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yslkook · 3 years

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red card - on the defensive (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader (soccer captain jjk) summary: you and jungkook run in the same circles, and yet after three years, he struggles to get your time of day. you think he’s cocky and he’s going to change your mind. word count: 5.1k warnings: cursing, alcohol/drinking (lots of it), suggestive content a/n: this story is for @cutechim, it went down in the DM’s and came to life. this is my entry into the blond jk foray!! enjoy<3

red card masterlist

“What should we drink?” Hana shouts over the music to you in the crowd.

“Uh… let’s do jagerbombs,” You shout back, even though you’re both relatively close to each other at the bar. You peer behind you at the group of people you’ve congregated with this afternoon, counting a total of four.

“Can I have… eight jagerbombs?” You request of the bartender, who raises his eyebrow at you.

“Why am I not surprised,” He says with a roll of his eyes, “You’re all gonna run me dry of my jager.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time it happened,” You mutter. And you’re right- it’s happened at least twice over this summer, when you and your friends made a weekly appearance to this bar. The bartender knows you and Hana by your faces at this point and you’ve jokingly asked why your usual order of jagerbombs or tequila shots aren’t ready upon arrival.

These weekly occurrences were sponsored by your job at a law firm near your university. And by sponsored, you mean that your bank account takes a minor hit on a weekly basis. Since university had let out, you’d made yourself available for as many hours as possible- after all, you needed a way to fund these days and nights out.

While juggling a summer class three days a week for three hours each day.

But you weren’t completely financially irresponsible- you drew the line… eventually. Certainly not after eight jagerbombs though (you’d stopped questioning how you could easily drop that much money on alcohol these days). At least it's summer happy hour and you’re not paying full price.

Besides, you and your friends rotate rounds. Hana will get the next one, and then one of the guys, and so on and so forth. You’d gotten two extra specially for you and Hana, but nobody needed to know that.

You love these summer days, when it’s nothing but you and your friends enjoying the breeze and the vibes of a fun afternoon (that inevitably leads to a night of more recklessness). Nothing can take the tipsy grin off of your face or the arm looped around your best friend’s shoulders, except-

Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and Jeon Jungkook. You don’t mind Jimin as much (mostly because of Hana, who’s been harboring a not so secret crush that is definitely bordering more on love than a simple crush on him for who knew how long). But still, when all three of them are together, you make your disdain very known and obvious. At least you think you do.

Some of the star players from your university’s soccer team, and the captain himself, Jeon Jungkook. They walk into the crowded, noisy bar as if they own the place and you can already see heads turning. You roll your eyes and tell Hana to get it together when she starts giggling and waving at Jimin.

Your eyes seem to meet the back of your skull when all three of them saunter over towards you and your friends. It’s not that you have anything against them per se, it’s that you find them as a unit quite annoying and you know of their reputations. Or, you think you know of their reputations. Maybe you’re a little judgmental. But who cares, it’s not any of their business.

Most of your perhaps misplaced vitriol is reserved for Jungkook himself and the few interactions that you’ve had over the last almost four years of being in university together. You’ve had a few general ed classes with him freshman year, but after that most of your interactions were solely at parties and any excuse to celebrate. You had mutual friends (somehow) so it was inevitable that you saw him as much as you did.

Every fiber of him annoyed you- he was cocky and arrogant… Everything you intensely disliked in a person. Hana told you that you were being mean and judgmental (not as nicely), but if it meant not dealing with this boy who got a rise out of you for no reason, then it didn’t matter. Of course, he doesn’t take up space in your mind very often. Only when you have the misfortune of running into him.

You didn’t know him, and truly, you didn’t care to. You’ll remain civil though, only if he doesn’t annoy you. Which you doubt will happen.

Jungkook can sense your iciness towards him and his friends from half a mile away, from across the bar. And the bar itself is pretty big, with an outdoor area and an outdoor dance floor, and two bars inside with tables and booths and a dance floor. Despite the space of the bar, it’s crowded with college students, young professionals, and even older corporate workers who look like they work relatively close to the bar. He knows you and your friends come here often, and if that was why he had suggested to Jimin and Tae that they also come here then that was his business.

He swallows (not nervously). You look so pretty when you laugh, he thinks. He thinks you look pretty all the time, though. He lets his eyes wander to your tight black crop top shirt with cherries printed on it and your high waisted denim shorts. Jungkook’s throat goes a little dry when his gaze reaches your thighs, but he keeps it together somehow. He doesn’t know how, considering how nice that outfit makes your tits look.

“Hey Cherries,” Jungkook says smoothly, “Flattered you got this for me.” And he plucks the jagerbomb that you paid for for yourself and downs it in less than three seconds.

Your jaw drops. The audacity of this boy.

“First of all,” You narrow your eyes, “Who the fuck is a ‘Cherries’. And second of all, I know you didn’t just drink the drink that I paid for. Right in front of my fuckin’ face.”

“That’s a funny way of asking me to buy you a drink, Cherries,” Jungkook grins, and gazes at your chest for a second too long. You roll your eyes and swat his arm.

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. I’ll have a tequila shot, pretty boy,” You smirk at him and he smirks right back at you.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants,” Jungkook attempts, only for you to scoff.

“Congratulations,” You say flatly, “You’re lucky I’m not subjecting you to getting me two tequila shots for having to hear that line.”

“You don’t like my lines?” He’s pouty and his eyes are wide, mischief sparkling in them. You dare to think that he’s cute. Apparently all of the boys had dyed their hair blond this summer before the soccer season began and you must admit that it suits him. His hair falls over his forehead effortlessly, small hoops dangling from his ears as he smiles at you.

“Does anyone? Do your groupies?”

“Maybe I’m a little rusty…”

“Oh, I doubt that, Jungkook.”

“Well, you notice whether I have groupies or not, so maybe I’m not so rusty, Cherries,” Jungkook winks at you and you’re tempted to toss your drink at him. But that’s a precious waste of alcohol and perhaps you’re a little dramatic.

You only groan and accept the tequila shot, quickly licking your hand to place salt on and taking a wedge of lime.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks after doing the same.

“How lucky for me, that I get to do shots with our star quarterback,” You say flatly.

“That’s football, Cherries. I play soccer.”

“And I don’t care. Now, take this shot with me.”

As the afternoon blends into evening, you witness betrayal in front of your very eyes in the form of Hana inviting Jimin and his friends with you to the next bar. The ultimate betrayal.

But really, you’ve heard about those soccer boys. At least you think you have. Perhaps you know everything. Perhaps you know nothing at all.

And so the three boys follow you to the next bar as the night goes on. Nearly everyone was at least tipsy by this point, as you had all done a handful of shots following the boys’ arrival at the first bar.

You find yourself thinking that they’re not so bad, when they make you and your friends laugh easily and when being around them feels… fun.

It’s easy to blame on the alcohol and the darkness of the crowded bar. It seems like everyone is out and about, the streets filled with college students and young professionals looking to unwind and let off some steam.

You love the feeling of the music pumping through your veins, along with the swirl of alcohol. You’re not ashamed of enjoying a drink (or several) and having a good time.

Even if it almost always results in you crossing the line and being hungover the next day.

“Wanna do shots,” You suggest to your circle of friends, eyes landing on Jungkook without you meaning to. Maybe it’s a hidden challenge and he raises his eyebrows.

“Again?” Jungkook says incredulously.

“Don’t be surprised,” Jimin mutters under his breath to Jungkook, “She’s kinda crazy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes… six shots then?” You say cheerily, ignoring Jungkook’s groan. You vaguely recall that Taehyung doesn’t really drink. How considerate of you.

Hana’s arm is slung around your shoulders, a bright (drunken) smile on her face as you pass shots behind you.

The following week, on your usual day of happy hour drinking, Hana presents you with a proposition that has you gasping and gagging, nearly writhing on the floor.

“No, for your information, I do not want to pregame at the soccer house. Thanks for asking, try again later,” You say definitively, pouring Hana a drink.

“Jimin invited us! I wanna see him,” Hana complains and pouts at you, “He said they got good alcohol for the pregame-”

“Jimin invited you, because you both like each other or whatever,” You roll your eyes, “I’m content to drink here alone-”

“We both know you’ll fall asleep if I leave you alone,” Hana says flatly, “Besides, Jungkook asked if you were coming.”

“And what do I care if Jungkook asked if I was coming?” You scoff, taking a long swig of the strong drink in your red solo cup. You cringe.

“He specifically asked if Cherries was coming,” Hana says with a near maniacal grin, “Pretend all you want that you don’t like that shit. Now go wear that top with cherries on it that makes your tits look nice. Quit being difficult.”

In the end, you end up walking the four blocks to the soccer house and you wear the baby pink long sleeved crop top with cherries on it and denim shorts, much to your chagrin (and to Hana’s delight). You’ve only been here a handful of times (maybe two or three) as a freshman for parties and hadn’t been back since.

Everyone knew the soccer house was the place to party to get shitfaced. Usually, the sophomore and junior year soccer players lived in the house while senior year players moved off campus.

You don’t know who currently lives at the house, but Hana quickly fills you in. Apparently Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook lived together off campus (because of course they did).

The soccer house has been part of the campus lore for years. Allegedly, all of the craziest, most reckless things happened at the soccer house and all of the best parties were there. You and Hana never felt that way freshman and sophomore year, instead opting to party hop at the frat houses rather than the sports houses.

How the tables have turned.

“You made it!” Jimin exclaims, outstretching his arms for a hug from you. Which you (awkwardly) return. You need more alcohol to be here, you think.

“Yeah, only ‘cause Hana told me you guys got the good shit,” You say flatly. Taehyung passes a cup of something and you eye it suspiciously but ultimately take a swig of it.

“Pretty good, Tae,” You say, raising your cup to him.

“Oh, I didn’t make that. I’m only the messenger,” Taehyung shrugs with a sly grin, “Jungkook over there did.”

You turn your head, only to find Jungkook staring back at you, lips upturned in a playful grin. It makes you roll your eyes, as most of his antics do.

“Hey, Cherries,” Jungkook greets, standing next to you after a few long strides, “It only took Jimin asking you once to come here, huh? I should be offended, considering how many times I’ve asked you-”

“And when have you ever asked me to party here, Jungkook?”

He only gives you a small smile, almost shy, and it’s a stark contrast from the generally cocky aura that hangs around him. “You just don’t remember.”

You frown a little, wondering what that means. But he gives you another broad smile quickly, shaking you from your reverie. Jungkook leaves you to your devices, being pulled away by some of the younger soccer guys that you hardly recognize. Freshmen? Sophomores, maybe? They look at Jungkook and the older guys with a playful sort of reverence- it’s clear that the team is close even off of the field.

You briefly wonder what that’s like- having a group of friends like that. Hana’s always been the nicer, more outgoing one out of you both. She’s always made friends easily, with her sweet and genuine smiles. And then there’s you- you struggle to open up to others, always greeting anyone with the sting of sarcasm and holding people at arm’s length.

