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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Lá Bealtaine

Pairing: Choso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, cunnilingus, SMUT, NSFW/18+only, loss of virginity - if you squint, using sex to mask feelings & trauma, mild JJK manga spoilers; but if you’ve seen the anime you’re pretty caught up on this stuff

Word Count: 4732

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

You lift your head, blinking at his obsidian surveyance. “What am I supposed to do? Say no? Not like I put an advertisement on the door: seeking dangerous men and nefarious spirits, inquire within. I’m not wanting to die, you know? Besides, it’s not all bad.”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped.

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Notes: hehe, when i said i had Choso brain rot i was not joking. this dude has been on my mind for weeks, ya’ll. WEEKS. special thanks to @libiraki & @kugutsuu for beta editing! if you haven’t checked out their works please stop what you are doing & scuttle yourself over there bc you are missing out.

Lá Bealtaine [l̪ˠaː ˈbʲal̪ˠt̪ˠənʲə] 'the bright or yellow day of Beltane' - a time of fire and fertility.

It started with a touch. A simple interaction; but it sticks to the back of his mind and the heat of your hand lingers, a remembrance that he can’t shake.

He’d returned to the dingy bowels of the hideout, boots echoing over the well-worn floor as he made his way to his customary seat; unaware of the blood that oozed from the strip above his nose. Legs and arms are heavy as he slots himself into the chair, his eyes drooping closed as he leans his dark head against the cushions.

Two weeks.

Choso’s younger brothers were killed two weeks ago. Leaving him alone; adrift in his loss, his failure as an elder brother. The remembrance of them stung in the morning and was an ache by afternoon, but in the night’s darkness it burned.

He will have his chance, he reminds himself, furrowing his brow; seeking the faint traces of the other six who need him to press on, and the hollow twinge of the two who need vengeance. The 31st is only fourteen days away; he can wait. He can–

The pressure of the sudden touch makes him jerk; coal-dark eyes snapping open, searching for the source. You’re standing above him, hand outstretched, the pad of your thumb delicately catching the long forgotten drip of blood against his cheek.

“You shouldn’t touch that,” he says, voice gruff in the vacant emptiness of the space; but he doesn’t shift, meeting your frank gaze unblinkingly.

“Oh?” you question, swiping the sullied digit across your pants, tacking the deep crimson into the material of your jeans.

“It’s poison,” Choso clarifies. The spot you’d stroked your thumb down is tingling. Exhaustion, he muses, itching his nails into the thick fabric of his loose pants. He’s imagining it; there’s no other explanation.

“You’re not going with the others?”

What? How can he? They’re dead. Ah, no. He’s not thinking clearly. You don’t mean his brothers; you mean Getō.

“No,” he quips, lifting the back of his hand to his cheek, wanting to quell that spreading warmth that you’ve left him with.

“Then you don’t need this, right?” You gesture to the mess of game pieces and the forgotten board that is scattered across the low table in front of him. He shakes his head and you begin the steady process of tidying up, collecting the mismatched jumble into your arms, folding the rest into the tattered box before you step away.

Choso closes his eyes again, steadying his breaths, finding the pulse of the blood that thrums within him. Nothing is out of place. So why does his cheek feel like it’s on fire? There’s no reason for it. Is he this starved for a connection that he’s latching onto the first interaction he receives?

His onyx eyes follow you as you walk across the matted flooring. You own this space; have struck some kind of deal with Getō and the others, permitting them to come and go, quietly cleaning up their messes, and ducking out of sight when they gather within the confines of the darkness; talking through the plans, the ins and outs of the sealing and the massacre that they hope to spread throughout the underground station of the pre-ordained prefecture.

In the grand scheme of things you’re nothing. Why waste energy focusing on you? It won’t matter in fourteen days.

The clink of the cup on the table rattles him out of his thoughts and Choso peers into the depths of your clear gaze once more. “What is it?” he queries, running a broad hand down his face, hoping the pull will make him forget the persistent warmth that’s radiating from the spot you’d touched.

“You look tired. Drink that and get some rest.”

“Giving orders now?”

“Sure,” you grin, cocking your head at Choso’s curled lips and wrinkled nose. “That’s a good one. Like any of you would ever listen to me.”

What’s this called? Self deprecating humor? Well, whatever it is, Choso doesn’t enjoy the brittle tone your voice has drifted into. It doesn’t suit you and that low annoyance that’s been brewing under his skin is coming closer and closer to the surface. His fingers are on the cup before he can properly sort through his mismatched emotions, but he doesn’t miss the lift of your lips when he gulps the scalding tea down his throat.

Why does he care? You don’t matter. You’re no one to him.

“Easy,” you tut, shaking your head at his sharp gaze. “You’ll burn yourself.”

So? He’d rather feel something burn than linger into the uneasy pull of an ache.

Choso looks for you when he enters, shifting past the others. You’re tucked toward the back, brows creased and head down. It’s a smart move, but the frightened hunch you’ve adopted bothers him more than it used to.

“We have a few minutes,” Getō announces to the gathering, dark eyes bright as they fall on his impassive face. “And Mahito is always late.”

There’s an implication behind it, but Choso opts to ignore that uneasy instinct, already turning. He’s just going to ask you for tea; that’s all. When you spy him, you smile and that spot on his cheek flares, remembering the sweep of your thumb.

“Lucky you caught me,” you tell him, hands busy with the rattling cups. “I was about to go.”

He narrows his eyes, watching the curve of your neck, the stretch of your fingers, and the uneasy twitch of your shoulders. This sort of existence doesn’t suit you. You’re the antithesis of this; normal, kind, unabashedly human. So why do you…

“Why do you let them––us, stay?”

“Name one thing that’s not bad about this,” Choso demands, his tone clipped.

Why? Why does he care? You’re not someone he can save. There’s no room for you. You aren’t family.

“Only one thing? Well, that’s easy,” you continue, the steady lull of your voice jerking him out of his musings. “You.”

Choso shakes his head, openly scowling at your answer. “Me?” he sputters, sucking his teeth and pressing his clenched fists into the long table that you stand behind.

“Yeah,” you confirm, pouring the steaming water over the leaves, wafting the fragrant essence of the tea between his clenched jaw and your ducked head.

“I don’t… that is...I...” Choso begins, but fumbles into silence when he catches sight of your eyes, half hidden behind the sweep of your lashes. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. “You’re strange,” he finishes, huffing a belabored sigh between his pursed lips, but when you laugh he can’t help a faint smile.

It will feel disloyal later, that burst of momentary happiness, but right now he doesn’t mind the distraction; cupping the yunomi between his palms, catching your fingers before they can pull away, enjoying the warmth you transude into his chilled hands.

Nothing holds. Choso knows this better than most. All things, given time, change. It is an inevitability. Something he’s known intrinsically, and clung to, all those years; when the only constant was the beating of his brother’s hearts beside him. But change rarely announces itself, content in its own emergence; the omnipotence of its bite.

Something has shifted.

“You didn’t go again?” You ask one night, sitting beside him, a cooling mug between your fingertips.

“Didn’t see the need,” he tells you, an outstretched legs brushing against yours.

“You’re different… you know that?” A smile hidden within your words.

“So are you.” He likes that, he thinks. He likes it more than he should.

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

You bite your lip and he watches the press of your teeth, hoping you’ll split the skin.

“Come closer and I’ll tell you.” You bargain, coyly shaking your head.

“I’m close enough and I don’t like games,” he grumbles, hoping you won’t leave it at that, because while it’s true that he doesn’t like games, he’s enjoying this give and take.

“Please?”

There’s something intoxicating about that gentle sound and he turns, wordlessly following your crooked finger. He towers over your seated form, but you don’t let that imbalance hang, hands tugging against the white of his shirt, urging him to kneel between your spread legs. When he settles, you curl your fingers against his jaw, smoothing that blistering heat over his icy skin until he’s pressing forward, resting his heavy forehead against yours.

You’re so warm, he inwardly gasps, his breaths coming in pants. So warm he fears he might grow addicted to this heady intimacy. “What do you want?” Choso asks, the deep timbre of his voice quaking.

“You.” It’s such a simple answer; how like you.

“I am here,” he replies, half drunk on the feel of your skin.

“Yes, but what if I told you I want more?”

That question casts him into the darkness. He’s unused to this; doesn’t know what to do, what to say; he’s been sealed for so long, too long, and he feels wobbly, lightheaded, but he tries to reach, his fingers grasping at the base of your neck, pulling you toward... toward…

The clatter of the front door startles you both, and he’s on his feet, eyes wild as they look down on your parted lips, and the furrowed confusion of your brow. Your hands are still upturned, waiting for his.

The others step into the space and when he blinks again you’re already gone; your chair vacant, the warmth you’d shared evaporating into the unfeeling cruelty of the chilled air. Shit, Choso curses, grinding his teeth.

Something has shifted; it will be impossible to tear himself away from you now.

It’s only been a day, but he can’t stop staring at you. He doesn’t hide his blatant gaze, obsidian eyes tracking each step, hungrily snapping to yours each time you come near. You do nothing to lessen this itching want that’s raging within him, leaning close, pressing your hand against his shoulder as you gather the discarded cups that are scattered between them, asking him if there’s anything else he needs, your breath hot against his ear.

He’s unsure if he likes this.

But each time you shift away he wants to drag you back.

When they leave, used to his excuses, and his protestations that as long as the mission doesn’t involve Itadori Yuji or Kugisaki Nobara he’s uninterested, he stands; head turning, searching for you.

Ah. There you are.

He’s against you in an instant, stiff hands cupping you, greedy to touch, to hold. You squirm, a laugh bubbling from your lips, swatting his wide palms from the tempting swell of your hips. “What’s gotten into you?” As if you don’t know.

“Tch,” he scolds, “you’ve been toying with me all evening. You said you wanted more yesterday, so show me.”

You breathe out a chuckle, bemused by his enthusiasm and take his hand in yours, leading him down a hallway. He’s never been back here, but he follows, trying to steady the thudding of his heart. Controlling his life’s blood is second nature to him, so why does this feel like it’s a losing battle?

The room you open is dark, but he can make out the shape of a futon, stark against the mats, and his eyelids flutter, too overwhelmed by the realness of this befuddling situation to look. To distract himself, he pulls you against the slope of his chest, splaying his fingers against the sweep of your collarbone. You twist in his loose hold, folding your arms around his powerful neck.

“Do you still want this?”

Choso unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth, gulping down a wavering breath. “I already told you,” he begins, his voice gravel, “show me more. Show me what else you want to do with me.”

“Can I kiss you?” you inquire, dipping your head enticingly, catching his wandering attention, urging him nearer. He doesn’t answer, electing to tap his lips against yours, clumsily pressing until the tip of his nose digs into your cheek. It’s easy to feel your heartbeat like this, and he wraps his arms around your lower back, eliminating the meager distance that was trapped between your heaving chests.

You let him steady himself, careful to keep your movements slow, but the squish of his face and the jerk of his hands tugs a bated humph of discomfort from you and he breaks away, elegant brows crumpled as he searches for the source of your discontent.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you amend, smiling at his obvious pout. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Choso questions, stroking a palm up your spine, a smirk quirking the corner of his mouth when you draw in a gasp.

You cup your hands beside his ears, fingers sinking into the dark tangles of his hair as you lure him back to your parted lips. “Open your mouth.”

He does as he’s told and you mold him against you, lapping your tongue over his, earning a shuddering moan and a sharp caress as he coils his hand around your throat. It’s easier this way and Choso steadily follows your lead, mimicking your sucks and teasing bites. Teeth clash when he reaches for more but he eases the sting with a flick of his tongue, and you nibble his lower lip in retaliation, pleased he’s so malleable.

Your fingers fall to the sash that rests above his stomach and he grunts when you pull at it, easing it away with a stable unwinding. His breaths are heavy against your kiss shined lips, but he keeps perfecting his new found techniques, sweeping chapped skin until it’s worn smooth by the wetness of your tongue. His own hands are preoccupied with your neck and the gentle underside of your jaw, fingertips pressing until you can sense the pound of your heart within his grasp.

“What are you trying to do?” you ask between his frantic presses. “It’s like you wanna match my pulse, or something.”

“Worry about yourself,” he grouses, ill-pleased with your answering laugh. “It’s going to take forever if you go that slow.”

You shove your palms against his chest and he stumbles backwards, his booted feet loud against the heavy mats, dark eyes flashing up at yours as his face falls into a deep-seated glower. “What?! What was... why did you…”

His angry retorts melt into nothingness when you fling your shirt over your head, sending the thin fabric fluttering to the ground. The sudden exposure leaves him gaping, unsure of himself once more, but you ease the shock, grasping his limp hand in yours, guiding it over the dip of your stomach, and up the flow of your side.

“Let’s play fair, huh?” you tease, tapping a kiss to his cheek, careful to land it in the same spot your thumb had touched weeks ago. Choso nods, obsidian eyes wide as his fingers trace over your goose-prickled skin. “Alright, well, it’s your turn.”

His gaze snaps back to yours, whisking over your face; as if he’s searching for some kind of answer in the lift of your nose, or the plushness of your lips. Whatever it is, he seems to have found it because he ducks his head to yours, resting his brow against the crown of your temple, hands lifting to his own clothing, making quick work of the intricate knots and folds of the fabric.

The gleam of his skin in the moonlight takes your breath away, and you reach for him as he eases the black off of the white, sliding your warmth over the coldness of his bared pectorals. He’s smooth; skin as soft as freshly cleaved talc, or a scattering of downy feathers, and you keep stroking until he’s shaking under your touch, his exhales unsteady against your face.

“I think I have more blemishes on my fingers and arms than you do on your entire body. You’re so soft,” you tell him, tracing an outspread hand against his muscled abdomen.

“I’m... this is a new manifestation,” he answers, hoping the strangeness of him, of his half human, half cursed being, won’t drive you away.

“Hmm,” you nod, pulling him down for another kiss. “It feels nice.”

He’s slow to undress. Not because he doesn’t want to see more of you, he’s simply distracted, too focused on touching what bits of you are revealed; the arc of your hips, the tipped buds of your breasts, and the line of your legs. But you’re like water; slipping through the gaps of his fingers, leaving him wanting, unsatisfied with his fragile hold.

When the last scrap of clothing is off, he waits, his cheeks flushed and mouth dry. “Now what?”

“Do you want me to touch you first?” you ask, that tantalizing smile lifting your lips.

“No,” he asserts, shaking his dark head. “I want to learn you before that...so show me.”

“You’re very unusual.” Tilting your head as you take his hand, leading him to your futon. “You know that?” you continue, tumbling him over you as you splay across the crisp sheets.

“Says the woman who is letting me between her legs,” Choso smarts, finding your lips in the gathering darkness. “Stop stalling; show me.”

With a pleased sigh, you reach for his hand again, looping your fingers around his as you guide him to the juncture of your thighs. You work one away from the others, gliding it along the ridges of your folds, showing him how you like to be touched. After his initial gawping and mystified rumblings of, ‘so wet,’ and half croaked, ‘fucks,’ he shifts closer, easing onto his haunches as he curiously follows your lessons.

“There,” he hisses, onyx gaze catching your twitching stomach and jerking hips. “Teach me how to do that.”

You work him to that apex, using your other hand to lift the slippery hood of your clit, showing him how to press and tap against the spongy nub. He’s a quick learner, his eyes falling from yours to watch the flutter and quaver of your cunt.

“Move your hand,” he tells you, resting his lips against the hollow of your neck, his tongue lapping over your pulse. When you untwine your fingers from his he waits, lips too busy sucking a bruise into your skin; reaching for that unsteady thump of your heart.

Bump-bump-ba-bump.

Yes. This will do. He’s caught the rhythm; can almost sense the flow of your blood, and see the surge of your clit under his touch.

The next frig of his digit has you gasping out his name, legs unfurling, knees shaking beside his ribs, your head flopping back onto the futon with a dull thump as you arch into his hold. Choso reapplies the pressure, adding the pad of his thumb, leaving it opposite his seeking forefinger, squeezing until you’re clawing your blunt nails down the sheets.

“You look good like this,” he smirks, looming over your heaving figure, licking his wet tongue along the valley of your breasts. “What else can you show me?”

Your fingers’ grip into his hair and you yank him from you, one brow delicately arched as you take in his irascible scowl. “You could put your mouth to better use…”

There’s no need to elaborate, and he’s wedged between your thighs before you can fully blink, ravenous lips slurping kisses and bites into the tender skin; he’s asking another question, but you can’t hear when he’s touching you like that, his fingers doggedly pressing at your clit, jerking more moans from your throat.

“Wh-what?” you ask, breath stolen before it’s past your quivering mouth.

“I said,” Choso pants, lifting his inky head and fixing you with a dazed stare. “I can feel your heartbeat.”

“Does that matter?” you laugh, popping onto your elbows to regard him inquisitively.

“It helps,” he answers cryptically and you jab your toes against his arm.

“Helps with what?”

“You’ll see. Do you care if I experiment?” He lifts his fingers from you, sucking the dripping pads into his mouth as he waits for your answer.

“Knock yourself out,” you gape, biting your lip between your teeth.

His dark eyes glaze before he averts them, an appreciative smile gentling his sharp features. “Good,” he replies, easing one bent leg over his broad shoulder, sparing you a last glance before sealing his lips to your throbbing folds.

It starts slowly; a deep shudder that seems to radiate from your core before pooling against your extremities, making your fingers twitch and your muscles spasm incrementally. But Choso is mindful of the power that he’s found, and he eases you onto his tongue, helping you to relax with steady sucks, avoiding that all important button that is distending above his nose. He can almost hear the rush of your blood, can sense where to press with each swell of your slick folds, and he follows unquestionably; pleased he can lose himself in this, in you.

He taps his thumb against your entrance, eyes opening, searching over the curve of your breasts to see you, to watch what kind of expression you’ll make when he finally breaches this boundary. The sheer heat of you takes him aback, and he groans, his low voice vibrating over your twitching cunt, and you reward his elation with another moan, his name falling from your lips.

What is this?

He’s drowning and all he’s done is taste you. Will he die if this goes further? Or will it burn? Lapping away the remnants of his regret until there’s nothing left of him but splintered bone.

“Choso,” you breathe, fingers latching into his wayward hair. “More, please… it’s not enough.”

He rotates his thumb before easing it out, making room for the wide push of his index finger, tongue lifting to swirl around the pulsing nub of your clit, and teeth grazing until you’re squirming.

“There!” you cry out, bucking into his open mouth. “Oh, god… I... I can’t––”

Something inside you shudders. He can feel it in the comforting thump of your heart and it makes him clutch you to him, his own hips rutting against the edge of the futon as he finds himself awash in the sheer intoxication of you.

Fuck. Is it supposed to feel like this? Like he’s half himself and half you? Or is he simply drunk on the rush of your blood?

Your cunt sucks his finger deeper, gummy walls pulsing in time with your heart as he gulps down your essence, tongue greedily catching it before it has time to drip onto his upturned wrist. It’s good. It tastes so fucking good.

He’s so winded by the sensations that he barely notices you pulling from him, his dark head lolling over the crinkled sheets, an inaudible moan slipping between his clenched teeth. Choso doesn’t resist when you ease him upward, warm fingers tracing up his heaving body as you press him onto his back. Only when you press a kiss to his fevered temple does he find himself, eyes bleary in the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, straddling his hips, your hand reaching for his straining cock, palming some of the leaking pre-cum over your fingers as you stroke him. “I can’t wait… I want you… can I? Choso?”

This part will burn, he thinks, helping you to hold yourself steady, eyes slipping closed when he feels the slick heat of you gliding teasingly over his tip. When you sink down, his back arches, and he hopes that the whispering shadows, the lingering remnants of his guilt, will be tossed onto this fire you’re stoking. Your hips still when they reach his base, legs twitching around him, your nails catching against his smooth skin, working nicks into the clean slate.

You’re clutching onto him like he’s the only thing tethering you down, and he opens his shuttered eyes to watch, hoping he can glimpse you past the smoldering of his want. You’re beautiful, he thinks, hand lifting from your hips to fiddle with the necklace that sits around your neck, admiring the glint of metal in the gloom.

He wishes he could see more, that he could wait a little longer, but he wants to put an end to this ache; he wants to burn.

The lift of your knees leaves both of you gasping, and Choso stifles a moan, legs tensing restlessly under the steady push and pull you’re establishing over him. It’s so warm inside you, and he can feel the thrum of your blood again, so he tries to match his to yours, controlling his pulse, right down to the multiplicity of his cells, eager to feel that potent tug of release once more.

“Does it feel good?” you ask, leaning back so he can admire his engorged cock as it plunges in and out of your sodden pussy.

“Do you have to ask?” he grunts, lifting a hand to your breast, tweaking the tender bud of your peaked nipple between the knuckles of his fingers.

When you call out his name again, he snatches you to him, dragging you to his parted lips as he digs his heels into the futon, rutting into you until you’re squelching lewdly around his pistoning cock. The world feels like it’s narrowing; the shadows lessening as he engulfs himself in you, his teeth working bruises into your neck, your shoulder, the tops of your breasts, anywhere he can reach; but it’s not enough.

With a huffed groan he’s gathering you into his arms, robust thighs helping him to flip you onto your back, hands splitting your legs as he drives himself back into your welcoming heat. It’s deeper in this position. He can feel more of your twitches and pulsations as he steadies his arms beside your ears, bracing himself over your prostrate form.

“You want me to touch you again, don’t you?” he asks, voice broken. “Do you want me to touch your clit? Will that make you cum for me? Will it?”

“I-I can do it,” you gasp, easing your fingers between your grinding bodies, knees spreading so he can watch. “Tell me when,” you murmur, head dropping as you arch, slipping him further.

“Now,” he moans, grabbing your jaw, forcing your lips to his as he slams his cock into you, setting himself alight; easing the incessant tug of his guilt until it’s a blunted thrum resting close to his heart.

When you shatter around him, he follows, wholly caught in the ebb and flow of his release; lost in the depths of this unsteady solution.

He stays with you through the night, eyes following the line of your body as you sleep. His hands are cold, he thinks, easing them beside you, but not for much longer.

The 31st is only four days away.

“Did he question you? Ask you for anything?” Getō’s words are lanced with care, his voice honey sweet as he steeples his fingers, peering at you with an avariciousness that makes you shake.

“He didn’t. I doubt it will happen again. I didn’t...I don’t want to...to… hurt––”

“What? Hurt him? He’s a half-breed monster. His feelings don’t come into this. Nor should yours; you have a family to think of, a mother who’s an invalid, a younger brother who can’t be depended upon, a father who’s a drunkard; too far gone to notice, or care, his eldest is missing; hasn’t attended her college classes in weeks... and your sister. Well, she’s still a child... much too young to suffer from your mistakes, don’t you think?”

“You’re the monster,” you grit, hands folded into your lap, nails pressing until blood wells under your fingertips.

“Perhaps,” he smiles. “We’ll be out of your way soon enough. Let me know if you show any signs of impregnation, would you? Any spawn you whelp will be useful; very useful indeed.”

notes: i was gonna name this something else, and i know the dates i am describing don’t match with the sabbat, but Beltane felt like a smoother fit.

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unwrittenlibrary · 4 years ago

Text

Fine Line

Summary: There’s a fine line between love and hate and you’re not too sure which side you’re on with Harry anymore. Part Two to What Kind of Man

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: I said this in the first part & will repeat it. This is purely fictional. This in no way reflects how I feel Harry would handle this situation in reality. I’m really using Harry as a character. DO NOT READ THIS if you feel the situation of cheating and staying together will impact you strongly or offend you. That is not what I want when reading my story.

Notes: I urge those uncomfortable with cheating to avoid this. I also urge those who dislike this kind of writing to avoid. I came up with this story at a point in my life where my parents were divorcing, I was going through a break up and was lost. I’ve decided to finish this story because I put so much effort into it for it to end unfinished feels wrong. I can’t speak for anybody and how they would handle this situation.

Thank you for 1000 followers. That is crazy!

You’ve got my devotion.

But man, I can hate you sometimes.

...

You sunshine, you temptress.

My hands at risk I fold.

April.

The first two sessions had gone by in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say to answer the therapists questions. You weren’t sure you even wanted to talk at all.

“Y/N.” You look up startled out of your thoughts. “Do you feel like talking today?” Her eyes are kind and understanding. Her degrees hang behind her head and you zone in on them. Dr. Walsh had been the only therapist who could take you on in April. Any others that you called had informed you their next opening for new patients wasn’t until the end of May.

You supposed it could have been worse. So far, Dr. Walsh had come across as kind and understanding of your hesitance. She had never forced you to talk and had only tried to get you involved on your own accord.

“What would we talk about?” You ask instead of ignoring in silence like you had the past two sessions. You can see Harry turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you remained focused on the two degrees hanging behind Dr. Walsh’s head.

UCLA. “What year did you graduate?” You ask before she can answer your original question. “From UCLA.”

“We can talk about whatever you want. How you two met. Your kids.” You raise an eyebrow and she smiles. “1996.”

“I thought we were supposed to talk about our issues. Why would we talk about our kids or how we met?” You answer her question. You can tell Harry’s eyes are moving back and forth between the two of you, like he’s unsure if he should get involved in the conversation.

Dr. Walsh shakes her head. “Sometimes the best place to start is with what makes you two happy. You’re here to work on your relationship, right?”

The two of you nod. “Then I’m not worried about starting with the most painful part of your relationship. I want to learn about it. If I can learn about your relationship then I have more knowledge on how to help you repair it, if that’s what you want.”

“Okay.” You agree. You feel some of your tenseness fade away. You were here for a reason. “We went to UCLA too.”

She nods. “You did? Were you studying the same thing? Is that how you two met?”

You look down at your fidgeting hands and let out a laugh. “Not quite. I was a creative writing major and Harry was political science. We met in a World History course our sophomore. It was a general requirement class.”

“Yeah.” Harry nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Professor Ward.”

“Mind if I sit here?” You look up and your breath hitches. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Bright eyes and a sweet smile that could take anyone’s breath away.

You nod hastily. “Yeah. It’s all yours.” You move your notebook over so he has a bit more room on his half of the table.

“Thanks.” He drops his books on the table and flops down into the chair. “Harry.” He reaches a hand towards you and you meet him halfway.

You offer your name up easily and his smile brightens. “What brings you into a World history course?” He asks quietly as the last bit of students rush into the few seats left up front.

You smile. “Creative writing majors have to take one broad history course before focusing on any history of writing courses. Ward’s class was the only one with openings that didn’t start at eight.”

“Creative writing. That’s cool.” Harry’s spinning the pen in between his fingers. “You want to be a writer?”

You smile nervously and nod. “That’s the goal. What brings you to Ward’s World History?”

Harry laughs softly. “I’m a political science major, this is just a required gen ed.”

“Political science. What’s your plan with that? Am I sitting next to a future senator?” You give him a teasing smile.

“Lawyer.”

You shrug, “Senators have to start somewhere.” The professor comes in and that halts the conversation from going anywhere else. As Professor Ward goes over the syllabus you see a piece of paper slide across the table towards you. You look over at Harry, but he’s looking ahead with a smirk on his face.

You unfold the paper and there is a number written in messy handwriting taking up the small page.

“Bold.” You whisper to him and he shrugs. “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.” He whispers back.

“So you both liked each other right away?” You look up as you're dragged out of the memory of meeting Harry.

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I think so.”

“Definitely.” Harry agrees. “I’m lucky I was running late that day. The seat next to her was the only good seat left. Plus, she helped edit all my essays. I was a shit writer before her.”

You smile softly at the memory. “Y/N?” You look up and Dr. Walsh is watching you closely.

“That class sucked.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “We had so many essays. He’s right, he was a shit writer before me.”

You finally spare a look over at Harry and he’s watching you with soft eyes. “That was our first semester of sophomore year. We were attached at the hip after that.” You look back down at your hands.

“Did you guys start dating right away?” She asks.

“Pretty much. We started dating right before winter break.” Harry answers for the both of you.

She nods as she eyes the clock on the wall. “Does that memory still make you happy?”

You nod. Your memories hadn’t been ruined. But that didn’t really mean anything when you could barely be in the same room as Harry now. “Of course. But… Things are different. We’re not twenty-somethings with no responsibility. We’re parents. Partners. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. And now it feels like we don’t.”

Harry looks over at Dr. Walsh as she studies you. She was obviously taking in your words and processing a response to them. “I think the biggest question you need to find the answer to is, do you want to fix this marriage?” She finally says looking pointedly at the distance between you two.

You pause and mull over her question. “Can we fix it?” You ask quietly.

She shrugs. “I can’t answer that for you. It’s my job to help you find the answer, not give it to you. What I can tell you is; Sometimes people walk out of this with a new appreciation and love. Sometimes people realize it can’t be fixed. Nothing is wrong with either, it’s just up to you two to figure out which one it is.”

You look over at Harry and find him watching you with hopeful eyes. You knew he wanted to and felt like you both could fix this.

But you weren’t sure. “I don’t know.”

The drive home is silent for the most part. Music playing softly from the radio as you stare out the passenger side window.

“I don’t know what to say.” Harry says as he pulls the car into the driveway. He puts it into park but doesn’t turn it off so the music is still playing as he turns to look at you.

Gemma’s car was parked behind your own. You see the curtain move slightly which is a telltale sign that a child was peeking out the window. It quickly falls back into place when your eye catches Serena’s.

You shake your head and look back down at your lap. “What is there to say?”

Harry shuts his eyes and you see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “I want to fix this. I’m trying. Do you want to fix this?”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t try and guilt me, Harry. I didn’t cheat, you did. This… This mess isn’t my fault and it shouldn’t be my job to fix it.”

“I’m not trying to guilt-“ He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “That was a shitty thing to say. I know. I just want to know if we’re gonna make it through this. If you think we have a chance.”

You look over at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know. All I can think about is you fucking another woman while I was home with our kids. Telling them that you were just busy. That we would have dinner tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.”

Harry flinches like you’ve hit him. You turn away but don’t stop talking. “I know a month may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. We’ve been together for seventeen years, so what’s a month?” You laugh humorlessly. “But how long have we been distant? How long have you been staying late and missing dinners?”

“I don’t know.” Harry whispers and you see him clench his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from falling.

“It’s been months, Harry.” You look around the yard. Your and Persephone’s plants needed maintenance. “We had Jack and then everything changed. We stopped date nights. Family game nights faded from existence. We stopped having sex. I… I don’t know what happened.”

Harry doesn’t say anything so you sigh. “I’m trying, Harry. It may not seem like it to you, but I’m trying.” You unbuckle yourself and move to get out of the car.

Harry reaches out and wraps his hand gently around your wrist. “I know.” He stresses the word. “I know you are.”

You nod and the two of you just watch each other for a moment. You break away from him first. “I’m sure the kids are peeking out the window. We’ve been out here long enough.”

The both of you climb out of the car silently. The door flies open by the time you reach the second step of your front porch.

“Mama!” Oliver comes flying out towards you. “Mama. Never leave us again. Baby Jack is crazy.” He grips you tight and you laugh, the tension immediately leaving your body as you hug him back.

Gemma comes to stand in the entrance with Jack on her hip. She gives you a weak smile and you smile back. “Come on, I’m sure Aunt Gem is dying to go home after watching you crazy lot for two hours.”

Gemma leaves quickly handing Jack off to Harry and giving you and Harry both kisses on the cheek. “Let me know about spring break, Y/N!” She calls as she rushes out your front door.

“Spring break?” Harry asks as he bounces Jack in his arms.

“We’ll talk about it later.” You say sparing a glance down to Oliver, who’s still attached to your leg. Harry nods before moving towards the living room. Oliver follows behind him and you’re left in the front hall alone.

You take a deep breath before following them.

Harry sleeps in the guest room. You can’t bring yourself to allow him back into the room you two shared.

His clothes remain in his half of the closet though and his toiletries had remained in place on the bathroom counter, so you saw him every night before going to sleep.

