find my brother, but I didn't know it would be this difficult

However, when we entered the third vault and broke the sleepwalking curse, I thought I was getting the hang of it

...And then came the fourth curse

Not only was it difficult to understand, but this one got quite personal

See, this curse kidnapped students and trapped them inside the various portraits that decorate the school's walls. One of the victims happened to be the first-year Hufflepuff, Beatrice Haywood.

As in, Penny's adorable little sister

That is no way to be introduced to Hogwarts, I should know

But what weighed on me the most was Penny's reaction to this, she was devastated and obviously not the little ray of sunshine I knew and loved

Our adventures together were by far my favorite thing about all these years. We've grown to know each other so well, she even picked me to go with her to a dance

She provided all the happiness that I needed, but now, she was the one that needed happiness

Regardless, it served as a strong motivator to break the curse as soon as possible, which led me to this very moment...

Joined by Merula, Bill, and the new faculty member, Professor Rakepick, I was discussing the next step in our plan to enter the fourth vault. We were in the Courtyard as to not raise any suspicions

However, our plans would soon collide with my personal goals, and not for the better

...

"Now, who shall we take into the Cursed Vault with us?"

Rakepick asked us, making my mind start racing with possibilities

"Well, there are pros and cons to anyone we pick..."

We looked around at the people present in the courtyard. From Badeea to Tonks and even Barnaby, we discussed who could bring more to this table

Eventually, the sight of beautiful, blonde hair caught my attention. There she was, Penny Haywood herself trying her best to go on with her day

Always so resourceful and determined to help others, even now that she was the one that needed the help. Oh, Penny...

It was true that she could help but I...I just couldn't sentence to go into such a place, what if we lose? Or worse...

No, there was no chance I would risk bringing her along this time. I had to find someone else that could assist us

In my mind, I was already narrowing down the best candidates, although I didn't want to put any of them in danger, especially--

"What about Haywood? We could use her potion knowledge"

Merula's voice broke my concentration, I immediately turned to her upon hearing that

"Merula is right, Penny could help us brew a potion if we need it at the vault if we need it"

Bill added. The sole mention of her name in this conversation was enough to send shivers down my spine

I could even feel my breathing getting a bit erratic at this. But before anything else could happen, I threw a quick counter-offer

"B-But what about Charlie? He knows about dragons far more than any of us. W-We could use his knowledge more!"

Merula looked at me strangely. I subtly shook my head to her, telling her to back off on that idea with my eyes filled with worry

She seemed to pick up on this and gave me a subtle nod, putting her hand on her chin

For the last months, Merula and I had grown closer together as well. She might not admit it until earlier today, but we were good friends

In fact, she was likely the only person (besides Rowan) that knew about my umm... My opinion on Penny, hence why she understood my signals so quickly

"Now that you mention, he could help us defeat the dragon first. After he squeals at the sight of it"

For a split second, I felt relieved to have her on my side...then Rakepick talked

"While that is true, I agree that Miss Haywood could help us the most in this case"

She was quick to shoot down the idea, but why? Why send Penny into something so dangerous without even giving her time to prepare!

There was NO way I'd send Penny off like that, not her, especially after everything we've been through

"I don't think that's a good idea, professor. Penny has been quite unstable since the beginning of the year, she won't concentrate"

I responded with the first thing that came to my mind, just desperately trying to change their mind

"Or she could be perfectly motivated to give her best to save her sister"

"Hasn't Penny helped you with the other vaults before, Y/N? She has more experience in dealing with them"

Bill was not helping. Of course Penny tagged along a few times, but mostly when we knew that it wasn't incredibly dangerous like now

It's a dragon we're talking about! Not a Boggart or an Ice Knight

"Bill, we're not bringing her with us"

My friend noticed the sudden change in my tone and looked at me with a confused look

"Why not? Is something wrong with that?"

What!? Of course there was, Bill! You'd have to be blind not to notice!

My worry found a shield in the form of anger, but it was quickly released as I yelled out of pure emotion

"WE'RE NOT SENDING PENNY OUT THERE, THAT'S IT!!"

All three of my allies were taken back by this, even Rakepick. Taking a quick look at the rest of the students that were also there I noticed that they had all shut up and were now staring at me...even her

I couldn't deal with all of those eyes, not at the same time. What was I even supposed to say after such a display?

"I...I have to go. I'll be back for tonight, I promise"

Following what both my heart and mind were screaming me to do, I ran away back to the castle without looking at anyone

The place was awfully silent for a couple of seconds, but the chatter resumed shortly after, only a bit less intense this time

"Was it something I said? I've never seen Y/N have an outburst like that..."

Bill felt guilty, but he didn't even know why. Of course, it was always awful when you made someone react like that without knowing the reason

"Miss Snyde, you said before this conversation that Y/N is your friend, right?"

The teacher caught the attention of Merula, who was still looking at the door

"Yes?..."

"Do you mind explaining what was that all about, then?"

Merula was silent for a moment. She wouldn't tell the exact reason, but she was clever enough to coat it while technically not lying

"Well...I reckon to have one cursed Haywood was too much for L/N, maybe they don't want to get the other one killed. It would stain their pride"

"Y/N has been lacking sleep since this all began, too. They don't want anyone else involved in this" The Weasley added

"You may be right...Do you think you can talk some sense into them?"

Merula then spotted a certain blonde running into the castle, going in the same direction. Under a mask of carelessness, a genuine smile grew

"That won't be necessary, professor"

...

My instinct brought me to the Artifact Room, where I immediately closed the door upon entering and just got to my knees when my body was unable to continue

My hands rested on them as tears started to form on their own, despite my best attempts to stop them

Why was it so hard to understand that Penny was off the table?

Why was it so hard to understand that she was the last one I wanted to get involved?

Just...why?...

I felt my breathing adopt a slightly faster pace, but only for a couple of seconds. I was too busy fighting with my thoughts and just trying to make any sense of it to realize that someone had opened the door

By the time I knew it, someone was handing me down a potion

"Here, drink this"

That voice...

Not wanting her to see me like this, I looked over my shoulder to confirm it. Those beautiful blue eyes, the braided hair, the worry in her face...

I took the potion but didn't open it

"Penny? What's this?"

"It's a calming draught, I always have a spare one just in case"

"That's very considerate of you, b-but really, I'm fine"

Then she placed a hand on my shoulder, giving me a sympathetic look

"I heard you scream my name in the courtyard, Y/N. You can trust me"

Of course lying wasn't going to work, I made a mess back there

Reluctantly, I removed the cork and drank the calming draught. Just by feeling it go down my throat, I could feel my thoughts become clearer and my breathing was slowing down on its own

"Thank you..."

I said handing her the potion, but then Penny sat down in front of me, trying to get a better look at me

"Do you want to talk? You know you can trust me, Y/N"

I sighed before nodding slightly. Taking a quick glance at her before immediately trying to look away

Might as well tell her now. This was about her after all

"W-Well...Professor Rakepick says she found a way into the Cursed Vault, it's a portkey that will activate tonight"

Her gasp made me look at her, she was visibly surprised by this

"Tonight? But those are wonderful news!"

"They are. Rakepick says we should take someone else with us, but then everyone started leaning towards you and--"

"I'm in"

Upon hearing this, I felt my heart take the hit, quickly reminding me of what I was fearing just a second ago

Despite being under the influence of that potion, distress was beyond visible

"What? No"

Penny gave me a puzzled look. Never before had I prohibited her to come with me on an adventure

What was particularly concerning was how quick I was to brush her off

"Why not?"

"Penny, it's far too dangerous! Even a bloody dragon will be there"

She picked up on my increasing anguish, but her own emotions were just as strong at the moment

"And yet you're still going, Y/N! That's no justification"

"Yes, because we've been chosen and trained specifically to deal with this! There's no telling what could happen if you go!"

"I want to go, I need to see it for myself when the curse is broken. Plus you could use my help!"

I shook my head in denial. I knew she of all people had a reason to go, but the risk was far too big for a reward that was still uncertain

"There are plenty of ways you can help us from here"

The Hufflepuff was growing frustrated by my attempts at persuading her out of this mission, maybe to the point of getting personal

"Why don't you want me to go? I need to save my sister!"

It hurt to see her so angry at me, but as I felt the effect of the draught vanishing, I too adopted a similar gaze

I felt the hairs on my arms raising once again and the heartbeat increasing, even my face was heating up

"You're too valuable to lose!"

"Oh? And why am I the one who's too valuable? Why isn't it Bill? Or Merula? Or--"

Blood rushing

Tears escaping

Voice raising and suddenly

"BUT I DON'T LOVE THEM LIKE I LOVE YOU, OKAY!?"

Silence

Pure and suffocating silence

It quickly took over the room as soon as my voice stopped echoing through

I myself couldn't help but cover my mouth in shock by what just happened. Not just because I raised my voice against Penny, but because of what I said

Did I really just?...

Oh no

Beyond shocked, I looked at her. She was speechless with her eyes staring at me in disbelief

"You do?..."

"I have to get out of--"

Once again, I tried to run from it, but it didn't work. My arm was stopped by her hand and her startled voice

"N-No, it's okay! Really"

I turned around to see her yet again, not able to even think of a word for her. For sure she would turn me down, or worse

But her smile, that gentle, warm smile was there. The same one she showed me whenever we were goofing around or brewing something together

It was there

And so was that soft gaze she had whenever I had done something stupid and she was trying to help me like...well... right now

But this time, it hit different

"I want to hear it from you, Y/N. Please" Her sweet voice practically begging for me to stay. I didn't find myself to be strong enough to deny her request

And so, against everything my mind told me, I stayed behind, with Penny

She asked me to carry on with what I said before trying to escape. Sighing, I complied

I figured that it could help her understand why I didn't want her to go, but also...I think I owed her an explanation for well, everything

I gathered my strength until finally, words started to come out

"The truth is that I...I fancy you, Penny. I've done it for quite a while now and not only am I doing this to dave Bea and the others who fell victim to this curse"

My eyes, while looking down at first, were now focused on her. I didn't care if she saw how bad I looked at the moment, I was talking straight out of my heart, throwing myself in the void and hoping for the best

"...I do it because I can't stand to see you so depressed, it breaks my heart"

"Y/N..." The sole mention of my name by her was almost enough for me to back off, almost

But she needed to know

"If I can't see you like this, imagine how I felt when everyone started leaning towards you to follow us into the vault. I can't bear the thought of something bad happening to you"

Before I knew it, Penny wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug as she hid her forehead in my shoulders. At first, I couldn't believe it, I just stood there with her warmth and allowed that familiar feeling of security and care wash over me

A heavy, broken breath left my body, felt like a weight had been pulled off

At least until I heard her voice again, still buried in my shoulder

"...If I go to the Cursed Vault, would you be by my side?"

That question caught me off-guard, making me end the embrace to look at her. Although I think I heard her protest this

"Of course I would. I wouldn't leave you to yourself" I answered almost automatically

"Then I have nothing to fear"

The way she smiled after saying that, was disconcerting

"Penny..."

"I'm going to trust you with a secret of mine, one that I've never told anyone before"

She motioned me to come closer, which I did. It took her a bit to talk, seems as if this was a heavy subject for her as well

"It's bad enough to have my sister trapped in a portrait like that, it's horrible"

Penny was the one to sigh after that, her fists clenching as well before those blue orbs of her stared me down

"...But it's even worse to see the one I love risk their life for all of us every single year. I can only pray that you come back in one piece and so far you have"

The one she...what?...

Now I was speechless. Her cheeks turned a shade of pink when she noticed my reaction, but it didn't take long for a small smile to return to her

"This time, I want to help you the way you've helped us. It doesn't matter if it's an Ice knight, an Acromantula, or a bunch of Bogarts..."

Then, I felt something reaching out for my hand, it was hers

This gesture provoked our eyes to meet one last time

"As long as we are together. There is no such thing as an impossible challenge"

The determination in her, so familiar. Now I understood what Dumbledoremust've felt when I ignored his pleas for me to stop chasing the vaults

"And when we return from this, we'll talk. I promise"

What came after was still something that I'm struggling to process

Penny pulled me towards her a little and then closed the distance herself, leaning in towards me. I felt a pair of soft, tender lips kissing my cheek

"Thank you for opening up to me. I mean it"

There was no butterbeer or oversized sandwiches that could persuade the blonde to leave this mission, I understood that now. She would get to experience the end of this curse herself

And as we stood along with Bill, Merula, Rakepick, and even Ben, I made my new mission to protect her from whatever lurked inside that vault

But as we approached the portkey and her hand wouldn't leave mine, I understood that even in the face of incredible danger...

...She too, would have my back

#mc hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery jacob's sibling #penny haywood x mc #penny haywood x jacob's sibling #Year five

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hela-avenger · 5 years ago

Text

poison & wine- part 13

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1191

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: A big reveal at the end! Thanks for reading everyone! Send me a message if you’ll like to be tagged!

You take a deep breath as you approach the large golden doors that belonged to Queen Frigga’s bedroom. You didn’t know why you were nervous. The queen had been nothing but nice to you which might actually be the source of your anxiety. As Loki was summoned by the king to be grilled of your new courtship, you had been summoned by the queen and you didn’t know how you were meant to lie to the kindest person you’ve met so far in Asgard.

You raise your hand to knock but the doors are suddenly being opened causing you to instinctively take a step back.

“Come in, come in,” you hear the queen call out from somewhere inside the room. “Don’t be shy.”

With hesitation, you step inside and are once again startled as the doors shut behind you on their own.

“Quite a simple spell,” Frigga explains as she finally appears from wherever she was hiding. She had a tray of tea which she set on the nearby coffee table. “Useful when trying to avoid certain guests.”

“So it knows who to let in and not?” you ask in amazement. Frigga nods which only brings more questions. “How?”

“Seidr,” Frigga answers as she motions for you to sit on the nearby couch. “In your terms, perhaps magic would be the better use. Nonetheless, seidr is a gift that not many Asgardians are born with. This magical energy is innate and can take on many shapes and forms but its essence derives from its owner. Hence, the spell on my doors acts on what I desire.”

“Very interesting,” you smile as you glance at the doors once more. “Wish I could do that…”

“I could teach you if you like,” Frigga offers.

“Oh, I don’t have the ability so I…”

“Yes, you do,” Frigga interrupts you kindly. “It's how I first realized that there was more to you that meets the eye. When I held your hand, I felt my seidr react to yours.”

You tense at the slight mention of your lineage. It wasn’t easy to let your guard down when it came to that particular secret. You force yourself to relax knowing the queen meant no harm.

“But I haven’t… I’ve never done anything magically.”

“Well like I said, it manifests differently,” Frigga states. “Or perhaps because you’re quite young. You can’t be but a few centuries old, right?”

You nod and Frigga hums in response.