Sometimes, very rarely, you wonder how you and Hana mesh well together. When she could have a big group of great friends, you used to wonder if you hold her back somehow. It was stupid, and the first time you voiced your insecurity to Hana, she had smacked you upside the head and told you that you were stuck with her.

But still. You can’t help but feel burdensome sometimes. Maybe like you’re too much. Maybe not enough.

Hana pulls you out of your thoughts easily, an arm around your shoulder as she pulls you into conversation with Jimin and a few other girls.

You down about half the cup of whatever concoction Jungkook whipped up for you and tried to immerse yourself in conversation. There’s a new girl here that you don’t recognize, Sunmi. She’s a transfer and the last thing you want is for her to feel left out. So you make sure to include her in the conversation and ask her questions, too.

Jungkook is not surprised that you don’t remember how many times he’s asked you to come party at the soccer house. Granted, it’s only been a handful of times over the last three years and change. It’s not like you were a stranger- he’s known you through a few mutual classes through the years, and through Jimin, too. After all, Jimin and your best friend have had this weird on and off, together but not together thing going on since the summer before sophomore year.

Maybe one of these days, they’ll get it together. Jungkook loves Hana for Jimin and vice versa- he’s never seen either smile as much as they do around each other. If only they would just admit how much they like (love) each other and put everyone around them out of their misery.

Jungkook thinks it’s a little romantic. Being so in love with someone that labels aren’t needed. There’s something poetic about that.

But Jungkook doesn’t know why you act like you don’t know him at all. You always greet him with a near frown or a roll of your shining eyes.

He doesn’t understand but he pays it no mind, instead turning his focus to the pretty woman eyeing him from the other side of the bar with her friends.

(She’s not you, but it doesn’t matter. Jungkook pushes you to the back of his mind, instead choosing to focus on the velvet heat of the woman in his bed later that night.)

With your shift at the law firm starting at 9 AM the following morning, you decide to remain relatively sober for the night (you enjoy a good time, but you try to draw the line when you can. Though there have been times when you’ve gone to work hungover or possibly even still intoxicated. It happens every so often. You’ve never claimed to be the paradigm of a working college student.)

But also, you don’t really feel like being out tonight to begin with. You do enjoy nights like this, but you also enjoy your quiet time. And it seems like this is one of those nights.

At least someone’s having fun, you think dryly, your eyes glossing over Jimin and Hana. You do think they’d be a great match- if only either of them would make it official. This dance that they’ve been doing for years frustrates you and Hana knows it. You’ve voiced it to her many times but she always says it’s not the right time.

It makes you roll your eyes. You briefly wondered if you should host an intervention and scold Jimin for taking too long- after all, if they kept playing games like this then who’s to say one of them wouldn’t move on? But it seems like they both always gravitate to each other no matter what.

He rotates around her axis and she rotates around his. It’s sweet but Jimin still puts a sour taste in your mouth for a reason that you can’t verbalize into words.

Maybe it’s the company he keeps.

The music is loud in your ears as you dance with your group of friends, two of them in an impromptu dance off that you inevitably get dragged into. You sling your arm around Sunmi and nudge hips with her, getting her to come out of her shell a little bit and dance with her on the dance floor. She sings to the same songs as you do and gives you a bright, happy smile that you can’t help but return.

You buy a round of beers for your friends before the first yawn comes, not even at 1 AM. Hana looks at you quizzically.

You keep checking your phone for the time. Which in itself is pretty out of character for you. But you just need a recharge before the next outing…..

But you suck it up, not wanting to leave Sunmi by herself. You fight through your yawns and nurse your beer, twirling and swirling around with Sunmi.

And then you start to get hungry. Damn, you could go for some tacos right now.

“Hey,” Sunmi shouts over the music, “Wanna get food?”

“Wow, you read my mind,” You grin and chug your beer quickly. You and Sunmi both settle on the bar across the street (with the best tacos). You turn to find your friends and let them know that you’re heading across the street. Jimin and Hana both nod eagerly, Taehyung does, too.

You debate if you should ask Jungkook if he wants food- after all, it looks like he’s busy with a girl currently sending him sultry heart eyes.

“Hey, we’re going to get food. Wanna come?” You ask, “You, too.” You look at the pretty girl who looks familiar. She probably attends the same university as you and your friends.

Jungkook’s ears perk up at the mention of food, even with the girl currently standing in between his legs. She looks wary for a minute and before you can reassure her, Jungkook speaks up.

“Sure. I could go for some tacos,” Jungkook says, “Let’s get some tacos, Nari.”

“Are you sure, I mean I don’t want to impose. We can catch up later, Kook,” Nari says unsurely.

Jungkook will admit, this feels weird for a reason that he can’t place. The girl he’s trying to hook up with for the night getting tacos with the girl he might have a slight crush on.

Weird. But still, there’s no harm in just having tacos.

“Trust me, you’re not imposing, Nari. I barely even like this guy,” You joke, “I’m just a big proponent of tacos and tacos should never be eaten alone. Tell your friends too, if they wanna come.”

“Hey!”

You ignore Jungkook to reassure Nari and give her a bright smile. Nari looks at you, and then Jungkook before nodding slowly and returning your smile.

Jungkook walks Nari out with a hand at the small of her back, something you don’t miss as you chat away with Nari about anything and everything.

You even shoot Jungkook a wink when Nari isn’t looking. He groans internally- how poetic. His current crush giving him the approval of his hook up for the night (Nari knew what the deal was).

How incredibly awkward. Jungkook is capable of many things, always adapting to situations. But this is a new one and when Jimin and Taehyung catch his eye at the taco shop, they both give him a derisive smile.

Jungkook can only groan internally and eat his tacos.

Today’s Wednesday night is uneventful- Hana is with Jimin for the evening and they are likely going out with some friends. You had opted out, as you had an early shift at the law firm tomorrow morning. You’ve gone out the night before early shifts and early classes and more than half the time, you regret it the next day.

Does it mean you’ll stop those habits any time soon? Stay tuned.

But today, you just feel tired from a particularly long, difficult morning of class and your half shift that you worked until five PM. You hadn’t felt like cooking dinner (you had taken leftovers to work for lunch) and by the time you finished your homework for your natural language processing class, it was past 9 PM and your stomach was rumbling loudly.

You’ve been craving noodles, dumplings and chicken. So you place an order at the nearby restaurant by your apartment and order some extra for Hana for later or for tomorrow.

It’s only a fifteen minute walk from your apartment to the shop, and you plug your headphones in to begin your walk.

You sway on the heels of your feet as you wait for your food, saying hello to the couple who owns the small restaurant. They know you by face, from how many times you’ve been here. Your favorite comfort food (besides homemade food made by your parents) exists here. Your favorite aromas exist here and even just the smell of noodles and chicken has your tummy rumbling.

“I thought you would’ve been out,” A voice comes from your right side, “It’s the week before classes start.”

You turn your head at the voice, heart startling a bit. What in the world is Jungkook doing at your secret but not so secret restaurant?

“I could say the same for you,” You remark with a raise of your eyebrow, “I heard Jimin and Tae went out.”

You vaguely wonder if he’s still hooking up with Nari but decide it’s not your business to ask.

“Ah, well… I have work tomorrow,” Jungkook shrugs.

“Me too, they want me in at 7:30 tomorrow,” You complain, “What do I look like? A cog in the wheel that is capitalism?”

“Don’t we all?” Jungkook snorts.

“I didn’t realize you were working this summer, too. Thought you were just doing whatever soccer captains do,” You mutter, picking up your order off of the countertop.

“And what do soccer captains do, Cherries?”

“I dunno. Score touchdowns or whatever,” You shrug and laugh at the pained expression on Jungkook’s face, “And stop calling me that, Jungkook.”

“Whatever, Cherries. I’ve been working at this architecture firm as an intern. Figured it would help with post grad.”

“Oh wow, I didn’t know that was your major…”

“You definitely did, I’m pretty sure I’ve told you.”

“When-” You shake your head, not wanting to argue with him, “That’s cool. I’m working at a law firm, it’s about a fifteen minute bus ride from my apartment.”

“You wanna study law? Makes sense, because you always wanna argue with me-”

“No, I don’t really know if I want to go to grad school,” You trail off, “Hey! I don’t always argue with you!”

“You’re arguing now,” He says smugly, crossing his hands across his broad chest that you definitely do not ogle at.

“Whatever, Jungkook,” You roll your eyes, “You here for classes or anything?”

“Nah, not this summer. Just work and soccer,” Jungkook replies, “Gives me lots of time for other things.” The man has the audacity to wink at you and give you a big, bunny grin. You pretend like your stomach doesn’t flutter.

You roll your eyes, again.

“How about you, Cherries? Any classes?”

“Yeah, I’m taking this natural language processing class three times a week for three hours each day-”

“Wait, you’re a comp sci major?” He asks incredulously, “Why are you working at a law firm then?”

“I’m working half as IT support and half as the intern,” You reply with a shrug, “It pays well and it’s pretty easy. Half of the IT support comes in the form of telling the lawyers to restart their computers for software updates. It’s so funny, you should see their amazed faces when all it takes is a fuckin’ restart. Makes a girl feel smart as hell.”

“Smart and pretty, huh?” Jungkook says with a crooked grin, “Where you been all my life, Cherries?”

“Shut up,” You say flatly, levelling him with a glare that only makes him smirk even wider at you.

“Cute,” He breathes with so much conviction that it almost makes you flustered. You clutch your bag of food a little tighter to ground yourself.

“Me telling you to shut up is cute?” You raise both your eyebrows, eager to shield him from the heat in your cheeks.

“Among many other things, Cherries.”

“Share with the class then…”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Shut up, and why do you like calling me cherries so much,” You complain, lips jutted out in a pout, “I only wore that top once and now look. You’re referring to me as a delectable, juicy fruit. I mean I don’t blame you-”

“Cherries are my favorite,” Jungkook says, dark eyes swirling with stars. He unnerves you with his raw honesty and sincerity and he lets the implication of his words hang in between you both, your eyes wide by his statement.

“Well, your taste is questionable because mangoes are very obviously superior-”

You both share a laugh and you’re pleasantly surprised by how the silence that comfortably falls isn’t awkward when you deflect. His name is called shortly after, breaking his intense stare.

You let out a huff, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Hey, I’ll drive you home,” Jungkook says, pushing the door open for you to exit the shop.

“You have a car on campus?” You say, unable to hold back the awe in your voice, “That’s awesome. And uh, no, I mean, you really don’t have to, it’s only a fifteen minute walk-”

“It’s a two minute ride,” Jungkook says, “But I mean, if you’re not comfortable, I get it-”

“No, it’s not that,” You say honestly, “I just don’t want to inconvenience you-”

“You’re not, it’s a two minute ride. Now get in,” Jungkook says reassuringly, opening the passenger side door for you. He puts his own bags of food in the backseat before getting into the driver’s side.