Dr. Walsh had suggested the two of you used this time to try and reconnect. “You don’t have to sleep in the same bed yet. It’s completely normal for you to need time apart, Y/N. But I do want you two to talk before bed every night, I know you have four kids and it may be your only true alone time to reconnect emotionally before you ever do anything physically, even just sleep.” She had offered at the end of your session after you had admitted you weren’t sure how you felt about Harry and your relationship now. “This is a good way to figure out if you can still see yourself together.”

You loved him. You didn’t need her to help you answer that question. He was the father of your children. You had over a decade of amazing times together. But you couldn’t look at him without your chest aching.

“What was Gemma talking about spring break?” Harry sits on the lounge chair you two had placed in the corner of your room. Jack’s bassinet used to be next to it, but he had recently moved into his own room.

You sit on the end of your bed with your arms crossed over your chest. “Olly has been asking if we could go to Disney World. I was talking to her about maybe surprising him and Serena for their birthday since it falls during the kids break this year.”

“That sounds really nice.” Harry smiles and you nod. “I’m sure the four of them would love it. I can put in for the week tomorrow. I have a bunch of paid time off I need to use up.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You want to go? We haven’t been on vacation since the beach trip before Jack was born.”

Harry’s face turns stoic. “Of course I want to go. I told you I was going to spend more time with guys.” He walks towards the dresser you have pushed against the wall. “Here, pull your laptop out, let's book this now so we can get a good room.”

You gape at him. It had only been an idea you were considering for the twins birthday. Although, it was coming up and you were running out of time to make a decision.

“Are you sure you can get the time off?” You ask instead of listening to his direction.

Harry nods resolutely. “Can I?” He points next to you and you nod. You lean over to your nightstand, where you had left the computer the night before while writing.

You push it open. “I’m gonna go get Persephone.” You stand up and hand the laptop to Harry. “She can help plan some stuff with us, so we know what these young kids want.” You give Harry a weak smile and he nods.

You shake your hands out as you make your way down the hall towards your eldest daughter’s room. You knock softly on the door, “Seph?”

“Come in.” She calls and you push the door open. She’s got her show paused and is curled into her comforter. “What’s up, mom?”

“Can you help your dad and I with something?” You ask hesitantly. “I know it’s late, it’ll be quick.”

Persephone gives you the same dimpled smile Harry has, “Of course. I was gonna be up binge watching this show anyways.” She unwraps herself from the blanket and grabs her phone before following you back to your bedroom.

“Hey, lovebug.” Harry gives her your favorite smile. One he’s somehow reserved solely for you children. Soft and bright while his eyes shine proudly.

“Hi, daddy.” She plops herself down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead and the smile that spreads across Persephone’s face is contagious.

You take a seat next to her, so she is squished in between the two of you. “You know how Olly has been asking about Disney?” You ask quietly. You and Harry had put the twins down an hour ago, but Oliver was known to sneak away from his room for a cuddle with you.

She nods instead of verbally answering and Harry pulls up the booking website. “Your mom had the great idea to surprise the twins for their birthday.”

“Really?” Seph asks excitedly. Your family trips usually consisted of beaches or visiting grandparents. The last time you had been to Disney was when it was just the three of you. You weren’t sure she could even remember most of the trip.

You bump her shoulder softly with an excited grin. “Really. Jack is old enough that he can get probably through a day there without screaming his head off. Aunt Gem said that she could come to help watch him so you three can have fun.”

“That sounds awesome!” She lifts her head from Harry’s shoulder and looks at you happily. “What did you need my help with?”

“Picking out where to stay. You guys are the focus of the trip so we want you to stay where you want to, not us.” You gently take the laptop from Harry and place it in her hands. “So tell us your top three and then dad and I will pick from there so you still get to enjoy some of the surprise aspect.”

She scrolls through the website for a few minutes while the three of you sit there quietly. You glance over at Harry hesitantly. He’s looking down at your daughter with bright eyes.

You quickly look away when his eyes move up to meet yours. “Okay. I added the three I liked the most to your favorites! Did you guys need anything else?”

You both shake your head. “Just keep this a secret. It’s going to be a surprise.” You smile excitedly at your eldest. She had grown so much, but seeing the childlike shine of excitement in her eyes brought you a bounty of joy. She was still your baby.

Persephone nods before handing the laptop back over to Harry. She presses a kiss to both your and his cheeks before hopping up and making her way towards your door.

You give her a confused smile when she pauses and turns back around to face you again. She takes in a nervous breath before speaking.

“It’s really good to be all together again.” The words are quiet and fearful. “Um. I love you guys. Goodnight.” She turns on her heel and bolts out the room and back down the hall.

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispers. His tone is similar to her’s. Quiet and full of fear. “I love you all. I know I hurt you, but you are all my world. Those kids are what I’m most proudest of.”

“I know.” You look over at his lap. His hands curled tightly around the laptop still open in his lap. “I never doubted how much they meant to you Harry. I know how much you love those kids.”

You want to reach out and pull his hand into yours. Something you usually did when Harry was scared or nervous. But you kept your hand firmly planted in your lap, unable to give him that forgiveness.

“I was never afraid of you not loving them. I was-“ You stop unsure of what to say. What were you afraid of? “I was afraid that I had given so much and you still wouldn’t have chosen me.”

Harry looks over at you with sad eyes and you let out a humorless laugh. “Harry, I’ve never regretted having Persephone so young. I’ve never regretted being home. But, I just want you to show that… that you appreciate me.”

“I do appreciate you.” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He places the laptop in the empty space in between you. You watch as he works through what to say, his tension clear in his eyes.

“But…” He trails off like he’s still unsure of what to say. “I’m here. I want to be here. I want to show you that I appreciate you.” Harry takes a deep breath and places a hesitant hand on your back. “As long as you’ll have me.”

You take a deep breath. “Let’s focus on this... I want the twins to have a great birthday and for Seph to have a great spring break. Things have been tough for them too. We can figure the other stuff out later.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls the laptop back towards him. You can tell he wants to though. That he wants to talk this out and get in deep.

You just can’t bring yourself to do it.

“A family vacation can be very cathartic for couples struggling.” Dr. Walsh gives the two of you a kind smile after you reveal what you had planned for your kids. “But, it can also bring about stress at being in such a small space for such a long time. Especially when you’re still struggling to communicate.”

“I’m really trying.” You say quietly, on edge at the idea of you and Harry bringing about any stress on a trip meant to be for your kids. “We both are. I think.”

“I know.” She gives you an understanding look. “You guys do your homework. You said it yourself, your nightly conversations aren’t painful anymore. But talking about small things is only the beginning of strengthening your communication.”

“So you want us to talk about the affair?” You ask. “The big thing.”

She shakes her head. “Eventually. Sweeping it under the rug or ignoring it can only cause more tension. But there are other things I’m sure you want to talk about as well.”

“Like what?” Harry asks. He glances over at you before looking back at Dr. Walsh.

“Anything either of you felt was an issue.” She explains. “Big or small. Anything you think contributed to your distance. Try to remember, you’re not placing blame.”

“Not even for the affair?” Harry sighs and you shut your eyes. “How can I not place blame? That’s not my fault.”

“No.” She agrees. “I’ve never agreed with placing blame for something like that on the victim. Do you want to start with talking about it?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not finding all these so-called small issues so we can then excuse the cheating. I won’t do that.” You say disdainfully.

“We don’t expect you to.” She glances over at Harry. He looks pained but he nods in agreement. “Of course not.” He says quietly.

You take a deep breath in before nodding. “Okay, then where do we start?”

“A lot of times, affairs feel like they come out of nowhere. They do.” She gives you an assuaging look. “But it’s also important to remember that there were issues before it and they’re still there to be worked through. We want to work through the big problem, but oftentimes couples work through that but not other things and end up separating.”

You nod and take a deep breath trying to think through issues. Things had felt perfect during your pregnancy with Jack.

You were excited, a fourth child and it was a boy, you and Harry had been hoping for another boy. Harry had even planned the small family vacation to the beach so you could enjoy time together as a family of five before it became six.

“We argued.” You say quietly. The family vacation slips from your mind as your exhausted tears come to your memory. “Um. I had Jack and I was exhausted and we argued. It was barely even an argument.”

“He still won’t eat?” Harry asks, coming into the bedroom. He was still in his suit from court and you feel angry heat flush through you at how put together he looked. How well rested and up he looked.

You shake your head silently. Harry seems to not notice your tense jaw as he pushes his way into the closet to find clothes for the night. You turn to look down at Jack laying restlessly in your arms. Tears rush to your eyes as you stand and place Jack in his bassinet and finally get a look at yourself in the mirror hanging next to the closet door.

You hadn’t showered since Persephone had left earlier the previous day and after running around to get the twins settled with Gemma and taking care of the baby all day you felt tense and gross.

Harry comes out and smiles kindly as he watches you step towards the ensuite. “Can you watch him for a moment? I need a shower. I feel gross and it’ll help me relax. My nurse said getting tense makes it harder to breastfeed.”

Harry looks down at his watch. “Something more important?” You ask before he can get a word out. “No. Just- I was supposed to hop on a conference call with Jeff, I’ll reschedule.” Harry tries to change the tone of the conversation, but you’ve already seen red. “Y/N, go shower.”

“I’m sorry.” You say instead of moving. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with your child for half an hour.” You know you don’t mean the harsh words and that you’ll probably regret them all after you’ve taken a break but- “I’m home all day with him, but fuck if I ask you to watch him so I can shower.”

Harry’s eyes widen at the cold tone. He crosses his arms defensively across his chest as he takes a step back from you, even though he was already several feet away. “I never said I was inconvenienced. You asked a question and I answered honestly. I don’t have a problem spending time with my own child, Y/N.”

Your turn on your heel and stock into the ensuite and slam the door shut behind you. You hear Jack begin to fuss more and Harry’s whispers as he presumably picks the baby up. There wasn’t a time in the fifteen years you’ve had children that you’ve ever thought Harry didn’t want to spend time with his kids. You still didn’t. But the exhaustion and stress that you felt with Jack was unlike anything you’d felt before and Harry hadn’t seemed to notice.

“It felt like you weren’t paying attention.” You say quietly. “It felt like you had no idea what was going on.” Dr. Walsh trains her eyes on you as Harry’s eyes flick around trying to figure out what argument you were talking about.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. Jack is curled in your arms as he eats and a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. You feel shameful at the words that had slipped out in an attempt to make Harry notice how upset you were. “I know you’re not inconvenienced by our kids.”

Harry turns his head to look at you. He had been silently typing out emails as you fed Jack, upset but refusing to leave your side. “What’s wrong?” He asks as he slams the laptop shut.

You want to tell him. How stressed and anxious you felt. How much tougher being with Jack was than any of your other children. How insecure it made you feel. You should tell him.

But.

“How could I tell you all that and not sound like I’m angry at our child? Not sound like an awful mother?” You choke on the words.

Harry stares at you with what looks like pity and you turn away. You didn’t want pity. You wanted help. You wanted him to understand. “You don’t sound like a horrible mother. You sound tired.”

“What stopped you from telling him this?” Dr. Walsh prompts gently as you and Harry fall into silence. Her eyes flicker to Harry as he watches you with the same sad eyes.

You shrug. “I just wanted him to notice. I wanted to feel like he still noticed me.” You let out a breath. “We love Jack, but Jack wasn’t exactly planned. We weren’t sure if we wanted a fourth and had only just begun talking about it. When I found out I was pregnant and figured out how excited I felt, I knew I wanted to keep him.” You explain to the therapist carefully. “We decided that we wanted him, but he would be our last one.”

You think of the doctors appointments and heavy warnings that a fourth pregnancy could wreck havoc on your body.

“But I’m not twenty-three anymore and the pregnancy was really tough on me. And Harry knew. So he took care of the kids when I couldn’t and he planned vacations for me before I gave birth and it-” You breath catches. “It felt like you didn’t care anymore once I had him because I wasn’t in danger anymore. But Jack is stubborn and I was struggling.”

Harry takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to steady your trembling hands.

It’s a start. You guess.

“I didn’t realize how tough Jack was on you.” Harry says quietly that night. You had been dreading sitting in the awkward silence.

You shrug. “Babies are tough. Persephone was tough because we were so young. Serena and Oliver were tough because they were twins.” Your baby monitor makes a sound and you glance over to see Jack stretching his arms.

You sigh and stand up. “Jack was… Jack was tough in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it was because I had four kids all of the sudden or because you started working more. I was exhausted all the time.”

You leave before he can say anything in response, but you know he’ll follow you to Jack’s room. You push the door open quietly and hear Jack’s soft giggles.

“Hello, handsome.” You whisper as he looks up at you. “What’s got you awake?”

You pick him up gently and bring him over to the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room. Harry leans against the door jam.

You rock back and forth with Jack in your arms and Harry watched with gentle eyes. You look up as Harry begins to speak quietly. “I wish I could take everything back. Just… Redo this past year.”

You look down at Jack and run a gentle finger over his cheek. “You can’t. You don’t get redos in real life.”

The room is silent as you rock your baby back to sleep and Harry watches.

We’ll be a fine line.

Notes: Title song Fine Line. This is really a filler for the next piece, I needed April to get to May :/

A few things; I have them staying together written. While this has been my plan since I begun writing this part & the next, if it’s something people wanted, I could do two different endings.

Like I said, I wrote this at a low place for me and had always imagined it as some type of closure that I never got from my parents situation or from my ex. Cheaters suck. But, some people do work through it. Some people can’t. That’s the beauty of our autonomy, we decide. I got a lot (and I mean a lot) of messages urging me to be mindful of impressionable people who may read this piece & with that I want to say; Your situation is not this one. Some cheaters will always be cheaters. This is not in anyway trying to convince you that a toxic relationship is okay. Or that cheating is okay. Please remember this is fiction and not meant to do anything other than entertain you! This is a piece I wrote & a piece whose ending I choose. Thank you for reading. I love every single person who read What Kind of Man and thought, I want more of this person’s writing.

(please do not be mean to me, I write for fun & am very emotional thank u)

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles writing #my writing #tee answers

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george-mackay-macfine · 4 years ago

Text

Let's play a game

A/N - Who remembers the snippet I posted ages ago with the bad boy / good girl. Well, I finally did something with it.

Please enjoy, Chapter one.

The warmth of the sun was the first thing I felt when I woke up, coating me in a blanket of warmth. It was too much warmth, and I was rapidly becoming uncomfortably hot. The second was the throbbing in my head, undoubtedly brought on by all the alcohol I had consumed the night before. And the third was the heavyweight of an arm across my torso. Who did the arm belong to? Well, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure.

“Shit,” I whispered, cautiously turning on the plush bed, careful to not startle the owner of the arm that lay all too casually around my waist. “Shit, shit.” I moved the arm carefully off my waist, putting it beside its owner.

The owner of the arm was none other than Jude Hastings, the boy I’d known since I was eight, and the boy who’d mercilessly teased me throughout school and somewhat into our adult lives.

People, primarily our parents, often called it teasing— a bit of harmless flirting between an adolescent boy and a dorky adolescent girl, so they said. I, on the other hand, referred to it as warfare.

Which would lead to a lifelong war between Jude Hastings and me.

“Fuck,” I stood from the bed and looked down at what was covering my body… It wasn’t much. All I had on was what I’m assuming was Hastings’ button-down shirt, and that was it. No bra, no pants… And I had no clue where my underwear had gotten to. “Pull yourself together, Darcy,” I whispered to myself. “Just find your shit and get out.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking five deep breaths. My mother always told me it was a way to destress, but guess what, mom, I am still stressed. “Okay. Pull it together.” I had seven things I had to find in this apartment, and hopefully, it was all contained to this one room. Anything I couldn’t uncover would just have to be left as a sacrifice to the apartment demon.

My pants and top were the easiest to find, laying at the end of the bed a dead giveaway of where Hastings and I had ended our night standing, or at least standing for the most part. I vaguely recall him pulling me off the bed just to bend me over the desk he had pushed against the wall… I guess that counts as sort of standing.

“Jacket…” I crept around the room, trying to find where my favourite corduroy jacket had landed in the thralls of passion I had shared with the still sleeping demon. “Gotcha,” I pulled on the sleeve bringing it out from behind the chair that sat pushed into the corner. Another memory of Hastings and I making out on the very chair flashed through my mind bringing a blush hot enough to make the top of my ears burn. “Shoes, bra and underwear,” I sat on the floor, pulling my jacket over my arms looking around for a sign of any of the missing clothing. I quickly spotted my bra hanging over the bedpost at the top end of the bed. “Ahha.” I pushed up from the floor and padded across the carpet, keeping a keen eye on Hastings to make sure he didn’t suddenly wake up and catch me in the shameful morning after clothes collection. If I was lucky, I’d leave with all my belongings and whatever scraps of dignity I had left. “Four down, three left.” I scooped the bra off the bedpost and shoved it in my pocket. Watching Hastings, I dropped to my knees and looked underneath the bed in hopes of finding at least one of the remaining items, if not all of them. “Shoes.” I gripped the heel on one of my boots and pulled it towards me, half an item down… The second boot was more brutal to get to. I had to crawl at least halfway under the bed to reach it, somehow it had landed so far underneath the bed last night, but at least now I had shoes to wear for my solemn journey home.

Was underwear really that necessary for a journey home? Could I just leave without them? And my purse, I mean, I’m sure any decent human being with any dignity would give it back to someone who’d left it at their house. Still, then again, this was Jude Alexander Hastings we were talking about. He wasn’t known to me for being a decent human being. Besides, cancelling all my credit cards and getting a new I.D sounded a lot more appealing than risking Hastings waking up with me still inside his apartment with minimal clothing.

“Fuck it.” I army crawled backwards out from under the bed, careful not to get any carpet burns on any delicate parts. Trust me, one time of having sex on some carpet, and you know the pain well enough to not do it again. Once I emerged from the pits of the bed, I took a final look around, trying to find the elusive underwear or purse. “Note to self, cancel the credit card.” I stood up and walked to the pile of items I’d begun to form at the end of the bed: pants, top, bra, shoes and jacket. Five out of seven ain’t bad in the grand scheme of things. I mean, was it my favourite purse? Yes, and were they my favourite pair of lucky underwear? Yes. Could I buy more to avoid any further interactions with Jude Hastings? Fuck yes.

“Missing something?” The husky voice that haunted my alcohol-soaked brain startled me into dropping my pants to the floor. I spun on the ball of my feet and looked at him, lazily lying in his bed. The sheet hanging from his waist was the demon man himself. Since when did he have abs? - No, not the point, Darcy.

“Two things actually,” I felt the rush of heat blossoming on my cheeks as I finally allowed myself to look over his bare chest.

“Would these be one of them?” His hand rose, hooked around his pointer finger was my black lace thong, the one I’d been crawling around this whole fucking room looking for. Bastard. “They sure look like yours.” He held the up higher, squinting with one eye.

“If they’re not mine, perhaps they’re yours,” I smirked in self-satisfaction as the smirk on his face faltered. One Edwards.

“Well, if you’re sure they’re not yours.” He bunched them up, leaning over to his bedside table. “I think I’ll keep them then.”

“Wait.” I yelped, springing onto the bed. “Give them to me,” I reached for them. Holding my hand out, waiting for the lace scrap to be returned to me. “I need them to get home.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He dropped them into his bedside table. “You said they were mine.” One Hastings.

“God, I hate you,” My eyes turned to slits as the smirk came back to his face more prominent than the one I’d managed to make him lose moments ago. He shut the drawer and returned to his previous position, his whisky coloured eyes running over my form.

“Not what you were saying last night.”

“Was that before the double shots of tequila? Or was it before the fishbowl margarita?” I moved back, standing at the end of the bed, pulling my pants up over my hips. Usually, I’d feel self-conscious dressing and undressing in front of someone I’d just had sex with. Still, by this point in our lives, Hastings had already made numerous comments about how ‘plump’ I was, as he liked to call it. I didn’t have time to dwell on the idea that I gave him a front-row pass to see how correct his childish name-calling was. “Or maybe it was before the game of beer pong?”

“Yeah,” He dropped his head and laughed. “It started about there.”

“Hastings, you know as well as I do that I don’t remember a thing about last night, right?”

“Would you like me to give you a play-by-play?” I unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers. For once, my skill of unbuttoning button-downs came in use.

“No, thanks. I think I can surmise what’s happened from the lack of underwear.” And the memories of him pushing me up against his front door helped with the overall picture.

“It was your idea,” I stole a look at the bedside table where the same old alarm clock I was sure he’d had since middle school sat. Nine-thirty. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Was it now?” I didn’t really have time to hear how this interaction was my fault, but I was curious. Even if I was supposed to be meeting my parents for brunch in half an hour, and by the looks of it, I was going to have to suffer through without underwear.

“Oh yeah.” He fell back onto the bed. “The boys and I were at the bar, and you came up to me… You know I was expecting to have another verbal sparring match with you, one I’d ultimately win.”

“Doubtful,”

“When you began to flirt with me.” I could hear the smirk in his voice even with my back facing him.

“Is that so.” I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up one of my boots, unzipping the side.

“Oh yeah,” I heard the shuffle of sheets on the bed behind me and then felt the warmth of his chest pressing onto my covered back, heat radiating from where his skin touched me. “Never expected this from you, Edwards.” He moved my hair to the side, his fingers leaving goosebumps on my neck as he trailed a fingertip along the skin. “Really, I never did.” His lips touched the skin now, ghosting the same pattern his fingertips had traced.

“Alright,” I stood up, balancing on one foot as I tried to shove my foot into the boot. “I don’t know what this.” I wiggled a finger between our bodies. “Is, but last night was all there was. There will be no encore, M’kay.” I knelt down, zipping up the boot before shoving my foot into the second.

“If you’re sure you can live without one.” He moved back to the top of the bed, leaning back on one arm, watching me scamper to make myself presentable. “You know you’re still wearing my shirt.”

“Thank you, Captain obvious.”

“I’d like it back. It’s one of my favourites.”

“And those.” I jutted a finger at the bedside table where my underwear remained captive. “Were my favourite pair of underwear.” I smiled sweetly at him. “So we’ll call it even,” I brushed my hair with my fingers, trying to make some sort of progress with it so it didn’t look like I’d just been to pound town… which apparently from the ache in my legs I had been.

“You know that’s not helping,”

“What isn’t.”

“Trying to make yourself look like you haven’t just had one of the best nights of your life.”

“Bold of you to assume that,”

“Not an assumption. You told me so much yourself last night.”

Fucking Hastings. That’s it, fuck it. I was getting my underwear back. Even if it meant a small game of seduction.

“Look, Jude.” I let my voice drop into a whisper as I walked towards where he lay comfortably. I flung my legs over his body, straddling his waist. I couldn’t help but internally melt when his hands clinging to my waist, pressing me down onto him. I’m human. What can I say? The thin sheet gave everything away, and I had to admit, Hastings was packing more than I thought. Self-satisfaction flowed through me as I saw his eyes widen slightly, his pupils dilating as his fingers moving in circles on my waist. “I want you to know something about last night.” His eyes locked with mine as my right hand held onto his chin, keeping our eyes locked, my left going to the bedside table quietly pulling it open.

“Yeah?” His Adam’s apple bopped as he swallowed.

“Last night was,” I moved his head, so he was looking away from the drawer as my hand began to search for the fabric. “Was something that I…” My fingertips grazed the lace. BINGO! “I’m going to pretend doesn’t exist.”

“Oh really?” His hand quickly left my hip and grabbed around my waist. “Because I’m going to remember every little detail.” The lace slipped from between my fingertips as he flipped us. “Especially every time I open this draw.” I heard the draw slam shut and all hopes I had of leaving with my underwear gone.

“Get off me.” His right hand pulled my leg up and wrapped it around his waist. Oh god… he was good.

“Oh no, you started this.” He laughed, his chest pressing into mine with each exhaled laugh. “I’m just finishing it.”

“I need you to get off me so I can leave Hastings.”

“I dunno, I’m quite comfortable.” His hand pushed the fabric of his shirt up, revealing a tiny slither of my skin. “I like how you look in my bed, a forbidden fruit who doesn’t belong.” I let out a snort. If this was his attempt at flirting, he had a lot of work to do. “But here you are,”

“You are right. I certainly don’t look like the type of girl you’d waste your time on, so how about you let me up, and we pretend this didn’t happen.”

“No, I don’t think I like that idea,” His voice came out in a soft whisper.

“Why?”

“I was always told girls like you,” I felt a rush of enjoyment as his eyes ran over my body, a rush I didn’t want to feel. “The good girls who their parents think their perfect when really they’re the worst of the worst are the best,” It was beginning to be a struggle to concentrate as his fingertips brushed the hair away from my forehead. “And from what I’ve been told, you’re the best of them… So I want to find out myself.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. Why did you come up to me last night?” Why did I go up to him last night because I was lonely? Because I was sick of April talking about her fiancé? Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, verbally sparring with Hastings was a highlight.

“I heard that the reformed bad boys are the best,” His finger dragged along my jawline. “And I heard you’re one of the best.” I countered with a smirk.

“Oh really?” He mimicked.

“You tell me,” His fingertip tapped against my lips. Impulsively I nipped on the tip.

“Let’s play a game.”

“I’m listening.”

“The game to end all of our little games for good… No more practice jokes, no more telling my parents I got some random girl pregnant.” He chuckled.

“Then you can’t egg my car anymore or let down my tyres.”

“Fine.” He conceded. “Then let’s sweet talk,” His lips went to my neck, placing sweet kisses along the skin. “Let’s play fight, talk twenty-four-seven,”

“I’m no good at sweet-talking, and I don’t think I could stand talking to your for so long.” My voice came out breathy as my senses zero’d in on the feeling of his lips.

“Let’s wish each other good morning, and good night every day… We’ll take walks together.”

“I’d prefer a ride on your motorbike.” He let out a chuckle, the skin under his lips practically vibrating from the motion.

“I’ll give you a nickname,” His lips were on my jaw now, my hands we on his back, nails digging into the skin, I’m sure leaving moon-shaped indents. “Let’s hang out with each other’s friends.”

“Your friends are dicks.” His lips dropped close to mine, a chaste kiss being left on the right side.

“We’ll go on dates, talk all night on the phone… I’ll hold you, kiss you.” His lips moved to the other side. “We’ll make love, bang, fuck whatever you want to call it.”

“I’m waiting for the game part, Hastings. Right now, it sounds like you just want me to be your girlfriend. I mean, I know last night was good, but really this good?”

“The game is, Whoever falls in love first, loses.” He finally pulled away, his right hand still rubbing circles on my hip bone.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a game.”

“Then why do you seem so scared?”

Was this asshole serious? I was never scared, especially not when it came to challenging him, beating him.

“I’m not.”

“Then what do you say?”

“So you want to pretend we’re a thing to all of our friends, all of our family, just to make one of us fall in love with the other first for what? Bragging rights and heartbreak?”

“Tell me something.” His lips hovered inches from mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath, and how the hell did he not have morning breath? “How good would it feel to know you conned me into loving you, then breaking my heart,”

He had a point. After all the years of heartache and teasing he’d caused me, it would be fun to break his heart into a million tiny shattered pieces.

“What would we tell everyone?” His body moved against mine as he shrugged.

“That we’ve reconnected or connected whatever you want to say.”

“You really want to do this?” My brow raised in suspicion.

“Make you fall in love with me.” I nodded my head. “Oh hell yeah,”

“Fine.” I smirked. “Let’s play a game.”

#george mackay #dean charles chapman #calahan skogman #Ben Hardy #dylan o'brien #George Mackay Smut #Dean Charles Chapman smut #Calahan Skogman smut #Ben Hardy Smut #Dylan O'Brien Smut #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Smut

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serahlink · 4 years ago

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Dancing in The Dark |Assassin!Reader x Royal Vampire Prince

Summary : In a world ruled by ravenous vampiric royals, you are sent to assassinate their new heir, only to have your plans suddenly go awry when you’re dragged into the ball by no one other than your Highness himself.

Word Count : 2,302

A/N : this is for a gender neutral reader or for anyone of any gender really. :) so I hope all can enjoy this enemies royal core thingy.

There were many nights where you took your resting spot at the top of your league’s tower balcony and looked down at the castle across the kingdom. Unlike the mangled dead forest you’ve grown up in, the lights were always bright, boisterous and proud around that damned castle. The people were no different either. Each year almost tons of high class and rich people would come gather for a ball. It was the most grand day of the year after all, as it was the only night where it is said the prince would come out of hiding for once to dine and dance with everyone else.

Just thinking about that pampered fancy pants boy made your blood boil. To think he can live it up in the glamour his castle had to offer while your own people can barely scrounge for scraps down here was enough for you to want to take your pristine knife to his throat. Needless to say, when you got the opportunity to do so, you clutched tightly to it.

You can’t remember much of your childhood. From what the people who took you in told you, they mentioned finding you abandoned at the end of the dead woods, where they were surprised you weren’t starved to death or mangled by a wolf. They took you in and from then on, they raised you to become the best assassin you could be. It was the least you could expect from being taken in by an underground assassin’s league, or as they’d like to call it, a revolutionary squad. A group of people who are destined to change the order for their own idea of good and who are frankly tired of bloodsuckers running it all.

They assigned you with the job the night before you were sent off away from the woods and from your home.

“Kill the prince,” You remembered them saying bluntly. Instead of using your own weapon, they provided you with a wooden stake. “Use this to kill him.”

You asked them why you couldn’t just slash his throat with your knife and be done for, but they instead scoffed. “It’s more efficient. Vampires do bleed, but a stake will surely do the trick.” Although you already knew this, you surely liked the idea of using your own blade. Still, you took the stake reluctantly.

With no more need to stall at home, they had sent you off with a proper disguise. Obviously you couldn’t show up to a grand ball in rags with a stake tied to your belt. Instead they provided you with a formal outfit that while anyone else would find grand, you found way too tight and fancy. Through a broken glass, you saw your reflection and fought the urge to barf. Never did you want to see yourself look like that ever again.

The castle was a long ways off, far away from the dead woods you claimed as home. Just as all royals do, you arrived in a carriage thanks to the courtesy of some other higher ups that actually were involved with the group. Out the window, you slowly saw the brightness of the castle and all other attendants too close for comfort.

This was it.

The deep breath you took in was clean, way too clean. You got out and as you began walking your way up to their royal highness’ palace, no one seemed to bat an eye. You blended right in. You couldn’t help but smirk just a little. None of these pampered bastards knew what was coming. That you were coming.

The inside of the castle was more grossly exquisite than you could’ve imagined it to be. The gold and white color schemes were nearly blinding, almost evangelical. Most others were dancing already while some were enjoying a feast or talking amongst one another. You didn’t really take notice to any specific people, as you were only here for one person.

“Your Highness, Astrid Federline.” One of the staff introduced.

Instantly, as if beckoned by his name, you snap your head around to see the smug prince in all his glory. Astrid Federline was sashaying down the royal staircase, looking over knowingly at the flustered maidens who were gawking over him. You didn’t get what their was to even look at. So what if he was pale as the moonlight? Who cared if his hair looked like blonde silk itself and draped just over his shoulders in the best way? What was there to see if his narrow blue eyes grinned over at you? Nothing. Nothing at all, as far as you could tell.

Soon enough, his gaze moved from the ladies and paused when it came to you. Those eyes, a mystery just as he was, narrowed at you. His face faltered, merely a second, before his lips quirked up again with newfound curiosity. All of a sudden, he was coming to you.

Your hand jolted to where your stake would be and thankfully, it’s small bump reminded you that, yes, it was still there and open when the opportunity was right. You relax, and just as he approached you, you forced a smile.

“Lovely ball, your Highness.” Speaking those words were the worst part of the job. You bow anyway, and when you pull back up, he’s smiled at you. You didn’t expect him to be so tall.

“Of course it is.” He proudly said. “Just like every ball before it.”

“I wouldn’t know,” You said truthfully. “I’ve never been to one.”

“I see.” Astrid hummed before he offered you a hand. “Care to let me show you the wonders the ball has to offer?”