“Well, you should be coming into them, then. Especially with you being here in Asgard. Seidr can become stronger at the source of its origin,” Frigga briefly explains. “With my help, I can teach you how to harness it.”

“If that’s the case, then yes,” you answer eagerly. “I’ll be very grateful for whatever you can teach me.”

“Good, we’ll start with protection charms first,” Frigga states. “And then we’ll move to attack spells, but perhaps Loki can teach you those. I’m not as well adept when it comes to offensive magic as he is. Speaking of my son...”

You can’t help but tense at the incoming subject and Frigga notices as she offers you a soft smile.

“...I’ve heard he’s dragged you into one of his schemes.”

“He told you?” you ask in surprise.

“He mentioned he had a plan last night and I should have known he was speaking true when he said it would cause quite a stir,” Frigga chuckles out. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I would have put an end to it before it even began had I known what he intended to do.”

“It’s alright,” you shrug. “We made a deal and as long as he honors it then I have no complaints.”

“A deal, you say?”

“I mean, in return of my participation in this fake courtship, Loki is going to keep my secret and protect me if the need arises,” you explain. “He said that it wasn’t safe if word got out but he never really explained as to why.”

“Sounds like Loki to leave things out in order for him to get his way,” Frigga sighs out. “But you do need to be protected and though his plan is albeit quite strange it does get the job done. Though selfish as it may be…”

You try to make sense as to what she’s mumbling to herself but she snaps herself out of her train of thought.

“Well, you deserve an explanation so allow me to give it to you, dear. You are not the first demigod Asgard has seen. In fact, there was an era quite some time ago when we had a quite good number of them.”

“And they lived here? In Asgard?”

“They did and in great harmony,” Frigga answers. “Though, they didn’t live quite long. I mean, not as long as an Asgardian would but certainly longer than a human. It caused quite some trouble. Specifically for the Goddess Idunn.”

“I’ve read about her,” you mention. “She’s the Goddess of Spring. She… She protects the apples of immortality.”

“Yes, she did and still does,” Frigga explains. “Parents would demand for Idunn to give them an apple of immortality so their child could live alongside them. She refused. The apples are a delicacy and because the demand was too great and too high, she went into hiding. Her apples long gone. No one wished to have children with the mortals. The loss was too much.”

“A parent is never meant to outlive their child,” you whisper.

“Exactly,” Frigga states, shaking herself from the solemn mood that had settled between them. “But that’s not the reason your life may be in danger.”

“Then what is?”

“It all has to do with the claims of inheritance,” Frigga explains. “Out of wedlock or not, you have every lawful right to state a claim of your family’s fortune.”

“But I didn’t come here with that intention,” you argue. “I could care less about it.”

“I know, dear,” she answers. “But things can become quite violent especially in your case as not many have a high regard of Midgard. I wish this wasn’t the case, but I’m afraid it is.”

You try not to let this information get to you but it's inevitable. All you wanted was to find your father but you didn’t realize you signed yourself up for a potential bloodbath.

“I wouldn’t let it worry you too much,” Frigga assures you. “It all depends on who your family is and the ties they may have to the royal court.”

You can’t help but swallow nervously at the direction the conversation was turning to. You haven’t had a need to lie to the Queen but at this moment you craved to do so. But the truth had to come out eventually and why not with someone who’s been honest and kind with you from the start?

“Then this may complicate things a little further,” you sigh out hesitantly. “Because I have no idea who my father could be.”

Frigga is rightfully surprised and you don’t blame her. You await for her response but someone beats her to it.

“You don’t know who your father is?!”

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @sigyn-njorddottir @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74

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wherevermyway · 4 years ago

Text

we’re professional. (2/??) // minbin // 18+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

we’re professional. chapter two: concealed series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

pairing: lee minho x seo changbin rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, eventual sexual content, age difference, art student changbin, artist minho, fake dating AU. chapter warnings: heavy angst, implied masturbation, alcohol word count: 10,141 also on AO3

originally posted: 21 december 2020

series summary: Lee Minho, or Minho: The Heartless, is a famous artist, which comes with an annoying entourage of paparazzi that are very invested in his life.

Two years ago, a piece at UBC's annual student's exhibit catches Minho's eye: "arranged: in black", a series of greyscale paintings crafted by sophomore Seo Changbin. Minho talks with Changbin at length for hours, then offers to help him financially if they pretend to date for a while, so Minho can please the press. Naturally, a walking exhibit of the "starving artist" stereotype, Changbin accepts the offer wholeheartedly.

There are no strings attached: Changbin can leave at any time. Hell, Minho doesn't even ask him for sex in exchange for the money, just companionship and occasional skinship. Changbin knows that Minho is emotionally damaged from several bad relationships in the past, so to have someone pay him just for providing them company is nice. Sure, he could go off and date someone and work on settling down, but he just doesn't want to. Minho is too interesting, too valuable.

Eventually, something's gotta give. When it does, it could potentially damage their relationship and careers forever.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

chapter summary: Two nights: one containing a lie, the other containing a truth. Both end up changing Changbin's life, but is it for the better?

There were two nights that changed Seo Changbin’s life forever, both involving his best friend, Seungmin. The first night that changed his life was the night of his sophomore showcase.

It was the night where Seungmin lied.

“‘arranged: in black’ is a stupid name for this set, isn’t it?” Changbin stood in front of the bright white wall, his posture slightly askew. He stared at four small square canvases with a silhouette painted in varying shades of black and white oils, trying to convey the varying degrees of grey he felt his life was consumed in. The canvases tilted to the left, he tilted to the right.

Something didn’t fit: was it the art, or the artist?

A young, neon pink-haired man behind him loudly snapped his gum right in Changbin’s ear and hummed loudly as he stared at the paintings. “Sounds pretentious.”

“Oh,” Changbin raised his eyebrows and gave the man a cocky look. “Yeah, and a self portrait painted in watered down red wine with the name ‘Dead Energy’ isn’t pretentious? Come on, Seungmin.”

Seungmin shrugged, turning back around to adjust the aforementioned painting on the wall behind him. “You asked for my opinion, dude.”

Changbin took a step towards his paintings, making the most minute adjustments to how they were situated against the wall. “No, I asked you if it was a stupid name. Not for you to give me your terrible opinion.”

“Okay,” Seungmin drawled out, as if he were about to prove a point, “then, fine, it’s a horrible name and I think you should change it.” To anyone that didn’t know the dynamic between Seungmin and Changbin, the banter may have come off harsh, but this was what worked best for them.

“Well,” Changbin rolled his eyes at his friend as he laughed. “I think your opinion sucks and I’m in too deep to go and fix my placards.”

In all honesty, Changbin had been looking for an excuse to change the name of his set. Seungmin’s reassurance, while masqueraded as an insult, helped give him the small amount of encouragement he needed to believe in the project, name and all.

Later that night, Changbin was aimlessly chatting with Seungmin when two well-dressed men walked past them. One was a blond that dressed in a simple black suit set, similar to the art professors: stylistically flat, but professional. Deliberately plain, so as not to distract from the art on display.

The other, however, caught Changbin’s eye. His aura was distracting Changbin from his conversation. The man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, had dressed like he was a piece on display: everything placed on him was deliberate and purposeful. He was wearing a graphite turtleneck, a single earring that had a shiny silver safety pin and chain dangling from his earlobe, and a rose gold necklace adorned with a skirt-shaped onyx that nestled into the middle of his clavicle. He even wore fake, half-rimmed black glasses. Everything about him screamed out-of-place, yet oddly intriguing and untouchable.

“Wait a sec, Chan,” the intricately decorated man paused, taking a step back as he found himself unable to tear his eyes off of Changbin’s paintings. The strange man approached the canvases, and it made Changbin start to sweat. The way that the brunette pored over his work was different than the way his classmates or professors looked at it.

This strange man was analyzing his work, not just staring beyond it.

“Oh no,” Seungmin muttered, his expression dropping as he watched the two strange men hover in Changbin’s area.

“What?” Changbin nervously rubbed his thumbs into his palms and tried to stay composed. “Why did you say ‘oh no’? Seungmin, dude, what?”

The pink haired man stood in awe and shook his head. “You’re fucked, man,” he turned away, trying to get Changbin to stop staring. “Dude, I think that’s The Heartless.”

The black-haired man squinted in confusion. “‘The Heartless’? What the hell are you talking about? What does that have to do with me?”

Seungmin rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. He leaned in, trying to make it less obvious that they were staring. “He’s brutal, that’s all I know. He’s a famous artist that’s got a lot of power in every gallery in Vancouver, owns all of the galleries in Victoria, helps manage several in Montréal and Toronto…” His voice tapered off as the both watched the two strange men observe Changbin’s paintings. “He’s really harsh on artists, even those that have work in his galleries. You’re fucked.”

“Shut up,” Changbin grumbled under his breath, digging his elbow into Seungmin’s rib cage. If it were anyone less intriguing, Changbin would never have let his body move on its own, drawn to the stranger like a magnet. Once he had gotten back into his own area, he lost all confidence he had somehow mustered up, the fancy brunette turning around at the sound of footsteps.

“Can I help you?” The brunette’s voice was cold, arrogant. Fitting, based on his appearance.

Changbin froze, trying to stutter out some sort of introduction. He could practically feel Seungmin cringing from a few metres away.

“Oh,” the mysterious man pointed over his shoulder, “you created these, didn’t you?”

It felt like all of the air in the gallery had been sucked through a vacuum. Everything was dreadfully silent. Changbin could only meekly nod twice, swallowing hard as he tried not to show panic on his face.

“Figures. The aura just kind of… fits.” The man turned back around, bringing his index finger between his teeth as he pondered.

The blond man next to the stranger smirked, eyeing the paintings, then the brunette. “You’re not really going to—“

A hand came in between the brunette and the blond, as the well-dressed man haphazardly drew his fingers out towards his compatriot. “Hush.” His gaze on the paintings remained unbroken as his eyes fluttered around each of the four small canvases. “Tell me,” he cleared his throat, looking at the placard stuck up next to the bottom right canvas, “Changbin, why did you pick the name ‘arranged: in black’ for this set?”

Changbin had a habit of being a bit too brash when he was nervous, almost as if it were a coping strategy for stressful situations. “Do you want the fake answer or the real one?”

The blond sucked some air in through his teeth, deliberately looking away from the situation, biting back a smirk.

The brunette with the fake glasses raised an eyebrow, then slowly turned his head to make eye contact with the student, his gaze intimidating and strong, like a criminal investigator. “So, you have two reasons. Interesting.” He licked his bottom lip, then folded his arms across his chest. “I want the boring answer first, then the fun answer. If I can guess the true answer, then I’ll surprise you.”

Despite the fact that Changbin was terrified, he managed to shake his nerves out as he folded his arms, mirroring the strange man in front of him. “The boring answer is that I liked the way it looked on the placards.” The stranger cocked his head to the side, clearly unimpressed with that response.

“The interesting answer is,” Changbin looked past the brunette as he casually walked over to his canvases, adjusting them to be neat and orderly again. “It’s how I arrange myself to best fit the way I blend in during any situation at hand.” He turns his torso a bit towards the brunette, but does not move closer, afraid that the stranger would smell his vulnerability and tear into him like a vulture. “How much white do I need to make my black match the graphite shade of your turtleneck, how much black I need to blend together with white to make the sterling silver shade of your safety pin earring. How much I need to arrange myself to conform. Hence, 'arranged: in black'.”

There is a very long, drawn out pause. The stranger chews on his index finger as he studies Changbin’s face, pondering something, but hiding his true expression. Seungmin takes a step forward, but quickly rescinds it as Changbin looks up at him and squints.

“Cat eyes.” The brunette says with a devious grin.

Changbin makes contact with the stranger again, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “Cat eyes?” He repeats, slowly and carefully.

The stranger takes a step forward and offers his hand out. “My name is Minho, from the Lee Family. I run a few galleries across Canada, but Vancouver and its eclectic artists refuse to relinquish me from its talons.” His face falls for a moment, then he offers a soft, albeit somewhat fake smile. “I want to buy these paintings from you. The character, the brutal honesty behind them is something I don’t see in many people, much less undergraduate artists.”

“Holy shit.” Changbin can hear Seungmin’s quiet interjection from afar. He looks down to Minho’s thin, bony hand, then accepts it without thinking.

Minho’s hand is cold. “Changbin. Seo Changbin, as I’m sure you’ve gathered.” He firmly shakes Minho’s icy hand, then shakes his head. “You seriously want to buy my paintings?”

A wide smile spreads on Minho’s face. “Absolutely.” He pulls out a thin wallet from his back pocket, rifling his fingers around it as he nods at the blond. “Chan, you’ve got a pen, right?”

“Yeah,” the other man reaches inside of his jacket, pulling out a weighty-looking pen. He presents it to the brunette, who accepts it with haste. Minho takes a step towards the wall, pulling a card from his hand, then proceeds to write something on the back of it.

As he turns around, he holds his hand out towards Changbin, card tucked neatly between his index and middle fingers. The younger man takes it, shoving it into his back pocket a bit haphazardly without looking it over. As Changbin fumbles with the card and his pocket, Minho takes a few steps closer, lightly grabbing on to Changbin’s upper arm as he leans into his ear. “Text me in a half hour. We can talk more later.”

As quickly as Changbin registers the words Minho says, the mysterious brunette and blond duo disappear, off beyond a white partition holding up a classmate’s draped canvas. “What the fuck was that?” Seungmin whispers in shock as he approaches Changbin.

“That was Lee Minho,” the black-haired man breathed, a relieved, yet nervous, grin curling up on his face. “He actually wants my paintings. I don’t know why, but I’ll take it as a win.”

As requested, Changbin sends off a text to the number written on the back of Minho’s business card. The young man bites his lip as he moves to tuck his phone into his back pocket, but it vibrates in his hand. “That was fast,” he sighs as he unlocks his phone.

20:46 | Unknown Sender: I’ll be there soon. Alone. 20:46 | Unknown Sender: I’d prefer it if you were alone, too.

Changbin’s heart skipped at the possible intention of Minho’s text message. Should he have shooed Seungmin away, against the younger man’s protests? Probably not, but he figured that it was a public area, and Minho likely wouldn’t do something shady.

Probably.

He aimlessly nibbled at his bottom lip as he stared at some of the mistakes on his paintings, likely imperfections that his mind was hallucinating to keep him busy. Why exactly was such a well-renowned artist interested in such simple paintings, anyways?

“They’re quite lovely,” Minho’s voice crept up, startling Changbin. The brunette didn’t react to Changbin’s visceral response, instead engrossing himself further in the brushstrokes that blended black and white into shades of muted grey.

“You startled me,” Changbin mumbled, regaining his composure. He stared at the same spot that he assumed Minho was looking at, noticing that there was an extra stroke of thin black in a sea of deep grey, somewhere it shouldn’t have been. His brow furrowed in irritation as Minho turned to meet his gaze.