You’ve never really been alone with Jungkook, but for some reason it doesn’t feel that strange. It’s easy to keep conversation (really, it’s banter) flowing with him- as if you’ve been friends for the entirety of the last few years of college. As if you hadn’t spent nearly every waking moment thinking of him a certain way.

He’s easy to talk to. It unnerves you, but you roll with it.

“You should come to a practice one of these days,” Jungkook murmurs. You raise an eyebrow. Why would he ask you to come to one of his soccer practices when you had only just started an acquaintance-ship? Isn’t that crossing some sort of friendship line that you both hadn’t approached yet.

It’s months later when you realize that everything Jungkook does and says is because of his kind, golden heart. He’s such a genuine person, sincerity always dripping from his warm, brown eyes. Everything he does, he does with love.

“Thanks for driving me home, Jungkook,” You murmur with a small smile. It makes his heart sputter in his chest and he easily returns it. “Text me when you get home?”

“If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask. Cherries,” Jungkook says smugly and you gasp, affronted. “Text me when you get inside your place.”

“That’s not- I didn’t-” You stammer, sighing, “I already have your number, stupid.”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” You mutter, cheeks blazing as you hurry to get out of his car. Which coincidentally smells just like him. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“‘Night, Cherry.”

You roll your eyes but give him a small wave and a smile before entering your building.

cherries: I’m inside. Drive safe jungkook: you worried about me? cherries: no im worried about your nice car jungkook: uh huh… gonna leave now, text you when i get home? cherries: 👍🏾

It’s about three minutes later (you barely even have time to wash your hands and change into pajamas) before your phone lights up again.

jungkook: im home cherries: me too jungkook: wow you’re funny cherries: pretty and smart too, according to you jungkook: well i wasnt lying 😍 cherries: Uh huhhhhh

You put your phone to the side to put some of the food on your plate, your stomach still rumbling. You turn on the anime you’re currently watching and get cozy on the couch with a glass of wine.

And in the middle of your late dinner, your wine and your show, your phone lights up with texts from Jungkook. It surprises you that he holds the conversation even when you had given him such a dull response. Isn’t he tired of texting you by now?

He keeps you company through your dinner and you barely are even paying attention to the anime you’re watching, only giggling to yourself over Jungkook’s silly texts-

cherries: you’re so distracting, couldnt even finish this episode of fruits basket jungkook: cute cherries: i cant tell u if its cute, i barely watched it bc of you jungkook: no i meant u. Ur cute

Five seconds go by. Then ten. Your face is heated- you’re glad he can’t see you. Maybe you’ll reciprocate someday. But today is not that day.

cherries: shut up

tags: @kookdbean

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

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hallowxiu · 3 years

Text

A Humanistic Fascination

pairing: human!mammon/demon!gn!mc

word count: 3.6k

summary: After your sister Lilith died, you wondered what attracted her to humans in the first place. Your answer comes in the form of a white-haired human named Mammon.

a/n: well this was fun! I kind of want to turn this into a series where mammon is the human selected for the exchange program, but I’m not sure if anyone would be interested. Just let me know; I’m friendly, I don’t bite!! :)

Ever since the day Lilith died and you fell, you had an undying curiosity of humans. You wanted to know what it was about them that drew your sister in so much, a thirst where she was willing to risk and leave everything behind. While your brother Belphegor distanced himself from the humans he once adored, you had done the opposite. Before you and your brothers fell, you didn’t much care for humans. You didn’t dislike them, but you also didn’t like them either. Lilith and Belphegor were always the two to marvel at the creatures down below.

You wanted to know if you missed something. Maybe you didn’t see something the other two had. While your youngest brother now despised them, you wanted to see what drew him in in the first place. Humans had been somewhat of a touchy subject in the House of Lamentation. The obvious reason was Belphegor; anything human related would set him off and it wasn’t a pretty sight. However, the obvious shift in the room whenever humans were brought up was hard to miss.

As the second eldest, you had a bit of a responsibility placed on your shoulders to be a good role model, especially now that the brothers were lost and grieving. Recently, Lord Diavolo had suggested an exchange program where angels and humans would come to the Devildom to learn about the culture in an attempt to join the three realms and have peace. You thought enough time had passed since falling for the brothers to at least consider the idea, but Belphegor had a meltdown and Lucifer nearly locked him up over it. You also noticed a hesitance in your older brother as well. That being said, you wanted to make things easier for everyone. You made sure to help Lucifer with his paperwork so he could get at least some level of sleep, you kept Satan company whenever he felt lonely, you tried to understand all the lingo Leviathan had a tendency to throw out, you tried new foods with Beelzebub (as Belphegor wanted time alone more and more these days…), and you went shopping with Asmodeus every now and then. Belphegor was a different case; he was isolating himself more than Leviathan and you could barely get through to your younger brother. A part of you was hoping that by figuring out more about humans, that you’d somehow be able to get closer with your brother. It was a long shot, and you weren’t even sure it would work, but it was all you had. Even Beelzebub was having a hard time with him these days.

And that’s how you ended up in the human realm. Although you were trying to be a good role model, you did have to sneak away every now and then. Lucifer would never approve of you going to the human realm alone, he had become especially protective of you since falling. You couldn’t blame him; you knew he harbored a lot of blame for the way things ended with Lilith so you tried to be as understanding as you possibly could. That being said, you tried. You still needed to do some things for yourself, and this was one of them. You figured if Lord Diavolo really did plan on hosting an exchange program, growing accustomed to humans and their respective realm would do you some good. For the most part, you stayed hidden in the shadows. When your brothers would travel, like Asmodeus or Satan, they liked to be seen by humans. Never in their demon form (although Satan did lose his temper on that one trip; you try not to delve into that), but they liked to be acknowledged. You were closer to Leviathan in the sense that you liked to blend in with the humans rather than stand out. Unwanted attention might get you into trouble, and the last thing you needed was Lucifer chewing you out about being reckless.

Your eyes narrowed as you observed the streets, taking in the mannerisms of the humans walking by. You were in a busy city and it was mid-December with plenty of human holiday traditions popping up. The hustle and bustle of the city were appealing to you and you could see why so many humans marveled at cities and longed to live there. You were walking through the crowd, hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat despite not being even a bit cold. You wanted to fit in though, so you tried to match everyone else. You noticed how everyone was too busy to look at one another; people rushing by too focused on their everyday lives. At the moment, you couldn’t tell what your two siblings found so appealing about humans. They seemed a little selfish if anything.

And, although ironic enough, you were too busy thinking to yourself to notice others around you, which led you straight into slamming into the chest of someone. “Oi, what the hell-- why don’t ya watch where you’re goin’?” The first thing you noticed was the accent. It was odd, and it certainly didn’t seem to match those of the people surrounding you. The second thing you noticed was the harsh attitude from the mere human you stumbled into. The audacity of some of these humans never failed to amaze you-- oh shit.

You blink several times as you look in front of you, a head of white fluffy hair taking up most of your vision. You still weren’t used to all the interesting colors humans picked to wear, despite the Devildom being filled to the brim with demons who also had some... unique tastes. Hair aside, he was absolutely stunning. You couldn’t find yourself able to look away-- was he also a demon? Did he put you under some kind of spell? Of course, you wouldn’t be surprised to see another demon lurking about, but still--

“Hello? Are ya deaf or somethin’? Ya can’t just go runnin’ into people and then stare at them with these bug eyes. It’s a bit weird, ya know.” Oh, right.

“Uh… sorry?” Not exactly what you planned on saying.

“Yeah…” The man looks at you with a raised eyebrow before clearing his throat and looking away. “Well, I’m in a bit of a rush, so I can’t just stand here all day. Just make sure ya don’t continue to slam into people. Not all of them are as nice as me.” He gives you a wink with that final line and you try to ignore the heat that’s building up in your face. Nice my ass, you can’t help but think. And nearly just as quick as he popped into your life, he vanished. You’re impressed with how fast these humans are; maybe you don’t give them enough credit.

“And where were you?” You were hoping to go unnoticed, but as your luck would have it, of course, Lucifer would catch you the second you walked through the front door. You weren’t a great liar and you both knew this, so you needed to play your cards right. You doubt he’d be happy to know you’ve been running around unsupervised in another realm.

“Uh--”

“You smell like human food.” Beelzebub is quick to point out as he walks into the living room. “Did you bring some human food? Are you going to share?” The red-headed demon is looking at you with a hopeful face and had he not just indirectly ratted you out, you’d probably feel bad for not having any food on you.

“I don’t have any food.” You put it simply and your brother pouts in response. Lucifer, however, is looking at you with a very intense gaze.

“And would you care to explain why you would smell like human food at all?” His arms are crossed over his chest and his foot is tapping against the polished floor. Yeah, you were definitely busted. “And why do you reek of cheap cologne? Were you out with a man?”

“Okay dad, calm down.” You put your hands up in submission. “I was not out with a man, I bumped into one on accident.” More like body slammed into one, but he didn’t need the details. “Maybe he had some human food on him, I don’t know why else I’d smell like it.”

“Must have slammed into him pretty hard to smell that strongly of humans. Unless, of course, the man you crossed paths with was a human.” You swallow thickly under Lucifer’s watchful eye. Damn, you really couldn’t get anything past that man.

“I don’t know why a human would be in the Devildom.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why either.” Lucifer’s looking even more annoyed now. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that. You might have just walked into a trap. “Unless of course…”

“Well, look, maybe he was in the human realm and had a bit of a snack. Maybe he chomped on some humans, I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I can’t keep track of every demon I happen to bump into, but next time I run into one I’ll be sure to take some notes and interview them just in case you don’t like how I smell when I come back home.”

“Watch how you talk to me.” Lucifer was getting a little worked up, but to be fair, so were you. You didn’t mean to be so defensive, but when dealing with someone as investigative as Lucifer, could you really be blamed?

“Well, this was fun and all,” you fake a yawn, “but I’m actually quite tired now. Think I’ll go to bed. Catch some shut-eye. Speaking of,” you point an accusing finger at the eldest, “you should too. All this lack of sleep is what makes you so grumpy.”

“Yes,” he deadpans, “I’m sure it’s the lack of sleep that has me like this.”

Okay, so maybe you had a bit of a problem. Not a big problem, but a problem nonetheless. It had been exactly two days since your first and last outing to the human realm. You had a good time overall, but a certain white-haired boy grabbed your attention and refused to let go. The problem? You knew nothing about him. All you knew was that he had an interesting accent and that he maybe lived in a city. At the very least, he had business in the city. If you still haven’t guessed, your problem is that you can’t get this kid out of your head. You didn’t plan on traveling back to the human realm so soon, but well, life happens and here you are. Right back in the same city as two days ago.

It was still as busy as last time, with people shoving their way down the streets, bags in hands and eyes glued to phone screens. It would be impossible to spot him in this crowd, so you’d have to snoop around. Was this really something you were proud of? No, but you were a demon and you let it justify the odd things you indulged in.