You eyed his hand with much hesitation. Maybe this was his way of being a gentleman, each giving a maiden a certain special treatment before acting like it never happened. Not that you’d care, he’s falling easily into your plan. He’s only making it easier for you.

You took his hand then and he smirked, gently grasping it and then taking you into a different direction. You arrive at the food table, where a bunch of pristine foods you’ve never seen before and never thought you’d be able to taste were laid out in front of you.

Your mouth watered. The food was very tempting.

“Go on,” said Astrid with a wave of permission. “Take what you please.”

You turned to him with an arched brow, yet he only nodded. The food was still there when you turned back and did not get eaten any faster. First, you scan the foods until one catches your eye. Some long red thing.

“That’s crab.” He pointed out.

While you’d roll your eyes originally, you were indeed curious. You’ve never tasted this crab meat before. Straight from its place, you take a leg and begin gnawing on it. You jolt as the sharp shell hit the roof of your mouth, glaring down at the food.

“You need to crack the shell, you know.”

“I know that.” Wasn’t your fault that crabs had shells apparently.

Astrid sighed and took the crab leg after your couple failed attempts to crack it. He used what you could only guess was a metal opener to crack the shell, revealing its meat.

You snatch the leg away from him, muttering a thank you.

The meat better be worth while, going through all the trouble to embarrass yourself and nearly blow your cover like this. Just as your tongue and teeth bit into its flavor, you could easily confirm that, oh god yes it was worth it.

It was unlike anything you had eaten before. You couldn’t get more meat into your mouth quicker, savoring the taste as much as you could before it could leave.

Astrid chuckled, “Good, I presume?”

You turned back and narrowed your eyes once you saw the smirk. “It was fine, I suppose.”

“Good then.” He said and just as another dance was coming up, he turned to you. “You aren’t too full for a dance, are you?”

A dance? That was the only thing your league hadn’t prepared you for. Hell, you never really danced ever. “I,” You fumbled. “-Actually I think I am.”

“Come on.” Astrid insisted. “The night is ever so young. Besides, a dance would make your first ball, wouldn’t it?”

Not with you, or anyone. You wanted to say, yet you couldn’t pass up his offer. Something told you he’d keep on insisting. Besides, that would make for an awfully good dramatic death scene wouldn’t it? One and two and one and— STAB. Perfect.

Reluctantly, you do agree. The soft strings pluck, pianos ring and Astrid lead you to the dance floor with your hand in his. Although the dance was awfully simple, your feet couldn’t comply. You were outside your energy yet each time, Astrid strayed you back to where you were supposed to be. The swaying made you feel like you were on air, constantly being held upright by his hand. Yet you knew you needed to keep an eye on the ground and your weapons carrier place, you could only seem to look up.

Tilted downward, Astrid’s eyes look down at you. Something about it made you feel like the only person in that room. Everyone else was merely blurs to you, the only focus being you and him. You remind yourself then, of course it’s the main focus. You’re there to kill him, not live up some false royal dance.

The strings reach a higher octave and you are thrown into a dip. Your arms throw themselves to whoever they could latch on, which happen to be Astrid’s neck. He looked down on you with much amusement before throwing you back up, your body ended up bumping against his chest.

“I know what you are.” He said as his dancing led the two of you away from the crowd and near a balcony. Still in his arms, you scoff.

“Really.” You respond, yet he chuckled, much to your annoyance.

Astrid’s smile tightened. “You think I’ve never had an assassin placed on my head before? You’re wrongly mistaken.”

“And yet you send no guard on me. You give me the punishment of feeding me luxurious food and a dance. Do all of your assassins get the special treatment or am I lucky?”

A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Lucky, according to you.”

“Then allow me to apologize for calling the night short but I have a prince to slaughter.” You said, as you launched out from the dance and swiftly to take the stake you kept to your thigh.

Astrid himself grinned, his eyes holding a glint they didn’t have before. “This prince wouldn’t happen to be drop dead gorgeous, charming and witty, would he?”

You scoffed, watching his every move. “Not at all.”

The lunge you decided to take for him backfired, as he managed to dodge and slip you back into that dance, wooden dagger still in hand.

“Do you always dance yourself out of being killed?” You struggle against his grip, trying to remain confident. “I’ll have you know that I’m not as easily persuaded by good looks and swift moves like those maidens out there.”

“Then shall I dangle some crab meat above your nose?~” His teasing jab to your gluttony was enough for your anger to forcefully yank one of your hands out of his grip. You throw the dagger straight for his throat, yet you miss by what seems like yet another swift dodge.

How does this prince keep evading you?

“Temper, temper~” He grinned, throwing you back into another dip. The weapon you once held is tossed to the very edge of the balcony, where it hangs on by nothing more than an invisible thread. “To think the revolutionaries would send someone as hot headed as you are.” He smirked, “Pathetic, if I could say personally.”

You throw yourself out of the dip. “I’ll show you pathetic!” You snarl, and make a head start for the stake. It slid and in just a second to spare, fell all the way to the bottom of the castle’s yard.

Your eyes shot wide as saucers and your throat dried. Your fate was sealed. Either you were going to be killed or thrown in a dungeon somewhere. Either way, you’d die.

“With those eyes, you look like a distressed rabbit.” Astrid remarked.

He walked over to you. You expected him to throw you over the edge, just like that stake, except he doesn’t. He offered you his pale hand.

You eye him, as if he were crazy.

“Come on.” He said. “Up.”

When you don’t take his hand, he took yours instead and lifts you up to your feet. “You assassins are too serious nowadays. You’re at a ball of all things, might as well enjoy it.”

You look at him questionably. “I try to kill you and when I fail, instead of throwing me away in a dungeon or killing me, your answer is to throw me back into the ball? Are you as mad as they say?”

He grinned again. “Maybe I am. Plus, it’d be a pity if I did, wouldn't it? I’d hate to have to deal with the rest of your little club if they found you dead.”

“We are a league.” You correct him sternly.

“A hell of a one, for sure.” Astrid hid his chuckle. “Where were we last?”

“I was trying to nab that head of yours.” You recount, still freshly annoyed.

“Dancing.” He corrected your sentence. “We were dancing.”

He then took your hands and since you didn’t have any weapons on hand, you had all but none left to do but to follow his lead again.

“I’m surprised no one told you that you are absolutely brash when you dance.” He muttered near your ear. You roll your eyes.

“You won’t be saying that the next time I’m here.” You promise. “A stake would be deep in your chest before you could even get a word in.”

He chuckled. “I’ll be waiting.”

#monster x reader #monster x human #vampire x human #vampire x reader #x reader #astrid federline #yes I wrote this at eight in the morning #no I didn’t sleep lolol

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morgana-ren · 4 years ago

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Just Business

Summary: You’re a loan shark looking to expand your enterprise to the League of Villains. Lucky for you, Dabi might just be willing to hear you out. As long as you can prove your loyalty to him, that is.

Rating: E for not everyone. Explicit. Do I release anything else?

Baby’s first Dabi fic. Just testing the waters, folks. I know nothing about this man. Literally nothing.

Money lending is such a nasty business.

Some poor sap shuffles in nervously shifting his fingers and recites some rehearsed script about why he needs the cash and how he’s good for it, and then you throw him a wad and pretend to make up some important deadline. He thanks you profusely and thumbs through the cash as he leaves, and you’ve still got your heels kicked up on your desk as you tell a goon to keep an eye on him.

Sometimes their reaction to your ‘charity’ varies, but one thing always stays the same. They can never pay it back.

Some run. Some try to hide. Some bolt the second the cash hits their fists, boarding the first train out of town. Some genuinely try to do the right thing. The result is the same.

You track them down. Your boot, their neck. They cry, you extort.

It’s not about the money. It never is. Wealth is fine and good but no amount of monetary fortune can amount to having another thread in the network web you’re building. You’ll let them off the hook and they’ll spy for you, lie for you, even put their neck on the line because they have no other choice. Info is worth infinitely more than a petty loan, and what you invest in their short sighted schemes is repaid tenfold.

You knew something was up with the shifty little prick the second he walked in the door. He asked for an exorbitant amount and could never meet your eyes when he told you just what he planned to do with it. It sounded too rehearsed, even for your usual clientele. Almost like someone told him what to say and just how to say it.

In this business, you learn to call a spade a spade, but even as he sat on his knees with his gaze shifted away from you and practically screaming tells, you felt there was something deeper. A truth buried deep within his lies. Something interesting. Something you wanted to know.

You give the poor bastard the money.

Sending a runner to watch his schedule confirms your beliefs. He walks into a dilapidated abandoned building not long after leaving the meeting with your thick wad of cash in hand and leaves with only a few bills, though he looks relieved for his trouble. You have his face, his name, a dossier on his entire life. He’s far too unguarded for someone into something so nefarious. Someone sent this little gnat into your domain and didn’t expect you to follow the thread. They were mistaken. Whoever this man works for, he’s the only lead into something deeper.

Your little flies swarm the building only to find it empty. No trace of who you had been dealing with, no clues to lead you to the heart of your curiosity. Only dust splayed across concrete and a fire with the ashes still warm.

All your contacts and all your pull only give you one lead: the League of Villains.

A down-on-their-luck outfit of outcasts and outlaws. Their leader had been making some big moves with a large financier some months ago, but things turned disastrous and no one had heard a peep since. It doesn’t surprise you to hear they’re rebuilding, but what intrigues you is that they’re making such risky pulls to do it. Borrowing money they clearly cannot pay back from a loan shark with a reputation of ruthlessness.

It should make you mad, being ripped off and deceived like that.

It doesn’t.

If anything, it tickles you. You didn’t even have to put out any feelers and they had loitered into your web. You’d had your eyes on them for some time, curious about their leader and their members. They could prove a worthy investment, if given the chance. You never had an in with them since they never needed your services, but it seems that they hand delivered one in desperation.

It becomes a matter of baiting and trapping.

You wait and you listen. The debt date approaches and it’s only a matter of time. It doesn’t surprise you when the same man wanders back into your office and hands you a thick stack of bills, more than twice what you had offered him. You most definitely are surprised to find him returning but you accept his offering with a smile, running your finger along the bills to keep up appearances.

“It seems you find yourself quite wealthy! You simply must tell me how you’ve made such a grand turn around!”

He swallows hard at your compliment, raising a hand to the back of his head and scratching nervously. “Luck, Ma’am. Nothing more. I find myself in fortune and simply wish to repay your great kindness.”

“Of course.” You smile at him, allowing him to take his leave. Now the real game begins.

Your little spies follow him as he weaves through the streets into the industrial part of town. He ducks into another decrepit building, closing the door firmly behind him. He emerges a few moments later only to tuck a receipt of payment and a few more bills into his shirt. The pace he has is slower now, more relaxed. He believes he’s free, shaken clean of your webbing and can breathe without fear now.

How wrong he is.

The look of terror on his face as you block his exit from the alley almost makes you feel sorry for him. He immediately becomes defensive, backing up several feet despite the absence of your body guards. He’s not afraid of you. He’s afraid of who is watching.

“What are you doing here? I paid you!”

“You have.” You acknowledge, bowing your head. “I’m not here for money. I simply ask for information. That’s not so terrible, is it? This doesn’t have to be unpleasant.”

“I don’t know anything!”

“But of course you do!” You draw closer and he trips over his own feet, falling flat to the alley floor. “That money wasn’t for you, was it? You have no prospects, no family or land or investments of your own. Only a crippling gambling debt, yes? Paying debt doesn’t accumulate currency, so clearly you must have had some grand scheme. I’m very interested in your process.”

You bend down, venom gathering behind your fangs as you stroke his petrified face with a cool finger. “From one brilliant mind to another. I’ll keep it a secret. I promise.”

“I- Well-” He looks around anxiously, stumbling over words but so close to breaking. It won’t take much on your part to get him to crack.

Or it wouldn’t have, anyway.

A bolt of vibrant blue flame speeds toward you from around a corner almost quicker than you can process and it’s only barely that you manage to dodge it by shoving yourself clumsily backward. The unbelievable heat from the blast doesn’t escape you, and you cover your face as the alleyway erupts in fire, engulfing your only lead in flames and incinerating him before you could make a move to save him and whatever it is he had to say. The smell of charred flesh is overwhelming and despite the obvious threat, you can’t help but smile.

A tall figure walks fearlessly through the inferno, hands in his pockets and seeming almost bored as he kicks over the ashen figure that was human only seconds ago. “I knew we shouldn’t have trusted this idiot.”

You stay silent, face shielded from the encompassing heat by your palm as he approaches. Inky black hair and a pale body covered in muldering skin, maroon scars stapled together with metal and sheer force of will. His threadbare coat billows around his feet as he trudges down the alleyway toward you. His eyes are a striking shade of blue, focused on you with an empty expression.

The ends of your hair have singed and your face itches, but it’s nothing compared to the accomplishment you feel. You had a feeling that toying with some strings might bring the cat out to play.

“So you’re one of the League.”

You stand up, brushing the dirt off your knees and stabilizing yourself on the wall despite the overwhelming heat.

“Sure. You’re that babe that lent us the money, right? That was nice of you.” He stops just short of you, arms withdrawing from his pockets and igniting with indigo flame. “Now why don’t you scram? You got your money, what happens from here isn’t your business.”

“Oh, it’s not all business.” You coyly tell him, running him once over with your eyes. “Sometimes it’s just pleasure. Are there other fine, strapping young lads like you in the League or am I just one lucky girl?”

“That depends.” He scoffs, puffing air out of his stapled cheeks. “Do you get any better at prying for information or is this the best you can do?”

“Oh!” A dramatic gesture and you cross your hands over your heart, already coating your hands in sticky, silken thread. “You wound me!”

“I’ll wound you a hell of a lot worse if you don’t get out of here.” His fist clenches, and a burst of ever increasing heat emanates from the fire engulfing his hand. “Last I checked, fire still kills spiders.”

“You’d burn down your own home to kill a single little spider? I’m flattered.”

Before he can retort, you kick one of your feet out behind you, jumping toward him and latching your legs around his midsection. Your hands are quick to wrap around his own as he tumbles to the ground, burning through the layers of webbing drooling from your fingers. The viscous cobweb coats his palms and successfully extinguishes his flames, if only for a moment. It won’t be long, but hopefully it will give you the time you need. You slather the mixture onto the ground next to his head, immobilizing his arms and trapping him beneath you.

He looks panicked for a moment, trying desperately to activate his quirk, but it can’t get the air his fire needs to breathe through your gossamer web. You keep steady on his bucking hips, as chuckling he tries to pry his hands free of your thick, durable weave. Once he realizes it’s not going to happen and you haven’t killed him yet, he seems to relax, if only slightly.

“So, it’s not just a nickname.” He muses, teal eyes focused on your fangs through your grinning lips. “You know, I kill spiders when they’re in my house.”

You throw him a faux pout, grabbing his jaw with your middle finger and thumb and holding him steady as you inspect the staples that line his jaw. “You’re so cruel. I’m just trying to protect my web. You can’t truly blame me, can you? You’d do the same.”

His hips thrash again and this time you don’t hold back the little moan it coaxes from you, His pupils dilate and for a brief second he seems frozen. At least before a smarmy smirk tugs at his upper lip. “You got your money, doll. I’m starting to think this isn’t business after all.”

“Maybe it’s not.” You lean down, running your tongue across the textured expanse of his neck and stifling a giggle when he stiffens. “Maybe I see potential in your little group and I want in.”

“That’s nice of you.” He juts his face toward you only for you to pull back. “But it’s really not up to me.”

You withdraw your hand from his jaw and run it down his chest instead, fingertips slowly stimulating the rough, scarred skin beneath his neck. “Then who is it up to?”

“That would be the boss.” He grins, one hand breaking free of your web and immediately finding purchase in your hair. You go to grab his wrist but he tuts you, threatening you with a familiar warmth on your scalp. Long, skinny fingers coil around your roots and yank your head back, and eventually his other hand breaks free, coming up to grip at your waist. “And he’s going to want nothing to do with you.”

He pulls you down closer to him, the moist heat from his breath collecting on the side of your neck as he keeps you steady on top of him. You can feel him hardening between your legs and you can’t help but wiggle your hips to bolster the sensation.

“What do I need to do, then?”

“I’d be willing to put in a good word for you,” The hand on your waist slides down to grip your ass, clenching the fatty skin and slowly moving you back and forth atop his hips. “If you’re okay with working for it.”

“You’d be so generous, yeah?” You gyrate your lower body against him, feeling the head of his cock poking your clit through his rough jeans.

“You’d be surprised what I’ll do if you make it worth it.”

“I guess I have no choice then.” Your tongue runs over the point of your fangs, swallowing back all the venom you’d had so ready. Sometimes it’s easier to catch flies with honey than vinegar, and you had the sweetest honey of all right between your thighs.

“Say the word and I’ll let you walk away, babe.” His fingers loosen their hold on your body but don’t relinquish entirely. “But if you don’t, I’m going to need you to prove your loyalty.”

You push his body down with your chest until the back of his head meets the gravel, allowing him to keep his hold on you. “I’m very loyal.”

Your tits squish against his pecs and he sneaks a less than inconspicuous peak at them, cock throbbing against your apex. “Prove it.”

You don’t need any further prompting. He almost protests as you shake his hand free and scoot back farther down his legs, at least until he realizes what you’re doing. Your deft fingers work at the buttons of his jeans, yanking them down to his thighs before resituating yourself and working on your own buttons, pulling at them painfully slowly. Once you’ve both exposed yourself to the open air, you can’t help but look at his cock, thick and bobbing against his stomach. It’s one of the only parts of him that isn’t scarred and latched with metal, but the weeping tip looks so inviting. Every bone in your body wants to take him in your mouth and make him see God through sheer force of tongue, but you’ve got a job to do and there’s no time for play. Not this time anyway.

You sit up on your knees until he’s aligned with your hole, sinking down just enough to tease him with your tightness. He groans, trying to pull you down further, but you’re not having it. You arch your back, keeping your knees steady and allowing only the very tip of his cock to enter you.

“Fuck- hurry it up, would you?”

You grab his hands and push them down by his head again, sinking down on him as slow as you possibly can. His eyes roll back in his head, and he hisses all manner of curses as you situate him nice and snug between your suffocating walls. The head of his cock prods at your cervix as you sit on top of him but the fullness stuffed between your thighs forces a breathy moan from you.

He gives you no time to adjust to his girth, pumping his hips up into you as you’re still catching your breath. “Shit! You’re pretty fuckin tight, babe!” A shiver rolls down his back as his hands move to your hips and try to force you harder up and down against him

“So impatient.” You croon, licking up his neck again before sinking your fangs deep into the rough tissue.

“Fuck!”

He’s almost ready to shove you off of him before you start rolling your hips, letting his cock burrow deep into your silken cunt again and again, running your tongue along the column of his throat and nipping softly to gain his trust. You’re not trying to poison him, not now. Your job right now is to gift him pleasure, and so you will.

“Risky-” He huffs in your ear, one hand smacking down hard enough on your ass that you yelp. “Toying with me like that. I can guess what those fangs can do.”

“If only you knew everything.” You sigh, letting his hands go in favor of pulling back, your palms finding his knees behind you as your back arches and puts your tits on display for him.

He can’t resist. The only thing separating him from your chest is a flimsy shirt which he quickly disposes of, heating his fingers enough that the fabric begins to shred before he swiftly pulls it apart. He quickly takes advantage of the fact that your milky tits are within reaching distance, latching on to a nipple and sucking almost painfully.

A high pitched keen escapes your throat as he puffs and hollows his cheeks, slobbering on your chest with one hand on the crook of your shoulder to keep you anchored close. His cock pummels your insides, pelvis stimulating your clit as you ride him. You’re clinging to control but you can feel it slipping with every sloppy lick of his tongue and every brutal thrust of his hips. His heaving becomes more and more erratic, moist breath practically burning your chest on the odd second he pulls away to watch your face. Your eyes close and you lose yourself in the euphoria of his cock, letting him hit you deep and hard just where you need it. Eventually, he releases your nipple from his mouth and you figure you’re both about to cum.

That comes to a screeching halt when he slows his pistoning, grabbing your waist with both hands and keeping you from riding him either.

“What the hell!” You whine, trying and failing to chase your rapidly disappearing orgasm.

“Dabi.” He hisses, bringing a hand up and kneading your breast with fingers that are too hot to handle, squeezing your nipple and sending another jolt of hot pleasure between your legs.

“What?”

Your teeth are clenching, active frustration boiling in your gut. You were so close. Somehow he knows, but he knocks you off of him, watching with mirthful eyes as you land on your butt beside him. Instead of mocking you, he sits up and quickly pulls off his coat, throwing to the ground behind him and spreading it around haphazardly. Before you have time to question, he lurches forward, grabbing you by the throat and throwing you down onto the fabric beneath him.

“I wanna hear you say it.” He says, maneuvering your legs open and placing his thick cock back at your drooling cunt. “When you cum on my dick, I wanna hear you say my name.”

He refuses to move until you acknowledge him, so you do.

“P-please? Dabi?”

“Good girl” He purrs, plunging inside you again so fast you hardly have time to recover. The hand around your neck heats and you scream, at least until a pair of charred lips forces themselves against your open ones. He pounds into you with renewed energy, slamming with a force that jerks your head back with every thrust. The hand that isn’t firmly clasped around your throat finds its way between your legs and rubs in tight, calculated circles. His slick tongue worms into your throat, licking the front of your teeth.

“You’re cute-” he huffs into your open mouth. “I might keep you around. You’re more useful to me as a whore than a loan shark. Is that what you want, doll? To take my loads in your warm little holes? I’ll take real good care of you.”

You want to tell him no. You have a business, a mission. But as he drills deeper inside you, you’re so close to saying whatever he wants so long as he doesn’t stop. The electric warmth between your thighs is rapidly building, coiling up and ready to burst and you’ll say whatever he wants as long as he keeps fucking you.

Some part of him must sense this, because he pulls away from your throat, weaving his fingers up through the crown of your head again and pulling you up to face him. His eyes are glazed, sweat dripping down his temple and he huffs breath through his nostrils that’s practically steam at this point.

“Beg me to cum.”

“Please-”

His fingers work against your clit but just enough to keep the pleasure from fading. You need it faster. You need it harder.

“More!”

He hums and licks up your lips, slipping his tongue between your teeth again for a brief second. “What’s the magic word?”

The fingers on your pussy heat slightly as he applies more pressure, watching you through heavily lidded eyes as you writhe and squirm.

“D-Dabi!”

“Such a good girl. Say ‘Dabi please let me cum!”

It’s degrading and filthy but fuck you want it. Plus, remember, this is just business. Right?

“Dabi! P-Please let me cum on your cock! Please! I-I need-!”

He bites down on your bottom lip before the words can leave your swollen tongue. Your body wiggles restlessly as you wait for him to give you what he promised.

“Good girls get rewards.”

His hips pull back and shove almost impossibly deep inside, forcing a loud cry from you before he slams mouth down onto yours. His fingers work overtime on your engorged clit, utilizing the wetness seeping from your hole as his cock thrusts in and out. His tongue worms past your lips again and explores every inch he can reach, chuckling as you moan shamelessly into his mouth.

Though he starts off with a precise rhythm, it quickly becomes erratic as he chases his own pleasure while delivering yours. The hand at your apex is working overtime and the one in your hair is warm enough that you’d likely be a bit worried if you had the mental capacity. He uses both of them to maneuver you to his precise liking, fucking into you like you’re a pliable little doll built solely for his pleasure.

He’s mumbling incoherently, breathing hot and heavy against your cheek. Your needy moans and whimpers only drive him to move faster and harder as your own hips work double time to meet his powerful pulsating. If you weren’t the one making the noises, you never would have believed it was you.

“Fuck- shit! Gunna cum nice and deep in your pretty little cunt! Gunna make sure you’re dripping for days-“ He cuts off partway through to let out a heafy groan as you clench your muscles tighter to milk him. “God, so fucking tight-“

Your orgasm is approaching quickly, pain from his bony hips digging into the fleshy fat of your thighs barely a whisper compared to the white hot pressure building at the base of your spine. You can feel his cock twitch against your cervix with every punch against it and you know he’s close too.

You dig your nails in, fingers clamped against his shoulders and using his movements to build your own momentum. The cacophony of moans between you two becomes louder and more unhinged, him whispering depraved fantasies in your ear that only drive you further to completion. Your head falls back down to the ground as you lose the ability to keep it up any longer, cord finally snapping and unraveling as he throws you over the edge.

You practically scream as he continues fucking you through your orgasm, legs constricting ever tighter around his narrow hips as you push yourself up harder to chase every ounce of sensation he has to offer you. Stars dance behind your shut eyes and your entire body buzzes with prickling bliss that radiates from your core. You can’t feel the pain in your knees from the asphalt before he flipped you or the localized ache from him ripping at your hair; only the overwhelming, pulsing euphoria as he continues to hit that sweet, spongy spot deep inside you as you ride out your peak.

His animalistic grunts turn even more primal as your walls flutter around his thick cock, clenching and pulsing around him until he can’t hold back the tide of cresting pleasure anymore. Hot cum floods your insides, so warm you swear it nearly burns you. He continues pumping as it begins to leak from inside you, obscene squelching echoing from the point of entry. He turns his head, finding the crook of your neck and biting down hard enough you cry out, marking you one last time as he continues to stroke himself with your cunt until every last drop has been drained.

His cock throbs for a moment before slowly softening inside you as he tries to see straight. You’ve yet to open your eyes, only twitching in overstimulation as he withdraws his hand from between your slippery thighs. He allows you to catch your breath for a moment before lightly pushing himself up off of you, careful not to hurt you.

You slowly regain the ability to move your body and rollout from underneath him, wobbling legs dropping you back onto the cement instead of allowing you to stand when you try. It’s a struggle to pull up your pants since your legs have decided they no longer want to work, but somehow you manage to get them pulled up and buttoned, Dabi’s cum seeping from between your thighs and staining onto the fabric. Dabi himself hoists himself to his feet, using the wall as support. He’s trying desperately to seem unaffected but you don’t miss the falter of his legs like a newborn fawn when he first rises to his feet.

“Thanks doll, that was fun.” He somehow manages to bend over and grab his coat from the floor, snaking his arms through the armholes and readjusting it over his chest. “I think I’ll be in touch.”

You raise your head, cocking an eyebrow at him. “You think?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs, beginning his walk back down the alleyway where he came from. He turns to look at you one last time, sly grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I might need some more convincing.”

#Dabi x Reader #nsft #Baby's first dabi fic #do not be too hard on me this is low effort and just to test out Dabi lmao #I edited sorta kinda I swear #Not a whole lot but you know #Reader has a spider quirk that gives her fangs and lovely webbing she can make from her pores #ahaha I’m a fucking pathetic failure.

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haokyeom · 4 years ago

Text

all the stars | kim mingyu

ミ★ synopsis: in which you fall in love with your rival, kim mingyu.

ミ★ genre: sin of envy!mingyu, ceo!mingyu, ceo!reader, enemies to lovers!au, angst, fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: mentions of blood and broken glass

ミ★ word count: 8,764

ミ★ pairings: mingyu x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! it’s lila, aka, @viastro ! this is my last post for the lucky 7 collaboration </33 this one is actually so fucking long for no reason i am so sorry HAHAHA this was so exciting to be a part of even tho i kinda procrastinated and made all of the oneshots ten million years long </33 this one was really exciting to write tho. think it might be one of my favorite works along with my minghao oneshot for this collab :o i hope you guys like it ! make sure to give mingyu lots of love <3

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They say to live the life you dream of, you have to work hard. Some people can start from the bottom and work their way up to the top. While others are fortunate enough to start directly from the top due to the resources that are available to them.

Unluckily for you, you are not one of the latters. You worked hard to get where you are now, being the CEO of Bloom. You didn’t earn the status of CEO through being the heir to the company, no. You built Bloom on your own, and now you’re one of the youngest, as well as the richest, in the business of the gaming industry.

However, as it was said before, you’re one of the youngest and richest. There’s another that you’re currently ahead of in the business, some claim to be your rival in the industry. The two of you are always clashing on the charts, always competing at the same time. Since you just recently launched a new update for your game, you’re higher on the ladder than him. For now.

Kim Mingyu, the CEO of Ainsoft. At the age of 19 he inherited the money to start up his own gaming company, which ended up being incredibly successful. As he is now 23, and one of the youngest and richest in South Korea. Right beside you on the charts, but you started from the ground up, while he had a bit of help.

What you don’t know is that Mingyu is truly out of this world. Tall, handsome, and rich, yes. However, he is actually not a part of this world. For he is one of the seven deadly sins,

The Sin of Envy.

And you, yln yn, are at the top of his list.

“Nah, he’s a villain. If you wanna make him look the part, he should look less soft. Taller, broader, dark hair, nice tan skin. Yes! Perfect.” You clap your hands once your game designer makes the changes you requested. Minghao turns to glance at you with a look that basically says, ugh! this bitch.

“... What?”

“You literally just had me draw Kim Mingyu.” You purse your lips once you see the resemblance, and turn your head away, letting out a whistle tune. Minghao chuckles, deleting the edits he made so that the drawing is back to its original rough draft.

“You know, it’s not my fault that he looks like the perfect villain.” You say to Minghao, and he waves his hand away at you, flashing you a grin. “I’ll work on this and show you the draft when I’m done, deal?”

You smile, giving the black haired beauty a thumbs up. “Deal.”

And with that, you turn and stroll back to your office. You check in with your other employees on the way there, seeing how the design and coding is going for the upcoming game you plan to discuss with investors in a month or so.

With a smile and wave of your hand, you step into your office, shutting the door behind you and walking over to your desk. You sit down, letting out a breath and closing your eyes as you rest your head on the back of your seat.

You quickly get interrupted by a knock on your door, and you call out that they can come in. Sitting up straighter in your seat, you watch as your COO, Chan, steps into your office with a straight face. You raise an eyebrow, knowing that he brought news you must not like.

“What is it?” You ask as Chan sits down in the seat in front of your desk, and he lets out a sigh. He places the small envelope before you, and you purse your lips, reaching out and taking it. You carefully open up the red paper, and pull out what seems to be an invitation.

You immediately frown at what you read, and you glance up at Chan to see him also looking at the piece of paper as if it were cursed. You place it back down onto the table, letting out a sigh and slumping in your seat.

“Why is Kim Mingyu inviting me to his gala?” You ask, pointing to the invitation in disgust, and Chan shrugs in response. He looks rather tired as well, and you feel a bit bad for your friend.

His black hair isn’t as put together as it was in the morning, showing that he must’ve been running his hands through it a lot during the day. His tie is a bit loosened as well, and he’s more hunched over. You know for a fact that once he leaves your office, he won’t be showing any sign of fatigue to your employees. You don’t blame him for being tired though, it’s a stressful process trying to create a new game.

“I think he might be planning something.” Chan mutters, squinting at the invitation from his seat. You tilt your head, wondering what Mingyu could possibly be scheming. You’ve never met him before, as you’re not one to go out to galas or many public events, and he’s never invited you to one of his galas before. Chan is usually the one who attends those things because he knows you’d much rather work on new game developments or on updates for any existing games than waste time at a party.

“Of course he is. He never invites me to these things, and I’ve also never met him, yet we’re each other's biggest competitor. You’re the only one who has spoken to Mingyu before.” You say, pointing to Chan, who is now rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. Once he’s done he glances at you, giving you a shrug of his shoulders.

“All I can remember is that he’s really tall, and pretty cocky.”

“Only a little bit?”

“Nah, like. The type that knows everyone loves him and can get anyone he wants without trying.” You purse your lips, turning your head away with a scowl. From what you’re hearing, Kim Mingyu is the worst type of man.

“I’m not going.” You state with finality, turning back towards your computer. You begin typing away for a minute, only to pause when you realize that Chan is still sitting in your seat, staring at you. Your eyes immediately widen and you shake your head, while Chan stands up and raises his hands towards you. “Absolutely not!”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!”