The older man bit back a smile. “You’re looking for every imperfection, aren’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not really,” Minho turns away from Changbin, folding his arms as he lets his eyes slowly scan every individual canvas. “I just know from personal experience.” He gingerly reaches his lean fingers out to the corner of one of the canvases, causing Changbin to tense in anticipation. “Pouring your soul into something for hours, days — hell, even weeks, for some projects — only to find everything possibly imperfect with it as soon as it’s presented to the public.” Minho delicately nudges the corner up a bit, evening out the canvas so all four looked even.

Changbin unclenches his fists, feeling sweat bead at his brow as he looks at Minho. The older man turns his head slightly, looking down at the black-haired man, scanning his appearance.

“When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t ramen or something frozen? You’re as grey as your silhouettes.”

The question was jarring. Did Changbin really look that unwell? “I mean,” he awkwardly moved to scratch the back of his head. “I usually have leftovers from the kitchen at work every night, so, last night, probably?”

Minho frowned in response. “Here I thought the ‘starving artist’ trope was just an aesthetic you were going for, match the grungy brushstrokes of your painting.” He dug into his pocket and spun on his heel. “Come on, we can discuss this somewhere a little bit more appropriate.”

Changbin knew all of the things he risked following a stranger — a well-known stranger that likely had many connections — away from the UBC campus, away from the same area of town he had been so familiar with for two years. He threw caution to the wind as he stepped into Minho’s black Tesla.

There was an air of relief that washed over Changbin as he watched Minho input directions towards downtown Vancouver. However, that relief turned into nervousness as he really took in the interior of the car. Everything about it screamed everything that Minho was, and Changbin was not: confident, financially stable, mature.

“What about your friend?” Changbin questioned, just to ease a bit of the awkward silence as they left UBC.

The brunette rolled his neck a bit, adjusting his seatbelt. “Chan? He drove here himself. Nearly subzero temperatures and he still wants to ride his stupid fucking motorcycle.” Minho laughed once, then the awkward silence came back with a vengeance.

Something wasn’t adding up, and it caused an uneasy ball of tension to form in Changbin’s stomach. “Why didn’t you tear into my paintings?” The younger man nervously blurted out as they drove down Fourth Avenue, not thinking before he spoke yet again.

Minho smirked as he looked over his shoulder, merging into a different lane. “So,” he chuckled as he turned back around, “I take it you’ve heard the rumours, then?”

“‘Minho, the Heartless”, yeah.” Changbin intertwined his fingers together, staring down at the way he was rubbing his thumb against his hand. “My friend Seungmin told me a bit about you before I approached you. That you’re brutal towards new artists, and even those that have their works on display in your galleries.”

“Figures,” the brunette tutted, rapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “That’s not…” he pauses, squinting a bit as he takes in a breath, “that’s not the real reason I’m labelled as ‘the heartless’, but it plays a key factor into it all.”

Changbin looks up, taking in the side profile of the man, watching the way passing streetlights would highlight his face in a warm shade of orange, contrasting with the harsh blue lights of the car’s displays.

“Rumour has it,” Minho brought his arm up to the door, then rested his head against his fist, “that I’m too cold to everyone. I’m rude to my clients, to my patrons, hell, that I had to have been brutal to my exes, because they never stuck around.” He tries to stifle s scoff into his fist. “Look, Changbin, I’m going to be honest.”

As they neared Granville Island, the warm yellow street lights turned into cold, blueish white LEDs that matched the lights in the car. The ball of tension in Changbin’s stomach expanded, constricting his lungs and causing his chest to tighten.

Minho tilted his head to the side, just enough to peer at Changbin over his false lenses, then back to the road. “I’m not interested in dating. I don’t do…” he pauses, spinning his fingers into an awkward circle to help him find the right word, “relationships in general: professional, personal, I try to avoid it all. Honestly, I just don’t like people.”

Somehow, Changbin was partially relieved, but that somehow left him with more questions.

“I’ve been burned by too many artists in the past, so don’t take it personally. But,” Minho paused and shrugged his shoulders, “your paintings pulled me in, made me want to get to know you just a little more. Maybe have you as a model for a sketch or two, buy that set of yours, help you out financially a bit. Student and mentor.”

“I couldn’t…” Changbin frantically interrupted, but lost his confidence quickly. Taking on too many shifts at the restaurant was killing him. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept for more than three or four hours a night. There was no way he had it in him to turn down such an opportunity, even if it hurt his pride a bit.

Minho smiled as Changbin went silent. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you for anything weird or sexual. I just have this itching feeling like I’m not giving back to the community that propped me up when I was low. You don’t have to give me an answer tonight or even tomorrow. Let’s just celebrate your talent and get you something that will give you more than just salt and simple carbohydrates.”

They spent their first unofficial date getting to know each other. Minho was 29, had lived in Vancouver for his whole life. He did his first two years of his Bachelor’s of Fine Arts at the University of Toronto, then came back to Vancouver when the vibes of Toronto stopped meshing with him. “It’s a hellhole, really,” Minho kept the prongs of his fork between his teeth as he reminisced. “Clearly, so is Vancouver, but at least Vancouver feels like home.”

Changbin shrugged his shoulders, still a bit tense. He felt like he didn’t fit in at this high-end restaurant. The large plates with small amounts of food distracted him too much, like it was a mockery of how the wealthy always had to over-embellish even the smallest things in their possession.

“You’ve lived here your whole life, right, Changbin?” Minho set his fork down on the tablecloth, then clasped his hands together and rested his chin on the bridge his fingers made. The overhead spotlight illuminated his brown hair, highlighting the undertones of orange and black in certain spots. If Changbin was ever going to be interested in dating again, he would have considered Minho as a potential suitor.

Dating, however, was something Changbin wasn’t sure he’d ever be interested in again. Everyone thought that he and Felix would stay together forever, since that’s what high school sweethearts should do, and Changbin agreed for the longest time. He agreed with the sentiment, until he found one of their classmates in the bed he shared with Felix.

Love was dead, and Changbin believed it should stay that way.

“Vancouver?” He perked up, taking a sip of water from his glass, awkwardly looking away from Minho’s gaze. “Yeah, mostly. Lived in Nanaimo for a couple years until my parents split and my dad moved back here. I missed it too much to stay away.” It was mostly the truth, but that wasn’t relevant. Why bother spilling any more information on someone he barely knew?

“Interesting.” The way that Minho squinted at him, staring him up and down, stayed in Changbin’s mind for too long. There was a methodical, yet mindless way that Minho grazed his teeth against his bottom lip when he listened to Changbin ramble something off. If it really enraptured his attention, he would bring his index finger between his teeth and nod his head a couple of times.

Minho was attractive, not because of his physical features, but because of the way that he drank in the way that Changbin interacted with him. It was one-sided and a bit foolish, but that was the fun of it. He could toy with the idea of it in his head, flirt with the idea of what ifs, with none of the repercussions or demands of an actual relationship.

At the end of the night, when Minho dropped Changbin off at his dorm nearly two hours later, the younger man agreed to see him again the next weekend, where they’d discuss the more technical agreements of their arrangement.

Tonight, however, Changbin would let ideas run through his head, ideas of how Minho’s voice would sound in his ear, how his breath would brush up on his neck, and how his fingers would dance over his body. The black-haired man sighed as he nestled himself in between his sheets, allowing his mind to creatively extrapolate on some details as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband.

Nothing else mattered tonight.

The second night that changed Changbin’s life was the Sunday night after the fake engagement story went live.

It was the night where Seungmin told the truth.

“Look, dude,” Seungmin frowned as he sat on the opposite side of Changbin’s couch. “I wanted to say something a while ago, but I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I just… I knew. It was obvious. Changbin,” he paused, trying to duck into the bluenette’s line of vision, “you’re in love with Minho. It’s kinda gross, not gonna lie. I haven’t seen you this infatuated over anyone in years. Genuinely thought you were gonna die alone with me or something.”

Changbin brought his knees up to his chest, staring aimlessly at his fingernails, like he could get lost in the sunsets hidden away in his cuticles, anything to avoid actually addressing how he was starting to feel over Minho. He could ignore it, hope that everything would go away, hope that Seungmin was just wrong and overanalyzing.

“Come on, Binnie, it was going to happen eventually,” Seungmin’s voice is quiet, like he was afraid of how Changbin would react. He leaned in, resting a hand on the bluenette’s arm. “Changbin.” The older man sucked his cheek in between his teeth as he pensively looked up at his friend. “This is gonna go one of two ways, probably. You’re either going to keep going through with all of this, say nothing, then end up heartbroken years down the line when he wants nothing to do with you out of the blue. Or…”

“Or?” Changbin tipped his head down, wincing as he looked at the younger man.

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “You can risk it. Tell Minho you care about him, more than you agreed upon initially. See what his reaction is, probably suppress some of the inevitable heartbreak.”

The bluenette stared down at his hands, gaze getting caught in the pinkish groove between two of the diamonds in his new ring. How much distance was there between the gap of ‘friendship’ and ‘lovers’, between ‘casual’ and ‘professional’? “You think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?” He doesn’t look away as he timidly questions Seungmin. The question felt rhetorical as the words left his lips.

Seungmin runs a hand through his auburn hair, then grabs Changbin’s wrist as he softly smiles. “I want you to be happy.”

“So, you definitely think it’s a bad idea,” Changbin laughs as he sinks into the couch.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Seungmin laughed, playfully slapping Changbin’s arm. “I think it’d be a bad idea if you didn’t tell him. I don’t know him very well, but Minho does seem to genuinely care about you, from the little I’ve seen, especially over the last year.”

Changbin’s lips flutter as he sighs in frustration. “That’s the worst part. I know he cares, but I don’t have any hard evidence of it. It’s all a gut feeling, and the uncertainty of that just makes me queasy.”

“The ring, though,” the younger man grabs the hand Changbin won’t stop staring at. “You really think that someone that didn’t care about you would have put in that much effort and money for something like this? For it to all be a fluke?”

Seungmin had a point. He always did: he knew people well, especially Changbin and people that interacted with him. He was the first to suggest that his ex wasn’t as innocent as he came off as, and he was the first to offer a shoulder to cry on when Changbin eventually got burned.

“Look, you should tell him. Maybe tell him after the engagement party, since that’s already all planned out and, hey, free publicity if it fails, I guess.” Seungmin suggested, then pulled Changbin into an awkward, but much needed, hug. “If he rejects you, I’ll help you get a crab pot and we can throw him overboard somewhere far past Vancouver Island.”

They both laughed hard enough to cause tears to roll down their faces.

“This is why you’re my best friend, Seung. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Seungmin shrugged his shoulders and scoffed. “You’d be bored, but I would be too.”

Neither Changbin nor Minho sent inane texts to the other throughout the day like they used to. There were a few messages here and there, but an obvious rift had developed between the two of them since the last time they spoke.

It was stupid, really. Changbin shouldn’t have gotten upset over how much Minho had dropped on a real engagement ring for a fake relationship.

“That’s almost as much as my tuition!” The bluenette shrieked when he heard how much the ring was worth. “Five and a half thousand dollars? Minho, what the fuck?”

This was the first time that Minho was upset in front of Changbin, the first time where it felt realistic, like there was a passionate drive behind his anger. “Why are you so obsessed with the cost of this? Aren’t you in this for the money, anyways?”

Changbin shook his head a couple of times, physically taken aback by Minho’s wording. The older man stumbled on his words as he tried to form an apology, but the bluenette pulled away, storming off of the bed. He slipped his button-up shirt on from the day prior and continued shaking his head.

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean it, right?” Changbin scoffed, gathering his things as he made his way to the door. “You didn’t mean to indirectly accuse me of just being a whore, right?”

To some extent, though, it was true. He knew it as the realization sank to the bottom of his heart. There was nothing physical going on between the two of them, just a professional mentorship and financial transactions. There were no budding feelings, especially not when Changbin would wake up to Minho’s soft hands on his shoulders. There were no burning feelings, definitely not when Minho would pull Changbin into a soft, tight embrace as he bid him farewell, lingering a moment too long every time they parted.

Strictly professional, Changbin. He had to keep repeating it in his head.

If he repeated it enough, that meant it was true, right?

He consistently reminded himself over the two weeks that had passed, and it felt like it was working, even with the engagement party coming up on Saturday.

“Strictly professional,” the young man sighed under his breath as he stared at his phone, staring down at the reminder that popped up. Tomorrow was the day where they were going to formally announce their engagement at a party downtown in a high-end restaurant that one of Minho’s friends owned.

11:30 | Minho: I’m sending over one of my drivers tonight for your final fitting. He should be there not long after you’re out of class, around 16:20.

Concise. Very professional, just like Changbin would expect from Minho.

11:32 | sent: I assume you’re going to be busy with another arrangement so I’m not going to see you tonight either, am I?

It was a bit bitchy, Changbin had to admit, but at least it felt somewhat cathartic to send off. A few bubbles popped up on screen as Minho typed a response, but they suddenly cut out and he didn’t respond. The bluenette shrugged, sighing heavily as he locked his phone and shoved it in the droopy front pocket of his sweatshirt.

Strictly professional.

He didn’t get another text message until he was halfway through one of his open studio blocks. Black paint had dripped down from the brush in his hand, splattering down on the floor and onto his Converse as he stared at his phone, somehow narrowly avoiding dropping it to the floor as his jaw dropped.

15:02 | Minho: I just rearranged my schedule to make sure I’d go along with you. Might as well make sure that all of the money I’ll drop on a custom fitting for you highlights all of your features in the ways that they deserve. 15:03 | Minho: I want everyone’s eyes on you. It’s as much your night as mine, and you should feel as handsome as you look. 15:04 | Minho: That’s what they say in the movies, right?

Changbin’s eyelids felt heavy and sticky as he blinked rapidly, fully processing Minho’s texts, running them over in his mind, practically hearing his voice whisper in his ear. All of the anger he had harboured over Minho in the past few days dissipated as he set his paintbrush on the side table next to his wooden frame and canvas. He felt like all of the colour faded from his face as he stared at his phone.

The last text was to ease the tension, a bit of an extinguisher to the fire Minho caused in Changbin’s stomach. He had to know what he was saying and what kind of effect it would have on the younger man, right?

15:08 | sent: All of my features? 15:08 | sent: In what ways do they deserve to be highlighted? You’re the master artist, here after all, so I’d love to hear your opinion.

There was a knot in Changbin’s stomach as he sent off the texts. His pulse was elevated, breaths a bit shallower than normal, and he had to lean up against the metal stool that sat behind him. He stared ahead to the painting he was working on, but he wasn’t looking at it as he brought his thumbnail up to his teeth. Yes, he needed to apologize for how he acted the last time they spoke in person, but that seemed so minute right now.