You made your way down a sidewalk, hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat once again as you kept a watchful eye out. Your eyes landed on a small restaurant that was tucked away in a corner and the smell caught your attention. Having temporarily forgotten your mission, and instead thinking of picking up some food for Beelzebub, you made your way towards the restaurant. Pushing the door open, you heard a bell above you ring, alerting your presence to the workers.

“Good afternoon.” A cheerful woman says from behind the counter, currently in the middle of taking an order from a customer. You nod your head in response, debating internally whether or not bringing Beelzebub back food would be worth the scolding from Lucifer as yes, you would essentially be ratting yourself out. You could probably get Beelzebub to swear silence in turn for the food though. As you weigh the pros and cons in your head, you hear a familiar voice come from behind you which makes you freeze in place.

“Eh? What are ya doin’ here? Ya followin’ me or somethin’?” You knew the man was probably joking, but uh… yes. Well, you were at the start, technically, but as luck would have it you just happened to bump into him again, so technically you didn’t stalk him and technically you didn’t track him down. So, no, you were not creepy.

“Yes.” You deadpan, and the white-haired man looks puzzled for a minute before erupting into laughter.

“You’re funny.” He gives you a firm pat on the back as he walks by, and that’s when you take in his appearance. He was wearing an apron, so you could assume he was a waiter for the restaurant. Wow, weren’t you the luckiest demon on this planet? Your eyes scan his uniform, looking for a name tag. Your eyebrow quirks in amusement when you read the word ‘Mammon’. Did his parents hate him? Why would they name a child that? What next? Was his middle name Lucifer too?

“Your name is Mammon.” You deadpan once again.

“Yes.” He replies, a bit of a pout on his lips. You assume he gets comments on his name all the time. You wonder why he hasn’t legally changed it; humans have a process for that, don’t they? They love to change everything.

“It’s nice.” You weren’t lying. As a demon, you did appreciate names on humans that derived from your kind. Although definitely taboo for humans, it was always fascinating to you to see that some humans actually did walk around with demon names.

“Eh? Really?” He’s looking at you with wide eyes again before a dopey smile forms on his lips as the two of you stand chatting by the entrance. “I don’t get that a lot. Are you from around here? I haven’t seen ya much. Have ya been here before?”

“I’m new to the area.” It wasn’t really a lie. “So I’ve just been exploring the area, trying to take everything in. I thought this place smelled good so I came here. I wasn’t expecting to see you.” But it did make things easier. Now that you had a name to a face, maybe you’d be able to get him out of your head.

“So that’s the excuse you’re goin’ with, yeah?” There’s a playful grin on his lips before he leads you to a table. “Just sit tight, I’ll be the one takin’ your order, so glance over the menu, okay?” You can only nod in response as he’s gone almost immediately after. Well, Lucifer would definitely notice your scent now. Nothing about you smelled like a demon; in fact, you’re sure you smelled more human at this point than anything else.

Your eyes follow Mammon’s figure as he disappears into the back, doing who knows what. Cheap cologne, you remember Lucifer bringing that up the other day. You didn’t think Mammon smelled like cheap cologne, he actually smelled quite nice.

You decided to bring your attention to the menu placed on the table in front of you as you found yourself getting too distracted and you didn’t want to risk looking like an actual stalker (although that’s already up in the air) when Mammon comes back. Your eyebrow quirked as you looked over the food. So it’s a café type of place? How cute, you can’t help but think to yourself. You weren’t too hungry, but the longer you stayed there the longer you’d be able to see Mammon. You could always bring it back to Beelzebub.

“Decide on anythin’ yet?” He asks, startling you out of your thoughts. Why didn’t you sense his arrival? You give him a confused look when he places a mug down in front of you. “What? Ya look like a hot chocolate kind of… person?” You stifle a laugh at his odd attempt to address you.

“I do like hot chocolate.” Was it hot in here or was it just you? You cup your hands around the mug and try not to look up at the white-haired man in fear of staring at him like a creep.

“Of course. My intuition is never wrong.” He gives you a wink, which you happen to look up just in time to catch, and low and behold your face is beet red. Just your luck. “So? What do ya want?”

“What do I want?” You choke out and Mammon looks at you with another raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, what do ya want to eat?” Duh.

“U-Uh, yeah, this!” In a panic, you quickly point at a random spot on the menu, to which Mammon bends down to examine it.

“So you’re big on sweets, yeah? I like chocolate too, but that’s a lot even for me.” He has a toothy grin on his face and you quickly look down to see just what exactly it was that you picked out. A chocolate cake drizzled in chocolate sauce served with a side of chocolate wafers. Yeah, that wouldn’t have been your pick if you had actually paid attention, but it is what it is.

“It’s because I’m so sweet.” Yeah, you hated that the second it left your mouth. Mammon, however, seemed to like it as he blurted out a laugh.

“I can’t say that I disagree.” He looks thoughtful for a moment before shifting on his feet. “I’m about to go on break, would ya mind if I sat with ya?” And cue your cheeks heating up again. You just hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.

“Sure, yeah, I don’t mind.” You’re scratching at the back of your neck shyly as you look around the mostly empty restaurant.

“Cool!” Your face is buried in your hands once the man leaves, a shaky sigh leaving you. Did he want to sit with you? You didn’t know if you should consider yourself lucky or unlucky at this point.

At least ten minutes went by before Mammon joined you at your table, the man pulling out his phone as he sat in the empty seat. He was clearly excited to be on break, the man rambling about his day and all the annoying customers he had to deal with. You listen silently as you pick at your cake. You had forced yourself to eat half of it before he joined you, not wanting to look like you didn’t like it and have the white-haired boy ask you questions regarding it. You were still unsure how to feel about his company, but a part of you felt lighter than before.

“What time do you work until?” You found yourself asking and you shyly glanced over at the other.

“I close.” There’s a pout on his lips and you find yourself smiling. “Kinda sucks, but the pay is alright. Better than nothin’ anyway, especially with the holidays comin’ up and all.” He’s playing with his fingers as he glances down at his phone. Was he waiting for something? Maybe he had a partner and he was waiting for them to text him back. For some reason, that thought makes you frown. “Ah, actually,” there’s a sheepish smile on his lips and his cheeks are turning a pretty shade of red, “I was wonderin’ if I could actually get your number.” He’s scratching at the back of his neck and you feel your heart skip several beats in response. He wanted your number? Your number? Him? Your expression must have startled him as the man across from you started stammering out an excuse. “Ah, but, actually-- if it’s too invasive, I didn’t mean anythin’ like that-- I swear, oh god.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” You were beyond grateful, but there was only one teenie tiny issue. “I don’t have a phone.” Well, a human phone that is. You had a perfectly working D.D.D, but nothing that could interact with the human realm. Mammon looks slightly dejected and you know that he doesn’t buy your excuse. You weren’t surprised, a lot of humans seemed to have phones in this era. Living without one seemed to be impossible for them. And, as if the universe wanted to punish you for flirting with a human that was so beneath you, your D.D.D immediately goes off.

Your face pales as you just stare in horror at Mammon. He looks slightly annoyed, though you can tell he’s trying to play it off. That had to sting. “Look, it’s cool. Ya don’t owe me any explanations if ya don’t want me havin’ your number.” He checks his phone once again, the silence in the air suffocating you. “Ya should probably answer that, don’t ya think?” Yeah, he was definitely annoyed with you. You clumsily grab your D.D.D from your pocket, nearly dropping it in the process. You swear under your breath when seeing it’s Lucifer. You wonder what the odds were of him finding out you were in the human realm.

“I uh, I have to go.”

“Important call?” There was bitterness just barely contained in his voice. How did things go so wrong so fast?

“I’m sorry.” You say lamely before leaving all the human currency you had on the table and darted out the doors of the restaurant. God, you’d never be able to show your face in the human realm again. That embarrassment would last for centuries, you were sure of it.

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Note

Hmmm Geraskier Legally Blonde AU. Music major Jaskier follows his long-time muse Chiridean to law school (what, like it’s hard?) but finds him smitten with all-star student Yennefer. Cue Jaskier needing the broody TA, Geralt’s help in not flunking out. Jaskier ends up rocking the high-profile case of Callonetta, even after evil law professor Stregobor attempts to toss him out. (I also needed an excuse to put Jaskier in a playboy bunny outfit. For reasons.)

I am so so sorry this took so long. I almost made it into a longer piece and honestly I may still use the scenes in this to expand into a longer fic on AO3 if I have time but for now... voila! _____________

Jaskier was tearing his hair out. There was no way he would be able to get the grades he needed to get into law school. He was a musician for fuck’s sake. There were so many words and they were all so boring. The paragraphs blended together and blurred making it nearly impossible to focus. He groaned and thumped his head on the table. He could do this. He wanted to do this. He had just hit a wall. He’d been concentrating so hard for weeks, which was, quite frankly, impressive for him. That sort of focus was usually reserved for his composing.

“Come on, Jask. You can do this!”

He couldn’t do this.

“How’s it going, buttercup?” Triss asked as she popped her head around the door.

Jaskier pouted and gazed wistfully out the window at the parties in the street below. “I should be out there, Triss. I could have been up on the stage or snogging some gorgeous person behind the curtain!”

Triss smirked and put her hands on her hips. “Snogging?”

Jaskier winked. “Or fucking,” he added with a shrug. “Anything is better than this shit!” He said gesturing widely to the the stack of books on his desk.

“You could just give up?”

Jaskier gaped at her and huffed. “My muse!” He whined.

“Suit yourself,” Triss shrugged. “Ready to go again?”

Jaskier groaned but nodded as Triss passed him another test whilst setting an alarm on her phone.

“Go!”

He sighed but began to scribble furiously. He could do this!

__________

He’d fucking done it. Jaskier Pankratz was at Law School. His parents had never been so proud. They’d restored his inheritance to their estate and he finally had access to his bank accounts again. No more living on tips and barista wages for him. He grinned. He’d always known that Chireadan would be the best muse! He strutted down the halls dressed in his favourite black skinny jeans and a shocking pink crop top, his guitar slung over his shoulder and an ice coffee in hand.

It was time for the next part of his plan. It was time to get his muse back!

He smiled and waved cheerfully at his fellow law students as he danced through the corridors, sipping his ice salted caramel latte through a straw. Most of them looked at him as if he was from another planet. Their clothes were black, black and black. Did no one in law school know what colour was? Yes he was wearing black jeans, but his top was brightly coloured and more than a little bit sexy. He’d paired the outfit with some designer sunglasses, a gift to himself to celebrate his reunion with his credit card, and a pair high heeled ankle boots that laced up at the front. His fashion sense was just wasted on these clever folk.

He sighed dramatically and glanced up at the doors. He was absolutely not lost. It was just… nothing was very clearly marked. Perhaps that’s why you needed all the extra tests to get into law school, even getting to class was a fucking exam.

“Are you alright?” A deep gruff voice asked. “You look lost.”