“Because I already know what you were going to say!” You exclaim with a baffled expression on your face, and Chan gives you a defeated look in return. He purses his lips and you squint back at him. After a moment Chan finally says, “I think you should go.”

“Give me one good reason why.” You tell him and Chan grins, having already expected you to say that.

“It’s an opportunity to get information on the enemy.” Chan states, and you raise an eyebrow. Leaning back into your seat, you signal for him to go on.

“Listen. Mingyu is known to hold these big galas when they’re planning on launching a new game, right?” Chan glances at you for your reaction, and you nod your head. “So, you can go to try and get information. You’ve never met Mingyu, and he’s never met you. What if you managed to even swoon him?”

You roll your eyes, grabbing your stapler to throw it at your partner’s head, and he raises his arms in surrender, letting out giggles at your reaction. You place the almost weapon back down on your table, and bite your finger, a habit you do when you start to think heavily about something.

Chan has a point. It’s a dirty way of playing the game, but hey, you’re in the gaming industry. What you and Chan are planning on doing isn’t that bad anyways. You’re just going to see what his next game may be, report it back to your employees, and make sure your new game release will be a thousand times better than his.

Which is why you turn back to Chan, a newly formed smirk on your lips, and he grins evilly back. You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, “Guess I have plans this Saturday.”

“Ms. yln, the CEO of Bloom, has just arrived at Kim Mingyu’s gala. This is her first time attending Mr. Kim’s gala since they are the two biggest competitors in the gaming industry. She’s wearing an emerald green…”

You ignore the voices of the reporters as you step out of your bugatti chiron with a knowing smile on your face. You hand your keys to the valet, giving them a nod as you walk down the red carpet. You flip your hair over your shoulder, before walking up the steps and into the grand venue.

You feel the eyes on you when you step in, and you bow to those around you. You walk further into the ballroom of the hotel, running a hand through your hair as you walk up to one of the tables. You take out your phone from the strap on your leg, sending Chan a quick text that you’re going to curse him for not coming with you. To which he replies,

chan: love you too sexci :D

“Champagne, Ms. yln?” You turn to glance at the voice, to find a young waiter standing before you, holding fancy glasses filled with the expensive alcohol. You give him a small smile, and watch as a blush rises to his cheeks when you take one. “Thank you so much.”

He bows, before turning and walking away. You take a tiny sip and let out a pleased noise once you taste the unexpected sweetness to it. You ponder your luck on your favorite alcohol getting served at the gala you dreaded going to, only to receive an answer from the voice beside you.

“Montaudon Brut, your favorite.” You turn your head to find none other than the Kim Mingyu standing close beside you, a knowing smirk on his face as he stares at you. You raise an eyebrow, turning your body to face him as you look back into his eyes.

“How’d you know?” You ask with a small smile, and he shrugs, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, damn you kim mingyu, before giving you a mischievous look. “Did a little bit of research.”

You let out an, ah, before turning your head away to sweep the room. You lock eyes with a few onlookers, but they quickly glance the other way, making the corner of your lips tilt upwards a bit. You take in the decorations on the ceiling, from the bright pink and white flowers, to the green leafy plants hanging next to the fairy lights. What used to just be a golden ballroom inside a hotel now resembles what you’d consider a great option for what heaven may look like.

It’s rather ironic actually, considering that the Sin of Envy is standing right beside you. Mingyu watches you with fire in his eyes, having not expected you to be more gorgeous in person than in pictures, let alone when the fairy lights cast an iridescent glow over you.

“The decorations are lovely, did you pick them out yourself as well?” You ask, turning to glance back at Mingyu, just to feel your breath get caught in your throat when you catch the intense look in his eyes. He tilts his head at you, opening his mouth to say something when the sound of the mic turning on catches both of your attention.

Mingyu flashes you a mischievous smile, “That’s my signal to go and greet everyone. I’ll see you later?”

You find yourself smirking, nodding your head and waving off the handsome man with your hand. “You know where to find me.”

And with that, Mingyu turns and walks off the stage. All while you head off in the opposite direction to go and get some info on his upcoming game. You notice a group consisting of a few women and men who are eyeing you, and you walk over to them. They seemed to not have expected you to go up to them due to their eyes widening slightly, and you let out a grin when you reach their table.

“Ms. yln, what an honor it is to meet you.” The tallest male says, and you extend your hand out to shake his. Only to bite the inside of your cheek when he raises your hand up and presses a kiss to the back of it instead. He leans back and you glance at the rest of the people around him, just for them to immediately bow to you. You bow back, before giving the man a smile. “What’s your name?”

“My name is Cha Eunwoo, I’m Mingyu’s game designer.” You nod your head, mentally patting yourself on the back for finding one of the main people in charge of making Mingyu’s newest release. You run a hand through your hair before turning to ask, “What got you into game design?”

The two of you spend the next hour talking about Eunwoo’s experience working with Mingyu. You find yourself enjoying the pretty man’s company. He’s nice, witty, charming, and rather funny. You wish he could be a part of your team, but alas. At least you found out small bits and pieces of what could potentially be Ainsoft’s next release.

What you’ve gathered so far is that there’s mentions of a dystopian universe, and a team. You’re worried that may be all you’re able to get, but you think that it could be enough. You wave bye to Eunwoo, and he tells you he was happy that he got to speak to you, before you turn and walk back over to your table.

You raise an eyebrow when you see that your table is now full, so you decide to walk around. Other than doing the occasional bow, you don’t feel like talking to anyone else for now, so you continue to roam around. You tilt your head when you find a hallway close to the stage, so you walk down it. Taking in the hanging green plants on the ceiling, finding the interior decoration of the gala to be impeccable. You see doors leading to a balcony once you’re closer to the end of the hallway, and you step out.

You take a sip of your champagne when you find Mingyu looking over the ledge, staring out at the city. You raise an eyebrow and walk over, but he doesn’t seem startled by your presence. He just continues to look at the skyline, taking in deep breaths of the cold, night air.

“Thought you said you’d find me?” You joke after a moment, and Mingyu turns to glance at you. He lets out an amused grin, shaking his head at you. “Wanted to give you a little adventure.” Is all he replies, and you find yourself smiling.

The two of you stare out at the skyline together in silence, and you feel that you’re the calmest you’ve been in months as you stand beside Mingyu. Glancing up at the night sky you notice a shooting star, and you nudge the man. He turns to look at you, and you point up at the sky with a glimmer to your eye, “Look! A shooting star.”

Mingyu looks up at the sky, and he catches the very last second of the shooting star. He chuckles, knowing that means one of the stars is on their way to fulfill a quest, but of course, you don’t know that. So he turns to glance at you, just to find that your eyes are closed, and your hands are clasped together as you make a wish up to the shooting star.

Mingyu feels something in his chest at the sight, and he wonders whether he may be having a heart attack, but then he remembers that he’s immortal. You open your eyes and turn to glance at Mingyu, and that’s when he feels his heart stop.

He realizes that your eyes outshine all the stars in the sky with the way they brightly bore into his, and he finds the visual so enchanting, that he forgets to speak. You tilt your head to the side at his silence, and you take the last sip of your champagne, before placing the empty glass onto the ledge.

“So quiet now. Have you just realized how pretty I am?” You tease, and Mingyu snaps out of his trance. He leans in closer to your face, and your eyes widen when his nose almost touches yours. The handsome man lets out a smile, “I’ve always known you were stunning, yn. However, I didn’t expect you to be even prettier in person.” And with that, he leans back at his full height, chuckling at your surprised expression.

You squint at him, “Shut up.”

“Awe, is my biggest rival shy now?” Mingyu asks, and you roll your eyes. You nudge him with your shoulder, and he hides his smile behind the glass of champagne, taking a large sip of it. You feel your phone vibrate in the strap on your thigh, so you stick your leg out of the slit of your dress. Mingyu glances down and his eyes widen slightly at the sight of you taking your phone out of the strap.

“You kept… your phone there?” You nod your head without looking at Mingyu, seeing that Chan needs you to come home so he can discuss one of the character designs for the game you’re creating. You place your phone back in the strap, before hiding your leg from view. Turning towards Mingyu, you give him a grin.

“I have to take my leave now. Thank you for inviting me to your gala, I had a wonderful time.” You tell Mingyu, and he purses his lips at the fact that he feels the slightest bit of disappointment in his chest from you leaving already.

“So soon?” Mingyu asks and you nod your head, muttering that duty calls. You’re about to turn around to leave when you feel a hand grasp your wrist, and you glance behind you to see Mingyu staring at you with a small smile.

“Will I see you again?”

Your eyes widen at the question, having not expected for there to be a next time. While Mingyu continues to look at you with a glint in his eye, and you wonder why he wants to initiate a relationship between the two of you. However, you also enjoy Mingyu’s company, so it really has you thinking.

“Maybe. Depends on what the Gods have in store for us.” You answer, and Mingyu finds it so painfully ironic that he lets out a laugh, to which you find yourself smiling back. He nods his head, letting go of your wrist so that you can leave the gala.

“I’ll see you, yln yn.” You flip your hair over your shoulder, waving bye to Mingyu. “See you, Kim Mingyu.”

And with that, you walk off the balcony. Leaving Mingyu alone underneath the night sky. He lets out a breath, turning back towards the ledge as he decides to head back into the gala after a few minutes.

Mingyu glances up at the stars, and he comes to realize that you’re all he can think about as he does so.

“Minghao!” The black haired beauty turns in the direction he heard you call, just to find you quickly walking over with an excited smile on your face. He raises an eyebrow, about to open his mouth to ask how much espresso you got in your coffee, just for you to slam your journal onto his desk. “Someone’s excited.”

“I had a dream.”

“So did Rapunzel and Flynn Rider.” You squint at Minghao, and he gives you a smile that convinces you not to reach out and smack the back of his head. So you instead open up your journal, showing the drawing you made at four in the morning the night before, and Minghao’s eyes widen slightly in awe.

“These are…”

“Perfect.”

“An incredibly different vibe from the characters we had drawn out before.” Minghao points out, and you nod your head. Running a hand through your hair, you give him a grin. “Don’t you think they suit the game so much better though? I was unsure of the direction we were going in, but after what I learned at the gala, I think these characters will be better.”

Minghao nods his head in agreement, turning back towards the drawing. You stare at the drawing as well, “I had a dream last night and as soon as I woke up I just had to draw the characters I dreamt of. This is what I got. I want you to show this to the team and make these characters come to life by the end of next week.” You tell Minghao, and he purses his lips. He grasps the journal and raises it up towards his face, taking in the detail of their outfits, the brightness of the hair, and their varying facial expressions.

“What kind of dream did you have?” Minghao asks after a moment, and you tilt your head at the thought of it. Perhaps you had that bizarre dream because you watched that one alien episode of buzzfeed unsolved to try and stop thinking of Mingyu, but you’re not sure.

“These weird aliens kept trying to peg me with their tentacles.” You mutter with a look of unease displayed over your features, and Minghao just stares at you in concern. You snap out of the memory, turning back towards Minghao and giving him a small smile.

“You can create these by the end of next week, right?”

“You dreamt… of tentacle porn?” You let out a laugh, reaching out and resting a hand on Minghao’s shoulder. “Remind me to not watch anything involving aliens before I go to sleep.”

Minghao nods his head, “Noted.”

And after he confirms that he’ll be able to have the characters drawn out and will show them to you as soon as they’re done, you walk back to your office after checking with your other employees. You’re about to turn the corner to your office when Chan stops you, a bright smile on his face that has you suspicious.

“...What?”

“You want coffee?”

“I don’t like coffee.”

“Well, let’s make you like it! Let’s go!” Chan says quickly, hooking his arm with yours and pulling you in the opposite direction of your office. With a frown you pull your arm away, squinting at Chan. “Why are you stopping me from going into my office?”

“Why… not?” You stare at Chan with a bored expression, before turning around and opening the door to your office, promptly ignoring Chan’s sounds of protest. You find yourself staring at the back of Mingyu’s head, who is sitting in the seat placed in front of your desk.

“Kim Mingyu.” You state, and the man turns around, flashing you a smile. His black hair is up in the style he had at the gala, revealing his forehead and strong eyebrows. He’s wearing a black dress shirt, the top buttons being unbuttoned, revealing a bit of his chest, and you raise an eyebrow. You take notice of his sharp canines for the first time as he smiles at you, and for some reason, you’re intrigued.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my office right now?” You ask as you walk up to your chair, feeling Mingyu’s eyes on you the whole way there. You sit down in your seat, and look up into his eyes, finding the same intense look that he had at the night of the gala two weeks prior. Mingyu smiles, leaning his head back into the chair, and your eyes trail down to his Adam's apple, watching it move as he swallows.

“You weren’t making any moves to come and see me again, so I decided to pay my rival a visit and ask her out for coffee.” You choke on your saliva at the end of his sentence, and Mingyu smiles at that. You stare at him with wide eyes, and he rests his chin on his hand, looking at you with amusement dancing in his deep brown eyes.

The two of you weren’t supposed to meet again. By you going to the gala it was simply for your own gain, to learn more about his upcoming game. However, you ended up learning more about the enemy himself. You know that you shouldn’t entertain him like this, but here you are, wanting to get to know your rival more.

And so you regain your composure, and tilt your head to the side, now grinning back at Mingyu. “After your research on me, I thought you’d learn that I’m more of a tea person.”

Mingyu bites his finger, letting out a smile at that. “Guess the internet isn’t always that reliable.”

You nod your head, before standing up from the chair and heading over to the door. Mingyu raises an eyebrow at you moving to leave without another word, and you turn your head to look at him. You smirk, “Are you coming or what? I know a good tea place down the street from here.”

Mingyu laughs, standing up from the seat and grabbing the maroon jacket that was laid over the back of it. He puts it on, and you find that he looks like the epitome of a God as he walks up to you. Once he’s standing in front of you, the two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

Mingyu thinks that emerald green complements your eye color as he stares at you, curious as to how he didn’t notice it when you wore that emerald green dress at the gala. While you wonder how cursed you have to be for your rival to be one of the prettiest people you’ve ever laid eyes on. So you grin, opening the door for him and pointing out with your arm. “After you.”

Mingyu chuckles out, “How sweet of you.” as he steps out of your office.

The two of you walk over towards the elevators, and you glance over to see Minghao staring at you with a small smirk on his face, while Chan looks like he’s shitting himself. You raise an eyebrow at them, and Minghao makes his hands look like they’re kissing, and Chan just makes the motion that looks like he’s praying to the Gods. You roll your eyes, before turning back towards Mingyu to see him bowing his head towards your other employees that are looking at the both of you.

at least he’s respectful.

“Are you gonna pay for my tea?” Mingyu asks once the two of you enter the elevator, and you smile, turning to look at your rival. You reach over and press the star button, and the elevator makes its way down. After a second of silence you respond,

“Sure, I’ll pay for your tea as a celebration for the fact that I’m in the #1 spot right now.” You answer, giving Mingyu a cheeky smile, and he rolls his eyes.

For now, Mingyu thinks to himself bitterly once the elevator doors open.

“You fucking suck at fall guys.” You mutter to Mingyu once you hear him yell out beside you. He chooses to ignore that comment so that he can try and make it into the qualifying round, and you let out a squeal once you take the last spot. Mingyu glares at the screen, seeing the word eliminated flash across it while you celebrate.

Mingyu removes his headset, and turns to glare at you on the other side of your gaming room, clapping your hands happily. He lets out a groan and rests his head on the back of the chair, causing you to let out a laugh at his reaction.

“Who would’ve thought that the CEO of Ainsoft is so terrible at fall guys?” You tease, and Mingyu rolls his eyes. He stands up from the seat without another word and walks over to you. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, only for your whole world to be flipped upside down when he throws you over your shoulder. You let out a laugh, “Put me down!”

“No.” Mingyu states, smiling as he spins around, hearing you let out a squeal as he does so. You threaten that you’re going to throw up onto the back of his shirt if he doesn’t set you down, and he laughs. “Then apologize and tell me I’m the best player ever.”

“Lying is a sin, Mingyu.”

“Bruh…” And so, Mingyu spins you around a few more times before setting you down onto the couch with a laugh. The two of you freeze once you realize the position you’re in, with him hovering over you and you laying flat on your back.

It’s been a couple months since the gala, and you and Mingyu have gotten close. What started out as you trying to beat him, led to you wanting to get to know him, and now you can’t help but think how nice it must be to kiss him as you stare down at his soft, pink lips.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Mingyu thinks as he stares into your eyes. He didn’t even think he was capable of feeling this way towards anyone. But it’s when he lifts up his hand and rests it on your cheek, and he watches as your eyes glance down towards his lips that he realizes,

“I want you.” Mingyu murmurs, and your breath hitches at his words.

And so the two of you stare at each other for a moment in silence, before you let out a small smile.

“Only if you can beat me at fall guys.” Mingyu squints at you, and you giggle at his reaction. He rolls his eyes before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss for the first time.

“Fuck!” You hear Mingyu yell as you step into his office. It’s already late at night, almost one am, and yet Mingyu is still here working at his desk. He glances up at you when he hears the sound of the door close, and he turns off his computer when you walk towards him.

His hair isn’t perfectly put together anymore based on the way it’s falling over his forehead now. His tie is loosened and is just hanging around his neck, the first few buttons now unbuttoned on his shirt as well. You take notice of the bags under his eyes, and you realize he’s been lacking sleep.

“Yn, how did you get in?” Mingyu asks tiredly, standing up from his desk and walking over to you. You chuckle, holding up the spare keys that he left at your house a week prior and dangling it in front of his face. He opens up his hand, and you drop the keys onto the palm of his hand. Mingyu lets out a small, “Ah.” and you chuckle.

You wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing his back and he finds himself smiling softly at the feeling. He lets out a breath of relief and cradles your head, pressing a kiss to the top of it. After a moment you pull back and give him a smile, “Let’s take you home, mm? You’re overworking yourself.”

Mingyu opens his mouth to protest and you shush him, shaking your head. He stares at you for a moment, not used to anyone taking care of him when he stays late at the office, and he feels his heart warm slightly. He lets out a sigh, before giving you a smile and nodding his head. He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Just let me pack up, okay? I’ll be out in a sec.”

You walk out of his office and wait by the door for a few minutes, just scrolling through your phone when Mingyu finally walks out. He reaches out for your hand and you intertwine your fingers with his, and the two of you talk about your day as you head to his car.

“Eunwoo choked on tteokbokki?” You ask, and Mingyu laughs at the memory of Eunwoo choking in his office. He starts the car and backs out of his parking spot, and begins driving out of the parking garage. “He absolutely did. I wish I got it on video.”

You giggle at the thought of the pretty man turning red in the face and choking on the small rice cake. Mingyu smiles at the sound, finding it to be one of your best qualities. The two of you drive in relative silence the rest of the way to his place, as Mingyu’s sleepy, and you’re also tired.

When you both finally arrive, you step out of his car and walk into his house. Mingyu makes a beeline for his room, taking off his dress shirt and belly flopping onto his bed. You laugh at his antics, sitting on the edge of his bed and slapping his back. “Go and change into your pajamas at least.”

“Can you do it for me?” Mingyu asks teasingly, lifting up his head to glance at your reaction. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you glare, reaching out and slapping his back. He lets out a whine, before getting up from his bed and walking over to his closet.

He comes back after a moment, changed into fluffy pajama pants and an old t-shirt. He throws one of his t-shirts at you for you to change into and you chuckle. He climbs back into bed and looks at you with a confused expression, wondering why you haven’t changed.

“I’m not staying the night Gyu.” You mutter, pushing back the strands of hair that are falling into his eyes. He frowns, “Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Mingyu, I have a meeting at work in the morning.”

“And I’ll drive you there.” Mingyu offers and you giggle, shaking your head at him. He whines, making a grabby hand towards you, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Mingyu has come to realize that he sleeps a lot better when he’s holding you after the first time you let him spend the night a couple weeks ago. He realizes he shouldn’t have let himself get so attached to you, but he just wants one more night. One more night with you.

“Please?” Mingyu asks in a softer voice, and you sigh. You nod your head, grabbing the shirt and walking into his bathroom to change, before waddling back over to the bed and climbing in. It’s like second nature to you and Mingyu when you both go into your cuddling position. With you draping your arm and leg over him, and Mingyu wrapping his arm and leg around you. He rubs your back, and you slowly find yourself falling asleep.

“Don’t forget that you promised to drive me to my meeting tomorrow.” You mumble before you fall asleep, and Mingyu nods his head.

Mingyu watches as your breathing evens out, and he knows that you’re asleep. He stares at you for a moment, finding that you look so pure when you sleep. There’s no frown to your forehead, no tiredness to your eyes, you’re just at peace. He presses a kiss to your forehead, before letting out a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, yn.”

“You hear that your boyfriend is releasing a game tomorrow night?” Chan asks as the two of you walk back to your office from the meeting on how far along your guys’ game development is going. You giggle at the term, and nod your head, feeling a sense of pride at the sleepless nights Mingyu has spent on working on the release of his game.

“Yeah, he’s been working hard on the last minute touches. I had to drag him out of his office at like, one am last night. I plan to surprise him after his launch party.” You tell Chan as you enter your office. You sit down in your seat, placing your notes down by your keyboard, and Chan takes off his blazer and hangs it on the back of the chair before sitting down.

“Has he told you anything about the game?” Chan asks, and you shake your head with a smile. “I told him I wanted him to surprise me, so I don’t know anything about it other than the little pieces of info I got from Eunwoo at the gala a few months ago.”

Chan nods his head, letting out a grin at the happiness radiating from you as you login to your computer. Chan chuckles, “Who would’ve thought that by you going to the gala to get intel on the enemy, you ended up falling for the man?”

You smile, shrugging your shoulders in response. You mutter how life works in mysterious ways, and Chan agrees wholeheartedly based on how life has turned out for you.

Everything is going great so far. The development of your new game is on its last stages, and you’re so happy seeing your characters come to life on the screen from what your employees have shown you. It’s one of your best works yet.

And you’re finally dating after years of just dedicating all your time into work. Chan hasn’t seen you so happy before, and he’s so glad to see you glowing. So Chan reaches over and rests his hand over yours, giving it a small pat, and you let out a smile.

“I’m proud of you, yn.” Your eyes fill with fondness as you stare at your best friend who has been with you since the very beginning, and you feel your heart swell with love. “Thank you Chan, I love you.”

Eunwoo and Mingyu eat silently as they look over the game character designs and the gameplay. Mingyu can’t help but feel a sense of guilt as he stares at them, and he mentally slaps himself for feeling that way. Eunwoo glances at him, taking in the furrow between Mingyu’s eyebrows, and he lets out a sigh. Mingyu turns to look at him, “What?”

“If you feel guilty, then why did you suggest to even do this?” Eunwoo asks, and Mingyu scoffs. “I don’t feel guilty.”

Eunwoo rolls his eyes, reaching out and poking the prominent furrow that’s been hanging out between Mingyu’s eyebrows the whole day they’ve been working. The game release is tomorrow night, and they’re still here at the office working. Mingyu whines, rubbing the area that Eunwoo poked, and Eunwoo lets out a grin. “Lying is for sinners.”

Mingyu lets out a cocky grin, eyes turning red for emphasis, “Good thing I’m not a virtue.”

Eunwoo lets out a tired sigh, pushing Mingyu’s face away, causing the sin to let out a laugh at his friend’s antics. Eunwoo is the only one who knows of Mingyu’s true form, it was an accident honestly.

“I’m so sick of this fake love! Fake love! Fake love!” Eunwoo raises an eyebrow at the sound of Mingyu’s singing, and he steps into his friend’s room to see the tall man dancing in front of his mirror. His eyes are glowing a bright red rather than the deep brown he’s known him for. Mingyu pauses, slowly turning the sound down on his phone when he locks eyes with Eunwoo, and he turns his eyes back to brown.

“Eunwoo, let me explain-”

Eunwoo passes out onto the floor.

Mingyu’s just lucky that Eunwoo’s his best friend and didn’t have any plans on outing him for being one of the seven deadly sins. However, he’s both blessed and cursed on the fact that Eunwoo can read him better than an open book.

“You love her, don’t you?” Eunwoo watches as Mingyu turns rigid, and he tilts his head at him. Mingyu turns back towards the screen, choosing to ignore the way his heart throbs at the thought of you and him slow dancing in the kitchen the other night. Eunwoo decides to press him a bit more, “Gyu?”

“I’m the Sin of Envy, there’s no such thing as love for me.” Mingyu mutters, making himself look like he’s staring intently at the gameplay on the screen. Eunwoo runs a hand through his hair, taking a sip of his water. “But you love her.”

Mingyu bites his lip, choosing to stay quiet as his response. The silence is everything Eunwoo needed to know, and so he leans back into his seat and stares at Mingyu a bit longer. Mingyu turns to glance at him after a moment of silence, and he sees the judgmental expression on his best friend’s face. “What?”

Eunwoo just shakes his head, glancing over at the journal full of notes about the game before saying, “You could live a hundred lifetimes, and never deserve that girl.”

Mingyu turns back towards the game, seeing the characters come to life on the screen, and he bites the inside of his cheek. He nods his head slowly, knowing what he’s going to lose as he quietly mutters, “I know.”

Mingyu takes a sip of water as he looks at himself in the mirror, deciding that he looks good. He glances down at his phone when he hears a ding, letting out a smile when he sees your text on the screen.

yn: good luck !! i’m so proud of you, can’t wait to beat you at the game stinky >:D

Mingyu looks back up when he hears that it’s almost time for the game to launch, and he stands up from the seat. He turns around to see Eunwoo standing there, and he tries to ignore the disappointed expression on his best friend’s face.

“You know you can still stop this, right?” Eunwoo insists, and Mingyu shakes his head at his friend. He bites the inside of his cheek, ignoring the feeling of guilt that’s building up in his conscience. He finds that emotion annoying, guilt. He’s the Sin of Envy, how is he able to feel that?

“Because you fell in love.” Eunwoo states. Mingyu’s eyes widen, turning to Eunwoo and wondering how he could hear his thoughts, who briefly explains that Mingyu said it out loud.

“You can stop this, Mingyu. You’re going to ruin something you’ve been blessed with. Just listen to me-” Mingyu raises his hand up at Eunwoo, stopping him from speaking. Eunwoo lets out a tired sigh, and Mingyu gives him a smile.

“Let’s go celebrate our game launch.” Mingyu says, and walks out of the room. Eunwoo bites the inside of his cheek, before following after his friend.

While you hangout with Chan at his house, staring at the TV that displays OGN. They’re about to announce Ainsoft’s game launch and show the commercial for it as well. You let out an excited smile, seeing that Chan is staring at the TV expectantly.

“Oh! It’s 8:00!” You exclaim, and right as you say that, you see Mingyu’s pre-recorded announcement of the launch of the game. “He looks so handsome…”

“Okay we get it, you have a boyfriend.” Chan jokes, and you let out a laugh. You watch as Mingyu gestures to the large screen beside him on the TV, and it zooms into it as the commercial begins to play.

Your smile slowly drops from your face when the main character shows up on the screen, and Chan squints at the TV. “Wait a minute.”

You raise a hand to your mouth when the other characters start coming in, hearing the voice in the back of the video explaining the gameplay and the adventure the characters have to go on. You stand up from the couch with shaking knees, and Chan looks over at you.

This is your game. This is your creation. This is the game you’ve spent months working on.

It’s gone.

All of it is gone.

“Wait, yn-” Chan begins as you grab your car keys from the table. You walk towards the door, ignoring Chan’s calls as you hurry to get to your car. “Yn, you’re not in the right frame of mind to drive.”

You feel Chan grasp your arm and you shake it off, pointing at him with a shaking hand. The anger that Chan feels is not even close to the betrayal you must be feeling as he notices there’s no trace of happiness to you anymore. “Let me go.”

So Chan lets go, and you step out of his house. You quickly walk to your car, pushing back the tears so that you can be able to see as you drive. Millions of thoughts flow through your head as you back out of Chan’s driveway and speed down the street towards Mingyu’s house.

Was that his agenda all along? When did he get the info on your whole game? Is that why he spent so much time with you?

You bite your lip when you think,

Did he ever even love you?

“Great job on the game guys, it’ll be a big hit.” Mingyu tells his employees over by the glasses of champagne. They all smile and tell them their thanks, and he waves his hand at them, saying that this wouldn’t have happened without their help.

Eunwoo stares from across the room, drinking the sweet champagne that he knows you enjoy so much. However, it just tastes bitter once it goes down, reminding him of the sin he’s committed as he watches Mingyu act like everything’s fine.

He stands up straight when he hears the front door open behind him over the chatter, turning around to see you walking in. Eunwoo’s eyes widen, and he reaches out to stop you but you push his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

You walk over to the glasses of champagne, and grab one. Mingyu’s employees stare with wide eyes when they take notice of you, wondering what you’re even doing at their launch party. Mingyu raises an eyebrow at their sudden silence, and he turns in the direction that they’re staring in, only to get a face full of champagne.

“What the fuck?” Mingyu growls, wiping his eyes so that he can see who did it. Only for his heart to drop when he locks eyes with you. You’re standing there, eyes full of rage as you stare at the man that you love, the one who betrayed you.

“Yn.” Mingyu breathes out, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“You fucking BITCH!” You scream, slapping Mingyu across the face, and the whole room turns silent at your outburst. You reach out to start shoving him, but he grasps your wrists to stop you. Mingyu glances around at his employees, and he gestures for them to leave, to which they slowly do. Once the living room is empty except for Eunwoo, he finally lets go of your arms, and you shove him away.

“You stole my game. You stole my fucking work!” You yell, and Mingyu just stands before you, face void of any emotion as he lets you scream at him. You tightly squeeze the glass between your hand, and Mingyu’s eyes widen when the glass shatters within your grasp. He tries to reach out to remove it from your hand but you step back, the blood from the wound dripping down your wrist as you stare at him.

“Was this your plan from the beginning? Since the gala?” You ask, and Mingyu stares. You bite the inside of your cheek, reaching out to grab another glass, but Mingyu steps forward and blocks your view of the table so that you can’t grab it. You throw the remainder of the broken champagne glass in your hand towards the floor, hearing it shatter into thousands of tiny pieces.

“Answer me!” You shout, and Mingyu slowly nods his head. You stare down at the floor, and you feel nothing but betrayal running through your veins. You look back up into his eyes, and you wonder how you allowed yourself to be so naive.

“So you just used me.” You mutter, and Mingyu just stares as he watches you break right before him. His hand twitches at his side as he holds back from falling onto his knees to beg for forgiveness, because this was all his fault.

“How did you even do that? How did you even find out about my characters? The plot-” You pause when you remember the nights he spent at your house, the days he’d surprise you at your office to go get lunch. They were all just a ploy to get more information. You let out a pained laugh when you realize he must’ve gone through your stuff when you were asleep, while you were thinking he was holding you at night.

how pathetic.

You open the palm of your hand, staring at the tiny pieces of broken glass that have edged themselves into your skin. The blood continues to trickle down, and you know that you’ll have to get stitches, but for some reason, you can’t feel any pain.

Mingyu takes a step forward when he sees the severity of your wound, “Yn, let’s go to the hospital so you can get stitches-”

You push him away, pointing directly at him with your other hand. You press the area where his heart is with your finger, and you bite your bottom lip harshly when you feel it beat beneath your finger. The familiar pattern is something you’ve gotten used to from the times the two of you have cuddled.

“You made me trust you, fall in love with you, just so you could steal my game? My work? Just to get on top? Just to be above me? Were you that envious of me?” You ask, and Eunwoo glances down at his feet when he hears how fragile your voice has become. Mingyu just stares at you, and he feels his heart break within his chest when he notices the glassiness to your eyes. He no longer sees anger or rage, he can only see the pain and betrayal in your gaze.

There’s no trace of all the stars that he once saw.

“Did you even,” Your voice cracks, and you don’t realize the tears have formed in your eyes until you can only see Mingyu as a blurry blob. You blink, and Mingyu watches as the first tear escapes from your left eye, and falls onto the floor. “Did you even love me?”