His phone shook in his hand, vibrating twice. With haste, Changbin brought his phone back up, breaking his line of vision to his canvas. His eyes went wide and he slowly sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth as he read over the words several times.

15:11 | Minho: Love, you know I’m more of a tactile feedback person and not a wordsmith, right? 15:12 | Minho: All the time you’ve been spending working out — it shows. I notice it when you’re laying next to me, snoring away into your pillow. It’s very… distracting. 15:14 | Minho: It’s only fair that I, the very well-respected and influential artist, make sure that all of your hard work is accented well. Hidden, but merely enough shown off to get people to wonder: who is Seo Changbin? How did Lee Minho manage to get such a talented, attractive person to carry on his arm? To call him his own forever?

This was breaking the boundaries of their relationship dynamic they came up with initially, but Changbin didn’t care. His toe was in the water, and the promise of its warm embrace was too much to turn away, even if it meant he was potentially selling his soul to the devil, ruining his life for a moment of warmth he hadn’t experienced in years.

15:16 | sent: Oh, so it’s just about arm candy, huh? 15:16 | sent: I’m more interested in why you consider me sleeping as distracting, though. Sounding like a bit of a serial killer. 15:17 | sent: Especially when you say that I’ll be yours forever.

Changbin didn’t bother locking his phone, watching the little text bubbles pop up and disappear several times over, groaning a bit each time that they weren’t followed by an actual message. Less than an hour to go until he was done with this block, and he would see Minho. He would be in his car, able to get close and push the limits of their agreement. A hand on the thigh, which was normal, could slowly creep up and in towards the sensitive skin of Minho’s upper thigh.

He didn’t mean to get distracted, but he couldn’t help letting his mind wander. Minho seemed like the type that would feel his partner up in the back of his car, leave bite marks and imprints from their shoulder, all the way up to the back of their ear. Changbin could practically feel the hairs on the side of his neck stand up in response to what Minho’s warm breath would feel like.

A buzz.

Changbin looked side to side in embarrassment, realizing he was practically having a wet dream out in the middle of his studio. Nervously, he cleared his throat and looked down to his phone as he felt his face warm.

15:20 | Minho: You’re always more than eye candy, I hope you know that. 15:21 | Minho: I can assure you, I am not a serial killer. Sure, that’s what all serial killers say, but when would I have the time for that? Seems like too much labour.

A disgruntled sigh came up from Changbin’s lungs. Naturally, he was looking too far into Minho’s texts, inserting inappropriate context between the words. Perhaps nearly three years without physical attention from another person was having an effect on his body. He thought about responding, but he didn’t have it in him to craft a witty, yet appropriate, response.

As Changbin stood up and awkwardly shuffled his legs around a bit to adjust the distracting erection building between his legs, he checked his phone one last time before reaching out for his paintbrush, but found himself nearly doubled over as he leaned over the side table with a gasp.

15:26 | Minho: Judging by your lack of response, I hope this means you’re being smart and focusing on your studio time, so you’ll ignore this message. 15:27 | Minho: You’re treading water that’s dangerous. I don’t know if you want to dive in and see how deep the water is. Could be cold.

Changbin responded without thinking.

15:28 | sent: I know how to swim. I’m not scared.

His hands were shaking with anticipation as he waited for Minho’s response. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on painting, so he gradually started rinsing off his brushes and sorting through his supplies. Every ten seconds or so, Changbin would stare at his phone, waiting for it to light up with another message.

Ten minutes had passed, and he was worried he had fucked up. He had stopped looking at his phone and was, again, staring at his painting. He was just going to leave it up over the weekend, since he would probably just come back to it in the middle of the night on Sunday night, when he normally had a random bout of inspiration hit him.

Unless, of course, the plan of confessing to Minho on Saturday would cause his regular Sunday plans to be pushed back. That would be a worthy sacrifice for his art.

Changbin was about to turn away from his painting when he felt a hand on the small of his back, and a familiar voice creep up into his ear. “I see black is a common theme in your paintings again.”

Minho.

The crafty bastard really showed up early and had the nerve to sneak up on Changbin. Instead of reacting in fright, the younger man leaned into the touch, tilting his head slightly back. “If I recall correctly, you like seeing black in paintings. Greyscale pieces have a history of winning you over.”

“Ah,” Minho sighs, letting his hand slowly move closer and closer to Changbin’s side. “So it’s for me?”

“Engagement present, I think,” Changbin shrugged. “That’s what most couples do, right?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispered, then slowly pulled away from Changbin, “but I don’t think we’re like most couples, hmm?”

Changbin let his eyes flutter shut in frustration. Every two steps forward felt like it was accompanied by one to three steps backward. If he were alone, he would scream into a pillow, but he would just shove it down for now. He turned toward Minho with a fake smile on his face. “So,” he tried to bite back his frustrations, knowing he was coming off as irritated. “Any special reason you showed up early?”

His words sounded innocent enough, but the look on his face fell more along the lines of, ‘perhaps my texts sparked some curiosity?’

Minho’s eyes darted to the side, his lower eyelids squinting up for a split second. “I really didn’t want to be late.” That’s a lie. “Traffic about now can be unpredictable.” Another lie. Inbound downtown traffic was busy on Fridays, but not until after 16:30.

“But you didn’t stay in the car.” Admit you wanted to see me.

“I’ve come up to say hi before.” Minho leaned onto Changbin’s side table, arrogantly running a free hand through his hair. He was posturing, testing Changbin on something, but what?

Changbin took a cautious step forward, seemingly towards his set of paintbrushes on the table, but ready to pivot to Minho at the first sign he was given. He desperately wanted to be bold with his words, but he couldn’t quite get them to come out right. “You left a meeting early to come see me on a day you hadn’t planned to.” He paused, rolling his eyes up to stare down Minho. “It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen me. I think you left and came here because you miss me.”

This would be the part of the movie where they would run off to the grungy public washroom and haphazardly make out with each other, crying over how ignorant and stupid they had been with each other’s feelings. Perhaps Changbin was projecting a bit of his desires into the idea of their movie life, but, regardless, nothing was happening.

“That’s not inaccurate,” Minho shoves away from the counter, his face warming with a reddish tint as he steps away, towards the canvas. He feigns interest as he stares in between the strokes of paint that were slowly coming together to form an image. “I suppose I do miss you. I don’t like waking up without you on a Sunday morning.”

There’s an easy solution to that problem.

“I miss your cups of blonde roast Starbucks on Sunday mornings,” Changbin counters, still too afraid of the words he really wants to say. “You’ve gotten me hooked onto it. I can’t seem to make it the same way you do, and it just doesn’t taste right.”

Minho clears his throat and checks his wristwatch. He sighs, then turns to look at Changbin with a smile. “Are you almost done packing up?” The smile is fake, like he’s hiding something. Again, Minho is hard to read. “I’d like to leave a bit early, beat any traffic into town, yeah?”

They don’t say much as Changbin finishes packing up his supplies. The walk from the studio to the car is without any commentary at all. The driver opens the side door, offering his hand out towards Changbin for his bag of supplies, which he hands off with a bit of a scowl. Minho walks over to the other side of the car, opening the door to his side while the driver is preoccupied helping Changbin.

Within a couple of minutes, they’re going down the usual route down Fourth Avenue again, and Changbin’s scowl grows until he can’t handle the ballooning irritation. He snaps his head over to stare at Minho, shocked to find that the man is already staring at him, albeit a bit distant.

Minho walks his fingers over the empty space between them, then gingerly reaches out to touch Changbin’s arm, softly gripping his forearm. “I’m sorry I’ve been distracted these past two weeks.” His apology feels sincere, albeit stunted. Minho slides his hand down to interlace his fingers in the space between Changbin’s, where everything comes together and feels right. “This whole engagement announcement has been stressful, which I know isn’t an excuse. I should have done better to give you some more attention.”

Changbin leans in a bit closer, perhaps subconsciously being pulled into Minho like a magnet. “It’s alright, Minho, you don’t need to apologize.”

“But I do, love.” Just when Changbin thinks Minho will drop his guard, he turns his head to the side, staring out of the windshield far in front of them. “I just don’t want to fuck this up. Sure, this is a business arrangement, but I value our friendship.”

To anyone else, the word ‘friendship’ probably wouldn’t feel like the way it sounded when a cat scurried across the keys of a piano. It felt discordant, off-key, and wrong. Still, Changbin was tired of trying. He put on a fake smile, then rested his head on Minho’s shoulder, like he always did on their drives into the city. “Our friendship is nice, Minho. There’s nothing else like it.”

“Right,” Minho calmly breathed as he turned his head away, gazing out of the window.

“Well,” the tailor stood upright and smiled up at Changbin, “luckily, I don’t need to make any major alterations. I’ll take in a couple of small things just to accentuate the fit on you, make it look nicer.”

Minho sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and trying to hide a coy smile. “Thank you.” His gratitude for the tailor was there, but it clearly was not Minho's top priority. Changbin watched Minho take in the sight of him, languidly gliding his gaze up from the floor to the top of Changbin’s blue hair.

The tailor excused himself, humming to himself as he left the room, poring over the notes on his notepad. Changbin arrogantly stuck his hands in his pockets, kicking out one of his legs as he bit his lip. “You look like you wanna eat me, serial killer.”

"Maybe I do," Minho teases as he playfully clacks his teeth together. His expression softened as he stood up, slowly making his way around the small podium that the bluenette stood on top of. “You remind me of an intricately designed wedding cake. So sturdy, but embellished just enough to be draped in delicateness.” He stopped in front of Changbin, looking up to him with a soft smile and offering his hand to help him down the steps. “Most importantly, you look handsome. Everyone’s going to be caught up in you, love.” He may not have been a wordsmith, but Minho had to have had an idea of the effects his words had.

The younger man smiled, then purposefully stumbled a bit on the steps so he could collide his way into an embrace. “Oh,” Changbin sighed, “guess I lost my footing.”

“Guess you did,” Minho smirks, helping reorient the younger man upright. “You should be more careful. I’d hate to see you slip and fall where I’m not around to catch you.”

“Well,” Changbin winks at the older man before he turns around, back to the dressing room, “guess I’m lucky you’re my fiancé and you’ll catch me when I fall, huh?”

The party is a lot more nerve wracking than Changbin expected. Eyes were following him around everywhere, and he was constantly cornered by strangers that didn’t actually care about the questions they were asking him. Several people asked him questions that were clearly digs at just getting to know more intimate details about Minho and his personal life.

Eventually, he finds Seungmin over by the bar. He quickly makes his way over, grabbing a half-empty bottle of champagne off of the counter with one hand, then Seungmin’s arm with the other hand. “Need you.”

Seungmin interjects with a yelp, turning around quickly and following Changbin without spilling his drink. They made their way through the kitchen, through the back of the building, out to where the line cooks and other staff would run and hide for their smoke breaks.

“Why are you freaking out, Bin?” Seungmin knew that something was wrong without even asking. He took a sip of his drink, quietly cursing the cold under his breath.

Changbin took a swig of champagne directly from the bottle, wincing at the carbonation and the sting of the alcohol. He coughed twice, then leaned up against the exterior of the building in exasperation. “This is too fucking much,” he sighed, looking up at the way his breath clouded up, then faded off into the night sky. “He knows a lot of people, and they’re all so goddamn nosy.”

Seungmin scoffs, taking another sip of his drink as he walks over to Changbin, leaning up on the building next to him. “Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Kind of a shitty price to pay, if you ask me.”

The older man scoffs, taking another drink from the bottle in his hand. “Yeah, but like, it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t like him.”

“Love him,” Seungmin arrogantly corrected him.

“Shut up,” Changbin rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Okay, yeah, so I do love him. Maybe I’ll just keep it hidden.”

He didn’t need to turn his head to know that Seungmin was glaring at him.

“You know that's—”

“—a dumb idea, yeah.” They stared up at the sky for a few more minutes, sipping on their drinks of choice until they started shivering from the cold. Seungmin pushed off of the wall, about to say something, but Changbin couldn’t stop his mouth from spouting off his concerns again. “I’m gonna finally tell him tonight I think. When we go home. I get the feeling he’ll like that.”

“Awfully romantic,” Seungmin shivered as he smiled.

Changbin shrugged his shoulders, bobbing his head back and forth a couple times. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, though.”

“Changbin,” the false redhead placed his free, cold hand on the shoulder of his friend. “If he rejects you, he’s missing out, and that’s on him, not you. You’re my best friend, so yeah, I’m a little biased, but I know you’re a catch.”

The bluenette smiles, then stands up straight. “Where would I be without you, Seung?”

“I dunno, dead maybe?” They both laugh for a moment, before Seungmin loudly shudders as he shivers. “Come on, it’s fucking cold. Let’s go back inside, yeah? I wanna drink more of this rich people shit on your fiancé’s dime.”

Changbin smiled in appreciation. His best friend was truly a gift he didn’t deserve. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

They had been inside for maybe thirty seconds before Minho found Changbin, making a quick beeline towards him, politely excusing himself away from some riveting conversation about how he met Changbin two years ago for the nth time.

“Changbin, love,” he sighed in desperation as he caught up to the two cold men. “I think we should do the toast soon, because this is beyond exhausting.” Seungmin winked at Changbin before he snaked his way out of the conversation.

The bluenette tried to shove Seungmin’s words of encouragement down as he nodded his head. “That’s a great idea, Minho. Let’s go get this over with, so people stop asking us the same ten questions thirty times in a row.”

“Oh my god,” Minho sighed, colliding his forehead against Changbin’s shoulder. “If I have to answer ‘he’s so unlike your usual friends, how’d you meet?’ one more time, I might lose it and actually turn into a serial killer.”

Changbin rubbed his cheek against Minho’s head, then offered him a quick pat on the back. “We’ll get through it, I promise.”

“I know, I know.”

The toast had started off normal, seemingly fine. There were pleasantries, Minho gave a brief introduction about himself and the projects he had been working on, giving some half-true, half-bullshit explanation about how he and Changbin met and fell in love. Some of the details of how they fell in love, including how they were in love in the first place, caused discomfort inside Changbin.

“Binnie, love?” Minho’s hand on Changbin’s back brought the younger man back to focus on the conversation. “Maybe you should introduce yourself?” That wasn’t really the question Minho was asking him. The look that the older man gave him was one of concern, as if he were asking him if he was actually alright.

“Right,” Changbin muttered incoherently, grabbing the microphone from Minho. “As you’ve heard, I’m the Changbin everyone seems to be talking about tonight. Seo Changbin.” He pauses, scanning the room for Seungmin, who is giving him a subtle thumbs up with a wince on his face. “Minho and I met at an art exhibit two years ago, where he told me he valued the honesty and the character behind my paintings.”