Jaskier spun around and peered over the top of his sunglasses. His jaw dropped. The man in front of him was fucking gorgeous. He had the most beautiful silver hair that was pulled into a bun, revealing a sneaky undercut on either side of his head. He was wearing a black turtle neck that was a tad too tight and stretched over hidden muscles, and on his face were a pair of thick black rimmed glasses. It shouldn’t have been so sexy but holy mother of fuck. Even the ratty old tweed jacket looked good on him.

“Lost in your eyes maybe,” Jaskier winked and bit his lips.

“Hmm.”

And then he turned and walked away. Jaskier pouted. The man must be straight. There wasn’t even a blush on his face, either that or Jaskier was losing him game.

Nah. It wasn’t that. He looked fucking hot and he knew it.

Jaskier hurried after him and placed a hand on his arm. “Wait! No. I’m sorry. I am lost, like actually lost and not just in your eyes, although can I just say,” he gestured to the man’s body. “Wow. What colour are your eyes? Yellow, no golden… doesn’t matter. They are gorgeous.”

The man raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m Jaskier by the way. Jaskier Pankratz.” He held his hand out to shake but the man ignored it so he ran his fingers through his hair instead.

“What class?”

“Oh umm, excellent question,” Jaskier stuck out his tongue and he dug through his pockets for his schedule. It was already coffee stained and torn in the corner but who gives a shit. “Professor Stregobor?”

The man let out a weary sigh and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Fuck.”

Jaskier tilted his head and put his free hand on his hip as he sipped his coffee. “Why ‘fuck’?”

“You’re not going to last two minutes. Follow me.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. What was that supposed to mean? “Oh hang on!”

“Follow me.”

Jaskier’s jaw snapped shut. He hadn’t even made it to class yet and he was starting to regret everything.

_______________

“Come on…” Jaskier drawled as he rest his chin on his hands. The table was sticky and covered in beer but he ignored it. He had a job to do. He jutted out his bottom lip and widened his eyes at Chireadan.

Chireadan like everyone else in this damned party was dressed casually in a rather lovely blue jumper and chinos. Jaskier, who had been invited to the party by one Yennefer Vengerberg, was wearing a black corset, fishnet tights and a ridiculous pair of bunny ears. He should have known better than to trust Yennefer. She was fucking gorgeous and a phenomenal lawyer but she had taken a dislike to him. It was shame. He was pretty certain that under different circumstances they could have been friends. She was just ambitious and did not hesitate to trample on others to get what she wanted. He respected that.

It just had a few unpleasant side effects. Like turning up to a non-costume party dressed as a playboy bunny. At least he looked cute.

“No, no. Out of the question!” Chireadan said in his adorable little accent. It was what had drawn Jaskier to him in the first place. “I’m just not interested anymore.”

Jaskier let out a soft whine and batted his eyelids. “But I need you, you’re my muse!”

“Well you’ll have to find a new one. I’m done being fodder for your terrible songs.”

And like that the spell was broken. Jaskier gasped and sat back in his chair. “I. You. What?!” He shrieked.

“It was just one love song after another, and none of them even made sense? Do you even know how to rhyme? And we’re not even in love.” Chireadan huffed. “I want a girlfriend and I can’t do that with you trailing after me acting like a lovesick puppy. No. Julian. We are done.”

“Oh no. We are not done because you say so. We are done because you are a terrible muse with fucking awful taste in music. I cannot believe I wasted years on you!” Jaskier snapped. “I was just trying to repay you for saving my life but you. you.. ungrateful swine!”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“I’m a musician! I’m allowed to be dramatic!” He yelled and stood up, kicking the chair out from underneath him. “Yennefer Vengerberg will never love you. You’re wasting your time.”

“I know,” Chireadan sighed wistfully. “but I love her.”

Jaskier scoffed and fled the house. His pride was wounded. Not only had Stregobor called him a talentless fool who would never succeed in court, his muse, his precious muse had insulted his songs. He was fucking done with it all. He should never have come here.

His eyes stung and his throat ached as he bit back a sob. “Fuck!”

He shivered just as a heavy coat dropped around his shoulders. He touched the fabric in the dark; tweed. He smiled into his lap; Geralt. He felt Geralt sit next to him silently and he rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I spoke to Yen,” Geralt said in a low whisper. “I’d like to say she’s sorry for the costume joke.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Of course she’s not.”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier sighed dramatically as he looked up at the stars. “What am I doing here, Geralt? I’m a musician, not a lawyer, and apparently I can’t even do that right.”

“What? Who said that?”

“Chireadan,” he whined.

“He knows fuck all,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier sat up and stared at Geralt in disbelief. “Does this mean you like my music, Geralt?” Geralt scowled and refused to meet his gaze. “Oh come on, I’m having a shit night. Humour me?”

“I like your music.”

“What do you like about it, three words or less?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt groaned.

“Please!”

“It’s catchy.” A pause. “And I like your voice.”

Jaskier swallowed as he tried to remind himself how to breathe. He was certain it was the booze and Geralt actually being nice to him for a change but he suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He cupped Geralt’s face, turning it gently so he was looking at Jaskier. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt’s eyes flickered down to Jaskier’s lips. There was no mistaking that and even in the dark Jaskier was pretty sure he could see a blush on Geralt’s cheeks. He was fairly certain that if Geralt didn’t kiss him now, he might die. He licked his lips and tilted his head at his friend. “Geralt?” He asked quietly.

Geralt hummed, the ever present scowl on his forehead deepening. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

And he did. Then he did it again, and again, until Jaskier had forgotten all the sadness in his heart because all that mattered were Geralt’s lips against his. __________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67

#the witcher #legally blonde #modern au #geraskier #wolfie's witcher writing #Anonymous

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the-haven-of-fiction · 3 years

Text

Not A Christmas Movie

Genre/Rating: Fluff and Sweetness of the holiday variety, T

Summary: Tom and Astrid find themselves in a unique situation on Christmas Eve.

Author’s Notes: My first sappy romantic Christmas one shot, y’all! Move over, Hallmark! I tried to cover some of the best cheesy themes, I hope you enjoy it. Thank you to Pillow Talk and Lolo for proofing.

The sound of the wind and snow raced through the trees and whipped against the walls of the cabin, the remote mountainous location devoid of any welcoming lights from neighbors. The two travelers dropped their luggage upon crossing the threshold and rushed to push the heavy door shut behind them.

“When we get through this, neither you nor my sisters are ever allowed to make fun of my emergency preparedness again! We’d be in major trouble without it!” Astrid declared, brushing snow off her jacket and holding up the lantern from the referenced emergency preparedness with her other hand as Tom attempted to lock the door.

“I think I can safely and assuredly,” he paused to run his tongue over his perpetually chapped lips in concentration, “give you my word as an Englishman that I shall never,” a grunt of effort, “allow either myself or your sisters to utter a syllable of criticism on that score.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at his struggle with the lock.

“Remember when you had the brilliant idea to build a set for one of our backyard holiday productions? Was that when you played Scrooge? Your word as an Englishman may be good as gold, but your complete lack of skill with anything slightly mechanical is something I wouldn’t swear by.”

Even in the dim light of the lantern, the slight twitch of a smile was visible on his face, the vision of the pathetic attempt so vivid in his memory.

“No one is going to believe this,” she sighed, shivering and looking around for a light switch.

“Truth is stranger than fiction,” Tom quipped. “The best intentions of a Christmas surprise, a series of unfortunate events, a comedy of errors…”

“I blame my soon to be ex-mechanic, the weatherman, Anya and Arlyss and their crazy idea about trying to organize our families into coming out here to the wilderness to have some kind of storybook Christmas,” she huffed, fumbling along the wall, but finding the switch and flipping it to On in relief.

They both groaned when nothing happened. No electricity, no heat.

“They must have disconnected the electricity during renovations, fantastic.” He followed close behind her as they made their way around the cabin. Although the snowstorm was in full force and there weren’t any outside lights on the driveway, they could see evidence of construction as they had pulled up a few minutes earlier.

“Well, at least there’s a fireplace and I think there is actually a pile of wood next to it,” Astrid pointed as she spoke. “How about that. Must have been stocked by the same person who left the door unlocked. Remind me never to hire this company, whoever they are.”

“I could go outside and check for the…uhm…the…” Tom stuttered and gestured, making what she assumed was meant to be a square shape of some kind.

“The breaker box?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly, yes,” he answered in a tone of false bravado, clearing his throat. “I was merely waiting to see if you knew the name.”

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little boys who lie, ya know.” She set the lantern on the mantle next to a small glass dish of matches. “Especially little boys who grew up in a centuries-old estate and have servants who take care of locking the doors and fixing the electrical problems.”

“They are not servants, they are staff, Miss Sassy, and I doubt Father Christmas knows we are here, no one does,” he replied. “Add the one forgotten mobile and the other with no service to the list of things that won’t be believed.”

“Well, anyways, Professor,” she went on in an exaggerated manner, “I may have a First Aid kit in my emergency supplies, but I am not equipped to perform any surgery on wounds you would most certainly incur from trying to play Electrician.”

He knew she was correct and they both smiled, cheeks rosy with cold.

“I suppose it was fortuitous that I ended up teaching Classics rather than embarking upon a career in carpentry.”

Astrid got a fire going and they were able to scope out their surroundings more thoroughly. A last-minute change of plans had allowed the visiting Tom and originally scheduled-to-work Astrid to join their families in the mountains for Christmas, but a quick succession of unforeseen events had brought them here, stranded close to midnight in a semi-livable cabin during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.

The owners must have been undergoing some kind of renovations. The cabin obviously had been inhabited previously, but half the interior wasn’t complete, including the kitchen.

“The toilet flushes!” she shouted from the bathroom. “And there’s running water in the sink!”

“Unfortunately there is no sofa or chairs of any sort and only one bedroom,” he reported when she came back into the main room, “No fireplace, but it does have a bed with linens.”

“Well, my kit has extra batteries so we should be okay with the lantern in there,” she assured him, completely missing his point about the issue of a single bed.

He noticed that her shivering wasn’t decreasing as much as it should, looking her up and down in concern. She was wearing an ankle-length corduroy skirt in a shade that matched her eyes, with a long-sleeved but thin sweater.

“I think we should go through our luggage and put on a couple of more layers. That centuries-old estate was a bit drafty, so I am accustomed to an indoor chill,” he informed her with a tinge of that irritating blend of both humility and privilege.

She rolled her eyes, but went over to her suitcase and started sifting through her clothes.

“You and the twins have always been bossy. It’s a wonder how I have managed to get through life as an adult without the three of you hovering over me like you did when I was a kid.”

He pulled on another shirt and grinned at her.

“I still remember the day you were born. I was visiting Dad and Roberta that year for Christmas,” referring to the alternating schedule their families had of who went to which country for the holidays. “And your sisters and I were old enough to be excited rather than jealous of a new child coming.”