Mingyu stares at you in silence, the answer on the tip of his tongue as you look up at him with tears silently falling from your eyes. He looks down at the floor instead, breaking eye contact with you, and you have your answer. You let out a pained laugh, taking a step back as you stare at the man you love.

The one who betrayed you.

The one who broke you.

The one who lied.

“Fuck you, Kim Mingyu.” You state, before turning away and walking out of his house. The sound of the door slamming echoes through the home, and that’s when the tears finally fall from Mingyu’s eyes. He watches as they fall to the floor, mixing with your blood.

Eunwoo leans against the wall, and he runs a hand through his hair as he watches Mingyu just stare at the floor in silence. He stands up at his full height, and he claps his hands. Mingyu glances up at the sound, finding Eunwoo just standing there, applauding him.

“Well. Was it worth it, Sin of Envy?” Eunwoo asks, pulling out his phone and turning the screen around to show that Ainsoft is now above Bloom in the market. Mingyu watches as the numbers keep rising, and he just stares at it.

A few months ago, Mingyu would’ve been ecstatic to see that he was above you. The craving to beat you and earn your spot would’ve been fulfilled.

But now, all Mingyu feels is pain.

And so he smiles at Eunwoo, and his friend takes notice of the tears falling from Mingyu’s eyes as he responds,

“No. No it wasn’t.”

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randomoranges · 3 years ago

Text

these always sound better in my head when i day dream. anyways - again more of an intro ish to this sequence ive had in mind for a while. also something something when youre comfs around someone so something something teasing and something something it being easy etc.

is this also an excuse to lowkey write about the playoffs, étienne being extra and the magical mystical beard? probably.

Bleu comme le St-Laurent

July 3rd 2021

They’d agreed, before his visit, that it would be easier and simpler if he simply took a cab over from the airport, all things considered. Mostly, he’d had to convince Étienne and in the end, his boyfriend had abdicated and agreed to wait for him at home. It meant that he was only a little bit nervous as the cab got closer and closer to Étienne’s place and that the butterflies in his stomach multiplied at every turn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Étienne, but it always felt a little stilted those first few moments after not seeing each other for a bit. Or – at least, it had been before. For as much as he wanted to cherish the time he had with Étienne, especially knowing that it was limited, it always made him take a step back when he saw Étienne again, as if seeing him in person was always slightly to the left of how his brain remembered him.

And then, even though they hadn’t seen each other in a little over two months, it somehow still felt like a lifetime. So much had changed and happened since Étienne had returned home that it could have been decades since he’d last held him in his arms and it would have been the same. Still, he supposed that a little over two months was nothing, in the grand scheme of things, and this time around, they had been in contact practically every day, via either text messages or video chats.

However, those did nothing compared to being able to hold Étienne in his arms.

“On est arrivé,” The driver said and effectively got Edward out of his reverie. He braced himself for whatever version of Étienne would greet him, paid the driver, got out of the cab, and retrieved his bags, before taking a deep breath. It was blissfully, unexpectedly cool out today and it was a pleasant change from the heat wave he’d suffered the past week.

He took out his phone to send a message to his boyfriend to let him know he was there, when he finally noticed, and heard, Étienne descend the few stairs from his front door to run up to him.

“Eddy!” He practically shouted as he approached him. Edward was taken by surprise – by Étienne’s energy, by his unexpected appearance, as though he’d been waiting on the front steps and of course – by his majestic beard.

It was one thing seeing it in photos and videos – another one seeing it in person.

Étienne stopped short a few paces away from him, wide smile on his face, excitement bubbling on the surface and did his utmost best not to rocket launch himself in Edward’s arms. If anything, Edward was surprised he’d managed to show this much restraint and then put down his carry-on to take a step forward and open up his arms, waiting for the impact.

It was all the invitation Étienne needed and soon, Edward found himself with an armful of excited Étienne giving him the tightest of hugs and – how he’d missed this.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Étienne said, moments and maybe hours later, as he pulled back a few inches to look him in the face.

Edward smiled kindly at him and let himself be held for a moment longer. He’d said it once and he’d say it again, but spring and summer truly suited Étienne. He looked – invigorated and healthy and happy and it was such a pleasant change from last time that it settled some anxious part of him that had been worried for him.

Then of course, there was Étienne’s beard. It was well past his chin now and curled in thick coarse hair that felt blissful on his skin.

“And look at you!” He said, finally, finally daring to bring a hand up to his boyfriend’s face and finally, finally getting a chance to touch it.

Étienne crinkled his nose and Edward laughed, “I had forgotten all the things I don’t like about the beard, but I am also quite excited to still have one.” He beamed at that and Edward couldn’t say he hadn’t noticed. It would have been hard not to.

Just in Étienne’s front window, he saw one Habs flag next to another flag with a giant Stanley Cup and all the years the Habs had won written in the white space on both sides. Then, of course, there was the other flag hanging from the front, swaying with the breeze. There wasn’t even a game today and Étienne was still wearing one of his multiple Habs themed t-shirts. Edward couldn’t say he blamed him – it had been twenty-eight years and there was nothing quite like a final playoff rush.

“Y’know, for someone who can actually grow a beard, I’m surprised you never had a phase.”

Étienne let him go to pick up his suitcase and started heading towards his front door, “My phases were and always will be during the playoffs. Too much maintenance, too much trouble, and too much blegh.” He grimaced at that and opened up the door, while Edward laughed at his antics. “Anyways, I’ll go put your stuff in the bedroom and I’ll let you get reacquainted with Mercury – I swear she’s missed you.”

Just as he opened the door, Mercury came barrelling down to see who it could possibly be and when she saw Edward, she went right for him, barking excitedly. Truth be told, he had also missed her incredibly – and not just because he loved dogs in general. Plus, there was also the fact that he had spent most of her first year of life with her.

As Mercury licked his face and tried her best to tackle him to the ground in her excitement, Edward noticed the new decorations to Étienne’s place. He had forgotten just how much paraphernalia Étienne had of his beloved Habs and it seemed as though every last item had been brought out to be displayed. There were trinkets and figurines on every last piece of furniture, framed photos had been put up on the walls and every other household item that came themed in something Habs was there. Then again, Étienne had been a fan of them since day one and it was easy to collect memorabilia when one lived as long as they did and had a team with such history and clout.

“Sorry about that; I forgot how excited she gets,” Étienne said as he returned to the entrance, “Mercury, ça suffit. Laisse-le tranquile.” Surprisingly, Mercury stepped back with a whine and then trotted back to her master’s side. Étienne scratched her behind the ears and she then returned to see Edward, but was calmer.

“Hey you,” Étienne added as he walked over to Edward and gently pulled him in for a softer hug of his own. Now that they were behind closed doors, ensconced safely in Étienne’s home, Edward had no qualms in greeting him properly with a first kiss of many.

“Nice décor,” He teased gently when they pulled away for a moment.

“Excuse-toi; I am simply celebrating this magical run no one literally saw coming for as long as I can.”

Edward grinned, endeared by the way Étienne’s crinkled his nose and the way he frowned at him, as if vexed and insulted. He’d missed this – missed this side of Étienne who went all in for his team – or for something he enjoyed. Missed his over-the top attitude towards the things he loved. Missed being held by him.

“I know, Sweetheart.”

Étienne’s face softened at the pet name and he leaned in for another kiss, which Edward was more than happy to indulge in.

“Missed you,” Étienne murmured from the crook of Edward’s neck.

The hairs from his beard both tickled and thrilled him and not for the first time, he realised just how very long it had been.

“Missed you more.” He added, making his boyfriend chuckle softly.

“Maybe, but not all of us have a second boyfriend we can go to when the first one goes back home,” Étienne pressed another kiss to Edward’s neck and the scrape of his beard against his skin sent shivers down his spine.

“And when has that ever even stopped you before from going after anyone you wanted?”

“There’s a plague running rampant, Edward, I wasn’t about to hook up during a Global Pandemic,” He chided and looked up to his face – all serious like. Edward couldn’t tell if he was teasing him or not, but he was somewhat still surprised by what Étienne had just told him.

“You mean you haven’t – not even once hooked up with anyone since you left Edmonton?”

“Non; I wasn’t going to take any chances,” He admitted and – Edward was really impressed.

“Well, in that case then, it’s a good thing I’m here – I can help remedy that,” He grinned, tugging on Étienne’s shirt a little.

“That sounds like a really good plan. I also have it on good authority that you seem to have a thing for this new look of mine so - lucky us we have a full weekend of catching up before the game on Monday.”

Normally, Edward would have had the decency to look flushed, but that was the old him. “You got me on that, so why don’t you lead the way and we can take care of that as well?”

Étienne laughed and took his hand, before doing just that.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko #title comes from a Song #might use more Lyrics of Said Song for Future Parts of whatever This Sequence iS #idk dont look at me

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inadaydream99 · 5 years ago

Note

Could I get an enemies to lovers fake dating thing with beomgyu from TXT? You don’t have to write it tho if you don’t want to 💜

Hi, thank you for this request! This is an interesting idea and I probably wouldn’t have thought of writing anything like this so I really hope you enjoy! Also, I didn’t realise how much I had written until after but I still couldn’t help adding a bonus at the end 😂

———————————————————————

Choi Beomgyu.

The very bane of your existence.

He is the sole reason you dread visiting your friends, knowing fully well that he is always tagging along with them wherever they go, or interrupting your hang out sessions together. And it annoys you to no end.

From the very second you met there was an air of tension, scours and snarky remarks thrown at each other like you had some unfinished business from a previous existence.

You’re not even sure why you hate each other, but it’s been going on for too long now to stop and question why. There’s been enough arguments and spiteful actions between you both to use as reason for your hatred now anyway.

One problem is though, the lines between love and hate are extremely close. Both emotions causing a burning within you and a fluttering sensation in your stomach whenever the other is seen vulnerable. Even the fierceness behind your glares could be mistaken for desire, a scorching passion that cannot be expressed through words alone.

And that’s exactly the situation you find yourself in now.

An unspoken match is playing out across the living room, your eyes sending pure hatred in Beomgyu’s direction as he menacingly smirks back at you, the last piece of chocolate dancing between his fingers before tauntingly being placed on his tongue.

“Oh I’m sorry (Y/N), did you want the last piece?” His voice drips in sarcasm, nimble fingers pulling the single square of chocolate out of his mouth with an irritating, drawn out sucking sound.

“You know Soobin saved that for me.” You all but growl back.

From an outsiders perspective this situation looks petty; it’s simply a piece of chocolate. So insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But to you it signifies far more than that. It’s a challenge to your patience, a teasing from Beomgyu as he takes what is yours.

“If you want it, come and get it.” His grin is tantalising and you want nothing more than to pace over to him and smack him around the face. But you don’t. You simply stand up and leave the room, keeping your composure until you safely enter Soobin’s room.

“What’s going on?” He twists in his chair to face you, an adorabley confused expression on his face. He’s the main reason you still put up with Beomgyu.

Soobin is your bestest friend, so caring and kind natured you know for sure you wouldn’t be able to survive without him in your life.

“Beomgyu.” You grimace, face scrunching up in distaste. “He ate the chocolate you left me.” You continue.

At this Soobin stands up, his body towering over yours as he gently pulls you into a warm hug. His scent alone clams you instantly, forgetting all your worries and fully indulging in the moment.

“I can go buy you some more if you want?” He questions softly. You tilt your head up so you can look at him properly, a warm smile on your face.

“It’s ok, I’m not that upset about the chocolate really, just Beomgyu.” You exhale a little more than you expect, letting out all the tension you have.

“Have you found a date yet for the company party next week?” Taehyun strikes up casual conversation with Beomgyu as he enters the kitchen.

“Not yet, I’m a bit stuck actually...” he sighs running a hand through his hair.

“Why don’t you ask (Y/N)? I know you want to.” Taehyun passes off the question as thought it’s nothing, Beomgyu’s eyes growing wide in shock at the youngers statement.

“Why on Earth would I ask (Y/N), she’s the last person I would ever ever ever want to date!” Beomgyu responds quickly, panic evident in his tone as he shakes his head in disagreement to emphasise his statement.

“Besides, she’s probably going with Soobin.” He mumbles the last bit to himself, posture slumping a little at the thought.

Beomgyu doesn’t realise that Taehyun takes notice of this, chuckling in amusement under his breath at how in denial his friend really is.

“Actually I already have a date.” Beomgyu’s head sharply turns to land on Soobin, his hands awkwardly in his pockets as he strides into the room further.

“You what! But what about (Y/N)?” Concern covers Beomgyu’s features before he realises, quickly falling quiet as he retracts on his exclamation.

“I was hoping you could help me out?” Beomgyu doesn’t miss the pleading look Soobin sends him, instantly feeling shy and trying to conceal the pleased smile that wants to break out on his face at knowing he is your only option if you want to go with a date.

You mind your own business, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly. After hanging out with Soobin for a while you decided to go home, needing to have some space to think.

You are aware of Soobin taking someone else as his date to the company party next week, actually feeling delighted for him. You are quite happy to go on your own, knowing that you will be hanging out with the guys anyway. But it does make you wish you had a date to go with.

“Coming.” You shout, racing to the door after hearing someone knock. Though your face falls upon swinging it open to find Beomgyu. “Oh. What do you want?” Your tone becomes flat, arms folded across your chest and impatience growing strong.

“I heard about your lack of a date for next week, thought I’d do you a favour and say you could be mine.” He bitterly states.

You don’t offer for him to enter your apartment, but he follows when you walk away without giving him a responce.

“Oh how lucky am I! You’re so generous Beomgyu.” Your overjoyed sarcasm almost makes Beomgyu laugh, but he represses it as soon as you turn around to face him once again.

“I’d rather not thank you.” You sass, eyes burning holes into each other in a stare down.

“Look.” Beomgyu sighs. “ I don’t have anyone to go with and I know you don’t either, so why don’t we just go together. It’s not even a real date anyway, no feelings involved what so ever.” He explains, his tone completely calm and serious.

You don’t know what to retort with, mulling over his words and actually agreeing with him.

“Fine.” You sulkily mumble, rolling your eyes in agitation.

“Great. See you later cutie.” Beomgyu let’s a sweet smile form on his face, the pet name falling from his lips dauntingly slowly before winking at you and leaving.

You stand in place for a moment, taking in everything that has just happened, only breaking out of your momentary daze by the door slamming shut.

“How do I look?” You spin around to face Soobin, giggling when you take in his awestruck expression.

It’s the day of the company party and you had gone to the guys dorms to get ready with them. Choosing to hide out in Soobin’s room instead of using the bathroom to get ready you overtook his desk with your makeup and numerous outfit choices instantly.

“Beomgyu is one lucky guy.” Soobin let’s his thoughts slip, mouth slightly agape. It’s the very same expression he pulls when you go to the bakery together and he gazes at all the cakes and pastries on display.

Since the day Beomgyu ever so kindly told you to be his date you hadn’t really encountered him. The only time you had partaken in conversation together being when Yeonjun payed you a visit to pick up his hat that he’d left around yours previously. Beomgyu tagged along and you found yourself awkwardly trying to fill the silence while Yeonjun went about finding his possession.

“That’s not even funny.” You deadpan, your heart sinking a little at the thought of an awkward night with Beomgyu. You weren’t entirely sure how he was planning to act around you. Was he gonna pester you all night in an attempt to make your evening unenjoyable, or was he planning on trying to get on for the sake of his image in front of everyone?

“Are you guys ready to go?” Speak of the devil and he appears. Beomgyu’s head peaks around the door frame, his eyes instantly connecting with yours.

“Woah, you tidy up better than I expected you to.” Beomgyu smirks at you devilishly, his voice laced with sarcasm. So he’s continuing as normal then.

You catch Soobin sighing and gently shaking his head dissapointedly from the corner of your eye. You want nothing more than to tear Beomgyu limb from limb in this moment, his sarcastic retort to your appearance making your blood boil. But you hold it together and plaster a smile on your face.

“We’re ready.” You respond, holding your head high as you grab your bag and follow the guys out of the dorms.

“This is insane.” You smile fondly as you hear HueningKai utter in amazement.

The party really is incredible, above and beyond what you expected it to be and it seems everyone is in agreement.

Your moment in awe suddenly comes crashing down when you feel a hand slip into yours, fingers interlacing with one another instinctively. You turn to find Beomgyu stood next to you, already looking at you expectantly. It’s as if he thought you would have some resistance to holding his hand and he is waiting for you to make a comment. But you don’t want to give him what he wants, so you simply send him a smile and pretend that nothing out of the ordinary is happening between you, despite the tingling sensation that runs up your arm, skin set on fire just from the simple action.

“Come on cutie, I haven’t got all day. Let’s go find the others.” Sarcastic as ever Beomgyu teasingly repeats the pet name from the other day, watching with a satisfied smile as you cringe. You hadn’t realised the others had all walked off with their dates, too caught up in a daze.

Jolted slightly from Beomgyu, you stumble after him a little clumsily. You know it was intentional on his part, the sly smile on his face confirming your suspicion when he looks over his shoulder at you.

“Whoops.” He comments cheekily, your scour towards him only filling him with more joy.

“I think I’m gonna head home...” you mumble, tears pricking your eyes as you desperately try to refrain from crying in front of everyone.

“What... why?” Soobin raises his head in shock as he sympathetically looks at your defeated expression.

You feel pathetic for your reasons why, but you can’t stand another agonising minute of dealing with Beomgyu. All night he had made sure to be by your side so he could annoy you to no end. It was his entertainment for the evening which was enhanced when you argued back.

“I’ve just had enough, I never should have agreed to be Beomgyu’s date...” your voice becomes wobbly and you watch with slight caution as Soobin’s face hardens in anger.

You always feel a little frightened when Soobin gets angry because it rarely happens. You watch wordlessly as he excuses himself and marches over to Beomgyu. From a distance it looks like they are bickering, Soobin scolding the younger before making his way back over to where you are stood with his date.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” He calms down as soon as his eyes land on you. You nod in response before Soobin informs his date that he is going to drop you back home and leads you out of the party.

Beomgyu watches from afar. He would never admit this out loud but he does feel kind of bad for pestering you all evening. But it’s what happens when he is around you, he gets scared of the feelings that arise and is horrible to you as a defence mechanism.

“Go and confess how you feel already.” He jumps slightly at not realising Taehyun and Yeonjun are beside him. And he knows that they are right, it’s time to face his feelings head on.

“Soobin I said I am fine-” you fall speechless mid sentence after answering your door to who you assume is Soobin, but find Beomgyu instead.

It’s not been long since you got home. Soobin was reluctant to leave you on your own but you insisted that he got back to his date. After all, just because your evening was ruined doesn’t mean his should be too.

“Can we talk?” He looks timid. It’s actually the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him.

Debating briefly whether you should let him in or not you huff a little before opening the door wider to signify your agreement.

“I have a few things I need to get off my chest, so I’m just gonna say them all at once and then whatever happens after is completely up to you.” He speaks reluctantly, his whole aura reminding you of a defensive child.

“Ok, go ahead.” You nod, watching him warily.

“First of all, I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. Not just for today, but from the very moment we met...” Beomgyu sincerely apologies, pausing momentarily to look at you.

“I’m not actually a horrible person, I just get scared of how I feel whenever you are around. It’s like you light up the whole room with just your smile and the feelings that overcome me are frightening... feelings I never knew someone could make me feel until I met you.” The room falls deathly silent as Beomgyu finishes his confession, air thick with nervousness.

This was the last thing you ever expected to happen. Not once did you think Beomgyu could ever feel that way towards you, and yet he does.

He sits with an awaiting expression, eyes wide and hands nervously fidgeting together as he is left in the dark as to how you feel.

“So you’re telling me that the reason you go out of your way to annoy me is because you have feelings for me?” You question, still not quite believing the situation you find yourself in. “Right.” You mutter to yourself when Beomgyu nods his head.

“I get if I’ve ruined any chance with you, but just know that from now on I have no intention to continue as we were before.” He practically pleads at you, reaching over to take your hand in his. You observe how delicately he holds it, so much affection shown just through that small action.

The tingling sensation from earlier runs through your arm again, a flustered feeling washing over you just the same as when he first held your hand at the party.

“You know I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.” You smirk, looking up at Beomgyu through your lashes. The smile that appears on his face tells you he understands what you mean and you can’t help but giggle when he scoots himself closer to you.

“And I’ve always had a thing for you.” He whispers dangerously close to your ear, goosebumps arising on your skin in the wake of his hot breath.

~ Bonus ~

“I liked it far more when you hated each other.” Taehyun complains, eyeing you in disgust as Beomgyu shamelessly presses kisses down your neck.

“Well that’s too bad.” Beomgyu sasses back, sending a warning glare over to the younger before resuming his affection.

“I need to go, I promised Soobin I’d go to the bakery with him... but I’ll see you later?” You move out of Beomgyu’s hold, his hands still clinging onto yours as he looks up at you with puppy eyes.

“I love you idiot.” You giggle when he refuses to let you go, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I love you more cutie.” He responds, a cheeky grin on his face as he watches you leave.

“Soobin let’s go!” He chuckles when he hears you shout to Soobin. You really have captured Beomgyu’s heart, but he’s not scared anymore.

#txt #txt fluff #txt drabbles #txt oneshots #txt imagines #txt beomgyu #txt scenarios #txt choi beomgyu #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #tomorrow x together #txt requests #kpop fluff #kpop drabbles #kpop oneshots #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop requests

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liebegott · 4 years ago

Text

Practical Joke. | George Luz

for @wexhappyxfew, who also thought it’d be fun to fake date george luz.

(click here to read on wattpad)

feel free to send me a request!

pairing: george luz x reader

wc: 1.9k

synopsis: george luz fools everyone into thinking you’re dating, but you end up falling in love with him for real.

a/n: this took me so long to write, i actually started it like over a week ago but had no idea which direction to take it in since i definitely do not know how to write arguments. despite that, i still like how it ended up, and i hope you do too!

i mean no disrespect to the real george luz. this is all purely based on rick gomez’ portrayal of him in band of brothers.

tagging: @floydtab @alienoresimagines @order-of-river-phoenix @julianneday1701 @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @wexhappyxfew

***

It all started as a practical joke.

Okay, maybe not. Jokes were meant to be funny, and practical jokes were meant to dupe everyone else except for the ones in on it. Sitting on your workbench, you stared as the young man across you went into great detail of everyones reaction to the two of you.. well, fake dating. Except now, nearly a month into the con, you wished it wasn't fake, and he had no clue.

If you were being honest, it really all started with George Luz. The company joker had found his way into your office in Toccoa, where you had been working as a nurse, and training to work on medical transport planes for the Airborne.

The man limped into your office, his face grimacing with pain. "Hey, nurse," he started, trying to casually lean on your metal desk though it was anything but casual, "My leg kinda hurts when I walk." Strain was plastered all over his face.

You had heard of the grueling training all the soldiers were being put under, so you were used to them coming in for strained muscles and the like. "What company are you under?" you asked, guiding him to sit on your metal desk so you could inspect him.

"Easy, ma'am."

Whistling, you helped him sit up and took out your pen. "I hear you boys run up Currahee nearly everyday."

The man shrugged, bashfully looking at you as you inspected his thigh, "Eh, we do it so often its almost as easy as breathing."

You paused what you were doing and looked at him, "Well, if it was so easy, what happened to your thigh then?"

"Alright, fine," he frowned, leaning in closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper, "You'll need to keep a secret." Squinting at him, you nodded. "I tripped and fell."

Holding in a laugh, you shook your head and walked towards the freezer unit in the corner of your office that stored cold presses. "Lucky for you, Mr. Easy-As-Breathing, you just pulled a muscle." You saw him jokingly wipe away non-existent sweat on his forehead and smiled. "10 to 20 minutes, press this on the swelling to stop it," you said, handing him an ice pack, "And rest that leg."

"Thank you, ma'am," He hopped down from the desk on his other leg, and wobbled to the door. "It's George Luz, by the way. In case you need to write it on your," he twirled his finger, pointing at your nurse's notes, "thingie over there."

"Nice to meet you, George. I'm Y/N." you smiled, "Be careful."

"I'm always careful!"

***

Your head in your arms, you groaned, the throbbing pain in your temple possibly getting worse.

"You okay, nurse?" you heard a man ask, and looked up to see Bill Guarnere. He had come in a few times to help deliver supplies to your office. He looked at you in concern, mouth in a frown.

"My head just hurts," you replied, nodding towards the corner of your office, "You can leave those there." Bill carried the box filled with nursing supplies and plopped them on a stool.

He turned to face you once more and said, "Your boyfriends gonna be so sad to hear this. His angel, you know that's what he calls you?"

You couldn't believe your ears. Lifting your head up slowly, you looked Bill in the eye. "What did you say?"

"Yeah, Luz right?" he replied, looking off into the distance, "None of us could believe it. Congratulations, by the way. He's a great guy."

You stood quickly, the entire world tilting. With your blood boiling in your ears, you didn't even let Bill finish as you were out the door.

"Nice chatting with ya'!" you heard him call for you, but you were already halfway towards their billet by then. You stomped as fast as your legs could take you. Boyfriend? Luz? You met the guy yesterday, you thought to yourself in disbelief.

The migraine in your head long gone, you stopped in front of their billet and took a deep breath. You pushed open the door, not realizing how light it was and it swung open and banged on the wall. All heads in the room turned to you, and your cheeks turned a beet red. "Is," you said, your voice trembling, "Is George Luz here?"

A few men smirked at each other. "Luz, your girlfriend's here." one of them yelled, and George came skidding out of the washroom in the back. His eyes opened in terror and just as you were about to correct the skinny man who referred to you as Luz' girlfriend, he pushed you out the door with a hand clasped around your mouth. You heard the men laugh behind you, making you even angrier.

George quickly shut the billet door behind you and looked at you sheepishly. "Hey, Y/N." was all he managed to get out before you quickly interrupted him.

"What the hell, George?" you exclaimed, lightly jabbing him in the chest, "What's everyone saying about this girlfriend business?"

He rubbed his chest in pain and grimaced at you. "Ow, what's that for?" George mumbled, shielding himself from your hand. "What? It's hilarious! They think I'm so cool for snagging a dame like you."

Your mouth fell agape and you were about to tell him why it was a horrible idea when the Easy boys started filing out of their billet, hooting and whistling at the two of you. "Break it up, lovebirds!" a tanned one yelled, calling Luz, "We have 3 minutes to get to the training ground."

George looked back at his friends before grabbing your head in a panic, planting an awkward kiss on your nose and yelling a quick goodbye.

And that's how you became George Luz' fake girlfriend.

***

It all started as a practical joke.

But now you were in love with him. He sat across you talking about how his friends all love you too, and how worried he was that the secret would come out. George spent nearly all his free time loitering around your office and often brought you random gifts whenever he could in order to keep the façade alive for the past month.

Sitting on a chair in the corner of your office, he paced continuously as he spoke, waving his arms in grand gestures, scheming about their next plot to fool his friends. Rather, his next plot. "How about we stage a fight?" he asked, suddenly stopping in front of you but his eyes were everywhere but on you. "I'll even let you slap me!"

George said it with so much excitement, you nearly took up the offer to slap him right away. "Don't you think this is going a bit too far?" you responded, fiddling with your fingers on your lap, "I mean, the guys seem to really like me. I can't imagine how disappointed they'd be if they found out."

"Of course they like you, Y/N," George rolled his eyes, before settling his gaze on you and smiling. You expected something heartfelt, but instead he said, "You take me off their hands."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, "Whatever, George. But if this all blows up in your face its your own fault."

They were quiet for awhile until he nudged you with his knee. "In all honesty though," he smiled genuinely, his voice quieter this time, "Who wouldn't like you? You're the kindest, smartest, funniest, and best nurse any company could ever ask for."

You squinted your eyes, staring down the brunet man. "Was that a genuine compliment, Luz?" you grinned, trying to brush off what he had just said as friendly, "Wouldn't want you falling in love with me now wouldn't we."

He shrugged with a grin, "Already am, sweetheart." Your cheeks burned and he quickly added, "We're dating remember!"

It was all just a joke to him, you had to remind yourself. "That's hilarious," you mumbled, "I need to go back to work." Standing, you quickly brushed past him and sat back down on your desk. He clearly didn't know what upset you, because his face fell because of your cold demeanor and tipped his head in goodbye.

"See you later," he tried saying, but you simply nodded in response.

***

It all started as a practical joke.

But now you were heartbroken. When George Luz said later, he definitely meant it. The day was over, and you packed up your stuff to head back to your billet. You still thought of how rude you were when he said goodbye, and how you should probably explain why your demeanor was like that. As you stepped outside, you were greeted by the one and only. He was seated on a bench outside your office, a cigarette between his lips.

Plopping down beside him, you gently pulled the cigarette from him and took a puff yourself. "What are you doing here?" you asked as you handed it back to him.

"I," he started but quickly paused, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration, "I honestly don't know."

You let out a dry laugh and bumped his shoulder with his, "I'm sorry for how I acted awhile ago. I just didn't think that joke was all too funny."

George nodded and looked at you. "Sorry," he whispered, but he didn't ask further, which disappointed you.

"It started off as a joke, ya know?" you continued, "But I really feel like I'm the one getting fooled." He looked at you, confusion evident on his face. "Because the more I spend time with you, the more I get to really like you. Then I remember its just all jokes for you, just a stupid prank, and then I get sad because I wish it were real."

George paused, and looked back down at the ground. "Well damn, Y/N. I thought the same thing," he replied, turning to you with a slight smile on his lips. "If I'm being honest, none of the guys think I'm cool for snagging a dame like you." he teased, repeating his line from when this whole thing started. "I think I'm really cool just because you talk to me, though." He smiled and messed up the hair on your head, and you breathed a sigh of relief. He laughed, and at the sound of it, you couldn't help but laugh too.

"So now what?" you asked him, gently fixing your hair that he messed up, "Are we gonna tell them it was all just a joke?"

With a mischievous glint in his eye, he put his arm around you and grinned, "How about we don't?"

"What are you on about now, George?" you said exasperatedly, but hints of a smile were on your face.

"How about I take you on a real date?" He grinned, cupping your cheek with one hand, "I got a weekend pass and Sobel hasn't even once looked my way this week."

A wide smile spread on your face and you nodded, holding onto the hand he had on your cheek, "I would love that, George. I really would."

"Guess I'll have to tell the guys I got the prettiest nurse in camp to go out on a date with me."

It started off as a practical joke, but now it was your reality.

#band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers oneshot #band of brothers drabble #george luz x reader #luz x reader #george luz fanfic #george luz drabble #george luz oneshot #george luz imagine #BoB #hbo war #george luz #luz #giana:parsuna

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everydaymj · 5 years ago

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Number One Fan - Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: AU where Peter doesn’t know Tony and is working for the Daily Bugle and is the photographer for Y/N Stark’s interview. To say you hit it off is an understatement.

Being a freelance photographer I took all kinds of pictures for the paper, most of them ended up being of Spider-man but occasionally I was brought along with a reporter for specific pictures JJ wanted.

Today was one of those times, I was just about to leave after dropping off my latest folder of Spider-man shots when I heard someone yelling at me. Or about me, more like.

"Just take Parker, he's not totally useless. I want some good shots, this is the first interview she's agreed to do in almost a year and she picked us. I want details, something nobody else has! Now get the hell out of my office!"

A very worn down looking Anderson, lead reporter for the celebrity news section at The Bugle, walked out of JJ's office with a sigh. Scanning the room, he smiled when he locked eyes with me.

"Parker, you're with me. Come on."

His tone left no room for argument so I followed him to the elevator.

Once the doors had closed he turned to me with an appraising look.

"I've seen your work, you're pretty good kid. Too bad Jameson hates Spider-man so much, the shots you get of him are almost unbelievable. Could make for a great story of New York's underdog hero."

I grinned. He would never believe me if I told him how I got them, so I guess they were a bit unbelievable. And he didn't seem to blindly bend to JJ's opinion that I was, erm Spider-man was a menace to society.