A couple of people make some sort of half-assed ‘aww’s and ‘ooh’s.

“I was worried about him, since my friend had just given me a crash-course on how Minho was supposedly some big, scary art critic. He was so scary, in fact, that he was known as The Heartless. A name, to this day, that I disagree with.” Changbin smiles, looking over to Minho, who returns a soft gaze and delicate smile. The younger man reached his hand out, and they interlaced their fingers together, getting close to the other, until they were practically embracing.

“I am very lucky to hopefully spend the rest of my life with a man like Minho. He’s not only very artistically gifted, but he’s kind and I do love him from the bottom of my heart.”

While Changbin meant every word he said, he simply read off the words that Minho asked him to memorize the night prior. It was honest, but its intentions were false, which caused a bit of nausea inside the young man. He passed the microphone back to Minho, letting him wrap up the speech with the same banal, inconsequential words he had probably come up with and memorized beforehand.

The words would sound nice, please the crowd, and get some annoying stragglers off of their backs for the rest of the party. Changbin held his customer service-style smile on his face until he stepped away from the makeshift stage. He made his way towards the kitchen again, trying to rid himself from the people that wanted to insincerely congratulate him. He heard people talking shit about him as he made his way through the crowd, gritting his teeth as certain words like ‘whore’, ‘sellout’, and ‘fake’ seemed magnified and heavier than they were.

Changbin watched a couple of staff members head outside for a break, and he growled in irritation to himself, eventually leaning up against a countertop, pressing his head into his palms. He wasn’t even that upset over one specific thing, it was just a lot of things suddenly compounding, along with the tension of the overall situation.

“Changbin?” Minho’s voice was soft, quiet, as it came through the entrance of the kitchen. “Love, are you alright?”

His brain told him just to say that he wasn’t feeling well, tell some bullshit white lie that they could brush over. His heart, however, spoke up for him. “What are we doing, Minho?”

The brunette shook his head, then brought his hand up, almost sarcastically. “Announcing our engagement. I thought that was obvious.”

“Not that,” Changbin sucks in a quick breath of air through his teeth. “Put all this to the side for a second. What are we doing? How much of your speech was true? A lot of it seemed too hyperbolic and shallow, and it’s not sitting well with me.”

Minho squints in discomfort, a look of disbelief on his face as he looks at Changbin with confusion. “I’m sorry, what? Was I supposed to tell them that our entire relationship is false?”

“Entire relationship?” Changbin scoffed, all of the tension from before compiling together, and that was the final straw. “Fuck that. No, fuck that.” He pushed off of the counter with frustration, making his way through the back door and past the few staff members and through their cloud of nicotine.

“Changbin, wait,” Minho ran after the younger man, nearly sliding as his shoes came into contact with the icy concrete. “What’s gotten into you?”

The bluenette sucks in air through his teeth as he turns, staring down the older man. His face was contorted into a bitter scowl, and he was visibly shaken. “I don’t fucking understand you, you know?”

“What?” Minho panted, clouds of vapourized breath coming from his mouth, travelling past him on a bit of wind. “What did I say, Changbin?”

There’s a scoff that comes from Changbin, one that’s laden with frustration and a bit of sadness. “You’ve been saying a lot lately, Minho, that’s part of the problem.” He brings his hands up to his hair, gently tugging on the strands as he sniffles, partially due to the cold, partially due to his emotions. “I can’t fucking read you.”

“I’m not a book, Changbin,” Minho takes another step closer and rolls his eyes, “you can communicate your problems to me and we can discuss them.”

“You’re right. You’re not a book, and I believe I’m right in assuming that I’m more than a business deal to you.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief, eyes nervously darting around. “What?” This interjection sounded shocked and breathless, less arrogant and confident than the other interjections came off as.

Changbin knows he shouldn’t ask it, not with how much tension is in the air, and how loaded the question is, but his heart causes him to act irrationally yet again. “Do you love me, Minho?”

There’s a gust of cold air that blows between them, causing Changbin to shiver. Minho tries not to notice, but his voice trembles when he repeats the question. “Do I love you?”

Another useless response.

“God, you’re so fucking dense,” Changbin muttered under his breath, angrily taking a couple of steps closer, centimetres away from the brunette now. “Do you want to know something, Minho?” There’s a pause after Changbin’s rhetorical question; the younger man feels the warmth of Minho feeding into his energy as he takes in a deep breath. “I realized it the morning after the fake proposal. I was upset at how much money you spent on a fake engagement ring, for a fake relationship that was probably going to end within a couple of years, if we’re being optimistic. You put in so much effort for something fake, and I was putting in a lot of emotional investment into someone that I’m supposed to have nothing more than a business deal with.

“I remember talking to Seungmin that night, and he told me straight up. He told me that I was in love with you. Beyond interest, beyond infatuation. Actually in full-fucking-blown love, something I didn’t know I was even capable of doing anymore.” A sarcastic scoff punctuates Changbin’s sentence as he licks his bottom lip, looking away from Minho. “I thought it was stupid, that I could shove it down and ignore it. But the truth is, Minho,” he tilts his head back, looking at Minho with a heavy gaze, like he was teetering on the edge of anger and despair, “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I meant for it all to stay professional, like we wanted it to be, but I can’t do it. I can’t fucking do that anymore, Minho.”

There’s a stutter as Changbin’s deep inhale gets caught in his throat. He inhales once again, and slowly breathes out, before he lets the words just fall from him. “I really do think I love you. I don’t know where to go from here, and I don’t know if you can understand how terrified I am.”

Minho doesn’t quite know how to respond. He watches a few tears start to roll down Changbin’s face, breaking down the confidence that was there for a fleeting moment. He instinctively reaches up to brush the tears away, causing the younger man to melt into his touch. A couple of rare wintry snowflakes fall in between them, one landing and subsequently melting on Changbin’s nose. “You really think you love me?” Minho softly questions, his voice coming off as soothing, yet anxious.

Changbin takes in a quick breath, shaking his head. “Minho,” his voice cracks as he knits his eyebrows together, “you and me, we…” Perhaps it’s the cold, but Changbin can’t quite get the words in his head to form the sentence he wants to say. That’s when it comes to him: there were some things where actions definitely spoke louder and more effectively than words.

A snowflake fell onto Changbin’s bottom lip right before his lips brushed up against Minho’s with a spark. Everything that felt confusing suddenly became clear. Tonight was the coldest night of winter so far this season, but it was like all of the ice around them had melted. Their kiss was nervous and awkward, but Minho pushed back, grabbing at Changbin’s neck, pulling him in closer and returning his kiss with a sense of urgency.

Changbin suddenly pulled back, taking a step backwards and staring at Minho with wide, terrified eyes. He frantically remembered that if either party developed too deep an emotional connection with the other, that their agreement could be rendered null and void by the other party. An overwhelming panic at the possibility of an upheaval of his life — going back to a life without Minho — overtook him. Not for the loss of financial stability, but the loss of connection, the loss of friendship they had built over the years.

His reaction was irrational, but the potential of heartbreak was so loud. It terrified and overwhelmed him, wrapping him in a bone-chilling embrace.

Minho takes a cautious step forward, staring at Changbin and reaching out to him with a timid hand. “Changbin, love, please…”

“Minho,” Changbin looks up at him, shaking his head and nearly hyperventilating. He takes a few steps backwards, watching a rapidly intensifying flurry of snow start to come between them. “Minho, I’m so sorry. This is all fucked up because of me. I shouldn’t have… Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

His legs move before he can even acknowledge that he’s running. Changbin has no idea where exactly he is, but he’s maneuvering through alleyways and parking lots, backstreets and dead areas of town. He doesn’t consciously know where he is, but he somehow knows where he’s going. He gets far enough away, all the way out to Harbour Green Park. The sight of the ocean calms him down as he finally stops running.

Changbin slides on the slick grass, and he collides into the ground. He starts hyperventilating, then just gives up and lets the inevitable tears fall from his face, down to the chilled ground beneath him. Time passes as he cries, upset with the situation, but mostly angry at himself.

The potential of heartbreak caused him to panic, and he responded by giving into that fear, literally running away from the man he claimed to love. It was stupid, really, throwing everything away just because of the possibility of discomfort, of facing reality. Before, there was a chance that Minho felt the same way. Now? Now Changbin had practically guaranteed that there was no possibility for that anymore. Perhaps knowing that he was the cause of the complete unravelling of two years of emotional connection hurt the most.

No. What hurt the most was that he desperately wanted Minho to catch him as he fell.

#we're professional #skz smut #skz fics #minbin #lee minho x seo changbin #seo changbin x lee minho #minho x changbin #changbin x minho #wherevermyway

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charrfie · 4 years ago

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Alright now that its officially Forzen Friday let's try this post again since it didn't show up in the tags last time-

I'M FINALLY MAKING A FORZEN HC DUMP (kinda AU-ish territory but not really idk exactly) AND NONE OF YOU CAN STOP ME

There are also a few other hcs sprinkled in here related to other characters (like Darnold and Sunkist for example) but Forzen is the main focus!! Despite him being a minor character I latched onto him and fleshed him out sm yall have no idea

Everything under the cut bc this shit is gonna be LONG (and there's also some more doodles that take up a bit of space!)

Also uhh if people like this I might take one for another hlvrai character later bc I have a lot to say about everyone!!

Forzen moved from France to the US with his parents when he was around 12 or 13 (yes, I'm aware that Scorpy and Holly are French Canadian and not France French but that doesn't mean Forzen can't be, I'm just being sure to say this now before someone says something to me about it)

He wanted to go to college and eventually become a game dev, but he didn't have the funds or the support for it (his family thought anything to do with games would amount to a career that would go nowhere).

Because of this, he instead was recruited in the US military. He originally had no intent to join, but after constantly being harrassed recommended to join and being entertained with the concept of being able to afford and pay for college, he caved (hence him telling the science team that his only goal is "to graduate").

He doesn't like his job very much if that wasn't clear.

And neither do most others that have the same job like him.

He was put on a "team" of his own, Team Nice, which was likely arranged as a guaranteed way to get Forzen in the way of danger, and with no one else fighting beside him, he would be easily dealt with- no one would have to worry about him bothering them again. However, he somehow manages to survive all of this, of course. Somehow. He likely knows the real reason he was assigned his own team (if you can even call it that), but refuses to fully acknowledge it for his own sanity, and instead pretends that he's some big, important person on a team that ranks so highly, he's the only one qualified to be in it. (I apologize ahead of time for giving one of the most shitposty and throwaway characters in hlvrai this much depth and angst, there was just potential there leave me alone)

Fast forward to the actual events of hlvrai though. This hc is a little outlandish but I really like the concept!!! So, at one point, Forzen is killed, presumably by some kind of creature that was out and about due to the RenCas. The science team + Benrey stumble across him (act 2 part 2 at around 13 min in for anyone curious), and Benrey decides to use the healing beam Sweet Voice on him. While Benrey and Forzen may not be on good terms anymore, Benrey still very begrudgingly cares about him and didn't want to see him get injured or die. Forzen wakes up a minute or so after the science team exits the room, assuming that he just passed out, nothing more, and goes along with things as normal.

He meets Darnold a while after his first (concious) run in with the science team. Darnold has recently dealt with the science team and helped them out, but is pretty bummed that he couldn't travel with them, as everything was far too scary and dangerous for him. Forzen, wanting to escape Black Mesa and the military altogether, ends up making a deal with him that he'll handle all the dangerous stuff if Darnold can show him a way out.

Now, meeting Darnold is a very new experience for him, since Darnold actually enjoys his company, and actually wants to befriend him! At first, Forzen openly tries to act as if Darnold is a huge deal to put up with- he goes along with with the whole "if you're escaping outta this hellhole with me, you better keep up" kinda deal (despite the fact that he kinda NEEDS Darnold to escape and show him the way out). His walls are still very much so raised, and he doesn't let his guard down as he's not used to others caring about him and his safety. But as time passes, he begins to realize that maybe Darnold DOES want to be his friend, and the tough guy act becomes less apparent.

To preface this next one- Sunkist sensed that something was up (he has a next-level sense of danger when it comes to Tommy's safety) and got to BM as fast as he could, searching every hallway for his boy. This is when Forzen finds him!! He figures that taking Sunkist as a hostage would be enough to get extra info out of the team that's been practically plaguing him lately.

Darnold doesn't know about Forzen's plans to take Sunkist hostage, so is completely fine with traveling alongside him. At one point though, Forzen and Darnold get separated (Forzen occupies him, makes sure hes safe and then runs off to deal with Sunkist). Darnold immediately uses his surroundings to model a quick little teleporter device to get Forzen back, because, you know, the man's a genius. Idc if its logical or not just go with it shhh I've gotta fill in the plotholes with something. That's why Forzen disappears all of a sudden after he's cornered by the science team. He just pops back in front of Darnold suddenly, all confused and loopy from the whole teleportation thing.

As things begin to wind down, Darnold and Forzen make it out of BM and start making a break for it, no idea how they'll get away from BM and to safety somewhere- they didnt really think things through.

Fortunately (or unfortunately for Forzen really), however, G-man picks both of them up. He means to drop Darnold off at Tommy's party, as he observed that Darnold helped his son to safety and is grateful for it. Forzen, though, he intends to "deal with" for messing things up so badly with Tommy, Sunkist, and all of Tommy's friends. This is where Darnold finds out about everything Forzen did and frankly gets really pissed with him since he thought he only had good intentions??? Luckily though, Darnold convinces G-man to give him a second chance, let him go to Tommy's party and apologize, and try things again. G-man, for some reasons agrees- probably bc hes in a good mood, as it IS his son's birthday.

The party is pretty uncomfortable to say the least. Tommy's extremely hesitant to talk to Forzen, but he does, and they end up on neutral terms by the end of it. Uneasy, but neutral. Tommy and Darnold hit it off though, and Tommy opens the invitation to Darnold that he can visit his place anytime now that everything at BM is over with.

As everyone's getting ready to leave, Forzen mentions to Darnold that he doesn't have a place to stay, seeing as the entire military was kinda. Yknow. Wiped out. Obviously wouldn't wanna go back to check anyways. And he has no interest in going home to his parents. So Darnold agrees to let him stay with him since they've become good pals over the course of everything.

Over time, Darnold visits Tommy more and more often. He starts bringing Forzen along, which Tommy is iffy of at first, but their dynamic starts to change and become more comfortable once Tommy sees that Forzen isnt interested in being enemies anymore.

Sunkist and Forzen still don't get along for a very long time. Or, well- it's moreso that Sunkist is very wary about Forzen, despite him not doing anything to harm either Sunkist or Tommy.