Astrid turned away from him, hoping he wouldn’t see her reaction. Why did it please her so much to hear him speak of her birth with such affection? It must be this ridiculous situation. And the holiday. And her birthday. And this sparkling blue-eyed man whose place in her life she had never been quite able to define. Not a blood relation, but as close as a family member, certainly more than a friend. But more than a friend, in that sense? College and adulthood had made the unanswered question less important, as the shared summers and holidays of their childhood had grown fewer and fewer. She didn’t let herself ponder why he hadn’t married and had a dozen children to help him keep up that manor. Any woman would be elated at the prospect of sharing her life with him; she knew he had a string of casual relationships, just as she had, but their age difference had made her sure years ago that he would be a distant memory by this time.

“Born on Christmas Day to parents named Joseph and Mary, merely the beginning of my life’s trajectory of ‘You won’t believe this!’ events, continuing to this bizarre night that has practically every plot point needed for a cheesy holiday movie except that we aren’t secretly pining for each other.” She zipped up the windbreaker over the thicker sweater before reaching for her parka, not seeing the brief flicker in his eyes.

“Did you know that Arliss wanted to call you Snowflake and Anya’s choice was Mistletoe?” Tom picked up her scarf and hat that he had placed on the hearth so they would be toasty and walked back to her.

“I hear that story every year, along with all the suggestions from everyone to aunts and uncles to the postman. Thank God my parents went with something on theme, but not silly.” She pulled on her boots after a second pair of socks and looked up at him.

His expression changed and he drew in a short breath.

“Do you like your name?”

The inquiry was brimming with something that sounded like hope to her.

“Oh, yes, I’ve always loved it. In fact, I love it as much as I’ve disliked having a birthday on Christmas because it is beautiful and unique and it made me feel beautiful and unique.”

A wave of pure delight lit up his face and something clicked in her mind. Her parents’ version of where her name came from was always that someone had mentioned it to them and they couldn’t remember who it had been.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” Astrid said. And it wasn’t a question. “It was your suggestion.”

He worried at his lower lip, a tic she’d come to know years ago that was a sure indication of him being both pleased and embarrassed.

“Yes,” the soft affirmation punctuated by the crackles and pops from the fire. “And your description is precisely how I thought of it then, thanks to having just started Latin in school, and,” a heartbeat of silence, “it is how I think of you now.”

He was standing directly in front of her and paused to survey her face for a few seconds before tapping lightly under her chin.

Without even thinking about it, it seemed, she looked up at the ceiling so he could wrap the heated scarf around her neck. The warmth felt wonderful, although the feeling caused by this stunning revelation about her name and the look on his face was already warming her up in a way she tried to herself wasn’t happening.

He tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled the hat down while she argued with herself that he was simply being affectionate in the manner of a friend.

“Well,” she said, a little too loudly, stepping back from him, “That down comforter is calling to me, I guess we should be getting to bed.”

Good heavens, the bed, she thought. As in one bed.

As in here, as in they were stuck with a snowstorm swirling around them.

In a cabin that was being renovated. With no power or heat.

On Christmas Eve.

This couldn’t be real, it was not a Christmas movie.

“I suppose we should,” still in that soft voice.

A distraction. She needed a distraction.

“Oh! I just remembered! I have my favorite Christmas movie downloaded on my phone, we can watch it before we go to sleep.”

Less than two hours later, David Niven was giving his sermon and Loretta Young was gazing up at him while Cary Grant walked away in the snow. Tom was propped up a bit against the headboard and had insisted on holding the phone so she could stay under the blankets. Somehow she had ended up almost pasted to his side as the story progressed and his arm was around her. About halfway through, they’d had a little tussle about whether or not he should leave the warm cocoon of the bed and get them another candy cane from her Snack Pack. He argued that they had already brushed their teeth, but a sincere plea from her with an affectionate “Be naughty with me, Professor!” addition was something he simply couldn’t resist.

She sighed and closed her eyes, contented and drowsy and finally no longer cold, too tired and confused to attempt to figure out what was happening, how years of ignoring what was just below the surface had nearly bubbled over. It was impossible. He wasn’t interested. He was just being Tom. Typical Tom. Caring, attentive, making you feel like you were the only person in the room. She wouldn’t think about this anymore right now. Maybe tomorrow. Or not.

Tom closed the app on her phone and noticed the time.

“Hey there, it’s 12:01.”

“Mmhhmm,” she murmured, feeling herself about to drift off. He was so familiar, so comforting, so exactly like Christmas itself should be. She wanted to enjoy this moment before she went back to being the little kid and he the older…the older what?

“Happy Birthday,” he said and dipped his head to kiss her forehead, his breath sweet from the earlier candy cane.

She turned upwards toward him without opening her eyes to give him a peck on the cheek, almost without knowing what she was doing in her sleepy state, but she miscalculated and missed his cheek, her mouth landing on his.

He didn’t jerk back in shock. Or horror.

It’s now or never, she thought, suddenly wide awake and ready to throw caution out the window that was probably frozen shut by now.

Ten seconds later, ten minutes later, she wasn’t sure which, he pulled back breathlessly and she opened her eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked in bewilderment, in surprise, but not in accusation.

“I’m kissing you, do you mind?” she responded, quickly pulling off her mittens and his beanie so she could sink her fingers into his curls.

“I, uhm…”

“Have no fear for your virtue, Thomas,” she teased in a low voice, tugging on a fistful of those ginger locks and causing a sharp gasp from him that thrilled her and gave her courage. “We are wrapped up like a couple of stuffed sausages in this icebox and there is a foot of clothing between us.”

His gaze narrowed and focused on her lips.

Another kiss, sweet and shy, but sure.

“I thought we weren’t secretly pining for each other,” he quoted her words back to her.

“I lied,” Astrid admitted while placing a string of kisses down his nose and nipping the tip.

The gasp changed to a growl, his grip on her upper arms tightening.

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little girls who lie,” using her words against her, again.

She kissed him, again. Longer, lingering.

They were side by side now, the blankets becoming tangled.

“Did you lie?” she whispered, not knowing what to do next if he denied it, but also feeling like she couldn’t let another minute pass without settling the matter.

He propped himself up on an elbow and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t recall either confirming or denying your assertion at the time,” wanting to tease her in return.

“But,” he rushed to continue upon seeing her immediately crestfallen, “I will make it absolutely clear now,” each word followed by a brush of his lips across her jaw and down her neck, “that you,” lifting his head to smile at her, “are the one I desire.”

Tears of happiness welled up and slipped down her cheeks.

“Happy Christmas, my starshine,” he whispered against her lips.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fan fiction #tom hiddleston fanfiction #christmas story #christmas fanfiction #the haven of fiction

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away-from-anthills · 3 years

Text

chapter three-

(prologue) (chapter one) (chapter two)

Although WindClan was the closest of all the Clans to it, the road to Fourtrees had never seemed longer.

The thick-barked trees seemed to stare down at Antstar as he led WindClan towards the hollow. On one side of him was Whitetooth, always looking ahead and always alert; on the other side was Russetfoot, who Antstar had decided to make his deputy almost as soon as he had returned from the Moonstone when he had received his nine lives.

A shiver scattered down his spine as he remembered the events that had happened after the last gathering. Rainleap gone, in an instant; a Clan suddenly left midair after being thrown off the cliff. And yet in all the turmoil, he had risen triumphant.

Or at least that was the impression he had gotten. He was supposed to feel triumphant, wasn’t he?

It had been a long ladder for Antstar to climb from Clanless kit to leader of all of WindClan, but he was beginning to realize at the top that he had a fear of heights.

Eventually, Fourtrees began to come into view, and Antstar could identify the four feline figures who sat at the Great Rock. All of them- even Currantstar, although he had only been leader for about twelve moons- seemed so used to it all, not even reacting to the leagues of chatter that surrounded them. It was as if their paws had melded with the granite below them.

“And I thought ShadowClan was bad with being late…” Pigeonstar’s coarse tone rang out above the crowd. The blue-gray tom was sporting a new scar that framed his left cheekbone.

“WindClan will be here soon enough,” said Tulipstar reassuringly. She had a tangy quality to her voice- not hostile, but not exactly warm either, like a mentor about to take their apprentice to a rigorous day of battle training. “I’ve heard rumors that something’s happened to them. Surely Shalestar will tell us.”

Shalestar. That was another thing. How was Antstar going to explain all that? Rainleap and Shalestar, both dead in the span of a month.

Part of him worried the others would think he killed him.

WindClan dispersed into the clearing, blending into the crowds. Spiderpaw was, very clearly, trying her best to not brag about her mentor now being the Clan leader. Toadpool and Webwhisker were striking a pleasant conversation with a dark red tabby tom from RiverClan with tufted ears. Adderthorn, a rather reclusive WindClan cat, kept to herself, although her gaze seemed to be fixed on a small dark brown tom from ShadowClan who had a marbled coat.

“Come, Antstar.” Whitetooth, with Marblepaw by their side, led Antstar through the gathering crowd, weaving in and out of the clouds of conversation. Eventually, they reached the medicine cats, who were having a friendly debate about whether yellow or orange marigold was more effective.

“I leave you here.” They pointed their tail at the top of the rock, where an empty spot sat between Tulipstar and Currantstar. “Best of luck. May StarClan look upon your first gathering with smiling faces.”

With a bit of effort, Antstar leapt onto the rock. He was surprised at how smooth the summit was- as if generations of pawsteps had carved it.

“Greetings, Antstep.” Tulipstar bowed her head.

Currantstar, however, looked a tad more confused. “Have Shalestar and Rainleap taken ill? I wouldn’t expect Shalestar to skip a Gathering. That old workhorse would go even in downpour…”

Antstar stammered. “I…”

He looked to Whitetooth for a second, who gave him an encouraging nod. He then looked to the other leaders. Their eyes felt like hot coals launching towards him.

But he would have to say it now.

“…Shalestar and Rainleap both passed away this prior moon.”

A sudden commotion hit the Gathering. Cats of the other Clans looked to their WindClan acquaintances in shock; WindClan simply nodded their heads and sighed.

“Both of them? How?” Pigeonstar’s eyes narrowed as his face twisted itself from comprehension into a scowl.

“On the way back from the last Gathering, there was an accident involving a monster. Shalestar appointed me as deputy in his stead-“ -he shot a quick glance into the crowd, seeking approval- “-and he passed away of illness not long after. We in WindClan mourn them both greatly, and have spent the past moon grieving for them.”

Pigeonstar, however, looked unconvinced. “How do we know you didn’t kill them?”

Antstar felt ill, unsheathing his claws to keep himself from falling off the Great Rock from dizziness. But the SkyClan leader continued, fashioning himself the great detective. “For all we know, you could have killed Rainleap, made it look like an accident, have Shalestar elect you as deputy, and then kill him, too!” He drew his lips in a snarl. “And it doesn’t help that cats of your kind don’t become WindClan leader so easy.”