"Thanks. I like to believe that someday he'll come around and see that Spider-man isn't all that bad. So what am I supposed to get pictures of? I could hear him yelling about an interview with someone but that's about it."

Anderson snorted.

"Kid, I think the entire building could hear him. But yeah, apparently he somehow landed a one on one with probably the most private celebrity in New York."

I raised my brows, wow that's pretty big.

"Who is it?"

He smirked as the elevator doors dinged and we stepped out into the lobby.

"Y/N Stark. She's a recluse compared to her brother, so the fact that she agreed to do an interview is almost unheard of. Every paper in the city has been asking since she got back from helping in Sokovia with the relief effort and that was four months ago."

Everyone in the city knew who she was, New York's darling as the celebrity fluff pieces liked to call her. There was always some kind of story about her in the magazines and tabloids, her volunteer efforts, the latest party she'd been spotted at, and of course speculation on who she was or wasn't dating.

I can't imagine growing up in the spotlight like she did, it would have drove me crazy.

I looked up as Anderson whistled sharply, hailing a cab.

"Look alive Parker, time to go."

Shaking my head, I jumped in the cab with him as he told the cabby to take us to Avengers Tower and step on it.

"So it's a big deal then?"

He rolled his eyes and smiled.

"In the grand scheme of things? No. But in the world of celebrity obsessed who are dying to get even a sound bite from this girl, yeah it is. You ever done something like this before?"

I grabbed the door as the cab took a very sharp turn and the cabby started yelling at the car who just cut us off.

"No, but how hard can it be? Just a few shots and we're done right?"

He laughed.

"Cute, you obviously never had to deal with bratty socialites and stuck-up divas. Lucky for you she's supposed to be the exact opposite of her brother. But yeah shouldn't be that difficult, a few shots of her smiling or something and we're golden."

Didn't sound too hard, should be a piece of cake.

I smiled at him as the cab screeched to a halt in front of the large imposing building that was Avengers Tower.

"Sounds easy enough, let's do this!"

Grinning at me, Anderson slapped me on the back.

"Your optimism is nauseating Parker, but it might just get you places."

I just followed him inside as he made a beeline for the receptionist at the large desk in the lobby. She didn't even look up at us but pointed to the elevator on the other side of the room.

Muttering under his breath about rude women, we got on the elevator.

"You must be from the paper; Miss Y/N is expecting you. I will direct you to the meeting room."

I jumped at the sudden voice coming from nowhere.

Anderson just chuckled.

"Stark's AI, practically runs the place. It's weird at first but you get used to it. Freaked me out when I came here to interview Pepper Potts a few years ago."

Okay, that actually really awesome. Nodding I started fiddling with my camera, making sure I'd be ready, while Anderson went over his notes and list of questions.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the disembodied British voice broke the silence.

"Miss Y/N wishes me to inform you she's running a bit behind and will be meeting with you on her floor instead of the conference room. If you'll wait just one moment."

We stepped out and the first thing I noticed was the huge wall of glass that led out to a balcony loaded with plants. Before either of us could say anything, a hurried female voice could be heard.

"JARVIS are they here yet? Tell them I'm sorry, got caught up with Tony and I completely forgot."

A short Y/H/C blur whipped around the corner.

"Miss Y/N, I implore you loo-"

Before I could move out of the way she slammed into me, knocking both of us to the ground.

The AI sighed exasperatedly, was that even possible?

"Look out…A useless endeavor I suppose. The men from the paper are here, as you can see. I'll leave you to it, let me know if the boy you just trampled is in need of medical assistance."

I could hear Anderson laughing and started to get up but a weight on top of me kept me from doing so.

Blinking I looked up at her and met Y/E/C eyes that seemed to sparkle.

Oh wow…

She was sprawled on top of me with a dazed expression, her hands spread out on my chest as she slowly realized what had happened. Very quickly she scrambled off of me, as a horrified look spread across her face.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?!"

Taking the hand Anderson offered I stood up and checked to make sure my camera was okay. Seeing that it was I looked back at her and nodded, hiding a smile at how worried she looked. It was kinda cute, she was really cute actually.

"Yeah, I'm fine. No worries."

She frowned and took a step closer.

"Are you sure? I can't believe I did that, really I am so sorry."

As I was about to tell her one more time that I was fine, Anderson cleared his throat catching her attention.

"Trey Anderson, The Daily Bugle. Now that you and my photographer have been acquainted, how about we get started?"

He eyes widened and a slight flush appeared on her cheeks.

"Oh right, of course. You don't mind if we go out on the balcony do you? It's such a nice day after all."

She motioned to the large glass wall that had first caught my eye and started towards it, the sliding door opening as she did. Anderson and I followed her outside and he sat down on the nice outdoor couch, while I strayed closer to the edge of the large balcony so I wouldn't bother him. And that way I could get some pictures without interrupting them.

"Once again I'm really sor-"

Cutting her off from apologizing once again, Anderson started his recorder.

"So why now? Why agree to an interview now when the press has been begging for one for months?"

Somewhat taken aback at his abruptness she raised her brows in surprise.

"Well, I…I'm not as outgoing as my brother but I'm not a hermit. I've been incredibly busy since I got back from Sokovia helping organize benefits and put together the rebuild relief and then time just kind of got away from me. Tony kept telling me I'd have to talk to the press sooner or later, I guess it just ended up being later."

Anderson nodded.

"Understandable Miss Stark, now I'd like t-"

She smirked and stopped him.

"Call me Y/N."

He grinned.

Okay then, Y/N, tell me about your time in Sokovia."

Her eyes lit up and without any more prompting she started talking about the people of Sokovia, waving her arms and motioning with her hands. I snapped several pictures of the animated look on her face, half of them ended up blurry due to her moving around so much but the other half weren't bad.

As they talking about Sokovia and her other volunteer and charity work, I kinda zoned out and just looked at her.

She was a lot shorter than both of us, had to be just over 5 feet tall. Her wild Y/H/C hair was down, a lose strand peeking out from behind her ear as she constantly pushed it back out of her face. Very minimal makeup, a dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

I smiled looking at how she was dressed, jeans and a plain green shirt. So much for stuck-up diva, she seemed so down to earth.

She was a knockout.

I kinda wished I'd at least been able to introduce myself but Anderson was quick to get down to business.

It was only later after all the bases had been covered, that I tuned back in when Anderson brought up something that made me perk up.

"So, because the entire city wants to know, are you currently dating anyone?

I don't know why I was so interested in her answer, but I looked up to see what she'd say.

She rolled her eyes.

"Why is that always what people want to know? Who are you wearing? Are you dating anyone? It's ridiculous!"

Anderson grinned.

"What can I say? The people want what the people want. So any juicy details you wanna divulge?"

She shrugged and I snapped a picture right as she smiled.

"Sorry to tell you, I'm single. And kinda boring, so there really isn't much to tell. I stay in and binge watch Netflix and eat pizza just like everybody else."

He looked at her skeptically.

"Okay but what about the guy you've been spotted with in Hell's Kitchen? Some tabloid got a fuzzy picture of you two arm in arm coming out of a diner. What about that?"

She frowned for a second and then laughed.

"That? Oh that was my friend Matt, we meet for lunch every once in a while. I met him when I was visiting a friend of mine from med school a couple years ago."

"I dunno Y/N, you two looked pretty cosy."

Narrowing her eyes, she looked over his shoulder at me and smirked.

"Did I forget to mention? Matt is blind. I was helping him get back to his office, he's one of the founding partners in a law firm just a few blocks from the diner we were at."

I held back a laugh as she seemed to be enjoying the uncomfortable look on his face. She grinned at me and I snapped another picture as she winked at me.

Anderson looked a bit embarrassed at his blunder and quickly moved on.

"So no boyfriend, got it. The boys of New York will be happy to know you're still on the market."

She just groaned and shook her head.

He clicked off his recorder and stood up with a smile.

"I think that's about it. If you'll just let Parker here, get a few more pictures of you then we'll be out of your hair."

She snapped around to look at me, recognition in her eyes as she stood up.

"No problem! This wasn't nearly as bad as Tony always makes it out to be."

He laughed and shook her hand.

"Okay off the record, I gotta know. Why did you pick the Bugle out of all the papers asking to interview you?"

She looked down as a slight flush came over her face.

"You really wanna know?"

He nodded, curiosity in his eyes.

"Yeah, not that I'm complaining but the Times and the Sun were just as eager to have this interview. Why us?"

She bit her lip and glanced at the city below us with a small smile.

"Well, the Bugle always has the best pictures of Spider-man and I kinda have a little crush on him so…"

Wait, what?

I froze as her gaze turned to me, a huge smile on her face.

She had a crush on me?!

Well Spider-man, but still!

Ignoring the amused smile Anderson was sporting she walked over to me.

"You're the one who takes them all? Peter Parker right? I see your name in the Bugle all the time. I'm a big fan, the shots are amazing, and the angles you get are incredible!"

I found myself at a loss for words, she really didn't have much of a sense of personal space because she was about a foot from me and anything I would have said flew out the window with her big Y/E/C eyes staring up at me like that.

She really was pretty, I wonder if…nah no way I stood a chance with a girl like her.

Finally finding something to say I stuttered out an answer.

"I…uh, y-yeah that's me."

She leaned ever closer, excitement on her face.

"Have you met him? Like talked to him?"

I couldn't concentrate because she was way too close to me to think straight.

Before I could try and answer her, Anderson cut in.

"Wait, you live with superheroes why the fixation on the web slinger?"

She tilted her head in thought as she moved away from me.

"Well I guess when you live with someone they don't seem as fantastic when you see them every day, not to say my family isn't awesome. But really, once you see Thor with bedhead you can't un-see it."

Chuckling at the thought, Anderson spoke up again.

"So you like Spider-man because he's mysterious and different?"

She shook her head and furrowed her brow.

"No it's not that. Of course that is cool but I like how he sticks up for the little guy, the Avengers save the world one catastrophe at a time but Spiderman is out there stopping crime every day. I just admire that and think he shouldn't get as much crap from the media as he does.

She grinned again, looking smug.

"And you can quote me on that."

I just looked at her in shock, did she really just say that?

I finally found my voice as we all walked inside, Anderson already heading for the elevator while Y/N waited for me.

Smiling at her I messed with the strap on my camera.

"Not many people would say that about Spider-man, I'm sure he'd appreciate knowing you felt that way."

She blushed and looked away.

"I bet not, I'm just one girl out of an entire city."

I felt the corner of my lips turn up in a grin.

"Nah, I think you're wrong, everyone likes knowing they're appreciated."

She looked up at me and smiled.

"Maybe you're right. Gosh knows Tony likes it, he adores the high he gets from being Iron Man."

I laughed and ignored Anderson's look when she put her hand on my arm.

"Yeah, what's that like? Having Iron Man for a brother I mean."

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"It's never boring that's for sure. I've been kidnapped a few times, that's always fun. Um, let's see, Tony likes to go flying and scare the crap out of me by bringing me with him. Oh and we both make it a game to try and steal Cap's shield when he's not looking. Always something with him, usually something loud and explosive but it keeps things interesting."

Surprised at the info dump, I picked up on one thing that didn't seem to fit her vibrant personality.

"You're scared of heights?"

She playfully shoved my arm and laughed.

"No, I just don't like flying with Tony. It's too loud and he likes freak me out by almost crashing into stuff. I'd love it if it weren't for that, heck I went wing suiting in Rio for my birthday last year. I'm a bit of an adrenaline junkie."

Y/N Stark was just full of surprises.

Getting an idea, I innocently looked down at her.

"So swinging around like Spider-man would be more your style?"

Her eyes sparkled and she grinned.

"Absolutely! He makes it look so easy and smooth, gliding around like that, swinging around the city would be a dream come true! Much better than how my brother buzzes around in a tin can."

My eyes widened in surprise and I bit back a laugh.

She gasped and looked up at the ceiling.

"JARVIS don't you dare tell Tony I said that! He'd flip out!"

That same British voice with a very amused tone answered her.

"If he asks, my programming prevents me from hiding it from him. But until then your secret is safe with me Miss Y/N."

She sighed and shook her head.

"Well let's just hope he doesn't ask. Wouldn't do for him to find out he's not my favorite hero right?"

It was nice to have someone say I was their favorite. Especially someone as cute and funny as Y/N.

I grinned and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Yeah, can't have Iron Man being jealous of Spider-man."

Her eyes seemed to glint with mischief and she put a finger to her lips.

"Our little secret then, I'll trust you not to rat me out to Tony."

Just as I opened my mouth to reply both of us jumped at the barking voice of Anderson.

"Parker! Time to go, we've taken up enough of the lady's time. JJ's gonna want this as soon as possible."

I looked over at him and felt a flush on my face as he nodded at Y/N and smirked at me.

Oh great, I'm sure I'd be hearing it from him on the way back.

Turning back to Y/N, I saw her smile fall as she looked down.

"Oh, right. I'm sure you both have more important things to be doing. I'll let you guys get going."

I frowned at Anderson, of course he would ruin the moment.

Looking back at Y/N, I sighed.

"I guess he's right, we should go."

I really didn't want to go, here was a beautiful girl that was actually giving me the time of day and I had to leave. And unless she agreed to do another interview with the Bugle then we most likely wouldn't cross paths again.

Life just wasn't fair.

The elevator dinged cheerily and I wanted to glare at it for getting here so fast. Anderson stepped inside and as I moved to follow him I stopped short as Y/N's hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

"Peter wait! I mean, uh…I was wondering if maybe you'd want to hang out again? I'd love to see your pictures sometime and um…oh I could show you around the tower! The view from the penthouse is amazing! I mean if you wanted, like we could just go for coffee or something too."

It was like she was trying to convince me when I totally didn't need convincing to want to hang out with her. I felt a stupid smile cross my face as she continued to argue her case.

It was adorable.

Then as if just realizing her hand was still on my arm, her eyes widened and she trailed off with a flush on her face.

I smiled, trying my best to not be an awkward dork as I answered her.

"Yeah! Uh I mean sure, we could totally hang out sometime."

And there was the awkwardness, way to be cool Parker.

She beamed at me and all but shoved her phone in my hand that she had whipped out of her back pocket.

"Really?! Awesome, just give me your number and we can go from there."

Almost dropping it as I handed her my phone, I typed in my number saving it with a camera emoji next to my name. That wasn't lame was it? Oh well, too late to take it back now I'd already handed her phone back to her.

Before I could check and see what she'd saved her number as, Anderson grabbed the back of my collar yanking me into the elevator.

"Thanks for your time Y/N."

I glared at Anderson and looked back at Y/N as the doors started to close.

"See you around Peter, bye Trey."

I waved at her, smiling as she laughed. Then the doors were closed and I could feel Anderson staring at me, so I looked at him just waiting for it.

He only grinned and slapped my back.

"When you 'totally hang out' be sure to tell me how it goes okay?"

I just rolled my eyes and shoved his hand off as I started looking for her number in my contacts.

I grinned as I saw her name, this was turning out to be a really great day.

~~~

Stepping outside to water my plants, I looked out at the skyline of New York City and sighed.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes Miss Y/N?"

Letting my little rose bush have a drink I frowned.

"On a scale of one to Tony when he's drunk how stupid did I sound today?"

"I'm assuming you mean when Mister Parker was here correct?"

I could feel the amusement in JARVIS's tone and I rolled my eyes. Leave it to my brother to create a sassy AI.

"Yeah that's what I meant."

Walking to where I'd put my night lilies, I stood next to the rail of the balcony as I poured water over the soil.

"You came off more endearing than anything, nothing to worry about I'm sure. If I may ask, why are you so bothered about this?"

I set the watering can down.

"I don't know, something about Peter…he was different. He seemed real, not faking it because of what my last name is or who my brother is. I guess I just really liked him that's all."

"Well, if his flushed face elevated heart rate was anything to go by I think he likes you too."

Smiling at the thought, I felt a blush come over my face as I leaned on the rail looking out over the city.

"And oh my god he was so cute, like what a babe! That whole sexy nerd thing really works for him."

I heard JARVIS sigh.

"This sounds like a conversation Miss Potts would be better suited for, shall I get her instead?"

Laughing I shook my head.

"No, just let me ramble."

"Very well Miss."

Sighing dreamily at the thought of the adorable photographer, I wondered if I should wait for him to text me first.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Not looking up I bit my lip and smiled.

"Oh I was just thinking about a very cute photographer and hoping he'd call me."

Wait a second…there wasn't anyone out here but me and that wasn't JARVIS.

Looking up I scrambled backwards at the sight before me.

Spider-man was lazily sitting on the side of the building, looking at me.

I'm sure I looked ridiculous, standing there with my mouth hanging open just staring at him.

"I um…you're Spider-man!"

He chuckled and hopped of the glass window and onto the balcony with me.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. But I was swinging by and heard you talking to yourself and wanted to check it out."

I could feel my face turning bright red.

"I wasn't talking to myself! H-how long were you there?"

He shrugged and I got the sense he was smirking at me.

"Not long. I didn't know nerds could be sexy though, guess you learn something new every day."

Oh god this is so embarrassing! But I wouldn't let him get the best of me, hero crush or not I wasn't just gonna stand here like a star struck dork.

Channeling Tony I beat down the blush on my face and grinned at him.

"I guess I have a type, what can I say?"

He took a few steps closer, as if testing to see if I would back away. I didn't move, watching him as he moved closer.

"Everyone does, like I've always had a thing for Y/H/C."

My eyes widened.

Was he flirting with me? No, he couldn't be I had to be reading into things.

Shaking off the idea that Spider-man could be flirting with me I smiled.

"Okay so I met your personal photographer today, and I have to say he really knows how to catch your good side."

While I couldn't see his face, I got the distinct feeling he was grinning.

"Did you now? He wouldn't be the aforementioned photographer now would he? Cause if he then he's one lucky guy."

Looking out at the city so he wouldn't see the blush that was threatening to take over, I ran a hand through my windblown hair.

"Well I don't know about that, but I think there's something there."

Watching him in my peripheral vision, I tensed as he got a little closer.

"What makes you say that?"

He sounded curious, like he genuinely wanted to know so I answered him.

"I don't know really, I'm probably over thinking things and I literally just met him today but I feel like we were supposed to meet each other."

Shaking my head, I looked back at Spider-man and smiled.

"You're pretty nosy for a superhero you know that?"

He laughed.

"Don't you know us hero types live on gossip?"

Snorting, I grinned.

"Makes sense, my brother is the worst. Always wanting to know everyone's business and be a part of it."

Surly he knew who I was, I mean it's not like my face wasn't all over the tabloids with stories about Iron Man's little sister. It was highly unlikely Spider-man didn't know who I was.

Pausing, I smiled thinking of how caring my brother really was.

"Not in a bad way though, Tony just wants to help most of the time, make sure everyone is okay. He's actually a lot softer than his Iron Man persona would lead you to believe."

There was a beat of silence before he responded.

"Yeah, the few times we've crossed paths he did come off as a bit of a busybody to be honest but I'll take your word for it."

I snorted, Tony definitely had some busybody qualities to be sure. Before I could say anything, he spoke up.

"So how some come you aren't out there flying around in a suit of your own? You strike me as the type of girl to want to be out there with him."

I turned to look at him and wished I could see his face

"Well Tony would never in a million years give me the tools to go out and do crazy dangerous stuff like he and the team do. But you're right, I would be out there with him if I could. So I do what I can, the Sokovia relief organization has been my main focus lately."

I grinned at him, remembering my conversation with Peter earlier today.

"And it's not like I never get to fly around, Tony takes me with him sometimes. Not that I particularly enjoy it, what with his suit not being the most comfortable ride, but the flying thing is pretty cool."

I started as he hopped up on the balcony rail, somehow balancing perfectly as he stretched his hand out to me.

"Well I can't fly per say but I bet I can show you a view of the city you've never seen before. Whadaya say, wanna see New York like I do?"

I looked at his offered hand in shock.

Here was Spider-man, my hero crush offering to take me swinging around the city. Was this not exactly what I'd been talking to Peter about earlier?

This was crazy!

But there was no way I was gonna turn him down, so I slowly took his hand with a raised brow.

"Bring it on web head."

Laughing he pulled me up on the rail with him making me cling to him so I didn't fall. Not that I thought he would let me fall, but oh god this was high!

He raised the hand not securely wrapped around me and shot a web at the next building over as I put my arms around him.

"Hold on."

Just as I was about to give him a sassy retort he jumped off the rail and we were free-falling.

Squealing in excitement, I gasped as the web went taunt and we swung upwards.

It was so exhilarating! The wind whipping through my hair and the city blurring around us was absolutely amazing.

Effortlessly he switched arms, now holding me with the other and had shot another web yanking us in a different direction.

"Okay check this out."

Before I could ask him what he meant, he'd swung over to where we were parallel to one of the glass buildings a block over from the tower.

"You ready?"

I furrowed my brow even though he wasn't looking at me as I felt his arm tighten around me.

"For what?"

He just laughed and suddenly we were running on the side of the building. I looked down at out reflections in the mirrored windows and couldn't believe this was really happening.

Letting out a whoop of pure glee, I stretched my hand out feeling the wind rush through my fingers. This definitely beat anything I'd ever done before, what a rush!

And then before I could catch my breath we were back in the air, gliding through the city.

I got the idea he was showing off a bit and I didn't mind one bit because this was beyond amazing.

It was only later when he landed us on top of one the taller buildings in the city, that I realized we had circled back around and were pretty close to the tower, I could see my balcony from here.

Looking out at the city I couldn't help but be blown away at the view, it was just starting to get dusky out and the sunset was fantastic.

"So what'd you think? Cool right?"

Spinning around to look at Spider-man who was a yard or so away from me, I threw my hands up in the air motioning to the view around us.

"Are you kidding me?! This is way beyond cool! I can't believe you get to do this whenever you want, like I'm so jealous!"

He snickered and rubbed the back of his neck, something about it reminded me of someone but I couldn't place who.

"It's not a bad gig that's for sure, bad press aside I wouldn't trade it."

I wrinkled my nose and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"I don't get that, like all you do is help people, the fact that you get such crap from the press is unbelievable! All of them are idiots, don't listen to word they say. I think you're amazing."

Realizing I just said that out loud, I felt a blush starting to appear on my face and I once again wished I could see his face. If only to see what his expression was.

"Haters gonna hate right? But really, thanks. I know not everyone believes what they say about me but it's nice to hear. And it never hurts when a pretty girl says they think you're amazing."

I blinked owlishly, was he flirting with me again? Deciding not to think about that I focused on something else.

Grinning at him, I raised a brow.

"Did you just quote Taylor Swift?"

He held up a hand and I could imagine him to be smiling under that mask of his.

"Hey don't be hating on my girl T Swift!"

I giggled and shook my head.

"Oh never, I love her! But you didn't strike me as a Swiftie."

He snorted and tilted his head.

"I'm a surprising guy, and I have to shake off most of what's said about me so… Besides, I'll have you know that under the mask I'm rocking some hella good hair myself."

I doubled over laughing, while he crossed his arms, rolling his eyes most likely.

"Oh my god, you are such a dork!"

Looking up I tried to compose myself but the thought of Spider-man swinging through the city rocking out to Shake it Off was too much and I couldn't stop laughing.

"You know I could just leave you here."

Wiping my face to get rid of the tears that had leaked out when I was laughing, I smirked at him.

"But you won't, for one my brother would probably start a city wide spider hunt for leaving his baby sister on the top of a building, and two, you like me too much to just leave me here."

Hey who says I wasn't allowed to flirt back?

He sighed and started walking towards me.

"I guess you're right, having Iron Man out for me isn't on my list of thing I really need to happen. You being really cute doesn't have a thing to do with it."

I was about to reply when he darted forward and grabbed me by the waist and jumped off the roof, completely taking me off guard.

I shrieked in surprise, latching onto him as he chuckled, swinging us over to my balcony.

As we landed he very gently let me down and perched on the rail about at eye level with me.

I glared playfully at him.

"Jerk."

He just shrugged and if I had to guess, I'm pretty sure he was grinning.

"You know you love me."

I snorted and smiled at him.

"Just call me your number one fan."

He leaned forward and was suddenly very close to my face.

"I wouldn't mind that."

I flushed at how close he was but I didn't back away.

While I still had a bit of a crush on the masked hero in front of me, thoughts of a fluffy haired brown eyed photographer lingered in the back of my mind. Maybe my thing for the web slinger was more of an infatuation because I found myself wishing it was someone else's face I was this close to.

Smiling, I tapped him on the forehead pushing him back in just the slightest.

"Hmm, well it's too bad you aren't my type. You sure know how to impress a girl though, this was amazing!"

He seemed like he was holding back a laugh.

"Right, that nerd of yours has no idea how lucky he is. Looks like I'll have to settle for number one fan."

I smiled softly.

"I don't know about that. But I'll always be the president of your fan club, guess I'll just have to get in more trouble so this isn't a one-time thing."

He shook his head.

"That won't be necessary, I think I can make an exception for you. See you around!"

With that he stood up and back flipped off of the balcony rail and started swinging off to who knows where.

As soon as he was out of my line of sight I felt my phone start to vibrate in my back pocket, pulling it out I felt a sappy smile on my face.

It was Peter.

While I had the time of my life swinging through the city with Spider-man and would do it again in heartbeat, Peter Parker was the one I couldn't stop thinking about.

Grinning I answered my phone.

"Hey Peter, you're never gonna believe what just happened to me!"

~~~

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.26

Lance kicking himself. He’d gone and called Keith “a snack”. The stupid hunter had looked so awkward that he couldn’t help it, it’d slipped out and now he couldn’t take it back. Lance was now left with the hope there’d be a tragic mine accident and the earth would swallow up his stupid body. Sure, Keith was unfairly handsome, but those moments did not exist. Not at all. Those moments didn’t exist because he most certainly was not being won over by Keith’s easiness now they weren’t fighting over him being turned. Groaning to himself, he dragged himself out of the bronco, not blaming Keith for the way he’d leapt out as soon as he could. He’d known the man for like two weeks. His judgment was clouded by Keith being everything he wasn’t... Oh, lord. He was pathetic. This always happened. Someone showed the vaguest niceness and bam, he was an idiot.

Heading to the back of the bronco, Lance grabbed the the coil of rope and the shovel. The flashlights were for Keith’s benifit, seeing he could see in the dark and all. He wanted to say something, but whatever he said might just turn into him word vomiting out something worse. Setting his jaw, Lance started walking to where the entrance had been shown on the map. Stupid Pidge. All he’d done was care about her. Now she was planning on doing something dangerous and his undead arse had to make sure nothing bad happened.

Having been left behind, Keith jogged to catch up with him

“Do you know where the entrance is?”

“Yeah”

“Vampire memory again?”

“Something like that. You were supposed to stay at the car”

“What if something happened to you?”

“You could pack up, take Blue and head to Coran’s. I’m sure you’d be sent back out into the field and forget all about me”

Keith let out a groan of frustration

“Will you stop that?”

“What?”

“Thinking this is easy for me”

What did Keith have to worry about? His target would be dead, or at least immobilised. It’d be job over and goodbye Platt in the process

“I never said it was. I was simply expressing that my death would be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. You’re not coming in the mine”

“If we can even get into it”

“I’m sure the council would take care of the entrance, otherwise with all the nosy tourists an accident would have happened by now”

“But they might not have. You can’t go in there alone”

“Umm. I’m dead. Nothing’s going to make me more deader than I already am”

Keith huffed

“Fine. But if you die then I have to explain that to Shiro”

“Let him use the house. Hell, Matt can just live there”

“That’s not funny”

Lance shrugged. Keith was doing that thing where he sounded like he cared again, and Lance only had so much people power left

“Who said I was trying to be?”

“It’s not. So don’t joke about that”

They fell into an awkward silence. Lance guessing Keith was now thinking about Adam again. He’d gone and put his foot in that. Reaching the entrance to the mine, there was dirt built up at the bottom of an iron door. The padlock had seized into the latch holder, but a solid tug by even a human would have seen to that

“So this is it?”

“Yep. It’s definitely not made sturdy enough to keep a determined gremlin out. Here, take the shovel, we won’t need it yet. It looks like the door opens inwards”

“Is that another vampire thing?”

“It’s a hinge thing”

Keith let out a soft “oh” that Lance knew he wasn’t meant to hear. Passing over the shovel, he decided to pass the hunter the rope too

“If I get into trouble, you leave. Don’t try to help me. I can survive more than you can”

“Then don’t get into trouble”

Accidentally using too much force, the ancient padlock all but crumbled in Lance’s hand. Lance shaking off the debris in annoyance

“Did you mean to do that?”

“Nope”

“Look, this seems really dangerous. For all we know, Hunk might have talked Pidge out of this”

“Hunk would have given it his best shot, but Pidge never gives up on anything. She’s fierce and she’s brave. Sometimes she acts before she thinks, meaning though she’d never set out to cause trouble, it finds her anyway”

“I noticed that”

“It’s hard not to. The only things she fears is drunks and the world running out of coffee. Wait here while I check the entrance out”

The door groaned on it’s hinges, Lance using his strength to convince it swing open. Dust billowing out as the dirt floor was disturbed. Coughing, Lance covered his mouth. The place smelt of dampness and dirt, not a healthy combination for human lungs. Stepping through the doorway, his eyes fell on the entrance put a few metres ahead. That was good. Hunk would never want to climb down there, his best friend was smart like that. Walking over to the remains of the ladder, the bottom of the pit was annoyingly dry. The ladder only missing half a dozen steps, but the edges seemed sturdy enough to repel down

“Keith, stay there. I’m going down”

“What?! No”

“I’ll be fine”

“Wait...”

“See you soon”

Swinging himself over and onto the ladder, it groaned under his weight. His sense of self preservation was kicking in, around about the same time the ladder was kicking out...? Missing the step, he found it in time for the ladder to snap, Lance falling the last half a dozen metres to the floor where he landed squarely on his back. Fuck. That hurt like a mother trucker

“Lance!”

“I’m okay!”

Just winded, sore, and regretful of his actions. At the top of the tunnel came the light of a flashlight

“Lance?!”

“I’m fine!”

“What happened?”

“Ladder snapped! Dude, relax!”

“You’re stuck!”

“I’m not stuck. I brought rope for a reason”

Lance huffed to himself, knowing Keith couldn’t hear him

“Lance?!”

“I’m fine! Stay up there!”

Regretfully, Lance pealed himself up off the floor, dusting himself off the best he could, unappreciative of the cobwebs hanging on. Ugh. He couldn’t even bill someone for the damage to his clothes because he was the idiot responsible. Turning away from the remains of the ladder, Lance eyed the dark path ahead of him, his skin bursting out in goosebumps. This was a god awful idea

“Lance?!”

Lance closed his eyes, reminding himself not to snap at Keith

“Wait there! I’ll be right back!”

The mine was in bad shape. Parts of it were indeed starting to collapse. Wood beams had split, while their metal replacements were rusting through uselessly. There was the smell of death, but he hadn’t seen anything yet. Feeling a spider running up his arm, Lance flicked it away. The place was icky. He wanted his pyjamas and his glass of wine. Pidge was lucky he loved her. Following the main tunnel, it slowly sloped downwards, the temperature dropping as he walked. In the distance the silence was beginning to be filled with the sound of water dripping and something moving. Fan-fucking-tastic. There was nothing rad about this at all. It was all sucking balls, until it wasn’t.

The end of the mine had flooded. A natural spring lapped at the edge of where the tunnel would have continued further before reaching it. Wading into the frigid water to pass the curve in the wall, his eyes widened as the room turned into a cavern. Okay. This was really fucking cool. He’d missed the turn for wherever the town tunnels connected to the mine, but this was definitely interesting. Somewhere out there he could hear what he assumed to be Keith. Keith was definitely missing out on this. Hidden away from the world, the cavern hadn’t been disturbed in so long that it’d reclaimed its natural beauty. Small bioluminescent something or other grew along the far wall. Fish were actually living down here, their movements making the barest of ripples. From a sniff he could tell the water was fresh, with salt traces from the ground.