Oh yeah and almost forgot to mention one of my favorite hcs (that I PROMISE you started out as a joke but then I got attached) is Sunkist can talk!! So his first spoken interaction with Forzen after Forzen comes over to visit for the first time is literally just him being all threatening and laying down the ground rules bc he doesn't want Forzen to hurt Tommy at all in any way. And of course Forzen about has a heart attack bc "HUH??????? THERE'S A DOG THAT IS SPEAKING HUMAN WORDS TO ME"

UHH I HAVE MORE (I've written out so much shit about dynamics and what I'd think would happen even after all of this) BUT I DON'T WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG like it already is SO I SUPPOSE I'LL LEAVE IT AT THAT FOR NOW!!!! I hope this isn't too ooc either, I just have Emotions about this series and write too much so why not share it yknow

#forzen #hlvrai forzen #hlvrai #hc time #PLEASE let this show up in the tags this time i will actually cry if not i spent so long on this

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my-happy-little-bean · 3 years ago

Text

The Bookkeeper – Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Epilogue

pairings: logan/patton (logicality), roman/virgil (prinxiety) words: 1540 chapter warnings: none :) chapter summary: ...and they all lived happily ever after.

[read on ao3] [masterlist]

< previous chapter

—

The sound of polite applause echoed throughout the room. The buzzing of young students faded with each step across the stage.

Steady hands shuffled paper on the podium. A deep breath.

Logan Fray looked up at his audience: a group of people whose minds and souls were only beginning to blossom into a compass.

He looked down at his speech, pushed his glasses up, and cleared his throat.

“Here is what I know...”

—

Logan was never one for happy endings. Happy endings always seemed too close-minded for his taste. Though this, perhaps, was ironic given what he now knows.

After visiting The Midnight Forest, Logan’s hand seemingly never left the paper. He wrote through the night and throughout the next day. Patton and Roman were admittedly concerned at first, but grew too understand what was happening — Logan wasn’t writing, but searching.

As all artists tend to do.

He finished his speech a bit more last-minute than he had hoped, but knew it was perfect the second he dotted the end of the last sentence. He went out to a bar the night he finished, Patton by his side and even Roman, hidden yet curiously peering out of his shirt pocket. Logan vaguely remembered the blurry lights cascading across his vision, the cheers, the laughter, and the warmth that filled his bed not too long after.

The days that followed were filled with practicing his speech, revising it, and everything in between. Logan felt himself bouncing across the walls of Fray and Far Fables. Despite his efforts that he was fine— truly fine—Patton had convinced Logan to let him help out. And, of course, everything was better because of it.

As for him and Roman, they grew as inseparable as Logan was to his own magic. Roman would give him notes each time he practiced and, in secret, Logan would take The Midnight Forest with him on another project he pursued.

On the quiet days—the days when the rain would slowly fall onto the roads outside—Logan would sit down in the armchair next to his window with a cup of tea, and would always feel a small presence resting on his shoulder, watching alongside him.

The shop was quiet, but it was home; something that Logan hadn’t felt in years. In every corner he’d turn to, there was someone he could live for; someone he found purpose in.

And he glowed; oh, how he glowed.

The night before his speech came before he knew it. Patton helped Logan close up as Roman departed for some “beauty sleep” before his trip out into the real world. Logan ran through his speech a bit more before Patton eventually pried it from his hands, leading him upstairs to the bedroom instead. Logan begrudgingly, but gratefully, followed.

“And just like that, the day is done!” Patton flopped onto the bed with a sigh as Logan changed into his pajamas. “Time flies, huh?”

“It does, perhaps too quickly.” He joined Patton in bed, letting himself melt into Patton’s embrace. “I can’t believe it’s tomorrow.”

“You’ll be amazing, Lo. You always are.”

Logan smiled, curling up in Patton’s arms. They laid there in silence for a few moments, letting the moon float towards the peak of the sky. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and Logan quietly thanked each and every star for bringing him to where he now was.

“Hey, Lo?” Patton’s sleepy voice buzzed against Logan’s chest.

“Mhm?”

“I...I love you. I love you so so much. And whatever happens out there and whatever’s beyond it, I...I’m going to keep loving you.”

A beat of silence. Logan cleared his throat.

“There is simultaneously everything and nothing in life, dear. There is pandemonium and solace in every corner, all at once. And...and there was a time where I had to navigate those truths alone. But now, there is a light guiding me in my pursuit, regardless of where I turn.”

Logan held Patton a bit tighter as sleep closed in on him.

“You make me stronger and more resilient each day, Patton,” he murmured in the crook of Patton’s neck, “which is to say, I love you too.”

…

Early next morning, just as Patton left the shop with Roman on his shoulder, Logan placed a few papers besides the copy of The Midnight Forest on the front counter with a smile.

—

“So all this being said, I present to you, once more, my question: If life has no inherent meaning under the lens of nihilism, why are humans so eager to escape and create art if they are simply creating something out of nothing? What, then, do you suppose is the answer?”

Logan looked up at the hungry and curious eyes that met him, and smiled.

“The answer lies beneath the former of the statement, ‘creating something out of nothing’. With every bit of nothing that could ever follow us in this life, there is something. There will always be something.

“Art is, hence, cyclic in nature. It takes the nothing and creates within it, something. And within that something are arms that will always reach out and beg others to do the same. There is a hidden fascination within us all to fill the void with purpose, with passion.

“Someone once told me that in a life with very little meaning, art worms its way into the spaces that it can fit. And with the help of others, art– and everything it represents– is made bigger than the spaces of life they initially occupy. Within those spaces is the possibility to grow, to foster bonds — to know, truly know, every corner of this life.

“You are young and are now bouldered with a responsibility that may seem unshakeable. But you are also artists, searching for answers you may need to make yourselves.”

Logan caught sight of Patton in the audience with a teary smile. And, hidden in his shirt pocket, a warm glow of red. Logan’s smile grew.

“So continue searching,” Logan finished. Behind the podium, his hands glowed a reassuring blue. “Continue your pursuit of creation, of knowledge, of growth; for your questions will spark answers that spark questions again. And I promise you, such a cycle will allow yourself to grow bigger than the spaces of life you initially occupy.”

—

Later that night, Roman found himself alone in the shop. Logan had met some important scholars (Roman had scoffed when he told him) who dragged him out for drinks to talk about prospective research. Patton had tagged along after some gentle reassurance from Roman that he would alright on his own.

So Roman took it upon himself to clean each shelf and each book of Fray and Far Fables, weaving himself through stories and letting each one breathe, if for a little while longer.

He eventually found his way to the shelves behind the front counter, frowning at a small gap between one of the books. He narrowed his eyes. There was a book missing.

He descended onto the front counter, pursuing his lips and trying to figure out where the book could have gone, until he nearly tripped on his answer.

Roman looked down. His face softened. Right at his feet was a copy of The Midnight Forest , resting neatly and soaking in moonlight from outside.

He carefully walked onto the cover and laid down on it, trailing his hand across the title.

Suddenly, he caught sight of a few papers next to the book. Roman frowned, standing back up and floating up to read the whole papers. His eyes widened at a few selected words.

‘Riptide Publishing Co.’

‘Upcoming dates...sign here…’

‘Possible release date for…’

Roman saw an image plastered on one of the papers.

‘The Midnight Forest by Virgil Aries: With a new foreword by: Dr. Logan Fray’

Roman felt himself glow brighter than he had ever had before. His glow illuminated a small sticky note on the paper.

‘To my dearest friend,

Here’s to the new stories the world will finally get to hear. Here’s to light, here’s to love, and here’s to hope.’

Roman grinned. He immediately flew onto the cover of The Midnight Forest and placed his hand on it. Red rippled across the whole shop as Roman tumbled through the front cover.

As soon as he opened his eyes, Roman dove into the forest, weaving through trees, searching and searching and hoping…

And then, everything around him froze.

Hovering in the centre of the forest clearing was a faint outline of a small silhouette, only a little taller than Roman, basked in moonlight. It stood still for a moment, as if looking right back at Roman.

The silhouette then pulsed with a soft, familiar, purple glow.

Roman grinned, tears running down his face as he flew towards the silhouette. He reached a careful hand towards it, worried that if he moved too fast, it’d all disappear.

But when the purple silhouette just outstretched a hand, Roman knew it was going to stay; after years of waiting, Virgil would finally stay.

Roman took the silhouette’s hand and swept him into a waltz; one that took them high above the forest clearing; one that brought them even just a bit closer to the stars.

—

a/n — thank you for reading <3

[read more of my works here!]

#TS Storytime 2021 #gabbie writes things #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years ago

Text

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

“No, no, no, no, no, no!”

This was your fault. All your fault. All because of your stupidity. Now you might be losing one of the most important people in your life. Sehun was limp in your arms but he was still breathing. You didn’t know whether to have hope or to begin mourning from that motion.

“(y/n)?”

Through your blurred vision, you looked up to find Junmyeon kneeling in front of you in his human form. His hands were held cautiously out in front of him as if he were trying to communicate with a wild animal. And maybe that’s what you were. They may be the ones who could transform into dogs, but you were the barbaric one. Look at what your decisions had done.

“I did this to him,” you whispered, lowering your eyes back to the man who hadn’t given up on you.

“No, you didn’t,” Junmyeon reassured you. His hands laid over yours. Though they were warm like Sehun’s, they didn’t give the comfort you were needing. But you didn’t fight him as he removed your grip and took Sehun in his own arms. A new pair of hands landed on your shoulders, making you jump.

Soomi smiled down at you. Relief and love shined through her brown eyes absent of all the judgement you surely deserved. “Let’s go, (y/n).”

Instead of standing up and following the alpha, however, you broke down. You sobbed as Soomi wrapped her love-filled arms around you. She let you crumble into her chest. There was nothing but her love for you, no anger, no hatred for what you’d done. Despite what you’d seen, you should have known that she was not Tatia. Down to the very last moment, she was only Soomi, who truly cared.

Sehun was right. You were loved. More than you’d ever known.

The chair was not comfortable. The wooden seat made your back ache and there was a numbing sensation buzzing through your legs, but you still didn’t move. You stayed there by Sehun’s side, hands firmly wrapped tight around his own.

He was still asleep, wrapped up with bandages that covered the concoction Soomi had created to help the burns heal.

Apparently, the fire that came from Molia’s hands was structurally different than regular fire, enhanced and altered by magic - hence why the vampire didn’t turn herself into ash whenever she used it. Somehow, though, the fire also kept the wolf’s accelerated healing ability from working as well.

All night and well into the afternoon of the next day, you’d stayed by his side, not letting go of him for a second, except for the one time you went to the restroom. You’d even managed to eat the one meal you’d accepted from Lottie with one hand. Down in the basement, you knew Evie was in the same position.

That woman was a saint. She had to be. Even as you apologized and groveled for her forgiveness for Kris getting hurt, she never shouted or grew upset, giving you the blame you so deserved. She’d told you it would be alright and disappeared to be with her husband.

Not everyone was as forgiving or understanding. A few of the wolves - Tao and Baekhyun in particular - gave you narrow-eyed looks. That was the other - although extremely small - part of the reason you stayed up in Sehun’s room. You wanted to avoid the other people you’d put in danger. At least until Sehun was up and you were able to cower behind him.

Another person you hadn’t expected to be so kind towards you was Mother Willow. At first she hadn’t come back to the farmhouse with the rest of you, taking the coven with her. Your initial guess was that she was giving you time before the scolding and lecturing and consequences began. But no. Instead, she’d gone to find out more about Molia. You’d given Soomi the information you knew, who’d then passed it onto Mother Willow.

Now that Molia was dead, all her protective magic was gone too, making it easy for the coven to find her hideout. Apparently, she’d been in town an extended peroid, staying in a nice hotel room while putting together her malicious plot. Her diaries were even found. The insight discovered within those pages… it only increased your guilt.

“She wasn’t always so full of hate,” Mother Willow told you. When she’d entered in the early morning hours, you’d let her have your chair while you sat on the bed next to Sehun. Your eyes stayed on him while your ears took in the newest information discovered.

“Was it her coven?” you asked fearfully.

“Partially,” Mother Willow confirmed. “But it was also that vampire. She met him one night while gathering Evening Primrose. Witches and vampires were more sociable with each other back then, so they struck up a friendship. At night, she would meet him by the caves near her village and he would tell her of the world he’d seen. He fed into her fears of her coven turning against her.”

Closing her eyes, Mother Willow took a deep breath and let it out. A moment or so went by before she opened them again.

“I suspect that he might be the one truly behind the accident.”

That was the comment that made you peel your eyes away from Sehun. “The accident?” Molia’s screams from the memory of her “death” bombarded your ears. “What accident?”

Telling you all of this seemed to be taking its toll on her, though she continued anyway. “According Molia’s diary, she was by the river, arguing with Tatia. Her emotions surged, causing the water to rise and crash down on the banks. Tatia’s niece was playing nearby… she drowned. But she hadn’t been anywhere near the river. Molia had written in later entries that perhaps the vampire had come in and killed her, throwing her in the river to make it look like she drowned in the waves.”

“Th-that’s why the elders tried to bind her powers?”

Mother Willow nodded. “It would seem so.” With wrinkly fingers, she reached out and grasped one of your hands. “Though the details were never recorded, we knew the reason Molia had lost control was because she was given free reign of her powers. The mothers back then kept a watchful eye, but no one knew how to teach her, so they let her teach herself. We thought we could learn from their mistake by doing the opposite.”

You gently squeezed the brittle limb that held on tightly to you as if you’d run away again at the first chance. “Maybe there is no right or wrong way. Maybe we all have to find out who we are and how to manage that on our own.”

“But a little guidance along the way could help,” she smiled. It was a small one, barely visible among the folds in her face. You never really knew how old Mother Willow was – she always seemed like this perfectly preserved grandmother, never changing, never giving away the secret of her origins.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t return the smile she shared with you. “I still don’t understand, though.”

“Understand?”

“Yes. I don’t understand how she could choose the route she took to get here, even if she was manipulated by the vampire all those years ago.” While you knew the reasons Molia had given you – with her sweet words of a world where you didn’t have to be afraid of yourself – you didn’t believe that was her true motivation.

Mother Willow sighed. “We can never know for sure. But she was full of hatred – hatred for her own kind, hatred for herself. I believe that she was simply out for blood. She wanted control over the people who tried to control her.”

“But why wait four hundred years to try it?” you asked. “Why not go after them when she first woke up as a vampire?”

“Waking up to an immortal life is not as simple as waking up for the day. She had many things she had to learn, such as control over her thirst and how to balance her old and new powers. And you saw for yourself – she couldn’t control everybody, even at the height of her power under the blood moon. She needed help. She needed you.”

You scoffed. “And she knew I would come along?”

“Eventually,” Mother Willow nodded. “She knew eventually someone like her would come along and face the same fear and suspicion that she did. And she would use that to her advantage.”

She certainly did.