But then, Currantstar stepped forward. “Many of us in ShadowClan are not Clan-born, like Antstar here. One of my medicine cats, Rosettepelt, is among them, and she is one of the most gifted healers we know.” He advanced forward towards Pigeonstar, his gaze steady and stern. “So if you want to remain on positive terms with us, I suggest you watch it.”

Pigeonstar seemed as if he were about to say something, but reason got the better of him.

“Furthermore, my friends,” started Whitetooth from the medicine cat crowd, “I can assure you that Antstar speaks truth. I prepared both bodies and aided Shalestar in his final hours. As he lay dying, he was content with his choice in Antstep.”

There was a low murmur throughout the Gathering discussing the death of the old leader. Even though Antstar tried not to, he bent his ears towards the crowd to get a better listen.

“Well,” said Pigeonstar, “we have no proof he didn’t kill Shalestar, now, do we?”

Currantstar and Tulipstar looked unconvinced as they looked over the Burmese tom in front of them. “You realize Antstar was Shalestar’s own apprentice, Pigeonstar,” added Tulipstar dryly. “And Shalestar took quite the liking to him.”

Tatteredstar of ThunderClan, however, was studying him, very very deeply, like she was inspecting the double barrel of a rifle she was about to stuff with gunpowder. Finally, she stepped back. The massive molly sat down, her expression unchanged as always.

“I don’t think the boy killed Shalestar.” She spoke in a thick ThunderClan drawl. “But we shouldn’t underestimate him.” She paused, as if she was taking the moment to rehearse her thoughts to herself. “He’s got killer between his eyes.”

Killer in his eyes. Antstar felt unsettled. Killer? What does she mean? And why-

But the other leaders simply seemed to nod, as if a silent agreement had been reached that they shouldn’t further push Antstar.

Perhaps they all had killers dancing in their eyes.

Pigeonstar seemed to back off, although he didn’t look pleased.

“Is there any other news in WindClan to report?” asked Tulipstar.

“…There is nothing else to report.”

Antstar stepped back, and Tatteredstar began to prepare herself to speak. Tatteredstar’s mere presence alone made Antstar feel weaker. Tatteredstar was an almighty oak; massive, muscular, battle-scarred and a pillar of her Clan, he was a mere dandelion, who bent over and crumpled in the slightest breeze, beside her. Having a good look at her didn’t help. He saw more scars on her now than he ever had before- across her face, across her flank, even down her legs. Her claws were off-white and long, jutting out from the tufts of fur betwixt her toes, and while her fur was generally well-groomed, a mat or two seemed just under the surface in the ruff of fur around her neck. She had two bottom fangs that stuck out; they had yellowed in their years of exposure and her bottom lip seemed to have shaped itself around them. Her tail was short, compared to her body, and it would not surprise Antstar if she had lost part of it in the throes of battle. Her big, yellow eyes, which were surrounded by oily discharge that discolored her fur, seemed to both stare into the horizon and at whatever was in front of her at once.

“ThunderClan has been doing well this past moon. We extend our condolences to WindClan for their loss of Shalestar,” she began. “He was leader alongside me for many years. We had our disagreements, but I held the tom in high regard, as I am sure all of us do.”

Shalestar and Tatteredstar had been the two oldest leaders, Antstar recalled. She had been leader for about twelve seasons by the time Shalestar ascended, and while the two didn’t interact much and had their differences, there was an air of respect between the two.

Antstar recalled how hollow-looking and feeble Shalestar had appeared in death. Tatteredstar, however, had no sign of slowing down. He wondered how she managed to do it.

“We have been lucky to have had two healthy litters of kits born into our Clan. Sleetwhisker has given birth to two mollies, Vinekit and Shrikekit; and Sootspots has given birth to four toms and a molly, Mothkit, Fogkit, Stumpkit, Cedarkit, and Clawkit. In addition, Foxbriar is set to give birth to her kits within the next quarter-moon. We will have our paws very full… and it will also mean we will have more mouths to feed.” She shot a pointed glance at Tulipstar.

“Also- in addition- there was an attempted uprising by a ThunderClan cat named Rosefire.” The Gathering crowds pricked their ears- Rosefire was a cat who had been known by many for his friendly nature and how he disliked Tatteredstar and her deputy, Eelwhisker. He was a very vocal cat, and would often joke about starting genuine rebellion against them in order to pursue a dream of all five clans being united. Many thought he was a tad extreme, of course, but he was generally well-liked.

But Tatteredstar never minced words. “The so-called uprising was over as soon as it began. I dealt with Rosefire. You will not be seeing him again.”

There was a stunned silence.

It was only then that it really struck Antstar what cat he was dealing with. The matter of Rosefire, to Tatteredstar, was not a personal matter, and there was not a look of cruelty, resentment, or even annoyance in the ThunderClan leader’s yellow eyes. Rosefire had intruded on ThunderClan’s safety, and Tatteredstar had dispatched him. It began and ended there.

And then, Tatteredstar stepped back. “ThunderClan has nothing more to report.”

After what seemed like forever, Currantstar stepped up to speak. “ShadowClan has spent the moon recuperating after the fire we reported at the last Gathering. We are, again, very lucky that it did not affect us too harshly. Besides that, we have no new news to report; we are deeply sorry for WindClan’s loss of Shalestar and Rainleap.”

As soon as he had begun, he had ended. Antstar admired his charisma, his charm, the way he looked like a sculpture; Currantstar was a perfect leader.

And he had become leader so young, too. He and Antstar were about the same age, after all.

If he can do it, and be a perfect leader, I can do it, too…

“We have been experiencing difficulties with rogues on SkyClan territory,” Pigeonstar announced. “I suspect this is the same group that has been bothering RiverClan territory. However, we have fought them off successfully,” he said. He was very pointed with his words. “In addition, two of our apprentices became warriors- Bumbleshade and Silverskip.”

There was a round of cheer for the two freshly-graduated warriors. Pigeonstar then backed away, and Tulipstar, the very small white molly with ginger splotches, at long last took the stage.

“We are continuing to deal with the rogues on our territory. We have started to drive them off, but it’s a tough process. Just this moon alone we have had to deal with the untimely deaths of Yellowstripe and Sleekwater, and our resources are running dry. However, there is hope. Oatwhisker became a warrior this month, and one of our mollies gave birth to two fine young kits, Magpiekit and Frondkit.”

The little white-and-orange molly kept a steady eye on Tatteredstar- giving a clear implication about how much she wanted Sunningrocks. Their agreement would run out by the next Gathering- and, by the looks of it, Tulipstar had every intention to keep the territory.

Slowly, the gathering would down like a spring-powered toy. SkyClan was the first to leave; then ThunderClan, and then ShadowClan, until only WindClan and RiverClan were left. Antstar would have left earlier, but he still felt dizzy and his head felt sore from sheer mental pressure.

“Are you alright?”

He turned and looked down to see Tulipstar. She looked… genuinely concerned, or at least as genuinely as Antstar could convince himself another leader could be.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, as reluctance tried to keep his lips locked together.

“…You sounded nervous. I get it. Don’t fear the other leaders; they’re really not as scary as they like to make themselves out to be.” She thought on her words for a moment. “Well, except for Tatteredstar.”

“…What is it to you?” Antstar backed away slowly. Did she want something out of him? Then he doubled back in his mind- what if that sounded too rude, and now she was mad with him?

“Antstar, relax. I was especially close with your mentor and predecessor, Shalestar. We were very good friends, and under our allyship our two Clans were very close. I would like to continue that partnership with you.”

RiverClan had been friendly with WindClan for at least as long as Shalestar and Tulipstar had led them both. Slowly, Antstar let his guard down, correcting his posture so he didn’t look so hunched over.

“I would like to continue it, as well.”

“Great,” she said. She smiled, and Antstar could see how middle age had made her face look bony and her dimples more noticeable. “Besides- I was in a very similar scenario to where you are now, when I became leader.”

Antstar sat up in disbelief. Perhaps he wasn’t alone! Perhaps someone, somewhere out there… someone might just understand! “You… you became leader the same way?”

“Similarly. I mean- there weren’t as many accusations as you had to face from Pigeonstar, that joyless rat, because both my parents were RiverClan and the previous leader’s death wasn’t exactly a private occasion.” She leaned in, her jade eyes wide. “Did you hear about how I came to be leader, Antstar?”

Antstar shook his head.

“I feel you will find it very similar to your situation. The leader before me was a tom named Boarstar.”

Antstar remembered hearing of a Boarstar in nursery tales when he was a kit. Everyone knew him as a leader who had died in a battle he himself had started, but Antstar had not heard much of what he was like beyond that.

“Boarstar was very, very young when he rose to power, younger than you by a few seasons. He was a mean thing. Always picking fights with ThunderClan and WindClan, always on the attack. He was a serial womanizer and deeply narcissistic. Not many of us liked him much. He placed his brother, Oakbelly- who shared every ideal with him- as his deputy, and the two wreaked havoc on RiverClan. Boarstar lost his lives quite quickly because of all the battles he started…”

“So how did he choose you?”

“I honestly don’t think he did. We were in the midst of a battle with ThunderClan in their camp, and Oakbelly was fighting some ThunderClan cat while trying to get to the nursery. As he was taunting them, he made a miscalculation- and the ThunderClan cat shredded his belly open. And now, you know I and ThunderClan do not get along, but…” She smirked.

“And Boarstar?”

“Boarstar was filled with more rage than his namesake as he saw his brother bleed out… So he ran right to Tatteredstar herself and attacked her. She and him went one-on-one. It was a quick battle. I didn’t see much of it, but in the glimpse of his death that I got from the other side of their camp, she was clamping down on his head with her paws, crushing his skull.”

Antstar grimaced.

“The next thing I knew, the medicine cat rushed up to me and asked if I could take the mantle of leadership, telling me it was what Boarstar wanted in his last moments. In hindsight, it was probably the last thing he wanted, and the medicine cat was the one who made the decision. But it was my duty to my Clan, and so, I became leader. I cannot say the road of leadership has been an easy one, or a gentle one. But I want to be the cat for you who I wished was there for me.”

Antstar stepped towards her. “You mean, you’re going to help me?”

“I can’t lead for you, Antstar. Only you know your people. But I will be here as your mentor in leadership. Our Clans will be close. Feel free to ask me if you need help, and I will do my best to be there. It’s what Shalestar would have wanted.”

Antstar’s shoulders felt lighter. Someone out there was on his side!

“Trufflepelt, organize RiverClan so we can leave.” A tall, gaunt cinnamon tabby tom, twice the height of his leader, stood at the end of the hollow as the trademark plump bodies and shimmering pelts of RiverClan surrounded him. Pebblesky, RiverClan’s medicine cat, receded into the crowd, leaving Whitetooth and Marblepaw alone. They disappeared into the forests, southward; towards the faint smell of freshwater that beckoned from their territory.

Antstar stood alone on the rock for a moment. It was smooth, cold; almost calming now that the other Clans had left. He looked above and saw the leaves of the great oaks shiver above him; and a sky full of stars, who all blinked and winked as they stared upon him.