“Holy fuck”

Struck by the beauty, he’d let himself tune out. Keith nearly blinding him as he shone the torch across the darkness

“This is awesome”

“I told you to stay up there”

“You stopped responding. I tied the rope off of to the front of your car and rappelled down”

Lance cursed buying 50 metres of rope. At the time he hadn’t known what he was going to use all of it for, but he was sure having more than he needed was better

“That’s not safe. What if you’d fallen? Or gotten lost?”

“I followed your tracks. This place is amazing”

“Yeah... I bet no one’s been down here in decades. Did you bring your camera?”

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Can you see across the water? There’s something glowing on the other side”

“Gimme a sec”

Turning his camera on, Keith used it to do what his eyes couldn’t

“Wow... I’ve never seen anything like it”

“There’s fish down here too”

“For real?”

“Yep. We must have missed the turn off”

“I’m kind of glad we did. Would you have told me about this place?”

“Would you have believed me if I had?”

“Probably not... I’m not going to hurt anything by taking photos, will I?”

Lance shrugged

“I don’t see how. There’s bats here, but I don’t think you’re going to summon a lake monster”

“The exist?”

Keith sounded concerned, again, Lance shrugged

“No clue. Why don’t you tell me?”

“I don’t really know... I mean, if vampires can exist, they can too. There’s a theory that as humans were evolving not all stayed on land, like how whales used to be land animals, they moved to the sea and mermaids evolved”

“I’m pretty sure mermaids don’t exist”

“I think it’s one of those things we’ll never know. How’s the water?”

“Gross. The bottom of the pool is clay. I’m pretty sure my sneakers are ruined”

“No normal person just wades out into a potentially contaminated body of water”

“I thought the tunnel continued... it looks like maybe it does over where it’s all glowy, but that’s about it for foot exploring. I think once we’re done, I should collapse the tunnel down closer to the entrance. A place like this shouldn’t be spoilt with too many visitors”

“You’re right about that. Want a hand out?”

“Nah, I’m just gonna chill. Get it, because the water is so cold...”

“You deserve to stay in there for that. I’m going film first, this thing isn’t bad in night mode”

“Go for your life. I’m happy enough watching the view”

Keith really seemed into what he was doing with his camera. Lance wading back to the closest bit of dry land. His shoes felt soggy, water spurting out the holes for his laces when he stepped down hard. Swapping to camera mode, Keith started snapping, Lance hearing the twittering and flapping of wings

“Fuck! We have to go!”

“What...”

“Bats! Run!”

Keith ran, Lance close behind him. The colony of bats hot on their trail as they followed the tunnel. There had to be an opening somewhere if bats were able to get in and out. Unable to outrun them, Lance pushed Keith down, shielding him as the shrieking animals passed over head. Within a matter of moments, they’d passed over head, Lance rolling of Keith to flop on his back. Though it wasn’t really funny, he found himself starting to laugh

“Lance?”

“We fucking legged it... I think they’re pissed...”

Laughing harder, Lance covered his face

“... oh my god... we must have looked so stupid”

Beside him, Keith started to laugh

“I had no idea what to do”

“Neither did I! They didn’t get you, did they?”

“No... did they get you?”

Lance’s laughter started to die down

“Nah... god... we’re losers...”

“There was dozens of them”

“I know... fuck... I needed that. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Lance turned his head to face Keith, Keith already looking towards him. The flashlight trapped between the hunter and the dirt, with his camera held protectively close. Keith probably couldn’t see him very well, but Lance could see everything. Keith looked genuinely relaxed and not like a man who’d upset a colony of bats

“I’m fine. We should get moving”

“Yeah. Who would have thunk there’d be bats in a cave?”

“Someone smarter than us”

“Rude. Alright, come on, you still need to climb up a rope”

Lance helped Keith up, he didn’t smell blood but the hunter might be bruised come tomorrow. Falling into step, the walk back was taken at a slower pace. This time Lance paused to examine each branching tunnel entrance

“This place would be pretty cool to sus out”

“I thought we were doing this for Pidge”

“We are. I mean, I was. You’re the one who followed me down. It’s just kind of cool that years ago people worked these tunnels. The put all this hard work into something they believed in. You know?”

“I’m pretty sure they were only down here for money”

Lance pouted as he crossed his arms

“Spoil sport”

“Takes one to know one”

“Don’t you think it’s cool? They didn’t have a plan, all they had was blind faith and strength and they made this happen”

“Maybe a bit... it’s hard to imagine the feelings. People died down here working side by side with the same people for probably years. They all made this happen”

“You sound nostalgic”

Maybe a little. In Platt life moved so fast. So many people no longer cared about things they couldn’t see on their screens

“If you’re asking whether I would have made a good miner, I totally would have rocked a pick axe”

“Because you’ve got rocks in your head”

Lance kind of felt a tad proud Keith was teasing him. He’d really come out of his shell

“I’ll have you know my head is filled with cat memes and bad music”

“That sounds about right. You don’t act like any lawyer I’ve ever met”

“That’s because Mami raised me right. A guy could spend a lifetime exploring this place”

“Are you giving up being a domesticated hermit to go full hermit down here?”

“Maybe? Maybe I’ll do some mining and strike some gold down ‘ere”

Lance’s attempt at an accent was so horrible he ended up laughing at himself. Keith’s disgusted face only made things funnier

“Whatever that was, don’t do it again”

“Yessir. I’m just a poor miner boy, never even played the banjo. Papa said I got rocks in my head, but jokes on him, he’s got rocks in his bed”

Keith let out a laugh, shaking his head as he did. Lance having to look away because he found himself enjoying the sight too much

“Oh, god. That was even worse”

“Come on then, mister big bad hunter. What can you do?”

“Not that. I’ll leave that to you”

“Spoilsport”

“That’s my middle name”

Reaching the rope, Lance stared up at it. That was going to be a hell of a climb for Keith

“Will you be alright climbing?”

“I just have to make it up to the ladder. I’ve climbed bigger things than this”

“Right, well, when you get up, get yourself away from the entrance. I’m going to knock a couple of beams out. Gravity will do the rest”

“What about the door?”

“I’ll call the council in the morning and tell them I found it how it is. They’ll be forced to fix it”

“You don’t need a hand?”

“Nah, I’ve got this. I’ll pretend I’m punching you”

“Thanks. See you top side”

Being the worrier he was, Lance made sure Keith was at the top before walking down the tunnel a bit. The wood was so old that he didn’t need much force to splinter it... it kindly deciding he needed splinters in return for the punch. Breaking through the sides of four supports, he started jogging when he heard the ground start to creak. Definitely time to get out and get home.

Lance was already starting the engine by the time they heard the crash. Dust pouring out of the mine as they both watched from the bronco

“Well that’s done”

“Yep”

“Time to head home?”

“Yep. On it”

It was no good. He was having too much fun hanging out with Keith. He didn’t care that his shoes were still gross, or that he was messing up his rubber car mats. He’d had fun. Actual fun where he hadn’t had to hide away that part of himself.

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid #klance #mpreg #voltron #ashratherose

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twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years ago

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M*A*S*H: The Characters, Part 2: Trapper McIntyre, Henry Blake, and Margaret Houlihan

Trapper (Wayne Rogers) was a similar type of character to Hawkeye: a trickster Deadpan Snarker who had had his fill of the war by the time the show started. Originally beginning the show as Hawkeye’s equal, he unfortunately fell to the position of ‘sidekick’ more often than not, a natural side-effect of Alan Alda’s magnetic performance and Hawkeye’s overpowering personality. But where Hawkeye was unattached and had more potential for sincerity, Trapper was married, (but still playing a Casanova) and tended to be more lighthearted.

Trapper started out as ‘The Lancer’, a supporting role that got plenty of screentime and action, and despite only being on the show for three seasons, a fair amount of character development. While he was never as depressed a character as Hawkeye, Trapper did have his moments of darkness, such as being tempted to kill a North Korean POW(who had unintentionally cost the life of one of Trapper’s patients) or punching out Hawkeye in an attempt to rush home. Episodes like “Kim” and “Check Up” do give Trapper a spot in the limelight, but in the end, over the grand scheme of the show, Trapper’s chief influence came after he’d left.

Between seasons three and four, Trapper acquired enough points to get sent home, which he did while Hawkeye was on R&R. This event signaled the second gut punch of the show, as Trapper’s departure occurred directly after Colonel Henry Blake left the show the episode prior. But while Blake had a send-off (a heartbreaking one that we’ll come back to in a minute), Trapper…didn’t. He just left. No note, no message, nothing but a peck on the cheek for Hawkeye, his best friend.

Unlike most sitcoms on at the time, where Trapper’s departure would have been largely overlooked for the rest of the show, the hole that Trapper left in the camp, and notably in Hawkeye, was felt for the remainder of the series. He is often mentioned in episodes after he’s gone, and the impact of his exit (and the lack of goodbye) is felt even by characters who never met him, such as his replacement, B.J. (more on him later). Trapper was an early staple, who, despite his short time with the series, made a difference, just like real people do, and in the end, he was one of the lucky ones: he got to go home. Trapper returned to his wife and kids, and left Korea behind, and left the 4077th a little emptier as a result.

And he wasn’t the only one.

For the first three seasons, the 4077th was commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake, (McLean Stevenson) hailing from Bloomington, Illinois. Henry was a skilled, caring doctor…and a terrible colonel.

Very much ‘The Alleged Boss’, Henry freely admitted that he wasn’t an army man. He was a surgeon, with a practice at home. Extremely Mildly Military, (frequently out of uniform and sporting a fishing hat) Henry left the running of the camp to Radar O’Reilly, the company clerk, and tended to try as hard as he could to not make command decisions.

With that said, Henry was a very kind man, understandably frustrated with his situation and missing his own wife and family back in the states (though, like Trapper, he did cheat on his wife a few times during the course of the show, with little remorse. He was a Father to His Men, (especially Radar), and despite his typically goofy, down-to-earth nature, he had his moments of wisdom.

Hawkeye: “I haven’t cried once since I came to this crummy place. Why am I crying for him? Why not any of these other kids?”

Henry: “If I had the answer to that, I’d be at the Mayo Clinic. Does this look like the Mayo Clinic to you? All I know is what they taught me in command school. There are certain rules about a war. Rule number one is young men die. And rule number two is doctors can’t change rule number one.”

He was well-liked among the camp (except by Frank Burns and Margaret Houlihan), and in the end, his departure was a celebrated event…at first.

We can’t discuss Henry Blake without talking about “Abysinnia, Henry”.

The season 3 finale, “Abysinnia Henry”, was television history, for one major reason (at first): Henry Blake was going home.

By season 3, M*A*S*H mattered to people. It was doing well in the ratings, many people were watching it, so when season 3 rolled around and the news hit that Henry Blake was going to go home, many people were, just as they are in the episode, elated for him. The episode is a funny, heartfelt goodbye to the commanding officer, complete with a touching goodbye from each character. Henry gets on the chopper, takes off…and the war goes on.

Until the final scene.

Radar O’Reilly, company clerk and son-figure to Henry Blake, barges into surgery in a state of dazed distress, reading off a note:

“I have a message… Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake’s plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors.”

That was a gut punch, and audiences, as well as the characters, felt it keenly.

To quote the video essay: “Lightning in a Bottle – a M*A*S*H* Video Essay” by Ladyknightthebrave:

“Before this, characters did not die on half-hour situational comedies. Not main characters anyway, and certainly not like this. This moment changed television.”

It’s true. In the 1970s, main characters did not die on sitcoms, and they certainly didn’t die on the way home from a war to be reunited with their families. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Henry was almost home…and in the end, it didn’t matter.

While we often point to the episode “Sometimes You Hear the Bullet” as the moment M*A*S*H’s Cerberus Syndrome kicked in, there is an undeniable level of gravity that entered the scene the moment the news of Henry’s death entered the world of the 4077th. All of a sudden, M*A*S*H went from ‘zany military hospital sitcom’ to coming face-to-face with the horrible reality that not everyone gets to go home at the end.

And like with Trapper, Henry’s shadow hung over the rest of the show.

“They’ll never stop coming, you know. Trapper left, and they’re still coming. Henry got killed, and they’re still coming. Wherever they come from, they’ll never run out.”

At the end of season three, M*A*S*H lost both of these major players, and the loss was keenly felt, by the characters as much as by the audience. Again, in the early 1970s, sitcom characters didn’t just leave, much less die, especially like that. But the show had to go on, much as the war would, and instead of leaving two gaping holes in the command structure, replacements were sent in for the missing crew:

“Trapper John goes. No problem, there’s plenty more where he came from. B.J. Hunnicutt. Same size, same shape. Frank Burns out, Winchester in. Only a hair’s difference. Henry Blake… Rest in peace, Henry. Incoming, Sherman Potter.”

But we’ll get to that later. You see, while these characters would fade out and bring replacements in their wake, other characters, besides Hawkeye, remained staples of the show from beginning to end.

Characters like Margaret Houlihan.

While Hawkeye, Trapper, and Henry got by through Mildly Military antics and a blatant disregard or incompetence when it came to the army way of doing things, Major Margaret Houlihan (Loretta Swit) was a born soldier and head-nurse. A strict, by-the-book Battleaxe Nurse and an ex-Military Brat, Margaret Houlihan was the definitive Defrosting Ice Queen, matching Hawkeye, and even outpassing him in terms of character development.

Margaret started the show as a one-note, one-joke caricature, much like most characters did. Originally wholly unlikeable and serving as an antagonist to the rest of the main cast, Margaret was a Gung Holier Than Thou exaggeration of a character…early on, anyway. Beginning the show as an entirely unsympathetic person, partner to Frank Burns (romantically involved with him, despite the fact that he was a married man), Margaret’s early personality left few positives to be seen…at first, anyway.

“I don’t fall over, captain. Everything around here will be just fine if there’s a little less leaning and a lot more leadership. We need obedience. We need discipline, not this chaos. Doctors like you constantly out of uniform. Nurses who don’t belong in uniform. Dogs running around loose in camp…they’re getting run over by jeeps.”

While there were glimmers of character development early on, as seasons went by, slowly, Margaret started to change, for the better.

Starting in season 5, with her engagement to Lt. Col. Donald Penobscott and dumping of Major Frank Burns, Margaret began to lose a number of her sharp, hard edges, becoming a warmer person, proving herself Not So Above it All, with plenty of Pet the Dog moments becoming more and more prominent as the show continued. Slowly, she began to demonstrate real humanity, and a desire to be accepted.

“Did you ever show me any kind of friendship? Ask my help with a personal problem? Include me in one of your little bull sessions? Can you imagine what it feels like to walk by this tent and hear you laughing and know I’m not welcome? Did you ever once ever offer me a lousy cup of coffee?”

Despite this growth coinciding with her marriage, things were to change yet again for Margaret in season seven.

After a tumultuous marriage to her high-ranking husband, (a type she has demonstrated an attraction to in the past) a frustrated, exhausted, and cheated-on Margaret makes the decision to divorce her husband, a decision that would stick through to the end of the show. Margaret remained single to the end, growing out of her role as stickler and love-interest, and becoming a full-fledged, strong character in her own right, as a Vitriolic Best-Bud to Hawkeye and B.J., and a compassionate, kind, strong, woman who learns to define herself, not only by the army, but by her own terms as a person.

Easily one of the most dynamic characters of the show, arguably the most dynamic, Margaret managed to become one of the most human characters on the show, without becoming perfect. Her edges were smoothed somewhat, but never taken away, and she ended the show a deeper, richer person than she had been at the start.

Which is more than we can say for Major Frank Burns.

(Join us next time for Part 3: Frank Burns, Radar O’Reilly, Maxwell Klinger, and more!)

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ren-c-leyn · 4 years ago

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The Cost of Desire

It’s been a while, but here’s another short story for the blog. Figured it’d be a good way to slowly get back into tumblr.

This is a fusion story using these 1,2 prompts by @thependragonwritersguild, this prompt by @humdrummoloch, this prompt by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor, and these 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9 prompts by @givethispromptatry.

Fair warning, while this piece doesn’t have any gore or violence in it, it is a more tense piece with the narrator stuck waiting impending doom.

I remembered that day clearly, the one that began this secret obsession of mine. It was just one of those moments that never left me.

Mother was an alchemist whom always gathered the ingredients for her potions herself. I don’t remember why exactly but she had decided to take me with her, but I remember being excited to go on a ‘real life adventure.’ I clumsily carried some of the baskets and trotted after her on my short legs. It went well enough, until we got to the forest filled with mist.

“Shhh…” She held her pointer finger up to her lips. “We need to be quiet here.”

“Why?” I whispered, still somehow loud enough to cause an echo.

“There’s something that sleeps here. We don’t want to disturb it. Now stay on the path, don’t stray from it for a second.”

I listened, but only because mother was there with me. Something about not being allowed to stray from the path and make noise made me want to run off the path and scream ‘hello there’ at the top of my lungs. And that desire never left.

As I got older, I got more and more curious about the forest and what slept in it. Often, I would stray from the path, a little more each time to see if I could find anything besides the endlessly swirling white. My best friend, however, was a tattle tale and the one day I did stray off the path while they were with me, they ran all the way back to the village got my mother. Whom, was of course, furious.

“You’ve been told many times to stay on the path!” mother shrieked, pacing the main room of our tiny house. “One of these days something is going to take you!”

That threat was enough to curb my wanderings until I became a true adventurer and discovered the secret of that forest. It was a place wizards hid powerful artifacts, artifacts powerful enough to make me the best adventurer of them all. A lure I couldn’t resist.

Equipped with my weapon and my armor, I felt more than confident enough in my ability to take down the guardian of the artifacts. I strode into the mists, not even trying to muffle the clinking of my gear. All of mother’s warnings and rules were broken. I didn’t even remember most of them in that moment, my mind was focused on the prizes that awaited me.

Oh how foolish I was.

In less than an hour, I had found a stone path. It was strange, I hadn’t remembered coming across one so close to the main path, but I was not going to laugh off this bit of fortune. For all paths must lead somewhere, and the only thing to go to in this forest was the place the relics had been locked away. I rushed down it, drinking in the muffled sounds of my own footfalls as I went.

And it was on that stone path that I met the creature mother had been so terrified of finding me.

Two opalized eyes blinked at me through the fog. I could see no discernible pupils through the gloom but I knew that those eyes were sorting through my very character, figuring out who I was without a word. Chills ran up my spine, breathing got a little harder, and my heart sped up against my will. My legs, dear gods my legs, they trembled and nearly gave out beneath the weight of that stare. Run, run away, my instincts screamed. But I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t run. Not without something to show for my courage, or stupidity, in coming to meet the guardian.

The eyes vanished and the mists began to clear. I sucked in a breath of relief just before the hairs on the back of my neck rose. The ghost-like chill of breathe on my neck nearly made me jump right out of my armor as I spun around, hand gripping the hilt of my sword for all it was worth.

Before me stood what looked like a young girl. It’s difficult to recall exactly what she looked like. Whenever I try to focus on her appearance my mind goes hazy and I nearly forget what I was trying to remember. The one thing I can recall clearly was the sound of her voice. It was as if there was a constant whine of wind trying to drown out a girl’s voice, and it echoed in my mind. Her eyes were like opals and had no pupils, and I can’t recall there being any color to anything else about her. Just... cloudy whiteness, like a phantom.

No, not like it. Not at all. She was a phantom. The ghost of every misdeed and mistake ever committed. That was her, that was what I faced that day.

“Who are you?”

I grinned, clenching my teeth together to keep them from chattering right out of my gums.

“I am the greatest adventurer to ever stand before you,” I declared with shaky bravado, “and who are you?”

“Oh, no one important.”

“Well, that’s solidly not true.”

She laughed, though it didn’t seem to come from her. It seemed to come from the forest itself.

“It is in the grand scheme of things. In fact, I am no one,” the smile fell from her face into a dark stare that nearly made my legs give out from under me again. “but that doesn’t matter here because you are someone, someone who does not respect the grand scheme. And someones are not allowed in here. You must leave.”

“No. I’m the greatest adventurer there ever was, and I’m not leaving without at least one artifact.”

She shook her head, an amused smile growing on her lips.

“They all say that, all of the somebodies. But you don’t understand, you never understand. Nothing you learned up there will help you survive down here.”

I paused at that. Down here? Weren’t we still in that forest? I looked up but al I could see was more mist.

“Look, I don’t know what mind games you’re playing, guardian, but I’ve come too far to back down now. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

I turned back around and started to walk forward. The sense of dread and impending doom grew as I took the first step, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get away from that being. But guardians aren’t known to just stand idly by while someone comes in and raids their treasure troves, and she was certainly no exception.

“You’re not excused!” the forest howled as the ground quaked.

I struggled to keep my balance as I looked around for the source of the earthquake. The next thing I knew she was standing in front of me, arms outstretched.

“Not unless you turn around and leave. That’s the only way to walk away from me, somebody.”

Irritated, I reached out to push her aside, but she was a little faster than I. A freezing cold hand wrapped around my wrist and sent what felt like ice up my veins. Everything was so cold, and so numb. I felt my strength all leave me as pain took it’s place. Soon, I was on the ground and the little girl was leaning above me.

“You wanted to be the best. Now look at you. It’s going to kill you,” she whispered into my ear.

The tingling feeling of paralysis held me in place, though I violently wished I could unsheathe my sword.

“It’s going to hunt you down and kill you. Your end is coming. Even if you should leave, somebody, you’ve sealed your own fate.”

Then, she was gone. Just like that. The feeling of dread, of being watched, it was all gone. Except I couldn’t move and I felt the cold spreading throughout my body. I struggled at first, but of course nothing move. Over time, I got some feeling back and was even able to push myself up a tiny bit. But the hours were so slow in passing that I caught myself wondering if time was moving at all. I leaned back against the ground, knocking my head on the cold stone.

It was pointless. It was so pointless.... Trying to fight the paralysis, trying to escape, wasting all that time talking to some strange girl, even coming here. I was going to die, and there would be no point to it. The ultimate tragedy.

I was always terrible at goodbyes. I had a tendency to avoid them, if at all possible, and other times gave a simple wave and ignored the probability I would never see them again.

As I found myself alone, struggling to make my body to move, I wished I had been able to say goodbye. If only to my best friend, who warned me not to go.

Then, I fell asleep, letting the cold consume me. But that was not quite the end of my tale.

The mid afternoon sun filtered it’s way through the sheer curtains to fall upon my face. My eyes slowly blinked themselves to awareness as sleep let go. I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t even in the forest anymore. I seemed to be at my best friend’s cottage, laid out in the guest room. The scent of herbs and incense filled the air as I looked around in a daze.

A dream?

I was not that lucky, though. A chill rose in my blood and pain began to fill my senses. While I could move, it was stiff and agonizing.

My friend popped their head into the room.

“How are you doing?”

The bitter pain of the curse settling into my bones clenched once more, pulling a gasp from my throat.

“Oh, you know, like I’m dying.”

They crossed the room and settled into one of the chairs next to the bed.

“By rights, you should be dead. You can be a real idiot sometimes, you know that? I can’t believe you went out of your way to provoke the creature of those woods.”

“I am shocked and appalled that you would believe for even one second that I would do that.”

“Are you though?”

“Not really. How’d I get here, anyways?”

“I went looking for you and found you laying face down in the grass beside the path. But you wouldn’t wake up so I drug you here and got the healers, who got the priests, who got the mage, who is sending a letter to the wizard’s guild.”

I let out a low whistle.

“Damn, sounds like you’ve had all kinds of interesting company while I was out cold. Why do you always meet the interesting people while I’m gone?”

They laughed, but it trailed off into a grim expression.

“I’m afraid that you’ve had your last adventure, friend. The priests and mages don’t even know where to begin tackling the curse that you ended up getting. What did you find anyways?”

“Some... weird girl.”

“Some weird girl doesn’t tell me a lot.”

“She’s the Keeper of Forbidden Artifacts, and to be fair, she did warn me before she decided to kill me.”

“Kill you?!” they jumped up out of the chair.

“The curse.”

“The hells she will!”

And before I could stop them, they ran off, like they were going to get mother again. Only, mother wasn’t here to save me this time. No one was. I was doomed to a slow death, feeling my energy be stripped away day by day while others have adventures of a lifetime.

So I pen down this tale as warning: Do not enter the mist-filled forest, for it is no place for mortals.

The very slim chance of success, if it should exist at all, is simply not worth the cost of desire: a constant pain and chill that will slowly devour you and steal away your life while you fear the impending end that forever sits at your bedside waiting for you to finish withering away into an empty husk. Abandon ambitions of recovering lost treasures forged by over-ambitious wizards and find a more worthy quest to pursue.

Taglist, feel free to ask to be added/removed at any time:

@nemowritesstuff, @likelyfantasywriterspsychic, @dawnoftheagez, @orphicodysseywrites, @hannahs-creations, @writer-candy, @kaylewiswrites, @ravenpuffwriter, @tenacious-scripturient, @ofinkblotsandscript, @mischiefiswritten , @kespada, @asterannie, @silvertalonwriteblr, @inspiring-prompts, @greenwood-writes, @wemitodd, @elkatheinkstained, @n1ghtcrwler, @writingiswilde, @say-no-to-negativity, @wordshavings

#fiction #fantasy #dark fantasy #original story #My writing #writeblr #a story by Ren

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 4 years ago

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Witches, Chapter 29: something of an overdue talk, in a long overdue chapter.

Hey everyone! We’re back at it, hopefully, with a few orders of business.

First things first: I’d like to issue a small warning for a short discussion of past suicidal ideation that pops up during this chapter. Since this series is a retelling, generally most of you do know what’s coming up next and what we’ll run into and to brace ourselves for that. You know about the characters’ past traumas and future choices and know where that pops up, or if it becomes unexpectedly relevant or makes a new parallel, you did at least know in advance that it happened. Phoenix’s occasional oblique allusion to Edgeworth’s “choosing death”, for instance.

As this is not something quite like that and comes up more out of nowhere than usual, I just wanted to make sure that no one is uncomfortably caught off-guard. It felt like something different to me personally as I was writing - whether it’s going to strike any of you as different than other heavier material we’ve had in the past, I can’t say, but I’m erring on the side of caution today. If you’ve got any questions or concerns or anything you want done for content warnings in the future, please do come talk to me and let me know!

On two lighter notes: thank you all for bearing with me through the “oops all Fire Emblem only Fire Emblem” hiatus. It’s been a weird year, obviously. I’m hoping that I can carry on with room in my brain for both.

And finally: Happy UR-1 day! Today is, yes indeed, the exact day that Simon Blackquill is arrested for murder, and in honor of that, have a chapter where I mention him one (1) entire time.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches of Los Angeles Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

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Golden Saturday-morning sunlight streams in through the blinds, lighting up the dust particles swirling through the air. The office is colder than Apollo expects for the end of October - colder than it was last year this time - and Phoenix is even wearing a sweater, the shining locket that Apollo hasn’t seen in a while hanging around the outside of the tall collar. “Morning,” Phoenix says, without raising his eyes from what appears to be a manila folder full of newspaper clippings he is perusing. “What’s up?”

Straight to business, then. Apollo is fine with that. He grabs the chair from his desk and drags it around, not directly in front of Phoenix’s desk, but near enough that it will be harder for Phoenix to ignore him.

“Is there any way to break a curse?” he asks, shoving his hands deep in the pocket of his hoodie. If it were this cold in a regular office on a Saturday, that would make sense; save money on heating bills when no clients are coming in. This is just - fae bullshit. The beginning of their seasonal tantrums. Winter only properly begins on the solstice, and Apollo really wishes that the fae of Kurain would respect the astronomical seasons. Stave off the snow until the end of December and end it in March. Don’t allow it to span from October to April.

Phoenix sweeps the scraps of paper all back within the folder and ducks down to set it inside a drawer. “If I knew a way,” he says, rising back up with the magatama in hand and setting it down on his desk with a hard clack, “do you think I would go around looking like I do? You don’t think I would’ve gotten this mess cleaned up a long time ago?”

He doesn’t offer Apollo the magatama for a refresher on what that mess looks like. Maybe he was just making a dramatic point with it. “Oh,” Apollo says, scratching the back of his head, faintly embarrassed by how obvious the answer is if he’d given it a modicum of thought from that perspective. “I guess not.”

“Right,” Phoenix says. “As my understanding goes, you can theoretically maybe mitigate a curse, if you layer another opposing blessing on. I am ‘lucky’” - he makes sarcastic quotation marks to ensure that the bitterness dripping from the word doesn’t go unnoticed, as if Apollo could possibly not notice - “to have known enough fae that I’m saddled with both Fortune and Misfortune, and Life and Death. But I’m also not certain that when you drop those on each other they don’t just each take their own separate niches. I’m not dead, but god knows when I try to go somewhere for a vacation or a day off, I still stumble across crime scenes like nothing else. Stunningly lucky in some aspects, and wildly unfortunate in others. You know me. I don’t need to elaborate too much, do I?”

Apollo nods.

“So that’s the theory, but I don’t think that helps anyway for your purposes, which - this is about Prosecutor Gavin?”

Apollo nods again. Phoenix sighs and rubs his eyes. “Shit,” he says, folding his hands together in front of his face and leaning his head against them. “I - believe me, Apollo, I wish I had some - I wish I had any way to help him.”

And Apollo does believe him. Apollo has to believe him, and believe that Phoenix means well, because he’d go crazier if he wasn’t reminding himself that Phoenix’s most frustrating decisions are born out of good intent. That Phoenix thinks he knows what’s best, but there’s still that old saying about good intentions.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Apollo asks. “You knew before this. You knew before he asked you.”

Phoenix raises his head. “And what does telling him get him? Secure in the knowledge that his brother - who is already in jail by the way, don’t need any more proof of his crimes, he’s already never getting out to be able to hurt anyone ever again - hates him enough to have wished him dead?”

Basically the same reasoning that Klavier had, but Apollo has a counterargument now. “Gives him time to come to terms with it before someone dies!”

“You don’t!” Phoenix slams his palms on the desk. Apollo flinches. Of course everyone is volatile and heated over this topic, but that doesn’t make it easier in the moment that it first gets directed at him from people who are usually frustratingly calm and casual. But Phoenix winces, lifting one of his hands and dragging his fingers through his hair, and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says, and repeats, much quieter, “You - you don’t. Or I never didn’t. I knew from right when it happened that I was cursed; I had three years between then and when Mia died - it - I could’ve had a decade, or two, and it - it wouldn’t have helped. I wouldn’t have felt any differently. Any more come to terms with it. With the thought that I - helped cause—”

His tongue heavy in his mouth, Apollo nods. “But - but wouldn’t it have been worse to find out right after she died?”

“Of course it would have,” Phoenix says blithely. “Of course that - this - is the worst possible alternative. Of course I would’ve said something if I’d known that this was what would happen instead.”

“But you have to have expected that someone would—”

“No, I didn’t,” Phoenix interrupts. “That’s not how this works. You know Klavier. You know how much he doesn’t say, don’t you? How much I don’t - you know what people like us are like. Who’s going to tell him? Sebastian forgets half the time that he even has the Sight. Kay only acts like she knows things. Prosecutor Blackquill spent until two days ago acting like magic isn’t real even when he knew we knew otherwise. Someone who means ill isn going to keep that information to use it, and not to just plainly say something.” He frowns. “Well, usually not. Unless they’re a clumsy interloper stumbling in somewhere they don’t belong and getting themselves fucked over for it too.”

“So other than Means just walking all over everything” - because he wasn’t immersed in this kind of fae etiquette, didn’t grow up in it, learned just enough to spot what he thought were opportunities and ruined himself by it - “you think every other random stranger is just going to respect all these - these weird little rules about what you don’t say?”

“Rules of engagement, basically,” Phoenix says. “Yeah, I do.”

“Prosecutor Gavin told me that you’re cursed,” Apollo says. “Don’t just tell me that’s - that’s the exception that proves the rule, or whatever.”