You fell for it all; small moments of doubt had crept in, but you ignored them in favor of being accepted and exploring your powers. Now… now you would be lying if you said you weren’t afraid of them yourself. No, you could never go back to hiding or suppressing them, but you feared that they could someday take over again.

“You are very lucky, you know.”

You blinked, looking up at Mother Willow as she let go of your hand and stood from her seat. “How is that?”

Her eyes fell from you to the sleeping wolf. “While we’re very much alike – wolves and witches – the dark history can never be forgotten. Not entirely. It might be because of that history that a mate bond being formed between the two is rare, almost as rare as your gifts. But Mother Fate – she knew what she was doing, tying the two of you together. He never gave up on you. His faith… it’s stronger than any spell. Soomi said that he searched the woods for you for three days, from the moment you disappeared. He is the greatest gift of all.”

You were stunned into silence, watching Mother Willow exit the bedroom. Even after the door was shut and her footsteps had faded away, you kept staring after her. Could what she said be true? Could he really have searched for you all that time, forgetting all about the argument that had taken place just before?

As if answering your question, a heavy sigh escaped Sehun’s lips, pulling your attention back to him.

“Please, wake up,” you whispered. There was so much you needed to say and you needed him to be able to understand, to actually hear the words that would leave your mouth.

Hours passed by. You’d shifted back into the wooden seat to hold Sehun’s hand at a more comfortable angle.

All throughout the time he was asleep, his brothers and their mates came to check up on him. Disappointment and worry decorated their faces whenever you informed them that there still was no change, no sign of him waking up. Kris had apparently already started to heal and was up walking around. That bit of news had given you hope, but you couldn’t drown out the tiny voice of doubt in your head. It constantly told you that this was your fault and that you were probably never going to be able to see those brown eyes again, the ones that soften after a single glance in your direction or that sparkled with mischief when he was too quiet.

Afternoon was slowly drifting into evening. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, begging for a small amount of relief. You hadn’t slept in almost two days and it was taking its toll. Perhaps… just a quick nap. You weren’t leaving or letting go of his hand. You would… still… be here….

It felt like no sooner had you closed your eyes and rested your head on the edge of the bed that you felt like you were being shaken awake.

“(y/n)? (y/n)?”

Groaning, you lifted your head in a sloth-like motion, eyes blinking away the sleep to find out who’d awaken you.

Smirking at you as he sat up in bed was Sehun. His dark eyes shimmered through the blurriness of your own.

“Oh, my god!”

You threw yourself onto him, not thinking nor really caring about his wounds in the moment. He was awake. He was finally awake and that was all that mattered. You heard him hold back and “oomph” as you landed on him, but it was quickly drowned out by your sobs.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out as you buried your face in his chest. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I’m sorry.”

He softly “shhed” in your ear as the tears rolled down your cheeks. In a soothing motion, he swayed you back and forth, even reaching behind you to bring your legs up on the bed so you were lying beside him.

Over and over, you cried out your apologies, each individual sorry for one action or another. There were other things you wanted to say, but none of them would come to surface.

“Stop apologizing,” Sehun said in that even voice of his. Usually you would have been annoyed as his lack of emotion, but right now you’d take each miracle as they came to you without complaint.

Pushing yourself up so you could look at him full, you wiped away the tears. “Why? It’s my fault you got hurt and-”

He kissed you. “I’d let myself get hurt over again if it meant you came home.”

Home. A simple word yet one with such a heavy meaning. You’d never felt as if you had one, but now? Now you held it in your very hands. Because Sehun was your home. And you’d come back to him every time.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you sought to release it the only way you knew how.

With Sehun’s warm cheeks in your palms, you leapt forward and crashed your lips into his. Control of the kiss was not yours for long. Sehun flipped you over so he was now hovering above you. One hand rested on your hip while the other caressed your face. Your tears had dried up and the cracks that you’d created in your own heart were beginning to heal. The scars would still be there forever, but if this was the medicine needed to ease the pain, you’d spend a lifetime taking it in.

Looping one arm under your back, Sehun scooped you up and brought you to a sitting position. You hooked your legs around his hips, clinging to him in desperation. His wounds didn’t seem to be bother him at all as he barely broke the kiss to expertly slip your long-sleeved shirt over your head. The cold air of the room nipped at your bare shoulders.

Sehun huffed at the camisole you’d been wearing underneath, but as his fingers played with the hem, you dived back in for another kiss, unable to go too long without one. Subconsciously, you must have heard the rumble of the floor, but you were too preoccupied to interpret what it might have been.

Slam!

The thundering herd suddenly came to a stop in the doorway as you jumped from the intrusion.

“Oh thank god you’re awake,” Chanyeol sighed with relief.

“I’d say he’s a little more than awake,” Jongdae snickered. Sehun growled at the comment, pulling you in tight to his chest with both arms wrapped around your waist.

“Sehun!”

Junmyeon pushed and shoved his way through the crowd of wolves to get to the front where he could see the proof for himself. Not even thinking, he ran forward and squeezed in between the two of you, practically choking the youngest wolf in the tightest of hugs.

“I’m alright, Junmyeon,” Sehun grumbled. His eyes flickered to you in a desperate attempt to get you to help him escape from the embrace, but there was no way you were going to save him from the alpha.

Eventually, Junmyeon let go, stepping back with a sigh. “That’s it. No more witches, no more rival packs, no more hunters. From now on, we are a normal pack with no troubles whatsoever.”

“Um, Junmyeon?” Jongin spoke up. “You do realize that’s impossible for us, right? I mean, at least with the ‘no witches or hunters’ part.”

Junmyeon looked at you with a tiny bit of shame. “Oh. Right. Not including you or Harper, of course.”

You waved a hand. “No offense taking. I think we could all use a bit of normalcy now.”

“Definitely not possible with this crowd,” Kris chuckled as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He gave you a slight nod as if fully accepting you into the pack with that simple gesture. “It’ll be nice to have some quiet around here, though.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be quiet anytime soon,” said Baekhyun. “Especially with Harper being pregnant and I’m sure soon there’ll be more on the way.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait! You guys know? Since when?”

Sehun’s eyes went wide in your direction. “Since when have you known?”

Oh. Oops. “N-not too long.”

“We’ve only known for a day or so,” Minseok explained. “Only after hearing the two of them talk about it… very loudly.”

Your curiosity was rising as to how that whole scenario went down, but you decided you’d talk to Harper about it later – at a more appropriate time.

“So, now that you all know that I’m awake and fine, can you leave now?” Sehun may have phrased it like a question, but there was no actual asking behind the tone.

“Are you sure you’re in good enough health for that?” Tao teased.

“Are you sure you’re in good enough health for that?” Sehun mocked before throwing a pillow at the other wolf. It was easily dodged, but they got the idea and scattered, Junmyeon being the last to leave and closing the door behind him. Sighing, Sehun turned back to you. “Now, where were we?”

You pursed your lips. You weren’t entirely on board with what you were about to say, but you felt like it needed to be done. “As much as I hate to agree with Tao, I think I should. You still need to heal up after what Molia did to you.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. Hooking a finger through one of the belt loops on your jeans, he pulled you in closer. “Besides, if I remember correctly, the last time we really talked was when we argued. That means we have a lot of making up to do.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as his cheesy lines. “Down boy.”

He shook his head. “Not this time.”

You didn’t think you were ready for this. It was an inevitability, unavoidable and an absolute. But even though you’d walked yourself through it several times over the last few days, you still weren’t ready for it. So you were hiding on the front porch steps while everyone else was inside.

Soomi and Mother Willow’s cottage had been your two constants in life. You were more than prepared to leave behind the cottage and move into the farmhouse with Sehun permanently, but saying goodbye to Soomi? That was another ordeal entirely.

Sure, there had been times where she’d gone on short research trips or visited other covens, but you knew she was coming back and she was only gone for a week, maybe two at the most. This time, though, she would leave and you didn’t know when you would see her again. Your life was moving on in a way you’d never imagined nor expected and it hurt more than you’d ever thought possible.

You tried to suppress the sniff that came with the single tear, but the sound came out anyway. You didn’t want to think about the suitcase place conspicuously beside the door just inside the parlor. She couldn’t stay, you knew that. That didn’t mean your feelings suddenly went away as well.

Sehun was healed to the point that it was as if the injuries never happened in the first place. The blood moon was here and gone and you weren’t having any more visions of possible evils to come. Life was calm again which meant it had to go on. Soomi was no longer needed here – by the pack, at least. You would always need her. Part of you considered asking Junmyeon if she could stay, but that wasn’t fair to anyone involved besides yourself. And you’d been selfish enough.

“You’re breaking my heart, being like this.”

You tried to hurriedly wipe away the evidence of your sadness. It was useless, though, as Soomi sat down beside you on the steps, an arm draped around your back.

“I’m going to miss you,” you confessed without prompt.

“And I’ll miss you,” she replied. “But you’re not alone. And I’m only a call away, if you really need me.”

You rolled your eyes, more at yourself and the sappiness coming out of you rather than Soomi’s promise. “I’ll always need you.”

“For that, I’m thankful.” She wrapped her other arm around your front and pulled you in for a hug. You held on tightly, still not entirely ready to let her go.

“Soomi, are you read- oh, sorry.” Junmyeon turned to go back inside, but Soomi jumped up to her feet. Her own eyes were starting to water. This goodbye was hard on you both.

“No, it’s fine. I should get going before it gets too late in the day.”

Nodding, Junmyeon reached inside and rolled out the suitcase. He handed it over without a word.

“Thank you,” Soomi smiled at him. It getting easier for her, you could tell. Her smiles to him were now friendlier, not so sad.

“Of course,” he said. “If you need anything, just call. Thank you again, for coming.”

“We’re always happy to help.”

Clearing his throat and nodding one last time, Junmyeon patted your back before heading back inside. You followed Soomi down the steps and to her waiting car. You helped her put her suitcase in the trunk and even walked all the way to the driver’s side door. You really didn’t want this to be it.

As if sensing your hesitation, Soomi hugged you once again. “I love you. You know that right.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I definitely do. And I love you, too.”

She held on for a few seconds longer before letting go. “Okay. I have to go now before I’m tempted to stay.”

You laughed, knowing it was true. So, you took a step back to give her room. The engine roared under the hood, vibrating the small compact vehicle. With one final wave, Soomi started down the long drive towards the main road.

A warm arm suddenly appeared around your waist. You smiled sadly up at Sehun, who brushed it away with a kiss to your forehead.

“You’ll see her again,” he said. You nodded silently before looking back at the car just before it disappeared among the trees.

No, it wasn’t goodbye forever, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

#exo #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #sehun x reader #oh sehun #exo werewolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo supernatural au #exo series #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #Midnight Hours #untamed wolf universe

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atsukashii · 4 years ago

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MY LOVELY LOOOLS CONGRATS ON 1K!!! ✨🤩💛 and i wanna celebrate with u through ur event yay !! may i have a fluff drabble (option 2) with shoto + prompt 7 & 17? HEHE i just thought it’d be cute & i know you’ll write it so well 🥺🙈 aaaand tysm for doing this, and congrats again!!!!! ILYYY 💓💓💓

*:･ﾟ✧ request *:･ﾟ✧

a/n: Erikaaaaaa!!!!!! Thank you my love💓 you were one of my first mutuals on here and have a very special place in my heart. I love ya loads and loads girlie and hope you like this one. It’s one of my faves xx

*:･ﾟ✧ pairing *:･ﾟ✧

shoto todoroki x fem!reader

*:･ﾟ✧ prompt *:･ﾟ✧

#7 → “I’m cold. Come closer.”

#17 → “You’re drunk.”

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

You had told Shoto that you would be home late, but the call he received after two am surprised him. Normally, you were tucked into his side by nine at the latest, passed out, your hair a mess, and your head on his chest. To be honest, he wasn’t quite sure how you had stayed awake so late, but by the time he had rolled out of bed and dragged himself to the bar you and your friends had inhabited all night, it was evident why.

“Sho!” You yell from your seat on a stool. The grin stretching from ear to ear, pulling across your lips has a smile pulling at his own mouth. Eagerly, you try to get up from your chair, only to stumble when your feet touch the ground. Yeah, you’re definitely drunk.

“You’re here!” you giggle as you finally reach your boyfriend and wrap your arms tightly around him.

“You texted me saying you needed a lift home.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” Shoto tries to hold in a laugh as you affectionately tap his cheek. A distinctive pink blush covers your cheeks and he thinks its absolutely adorable. But not as adorable as you act when you get drunk which is very rare. But you had been out catching up with the girls from your high school, so you had let loose, which is something you would most definitely regret tomorrow like you always did. Gently, Shouto wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his right side, pulling a sigh from you as you lean your warm face against his arm. You quickly say goodbye to your friends, letting Shoto lead you out of the bar and down the street towards your shared apartment. You don’t even get past the door of the bar that your boyfriend drapes his jacket over your shoulders. Even though its the middle of summer, you still appreciate the gesture. He doesn’t mention though that it’s more protection for peoples who lingering eyes aren’t deterred by his glare. You’re beautiful, no doubt about it, and the fact that you’re wearing a short dress, your hair immaculately styled and everything about you looking completely divine… yeah you were taking his jacket.

Shoto eyes the jacket you’ve now tightly wrapped around you, and for a moment, he wonders just how drunk you are. There’s no chance you could possibly be cold in the middle of summer. Even at night, it was too warm, hence why Shoto’s biceps are on display in his t-shirt which has you practically drooling.

“I’m cold, come closer.” you whine, practically burying yourself into his arm. Which a quiet chuckle, Shoto puts you on his left side and slightly activates his quirk making you let out a groan of appreciation. He blushes at the noise but shakes his head as he looks at you. You are very very drunk.

“Why is it so cold?!”

“It’s not, its the middle of summer y/n. You’re drunk.” He points out. With a delay due to the alcohol, you turn and pout up at your boyfriend.

“I am not!” You argue back, and your pout is too tempting to Shoto.

“You’re really going to argue this?” He asks but doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he gently kisses your lips which taste like strawberry, probably some sort of cocktail you had earlier. You sigh against his lips, grabbing onto his shirt to keep your feet on the ground, instead of floating away like the rest of you currently feels like it is. Even though you’ve been together for years, that heart-racing sensation never left.

“What were we arguing about again?” You ask, your voice a breathy whisper against his lips. Shoto’s heterochromatic eyes are sparkling own at you in the dim light, and you’re lucky if you can remember your own name.

“No idea,” he laughs as you link your fingers with his, your previous conversation forgotten as you swing your linked hands childishly between you. You walk towards your apartment in silence, just appreciating each other, but because you’re drunk it doesn’t last long.

“We should adopt a cat.”

“We already have one.”

“Then we need another one! Look there’s one over there!”