Phoenix’s expression, smug and trying to dampen that smugness back into something that respects the seriousness of the conversation, tells Apollo that yes, yes that is absolutely what his retort was going to be. Apollo considers screaming. “I’ve been tangled up in this for far too long,” Phoenix says. “I can promise you, I know the patterns. I know the way these things go.”

“And because you’re so much smarter than the rest of us, that makes it okay?” Apollo demands. “To take a gamble and just hope that it won’t go wildly wrong?”

And he wants to, really wants to add, I guess that’s what you do, just gamble with people’s fates, and he doesn’t, and Phoenix’s face still darkens like he knows, like he can read Apollo’s mind. Because every time Apollo ends up arguing with him, that’s always at the core. This playing card that haunts them both, burnt a bridge barely built, and they keep trying to balance on the ashen skeleton of it. “Just because Prosecutor Gavin is too fucked up about everything else to be mad at you for hiding this—”

“I did,” Phoenix says, voice low, eyes narrowed and dark as an evening’s storm clouds, “what I thought would be best, based on my prior experiences of both how curses don’t get talked about, and knowing exactly what it is like to personally live with knowing that I’m cursed. This is not something I want anyone to have to know how it feels.”

“So you think ignorance is bliss,” Apollo says. Klavier said that. Apollo wants to know how Phoenix takes that statement.

“I wouldn’t call it ignorance,” Phoenix says. “It’s not like he, or you, didn’t know what Kristoph was like until you found this out. You know the crime, the verdict, the sentencing - and everything else that Kristoph tried but failed to do. That Kristoph also wanted Klavier dead is only another small piece in the grand scheme of it all.”

Still the same argument that Klavier made; Apollo can’t imagine they discussed it. What brought them to the same conclusion? That they both have lived this strange specific kind of grief? This common ground that they share that is foreign to Apollo.

“Come to terms with - Klavier’s already got to come to terms with the rest of that,” Phoenix continues. “It was obvious during that trial how much Kristoph despised him. He knew that too. He knows that Kristoph ruined more lives than just the people he murdered - that he tried to kill more people than he actually succeeded at - cursed and tried to kill children because he couldn’t have - didn’t want anyone remaining who - who could - could… say…”

If Phoenix hadn’t faltered like that - fumbling and failing to continue, words petering out as he went back over what he just said, his eyes going wide and welling up with horror - then Apollo would have simply assumed that his thoughts were moving too fast for his mouth and he couldn’t keep them straight. It would have been easy to talk right through it, and Apollo wouldn’t think twice. If Phoenix hadn’t showed his own hand, gave the game away. Something too terrible for even seven years of professional poker to hide.

“Mr Wright?” Apollo asks, and Phoenix turns his head, glancing away away, no longer meeting his eyes when less than a minute ago he was staring him down with a cold confident glare. “What - what are you talking about? Vera, and - not someone else? Who else?”

Phoenix makes a tiny shake of his head, and even that little motion is a bright, distinct liar’s red. It lights up his eyes, too, when they dart down to the floor. “Mr Wright?” Apollo repeats. When would this have been? He casts his mind over everything he learned, just a little over a year ago, Phoenix sitting him down to explain seven years of information collected about Kristoph, what he’d done and how he’d tried to cover it up. He tried to kill Drew Misham to tie up that loose end; he cursed and poisoned Vera, two precautions because he wasn’t confident enough in the former, hoping that if she ever left the house she wouldn’t be able to speak to his identity and the forgery he requested. He killed Zak Gramarye seven years later to hide the same. He wanted to eliminate every link in the chain that connected the diary page to him. Its makers Vera and Drew, and Zak who knew he was the first attorney on the case, and then the page got to Phoenix via—

Via—

“Mr Wright,” Apollo says. His voice shakes. “He didn’t—”

“Promise me something, Apollo,” Phoenix says firmly. His mouth is drawn in a tight line but he doesn’t look stern. He looks more like he’s going to cry and is desperately trying to stop himself. “Promise me.”

“Wh - what? I can’t—”

“Promise me, Apollo.”

Not until you tell me what I’m promising, Apollo thinks, Apollo knows is what he should say. He’s been told this enough times; he’s aware of this on his own. Don’t agree to a deal before all the terms are set. Don’t sign the contract before it’s read thoroughly. Rules for lawyers and fae are the same. Just because Phoenix means well doesn’t mean that Apollo agrees with those decisions he makes; certainly not the one they have been discussing, and likely not whatever Phoenix is asking him to agree to.

“Please.”

The air in the office is so cold. Even the sunlight seems cold now. Apollo shivers, hunches himself up further. What does Mia think? Is this secret-keeping so natural to her, easy as breathing once was, because she’s fae and that’s what they are, liars by trick and by trade?

“Just promise me you won’t tell her until I do.”

His mouth dry, Apollo nods and croaks out, “All right. I won’t.”

He almost regrets pushing the issue,regrets ever asking Phoenix why he faltered. Phoenix sits slumped, his hands in his hair, and when he glances back up at Apollo, he looks so exhausted that it reminds him of Klavier last night. Burnt-out and broken, when it’s so rare for either of their masks to break. Rarer for Phoenix not to be positioning himself as the one with all the cards in hand; for him to fall apart, for Apollo to actually see him upset. “Yeah,” he whispers, soft enough that Apollo sits forward to make sure he can hear him. “Everyone involved in getting the diary page from him to me, Kristoph wanted dead, or to make sure he could silence them. Everyone who knew, even if she was - eleven years old, or eight. The girl who made it, and the girl who gave it to me. He fucking hated the Gramaryes. You think he didn’t jump at the opportunity to try and get rid of all of them that he could? That he wouldn’t cast a curse on each one who ever entered his sight?”

“And she” - Apollo’s voice cracks - “she doesn’t know? You didn’t tell her?”

“Shit, no,” Phoenix says. He sounds close to cracking, too, and when he drops his hands to his desk he starts shaking his head, his eyes scrunched closed. “Being a Gramarye has been goddamn enough of a curse for her. She lost all her family and then found out that her grandfather buried her mother’s soul in the woods because he was a monstrous son-of-a-bitch who deserved worse than getting to go out on his own terms by shooting himself in the fucking head—”

Apollo shudders. Phoenix had never before directly stated his opinion on Magnifi, but Apollo could definitely tell he held only disdain for the man. This, though, is more than disdain. This is positively venomous, and more than a bit frightening. Did he always feel like this, and hid it, or is this hatred something that has only come about since last year Trucy came back to the office with her mother’s soul in her hands?

“—so yeah, on top of that, I’m definitely going to tell her that the same man who killed her father cursed her just because of the accident of who her family is.”

“B-but—” Apollo doesn’t quite know what he’s arguing. He also doesn’t know where all of his prior conviction went. Of course Klavier should have been told - because he found out in the worst way possible - and Trucy - to take a gamble with her too - that’s got to be just as wrong— “Nine-Tails Vale,” he says suddenly. “We went there, and then there was a murder - that - that’s - is that like—”

“Like what happens to me?” Phoenix asks. “What happens with a curse? Yes. That’s how it goes.”

“And you - you’re not going to - to tell her? Ever? In case - in case something happens to her like with Klavier, or—” Too many thoughts are playing in his head, and the next one grabs hold of him and pivots him away from the point he was going to make about maybe why Trucy should know. “The concert,” he says. “When we went to the concert, Trucy and I, and Klavier was there too of course but that’s - Romaine LeTousse was murdered. They’re both cursed and they - wait, was Klavier cursed then? That was before…”

Did Klavier know when it happened? Did he tell Apollo? He’d said that Phoenix had seen him twice since the trial last October. Presume then that Kristoph cursed him then. The last time the brothers saw each other, and that doesn’t make one bit of sense.

“How could Kristoph have cursed him?” Apollo asks, and he doesn’t miss a momentary flash of panic that passes over Phoenix, his eyes popping wide for half a second and a loud, sharp intake of breath. “Klavier always has iron on him. He gave me—” He looks down at his hand, and then back up, to Phoenix’s lifted eyebrows. Apollo sticks his hand back in his pocket. ��What’s the point in iron if it doesn’t actually save you from being cursed?”

Phoenix is obviously trying not to move. He knows Apollo is watching him, waiting for a twitch, anything to pounce on and draw an answer out of him. Staring steadily back at Apollo, he barely blinks; he rests his folded arms on his desk and his fingers curl just a little tighter into where he’s gripping his arm. Apollo is right to be asking these questions. He’s getting closer to something that Phoenix is hiding.

“Or it does,” Apollo says. The veins on the back of Phoenix’s hand flex from his grip. Apollo thinks about someone else with a tense hand and secrets. “And he couldn’t have been cursed then, at Vera’s trial, if it does. So then Mr Gavin hated him that much before then.” Phoenix blinks placidly, but he doesn’t adopt his lazy-eyed gaze. Too serious even for that. “And you lied,” Apollo adds. “You lied about when.”

Phoenix flinches. It’s just a tiny one, pulling his head back, the muscles in his jaw and neck tightening, but Apollo can’t miss the light show. Can’t miss that the lie is bleeding out of him.

He finds himself on his feet, not stepping any closer to Phoenix’s desk, just needing the height, just needing to move a little to stop the shaking in his hands and in his chest, a trembling that goes right down to his heart. “He knew already that he’s cursed! Why did you keep lying to him!”

“I didn’t lie to him,” Phoenix says evenly, but very quietly, and Apollo wants to go over and slam his fists on the desk and make him stop with these hollow justifications, make him face what he’s done couched in none of his winding words. “I just didn’t correct his assumption.”

“That’s lying!” Apollo shouts. “That’s still lying! That’s what happened in Mayor Tenma’s trial! Do you remember that? Do you care!”

“Don’t accuse me of not caring.” Phoenix’s voice is low, his eyes dark, staring up at Apollo. “I do care. I—”

“You don’t care about lying! But you do care about - what, about us? Doing this because you care, because you always know what’s best for everyone not to know!” Apollo throws his hands in the air. Phoenix’s brow furrows further, his jaw set tightly. “Never mind that Athena had a breakdown during the trial because Means hit her exactly where you were worried she would be! And you didn’t prepare her! Never mind that Klavier’s having a breakdown now because he found out at the worst possible time! When you could have told him! You know—”

“And if what he knows already hurt him this badly, then what do you think would be happening if he knew Kristoph cursed him years ago?” Phoenix slams his hands on his desk like he’s at the defense’s bench, pushing himself up out of the chair and onto his feet. “That his brother’s wanted him dead for that long? You think that’ll help anything, for him to find that out right now on top of all this? You want him to have that to come to terms with right now, too? I didn’t lie to him! He made an assumption that I didn’t correct because I’m not in the business of salting anyone’s wounds!”

He makes - a point. Apollo sees where he’s coming from. Why he’d do that. An additional piece of truth, yesterday the same as a salting of the wound. “But you don’t think he’s ever wondered if - if Mr Gavin resented him for that long? If he - if you would be setting something to rest, if you told him that. You can’t decide for someone else what they’re capable of handling.”

“Fair point,” Phoenix says. He sinks back down into his chair, and then motions to Apollo’s, suggesting he sit back down. “If he’d asked, I’d have told him. If he ever asks, I’ll tell him. I just wasn’t about to drop that on his head with him unprepared. Or if he asks you - I’m not asking you to swear silence to that. Shit, if you ever think that it’ll help him to know, then tell him - tell him you just found out from me, throw me under the bus and lie to make me look worse, that’s fine.”

Apollo returns to his chair, still not feeling any less like he wants to take a swing and see if he’s gotten any better at punching since last April. “You want me to lie now too?” he asks.

“I want you to use your best judgment about what he might want to know or be able to handle,” Phoenix says. “To not pile on more if he didn’t ask, if you don’t think he’s prepared. Like I said, when it comes to being cursed, I didn’t ever not know, and I know what the knowing is like. Yeah, I took a gamble that if I didn’t tell them then no one else ever would. That they’d never know, I hoped.”

He shakes his head and then leans it back against his chair, his eyes closing. “See, it’s not just grief, not at all. The woman who cursed me was someone I thought I knew. Though I’d known for a while. She had actually wanted me dead since we first met.” His eyes pop back open. “Eventually she tried to poison me, and when that didn’t work she tried to frame me for murder, and when that plan fell apart she just tried to kill me with a curse because she was pissed about it. She was a lot stronger than Kristoph, I’ll tell you that much. But Mia stepped in, and now I’m still alive and other people just drop dead all around me instead.”

He sounds almost like he is making a recitation, like he’s rehearsed it, scripted it. Apollo wonders if he’s ever told anyone else all these details, if anyone else lacking the Sight knows that Phoenix is cursed, and if he used this same script then too. He’s speaking about himself, something so personal, in a way so curt and crisp, so much more detached than he’s been speaking about Klavier, or Trucy.

Apollo nods numbly, unable to force his tongue to ask any of the questions he has.

“I could have come to grips with her hating me that long and that much - I could’ve come to terms with it and moved on. I was - well, I eventually became glad to know what she was. I could’ve been okay with all that. Eventually. If I hadn’t known about the curse. But I did and the - the knowing, the - Mia was murdered. Three years after she saved me. That long, thinking I could accept that I was cursed, and as soon as something really happened - I couldn’t.”

He presses his hands together and rests them against his chin. “And I couldn’t ever even just grieve her, because I had this guilt. That her death was my fault - I know, I know, some other man murdered her. He got to rot in jail for the rest of his life for his crimes, and he would’ve hated her whether or not I was cursed. For the things she did and because of what he was, and I had no part in any of that, but I was still - thinking, if maybe if she hadn’t ever taken me under her wing. If I hadn’t been around, maybe it would’ve been different somehow. Maybe she would have survived.”

The lights flicker gently and return dimmer and softer than they were before. Everything that gets talked about in this office, Mia hears; Apollo wonders if Phoenix doesn’t get sick of it sometimes, just want to say something without her offering input. Even if this is presumably well-meant, some attempt at comfort, the most a dead woman who can’t speak can give. Apollo exhales and can see his breath. He shivers again. “Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks.

“I want you to understand.” Phoenix rubs his hands together, a vacant look in his eyes, like he hasn’t quite realized why he’s so suddenly cold. “What it felt like, and what I’m worried about. If I’d told Klavier, or I tell Trucy - once I say something, I can’t take it back. That’s it, and they know, forever, just like I do. So I want to be sure that this won’t - I want—” He drops his hands and reaches over and picks up the magatama, idly spinning it around between his fingers. Apollo can’t remember ever seeing him this uneasy, this fidgety. “Klavier, especially, reminds me of myself when I was his age, and of a prosecutor I knew then, too. And that - recognition” - he gestures with the magatama clutched in his hand - “is not good, because we were not - okay.”

Apollo wishes he could remember with clarity all that Phoenix said to him about this time a year ago, about Klavier, about Phoenix being concerned for him. He does remember that Phoenix said something about some other prosecutor then, too, that Klavier reminded him of. Or that he was worried Klavier was going to end up like.

Phoenix inhales slowly, and says, “Six months after Mia was murdered - which was three, three and a half years after I was cursed, mind you - I lost someone else. I didn’t realize how badly he was doing - he did a good job at hiding it, and I didn’t know how to reach out. I was wrapped up in my own loneliness and depression, and then he was gone.”

He stops turning the magatama between his fingers, staring down at it for a few seconds, and then he resumes fidgeting with it. “I felt like I’d caused both of those. Couldn’t convince myself otherwise. Every other factor I knew there was, every single thing I couldn’t prevent or control, all these other things that other people did - I still thought that if I wasn’t cursed, then it could have been - just different enough that they would still be here.” He reaches up, brushing his fingertips across his temple. “Wouldn’t have been a fatal wound. Or wouldn’t have—”

He falters, staring past Apollo now, over at the window. This is the same thing he said about Mia earlier, about that sense of guilt, even knowing someone else murdered her. That he held some kind of responsibility, for a curse that seems to manifest itself as coincidence. Just coincidence, a little too often.

“They could’ve been okay, somehow, in the end, I thought,” he continues. “And instead, I was - I was there, I was still around, and they weren’t. And all I could think was that if I didn’t do something, then I would just lose the other few friends I still had - they would be around me, and they would die for it.”

“Didn’t you say that there’s no way you know to break a curse?” Apollo asks. From Phoenix’s solemn expression, he’s not going to suddenly say that there is a method, but Apollo has no idea what he is going to say. What that something he thought to do was.

“Right,” Phoenix says. “So I thought - only way to take the curse out of the equation is by taking myself out of the equation. I thought - as long as I’m not around - if I go and die, then anyone else who I love won’t. The curse will be gone, right, if death finally takes me. But the curse only seemed to hit other people, not me, so if dying was what I needed to do, then I…”

Klavier lying on the stage, wondering why it had to be Courte who died instead of himself. Phoenix’s dark, pained eyes, as he speaks again, finishes the thought in a voice barely above a murmur. “It made - made far too much sense to me, then. Was far too appealing a prospect.”

The question of what Phoenix won’t quite spell out catches sideways in Apollo’s throat, and when he tries to force it he just makes a soft croaking sound. Phoenix presses his lips together and glances away. “It’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone,” he adds softly. “Klavier’s - he’s what, twenty-whatever? I was twenty-five when I—”

When Mia died, Apollo thinks, but that Phoenix doesn’t finish the thought, swallows hard and stares at his desk and says something else, makes Apollo think there was something even worse he could have said, with that implication he didn’t say. “And Trucy - she’s my daughter. I’m supposed to protect her. I took her in because I couldn’t live with the thought of anything else happening to her when I could bring her here, hope that Mia could somehow bless and protect her as much as she did me. But I can’t imagine just - I can’t let that happen to her. To suffer the way I did, to - to spend her life wondering if wherever she goes, someone’s going to die - the concert, Nine-Tails Vale, to ever - to think she can blame herself. Or that everyone she loves is better off without her. Or to—”

He blinks, fiercely, his eyes watering, and Apollo hopes he’ll never have to see Phoenix this close to tears again. Phoenix, cursed and trying - and in the case of Klavier, now failing - to shelter others from that same pain. Klavier, and Trucy, and—

“What about Vera?” he asks. “You explained to me, but did you ever tell her that she’s—” Phoenix stares at him, blinks slowly. Apollo squeezes his own eyes shut. “You didn’t tell her.” He’s unable to muster the same indignation he was before. He can’t really even bring himself to feel manipulated. Phoenix told him exactly that he was saying all this to make Apollo understand. Phoenix sought this reaction. But Phoenix’s chessmaster act has never superceded his desire to keep secrets before; there’s no way that Apollo can convince himself that this emotional vulnerability is all entirely a ploy to get Apollo to shut up. How many times has he refused to explain something and just left Apollo to stay angry about being in the dark? He has never been reluctant to do that. To just sit silent and lock Apollo out. To let Apollo hate him for his secrets.

He wanted Apollo to understand, intimately, whatever it took. So that Apollo would agree keep these secrets. So that Apollo would go along with him. And it might be concern that drives him - he cares, of course he does - but it’s still manifesting in the most infuriating ways possible. In well-meant silence.

“Would you want to know?” Phoenix asks, and that question at this time is an answer and confirmation in itself. “I know the truth is important to you, Apollo - I know it is to all of us.”

For once, Apollo believes he means it. He’d know it’s the truth because he can see when Phoenix is lying, but he’s actually convinced, this time.

“But,” Phoenix continues, “if you already know that the person who cast the curse hates you and is in jail for committing murder - already got to come to terms with that, or grieve that, or for someone else dead - you already know that truth. Would you really, honestly want to live with also knowing that you’re cursed?”

To possibly want to die because of it, like Phoenix did? Apollo opens his mouth. He wants to say yes, yes he would like to know, because that’s the truth of it and he wants to always know the truth, all of its facets no matter how ugly.

Doesn’t he?

He thinks about Nahyuta, about Dhurke, about trying to forget they ever were anyone, because that’s easier than facing the fact that Dhurke abandoned him, and they might both be dead by now. Easier than wondering whether they were human or fae or something else. He doesn’t want to know what they were. He wants to deny the dreams, to convince himself they’re nothing but the weird subconscious mash-up of memory and the fae horrors Clay has spent all these years warning him about. He doesn’t want the truth about his childhood. He doesn’t want to remember his childhood at all.

(Is it well-meant silence when he doesn’t tell Clay, or Trucy, or Klavier, about them? To not worry them about his life and his past? Or is it just cowardice on his part? Blissful ignorance.)

He closes his mouth. Thinks about the smile Trucy forced onto her face as she realized that Apollo was about to reveal to the court that her father Zak Gramarye was murdered six months before then. Thinks about how she couldn’t keep that smile forced when she found out that her dead grandfather took her mother’s soul for his own personal gain. Thinks about Klavier lying on the stage wishing that he had been the corpse there, not Courte. All the pains that truth has caused them. Is that better or worse than that alternative? Does it depend on what truth it is being hidden?

(He thinks about how long it’s been since he’s said Nahyuta’s name out loud. What color were his eyes in real life, and not Apollo’s haunted dreams? He doesn’t remember.)

“I - I don’t really know,” he admits.

The smug, victorious expression he expects never arrives on Phoenix’s face. There’s no satisfaction in winning this argument. “I’m sorry,” he says, closing his hand around the magatama. “I told you about Vera because it mattered directly for that case, but the rest of this - I wanted to shoulder it myself. So the rest of you don’t have to worry about it. I don’t want you to have to keep secrets from anyone. But I don’t know what else to do.” He forces a smile onto his face with visible effort that makes Apollo wince. Nothing masks the exhaustion written into the lines on his face. “Maybe we put our heads and together we figure out some better way to talk about it. If I ever figure that I should tell…”

He trails off, touching a finger to his locket. Tell Trucy. If he ever gains reason to think that he should tell Trucy. Would he actually run it by Apollo first, ask for his advice? The possibility of being in Phoenix’s confidence for something that isn’t a case doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.

“I still don’t think you should try and keep it secret forever,” Apollo says, “but I - I guess I see what you mean. And why you don’t just…”

Why he doesn’t just tell her. More reason that just because Phoenix doesn’t “just tell” anyone anything. For once, he’s not being a cryptic bastard.

“Believe me, Apollo,” Phoenix says darkly, “I’m always thinking ahead and trying to plan for the worst. I’m not naive enough to just hope that anything will stay one way ‘forever’. But I have to be sure I don’t make it worse, either.”

It isn’t the lack of a visual cue that makes Apollo believe him. It’s knowing him that makes Apollo believe him. Phoenix always has his eye on something down the line, playing out the plan a few steps ahead to find the complications. Even - especially - while he wasn’t a lawyer. A gambler’s steady hand holding the cards, chancing on an outcome, because the cost of doing nothing at all is even more unthinkable.

Apollo nods, more times than necessary, lacking anything else to say. Phoenix cocks his head. “Apollo, you all right?” he asks.

What the hell is he supposed to say - how the hell is he supposed to be? Fine? In what world is he possibly fine? At the end of this, he’s learned more than he ever dreamed he would from his sole initial question, but in it all, that first answer has never changed.

This is all there is. A rabbit hole of pain so unfathomably deep and winding, and in its darkest depths, the same as the answer given to him on the surface: there’s no way to break a curse. Their lives aren’t the kind of fairy tale where true love’s kiss can wake a sleeping beauty or transform a beast back to a prince - it’s grimmer than that, colder than that, crueler than that. Curses not so concretely visible but more like haunting coincidence, a ghost whispering at the shoulder with reminders of guilt. How could a man who wasn’t even there when the crime happened blame himself for his mentor’s murder? And yet, even after the killer’s confession, how could he not? How can even the curse’s caster be blamed when someone else wielded the murder weapon? And yet, how could they not share in it?

Apollo would rather someone have been turned into a frog, honestly. Wouldn’t that be easier to grapple with, a simple chain of cause and effect, and no ambiguity in who to blame.

“No,” Apollo finally says. “Not really, no.”

“I guess that was a bit of a stupid question, huh.”

Apollo nods. No kidding. What’s a better question at this point, anyway? Not what he says. “How - how can there really not be any way? For a curse to be broken, I mean.”

Phoenix spins his chair around, resting his head back against it, eyes turned up to the ceiling. Once he slows to a stop, facing the windows, he says, “I mean, maybe it’s possible there was, once, but it was forgotten. There’s a lot of magic that’s gone that way.”

He gives Apollo a moment to digest that, and then continues, “The Court’s heyday was thousands of years ago. They’re living ruins of what they used to be, and a fraction of what they used to know. Maya - you haven’t met her, she’s Pearl’s cousin - Maya’s helping me out with some matters by trying to dig up more about some kinds of magic they’ve forgotten the nuance of. But even that’s something we’ve got a hint that they knew, once. Not like—” He shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry. Don’t hold your breath waiting for a way to break a curse.”

“Oh,” Apollo says, somewhat surprised, but pleasantly so, that Phoenix said that much. It would be typical of him just to reiterate that no, there just isn’t any way he knows, that’s all, and to skip the explanation for fear of giving Apollo false hope. But thinking about the prospect of false hope is still easier than really, truly considering the meaning of what Phoenix just said - that this, that everything they’ve ever had to deal with in regards to the fae, could have be so much worse. They could do so much worse than all this pain they’ve ever wrought - they were once so much more dangerous than this, and now their Court is only ruins. This is what they are when they are weak.

“If I do find anything out, I’ll—”

Phoenix breaks off, rising up slowly from his chair, staring at something past Apollo, over his shoulder. Apollo twists around to look, not sure what he expects to see, but it certainly isn’t Vongole standing in the doorway, her head held high, her body much more solid than it usually appears, and stiller. The wispy fur at the back of her legs and off of her tail does not stir as though she is made of mist and surrounded by a breeze that affects only her; she could almost, in this moment, be a normal dog, but for her glowing eyes and her ears so bright red as though they were dipped straight in paint.

All the color drains from Phoenix’s face. He snatches up the magatama and springs to his feet, hurrying past Vongole to peer into the other half of the office. Apollo rises to his feet; if Klavier was here - if he heard what Phoenix was hiding - how Apollo promised to keep it a secret—

Vongole stares at Apollo. She doesn’t move. Phoenix reappears in the doorway, curling a hand in his hair, but his face has fallen slack with obvious relief. The claws curled into Apollo’s heart unclenches. “So then what are you doing here?” Phoenix asks the hound, whose ears fold back flat against her head, though her snout does not turn to shift her attention to Phoenix. She stares Apollo down like she will pounce. “Does he send you places or did you just wander here yourself?”

“You don’t know?” Apollo asks.

“You think I’ve ever had the chance to ask either Kristoph or Klavier about the logistics of their spectral hellhound?” Phoenix asks. Apollo tries to remember when he first started seeing Vongole. Whose ownership she would have been under. How soon after Kristoph’s arrest did Klavier come back to Los Angeles?

Despite her weirdly lanky proportions, like a regular dog was put on a rack and stretched out, Vongole always moves with grace, a predator’s prowl and elegance. A monster, but a beautiful one. She circles Apollo like she intends to herd him somewhere, like she is a shark smelling blood waiting for the moment to strike. “What—” Apollo spins too, trying always to keep her in his sight. She moves just slowly enough that he can keep up, but just quickly enough that he becomes slightly dizzy in his efforts. “What do you want?”

She stops. Apollo steps forward, trying to escape her circle, but she swings suddenly to the side, throwing her body up against Apollo’s hip. He expects her to fade through him, as she does walls and doors, but when she hits him he staggers with the force of her weight. And the cold - her body is cold and it reaches straight through his clothes, cold enough to burn, ice on bare skin type of burning, and Apollo doesn’t understand. He’s touched Vongole before, without problem, hasn’t he? Surely he has. What’s wrong with her? Or is something wrong with Klavier?

She trots over to the door, standing on the threshold, staring back at Apollo with her head aloft. He can’t bring himself to move, can’t unfreeze his feet from where they are riveted into the ground. Vongole presses her ears back against her head, lowering it so that her neck is level with her shoulders, prowling again, and she makes another circle of Apollo before again stopping in the doorway.

“I think she wants you to go with her,” Phoenix says.

She wags her tail, much faster than the usual low, wide swishing path that it takes. Apollo wrenches his foot from the floor and takes one step forward. Vongole bounds through the front room of the office, weaving between magic props tossed carelessly on the floor as though she couldn’t pass through them. And she stops and waits at the door, glancing expectantly back at Apollo. He fumbles his phone free from his pocket, finding no messages waiting for him; why would Klavier do something as cryptic as sending his faery dog to collect Apollo, rather than just calling or texting him?

Unless it isn’t Klavier instructing Vongole. Unless she’s acting on her own. Or unless Klavier is in trouble.

“You’d better go,” Phoenix says. “I can lend you the—”

“It’s fine,” Apollo says. He’s pretty sure that Klavier hates the magatama, and he found him fine without it last night. And he didn’t have Vongole guiding him then.

“Let me know that everything’s all right,” Phoenix says quietly. Apollo opens his mouth to ask what Phoenix knows, why he’s so sure that this means something is wrong - remembers what Phoenix said about himself and how Klavier reminds him of himself, long ago. Closes his mouth. Knows why Phoenix worries.

Phoenix always worries. He means well. His road is paved in well-intended worry.

“Yeah,” Apollo says. “I’ll - I’ll let you know.”

Vongole waits for him only to reach the door, diving through it as his hand reaches for the doorknob. He next finds her waiting beside the bike rack, her smoky fur drifting independently of the chill breeze, and as soon as he mounts his bicycle she lopes off down the sidewalk. She never looks back at him but is obviously monitoring him in some way, her pace changing depending on obstacles and traffic so that she always remains in his sight. He follows her through the quieter (relatively, anyway) city of weekend mornings, through his usual stomping grounds, to end up on the stoop of an apartment building that is - quite frankly, not as grandiose as Apollo would expect. He presumes this is where Klavier lives.

(If it’s not, then he’s far too deep into something that it’s also far too late to back out of.)

Vongole noses one of the buttons on the buzzer at the entryway and disappears through the door. Only seconds later, too quickly for her to have physically covered the necessary amount of ground, the door clicks to unlock. Apollo enters the lobby and before he has time to take in his surroundings, she appears in front of him. Literally appears - not bounding up to him out of a wall, but materializing out of the air, white fog swirling in circles around her ankles. She directs him to the elevator, pressing her nose into the button for the fourth floor and then several times in quick succession slamming her nose into the close doors button. “So were you always like that, or did you pick up your impatience from him?” Apollo asks.

She sits down and fixes her eyes on him. He doesn’t know what that means. He’s not sure why he bothered talking to her. She can’t respond - can she understand? Does she have some way to communicate information she hears to Klavier? Surely not - hopefully not, depending how long she was in the office.

She does not move until the elevator halts at their destination, and she springs to her feet and slips through the doors before they have opened wide enough for a fully-corporeal dog of her size to pass through. But when he makes it through, she meets him right at the other side, her impatience not taking her any further down the hall until Apollo can follow right at her tail. The walls are not cracked and peeling as in Apollo’s building, but they are certainly plain - again, very much not the kind of place he would imagine Klavier to live.

Vongole throws herself through the door of Apartment 404, and Apollo waits in front of it. A moment passes, and then another. Right. Even a faery dog doesn’t have opposable thumbs to grip a doorknob. He fails to swallow his apprehension but knocks anyway. There has to be a reason Vongole brought him here. He can’t just run away from it.

The seconds crawl past. Apollo reaches up to knock again, but the door swings suddenly open, and he flinches back.

Klavier’s hair is barely held together in a ponytail, strands falling loose around his face, and he looks even more like he hasn’t slept, going by the shadows under his eyes. And Apollo never thought there would come the day that he sees Klavier in sweatpants, but - he’s still alive. He’s still intact in one mobile piece, and he’s lucid enough to look annoyed. Apollo fumbles for words, any at all, but none arrive on his tongue. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He starts to raise his arm to point at Vongole, to blame her, and before he can, Klavier sighs, shaking his head, his apparent annoyance sliding into exhaustion, and he steps out of the doorway, pulling the door open wider, and gesturing for Apollo to come in.

[notes on the chapter]

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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