“Y/n that’s not a cat!” Eventually, Shoto gives up and just carries you back to your apartment whilst you giggle in his arms about how you feel like a proper princess.

*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧ links *:･ﾟ✧

1k celebration event post

celebration prompt list

celebration tag

1k masterlist

#1k celebration event #🎊#shoto todoroki x reader #erikia💕

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bbq-hawks-wings · 5 years ago

Text

BBQ gripes about fanon Hawks

Not even gonna put this in the character tags aside from the spoiler one I use just for the anime-onlies on my blog. I'm salty. I just wanna vent. I want to keep the general character tags fun because it was awful when I went looking for new content and found so much Not Fun material a while back; and I don’t want to become what I hate. Basic point - my blog, my vent, and unless it’s reblogged (which you are welcome to if you like) this post dies here.

Please know this isn't a callout post or me claiming that others are being fans of Hawks "wrong" because they disagree with me. I am a huge proponent that (with very few exceptions) fiction and fandom should be free to be enjoyed, reinterpreted, or otherwise indulged in however the individual fan prefers; and if I don't like it, I let them have their space and go do my thing elsewhere and leave them alone (hence why this not going in character tags). I just have been annoyed with the rampant mangling of Hawks' canon personality/characterization - that is, confusing common fanon interpretations of him with how he’s actually written/portrayed and then getting angry (like, actually-angry-spilling-into-publicly-dragging-real-people, not just disappointed) when he acts like canon Hawks in canon. Non-canon is open season and by and large has my blessing, it’s just frustrating when it gets dragged into discussions about the manga.

This has been going on a long time, but I just want to get it out of my system in my personal space. All this is, is my "Overthinking Tumblr blogger Shakes Fist at Cloud" moment.

#1 Hawks is a sociopath/unempathetic.

I just... I... You can't be reading the same manga I am if you genuinely come to this conclusion about who he is in canon. A man with nothing to gain by looking like this when considering the depths of the suffering inflicted on others that he bears some amount of responsibility in...

...cannot be called unempathetic.

"But he killed Twice and Best Jeanist!"

Twofold counterargument to this one, starting with BJ - we don't actually know he's dead. There's a body, there's a disappearance, and we have no idea wtf happened, but we also don't know wtf happened. It's drastically ooc for Hawks to murder someone in cold blood. For someone who places emphasis on speed specifically "because when two sides keep fighting and won’t give up, someone eventually has to die" it makes no sense for him to not have had a plan and simply ambush a man in his own home - this goes doubly since he was in contact with the HSPC and had time to "premeditate" anyway.

And as for Twice: Hawks ran out of options. He wanted to detain Twice and keep him from escaping and helping the MLA. He was able to do so when alone, but the moment Dabi cornered him Hawks had a choice to make - probably die in the fight and let Jin go or make absolute certain he can’t and still probably end up dying because he's in bad shape and still probably won't make it out of this, regardless. I don't need to harp on this - it's been said a couple different times now by several people. Even in 266 when Dabi initially ambushes Hawks, Hawks thinks to himself that he’ll carry Jin out of the building to keep himself and Jin safe before Twice retaliated and Dabi literally forces Hawks into a corner.

Jin's loss was a blow, but the chips on the table being wagered are human lives, not feelings. Up until that point, Hawks did everything he could despite the weight of his decision. Human life is human life, and Jin’s life isn’t more important than the may more who will be saved by quashing the MLA’s revolution. Simply equating “could kill someone” with “unempathetic” is fundamentally flawed, and mistaking someone who is pushed to kill despite every attempt to avoid it as unempathetic and even sociopathic has missed the point to the extreme - the mere fact he avoided lethal force for so long alone proves he possesses empathy.

#2 Hawks is a compulsive liar.

He is a good liar, but he does not like lying. He does twist the truth, but always when forced to keep a secret. Even then, his lies are predominantly spun from truth and omitted details instead of outright fabrications. He doesn’t gaslight, and he doesn’t make up stories/details if he can help it.

When Hawks told Endeavor his dreams for the future, that was the truth. When he told him he thought he was cool at the hero billboards, that was the truth. When he tells Tokoyami to focus on his strengths instead of merely covering his weaknesses to be a better hero, that was the truth. When Tokoyami asks Hawks for his weakness and even why he took him on as an intern in the beginning just to ignore him, he tells him the truth. When he tells Jin he "doesn't belong in a cage" and that he considers him a good person, that was the truth. When he recognizes he’s profoundly wounded Jin for deceiving him for months, he tells Jin the truth. When confronted by Dabi and he doesn’t need to lie anymore in this fight to the death, he tells him the truth despite not actually needing to in hopes to learn the truth behind Dabi and Shigaraki.

I don't have a better segue, so I'll just mention that a lot of folks who believe this also believe the next point.

#3 Hawks is unapologetically emotionally manipulative.

The context makes a huge difference and we need to look at when and why he manipulates others as well as the fact that he does.

At the hero billboards, Hawks plays the heroes on stage as well as the crowd. He's trying to shift the mindset of, "oh yeah, just another hero ranking" to "wake up, mf's, things are changing and you better be ready to change, too!" Rocking the boat is a huge no-no in Japan. Despite being part of his “persona” there is still real social risk involved with this move but one that he deems necessary to turn heads and get gears turning. This is not just an elaborate ploy to get under Endeavor’s skin, but an effort to reach a wider audience while he has them captive.

He does use the public crowd around him and Endeavor before the Hood fight as an excuse for its appearance, but the original intent was to mentally prepare Endeavor for what was potentially (and proved to be) the fight of his life without outright telling him so he could maintain his undercover status. When he realizes he’s part of the reason for Endeavor’s permanent scar and life-threatening injuries, he feels remorse.

He lies to Jin to get information out of him, but linking back to #2, when calls Jin a good person and offers him a way out, he’s telling the truth. He does feel guilt for having to manipulate an otherwise well-meaning person and betraying them, especially given his long-running history of being used and the ongoing issues he suffers from because of it.

When he meets up again with Endeavor to drop his clues about the League’s movements, he squirms when he realizes the interns don’t know him well enough to know he’s blowing smoke because he does NOT want these kids to actually buy what he’s selling. This espionage mission is hard to navigate, and he has to tread carefully lest he setup the dominoes in the wrong places.

This is all to make the point that Hawks is more than capable of emotionally manipulating people, but it’s not in his nature or something he does to any and every person he comes across just because. We haven’t had much opportunity to see him operate outside of the HSPC’s orders which is where the bulk of the instances of his manipulation comes from - those orders requiring him to operate covertly and thus, by nature, necessitate lying, manipulation, and strategically withholding information.

If anything, when he’s making an appeal to someone else as his own person - not as a hero on a mission- we actually see a level of vulnerability and transparency we don’t otherwise catch.

Though it’s technically canon-adjacent and not necessarily canon in and of itself, in My Hero Academia: Team Up Mission where he works with Bakugo and Midoriya he operates on a level of transparency with them we’re not used to seeing; and my theory is he took it as an opportunity to operate without ulterior motives and build report instead of bucking back against “training up the next generation of heroes” like he initially did with Tokoyami.

Which now actually segues better into the next point.

#4 Hawks never lets people get close to him.

There’s a surprising amount of evidence that Hawks wants the ability to be an open book. Back at Team Up Mission, the restaurant staff note he regularly takes people he likes to their establishment - so we’re basically told outright this is a special place to him reserved for enjoying himself and only people he likes get to share it with him - so we already know what that says about how he sees those two despite their sparse interactions. We already know he’s taken Endeavor there when Endeavor made no move to input as to where he wanted to have the lunch meeting.

Though he kept Tokoyami at arm’s length initially, we have at least three canon instances of him sharing personal interactions with him with other canon-adjacent indications he cares for and values his intern. We’ve readily established that while Endeavor may not consider himself close to Hawks, Hawks does hold Endeavor as near and dear to his heart. While his only mission regarding Twice was to get information out of him, he still made a genuine effort to help and save him because he wanted to and considered him a friend despite the circumstances.

We still don’t know very much of Hawk’s past, his personal relationships outside of work, etc.; but despite the HPSC’s extensive efforts to strip him of his identity he not only possesses a faceted, complicated personality but seems to want to share that with others readily when and in the ways he’s able. Getting into the truly squishy, vulnerable parts of him may take a while, but on a scale of closed to open, he seems to lean towards open.

#5 Hawks is hopelessly in love with Dabi and will abandon everything up to this point for him.

This isn't to throw general DabiHawks shippers under the bus. Most of them know VERY well at this point that canon has sunk that ship, and they're just having fun with it at this point - and you know what, power to you! They look great together! In another life, the character chemistry could have been incredible. There’s a lot of great DabiHawks shipping content I thoroughly enjoy despite not shipping it myself.

It just isn't canon. It never was and never came close. Even now, with the Endeavor reveal being very much imminent, Hawks' view of Dabi is one of a lying, malicious, callous, murderer. Though he’ll likely be crushed at the revelation of what Endeavor’s done, that doesn’t equate to him defecting (especially not immediately) and falling into Dabi’s arms.

And Dabi hates Hawks just as much.

Again, this is not anything against the ship or the shippers - just an annoyance I have with some who were so wrapped up in the ship they were genuinely mad when the ship sank and they dragged that frustration out into the real world against real people when canon didn’t align with fanon.

Ships are some of the most stupid things to rail against creators and fans over, and the amount of harassment they receive now over shipping has me ripping my hair out when I know it’s a mere fraction of the total pool of shippers who are frothing at the mouth while the rest are super cool and happy doing their own thing and keeping to themselves.

Ship what you want, regardless of “validating evidence” and have fun. Don’t make it others’ problem when it isn’t canonically validated.

#6 Hawks is a dirty cop.

Only half upset with this one because it comes down to the nuance and lack of precise definition of this phrase I have a problem with. Lots of people hate cops for very real, legitimate reasons. Police forces - being a voluntary, government-employed force enforcing government rule - are notoriously prone to corruption of every kind.

It's implied the HPSC is itself corrupt, though to what extent we don't know. (Granted, buying a young child from his family to raise as your personal puppet is pretty high up there.) By continuing to follow orders from the HPSC and not vehemently fighting back, many see him as reinforcing a corrupt institution and at least partially liable for their continued hold on society.

Fair enough, but... The issue I have with this is it reduces Hawks to his job.

I believe a huge chunk of this take comes from my experience as an armed service member spouse, but it's easy for me to empathize with a guy

Who was promised the moon for himself and his family in exchange for his service not realizing what was actually being asked of him

Is praised outside the organization for "being a hero" and "upholding this country's core values" while first-hand witnessing the corruption of it when inside

Is viewed as a cog valuable only in services rendered instead of being treated like a human by said organization and worked into the ground because of it

Is frustrated by the insistence to keep the status quo instead of improving procedure/infrastructure/environment because egos need to be padded over real, human problems being solved

Has his autonomy or otherwise ability to operate under his own judgement restricted in favor of maintaining organizational control at the cost of effective action

Has DEPENDENTS who rely on his continued work to provide for them and is thus unable to refuse an order, even when it's morally reprehensible and even outright illegal

Whose cries, both those calculated and desperate, to the organization (who have placed themselves as the sole resource he can turn to) for help (even for his own body/mind) fall on deaf ears until he breaks to the point of becoming unusable or dangerous - and even then minimal effort/responsibility is taken in favor of keeping him functioning in the organization as long as possible.

Hawks fights back against the HPSC constantly. He raised concerns over letting civilians suffer to get him in with the League of Villains and then still defied orders by reducing casualties to zero. Despite orders to keep his mission top secret, he's informed Endeavor of his motives/movements independently from the rest of the heroes. He had long refused to take an intern (read: fresh meat for the machine) to train until this year, and even then sought to minimize his encouragement of Tokoyami for as long as possible until he realized Tokoyami was made of the real mettle people needed in a hero and not just another youngster endangering himself on a pipe dream.

He even takes initiative to keep his personal to-do list from the HPSC to a minimum by squashing problems before they come knocking asking him to fix it for them. He knew of the League of Villains and anticipated the escalation of their movements immediately after the USJ incident as well as has a network of informants and connections with local police forces to stay in the know.

His methods for apprehension of criminals are, and continue to be, to react and detain them so quickly they can't retaliate or endanger others in the struggle, thus minimizing human loss and injury despite the insinuation the HPSC has told him that gloves are off in the current situation.

He might be "a cop" depending on the definition we go with, but he isn't a dirty cop. He doesn't plant evidence. He doesn't shoot first and ask questions later. He doesn't blindly take orders. He largely doesn't see "villains" as dirt under his shoe but as people pushed to extremes. He's a morally convicted individual trying to rebel within the system instead of tearing it down outright. He may be wrong in the assumption, but he genuinely believes he can do more on the inside of the system than outside.

#7 Hawks is a manwhore.

Ok, this one is not serious and actually just to end this all on a lighter note after ranting until I'm blue in the face.

I'm 100% guilty of this myself. Something about that chicken makes me and many others salivate - either for themselves or to watch him with someone else. We love dressing him up slutty, portray him as flirting unashamedly, and placing him in as many overtly sexual scenarios possible.

The best part about all of it, though, is that it’s almost the exact opposite of how he dresses/conducts himself in canon. His clothes are loose fitting and high-coverage. He’s personable, but never gives any indication he’s romantically/sexually involved or interested in anyone. The asscourse is real only because we cannot confirm either way due to his baggy clothes. His overall figure/body shape has been hinted at, but only recently confirmed; and his jacket had to be literally be burned off to get a good look at the pattern of his shirt under it!

~~~~~~~

And with that, I release the frustration and move on.

Enjoy fanon as much as you like - even I do! Just be aware of where canon and fanon diverge, and definitely don’t take the difference out on real people. Please also be aware of how others hold their favorite characters dear before flooding the general tags with negativity and creating a hostile environment for them. People latch onto their “comfort characters” for a plethora of reasons, and when they lose that character to the plot, the fandom, or otherwise, they should still be allowed to grieve and celebrate what they had in a safe environment.

Retaliation in response to others coming against your favorite is also not acceptable behavior. It sucks, but the most mature thing to do is step away from the general fandom, stick to blogs/spaces you know are safe, and let the storm blow over. Comfort characters do not justify mistreating real people no matter how much they may mean to you.

When “canon gets it wrong” is where fanfiction and pockets of the fandom community comes into play. Leave those people alone and let them be. For those who aligned themselves with canon, they are not free game to take personal frustrations out on. Leave those people alone and let them be. Unfollow the people/tags you need to for your own sake and others’, and the fandom will be a better place all around over time. Venting belongs in controlled spaces away from the rest of the fandom and with enough warning for those who not only don’t want to endure it but who for their own safety shouldn’t.

Fandom is a community, and healthy communities do not endorse members lashing out when they don’t get their way.

#spoiler!hawks #let's talk hawks

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