He heard pawsteps behind him, and turned to see the familiar face of Whitetooth, staring him in that inquisitive way they always did. “Are you alright, my leader?”

“…Yeah.” Antstar didn’t break eye contact as he stared at the stars above him.

“...You’ll get used to it,” Whitetooth added.

“I know.”

And then, after a further moment, Antstar left the Great Rock, where Russetfoot was already organizing WindClan to go home. Whitetooth followed, and then Marblepaw, and away they went, into the night.

“He did terribly,” said Sparkthistle dismissively as soon as the Gathering group got back.

“It couldn’t be that bad,” said Houndnose, a tortoiseshell tabby-and-white permaqueen, who emerged from the nursery with two of Cherrycloud’s kits clamping themselves onto her fur like a pair of bread clips.

“Oh, he made the biggest ass of himself- which is saying something because Pigeonstar was there.” The ginger molly rolled her eyes. “You really hate to see it. I’m astonished Rainleap hasn’t unearthed himself with all the spinning he must be doing in that grave!”

“Don’t talk that way about my brother!” growled Stripedwing, who was just outside the nursery. The gray tabby molly, who was visibly pregnant, had been inspecting the nursery while the gathering group was gone.

But Sparkthistle simply groaned and sauntered off, as if she was annoyed at Stripedwing for not liking the joke.

Antstar passed by the nursery, and something bit his foot. He looked down to see Brindlekit, a little tortoiseshell, gnawing at his toes. “Got you now, ThunderClan rat!” she squeaked.

“Brindlekit, that’s our leader!” said a ginger tabby tom-kit, panicked- but with a slight edge of authority. But Brindlekit, pugnacious as ever, simply pounced onto her brother, and the two began to wrestle. Eventually, Cherrycloud- her ginger coat near identical to the one of the little tom-kit- pried them apart. “Brindlekit, be nice to Antstar. Rosekit, it’s my job to parent her, not you.”

“Antstar! Antstar!” cried another ginger kit, who pushed her way out of the nursery between Houndnose and Cherrycloud. “Didja see Tatteredstar?”

“Is she really the size of a dog? That’s’ what Amberkit told me!” added a tiny solid black tom next to her. “…She’s big. Definitely one of the biggest cats I’ve seen. But not that big.”

The black tom-kit looked smugly at Amberkit, who seemed flustered that her descriptions weren’t accurate. But they had more questions to ask.

“Do the RiverClan cats really smell like fish?” “I heard ShadowClan eats frogs!” “Can Tatteredstar really kill a rat just by looking at them?” “Is the RiverClan medicine cat really secretly from ThunderClan?”

Antstar felt bombarded, but he still tried to answer each question. “They kind of do… they do eat frogs, but they seem fine with it… I don’t know, but she is scary… She is, and it’s not much of a secret, both Clans agreed to it…”

Cherrycloud gave a motion to the two kits, and they silenced themselves. “I’m sorry if they’re being a bother to you, Antstar,” she said apologetically.

“Oh, it’s no bother,” Antstar said. “They’re the next generation of warriors, after all.”

“Patchkit, would you like to say hi?” Cherrycloud asked to a little tortoiseshell, similar in shape and appearance to Brindlekit, who clung next to her. Patchkit gave Antstar a small glance and then buried herself further into her mother’s fur.

“She’s very shy and anxious,” Cherrycloud said. “We hope she’ll step out of her shell a little more soon.”

Antstar recalled he had been a similar way, as a kit. He recalled the permaqueen who had nursed him- a kind, pleasant molly who had passed away a few seasons ago from a wound infection- had a conversation with him about how he was then.

“You were a shy little thing. Very quiet, very meek. But when we were alone, you’d do these little tricks- kneading the ground, cuddling up to clumps of moss and cotton. It was cute, but… it was weird. It was like you were putting on a show for approval. And maybe it was coincidence- but sometimes it felt like you knew what you were trying to do.”

Antstar had thought about that a lot, since he had became leader.

“Oh,” Cherrycloud added, “and I’m sorry for how my sister, Sparkthistle, has been acting recently. We don’t talk much anymore. I will never understand why she has such a bug up her tail about everything... She should mellow down soon, I hope.”

She picked up Patchkit and went back into the nursery, with Houndnose alongside her and her other kits soon following. Antstar soon found himself alone again outside the nursery, the pale moon giving everything a glow. He saw Sparkthistle from across the clearing. The ginger tabby, her teeth in a permanent scowl, made brief eye contact with him before turning away into the warriors’ den.

Antstar worried. What if they began to believe her? What if she’s not an outlier- but an early critic? What if she turns the Clan on him? What if-

Something white caught his eye, and he turned to see Whitetooth, watching him from the edge of the medicine cat on the far side of camp.

He couldn’t fully read their face, but they had the glint in their eye of someone with an answer.

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #story

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jalapeno-princess · 3 years

Text

According To Him

CEO Mark X Reader

Genre: THE FLUFFIEST OF FLUFF I HAVE EVER WRITTEN (with some mentions of sex) (God how do I write about things I have never and probably will never experience I am so sad)

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Being in such a high position at one of the biggest tech companies in the country on top of attending college full time can be a lot to handle. You’ve never thought highly of yourself and there were days that you felt like giving up because the workload was too hard. You also were extremely insecure over every single thing about yourself. However, there is one person who makes you feel like the most beautiful, hard working and deserving person in the entire world--the CEO of the company you work at and the man of your dreams, Mark Tuan.

A/N: (GUESS WHOSE BACK, BACK AGAIN IN LESS THAN A WEEK) IT’S ME WITH ANOTHER STORY but this time it’s adorable, endearing, full of love and laughter and everything I wish was going on in my life but no, I’m seconds away from a mental breakdown every single day. This is based off of Ariana Grande’s new song “POV” and honestly as soon as i heard the song I knew I had to write an imagine based on it it’s sooooo good I wish someone made me feel that way dude why can’t I have a boyfriend like Mark in this story (Or just Mark in general) Please enjoy! (And cry with me)

It's like you got superpowers Turn my minutes into hours You got more than 20/20, babe Made of glass, the way you see through me You know me better than I do Can't seem to keep nothin' from you How you touch my soul from the outside Permeate my ego and my pride

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me (trust me) The way that you trust me (trust me) Oh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

“If we want to build stronger relationships with our hundreds of clients in order to get them to prolong their contracts with us, I suggest that we increase the amount of stocks that we invest in to each of their companies and find more sponsors to help get the attention of the public—maybe we could start putting ads on television or on the radio?”

If there was anything you hated about your job, it was public speaking. For someone who graduated with her master’s degree in communications with double minors in criminal justice and journalism, one would think you were great when having to speak to a large group of people—but no. Your entire body along with your voice was shaking profusely and you felt as if you were about to throw up. If it wasn’t for the devastatingly handsome man whose been sneaking cheeky winks and a few grins in your direction here and there in order to calm your racing heart, then you would have blew the entire thing.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea y/n. A lot of people listen to the radio nowadays and television can get the attention of those who don’t drive or use cars as transportation. What does everyone else think?”

If Mark wasn’t there, you were sure your heart would have jumped out of your chest. He actually wasn’t supposed to be there; he had a couple of meetings he had scheduled months beforehand, but when he found out that the members of the board were having a meeting and you were expected to be involved in it while presenting your ideas on how the company you were currently working for could expand throughout the United States and maybe even outside of the country, he cancelled every single meeting with the intention of giving you moral support.

No matter how much you tried to reject his offer, not wanting to get in the way of his other responsibilities—you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely happy that he was there. His presence was undoubtedly calming; no matter wherever the two of you were, whether it was a board meeting, a company dinner or more relaxing and romantic places like the beach or on vacation in Europe, Mark could always bring you serenity.

You looked around hesitantly in attempts to prevent Mark from seeing the blush he caused rise upon your cheeks from gazing at you and because you were genuinely curious about what your colleagues had to say about your brainstorm. When you saw a hand raise—particularly by a specific someone you weren’t all too fond of in your workplace, you wanted to let out a disgusted groan, but you refused to stoop to her level nor did you want any of your coworkers thinking you were rude.

“Don’t get me wrong, that is a decent idea—but I know there are other things we can do that would better benefit the company without having to waste money on unnecessary ad sales. With all due respect sir, I don’t think it’s fair for you to show favoritism towards y/n just because she’s your girlfriend.”

If you weren’t surrounded by fifteen other people, you were sure you would have leaped across of the table and socked her in the face. There were at least 1,000 people employed at the company you were working at and although you haven’t met every single person, you genuinely liked all the employees you did get the chance to get introduced to. However, there was only one person in particular that you honestly could do without and she just so happened to feel the need to speak up against you because she loved making you look stupid—especially in front of Mark.

From the day you met her, Megan never seemed to care about you even if you were nothing but nice and friendly to her. You didn’t care though—you were there to work, not to worry about someone who dislikes you. But you didn’t do anything wrong for her to treat you as if you were scum of the earth. Every time you would walk past her desk, she would glare at you and during meetings like these that unfortunately she had to attend, she would always plot against you.

You overheard a conversation between two colleagues in the bathroom one day about how Megan felt as though Mark might have taken a liking to her and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Your boyfriend had no clue about the way she treated you so rudely; you didn’t like starting unnecessary drama, but you were sure he caught on to her hostility—she wasn’t very vague about it.

As the days went on though, you only grew more and more irritated with her and it was getting harder for you to bite back your tongue and prevent yourself from saying how you truly felt about her. It didn’t matter that your boyfriend just so happened to be the CEO of the tech company you’ve been working at for almost three years now; if you were to physically attack someone or instigate a fist fight, there was nothing he could do if she were to press charges—well other than bail you out—but that wouldn’t look too good for him as one of the youngest and most successful CEOs in the country.

Your boyfriend Mark just so happened to take over his father’s company right after the elder man decided to retire just a year after you began working there. You were an intern at the company for a couple of months before Mark’s dad offered you a permanent job; stating that you were one of the best interns he’s ever had—that you were extremely responsible, hard working, dedicated to your craft, passionate about your education and just an all around kind of person.

The Tuan family’s company was a very fast paced working environment. Nine hours would pass by faster than you could even comprehend only because you were constantly doing something. You’d be lying if you said your life didn’t get stressful every now and then—managing both college and a full-time job wasn’t the easiest thing to do; especially since you were a double major. But you did your best to stay on top of school and work. You were introduced to Mark one day by his father when he told you that he wanted the two of you to work together in order to build a healthy work relationship seeing as how he wanted you to be his son’s go to person.

Mr.Tuan trusted you the most out of every single person working at his company; so it was only natural for him to want you to show his son the same support that you’ve shown him.

Mark was nothing short of a gentleman when you first met him—he never used his position or the fact that he was the heir to the company to get what he wanted or to intimidate anyone of the employees in anyway. In fact, sometimes you’d forget that his family owned the company and that he was supposed to take over his dad’s position seeing as how he blended in so well with everyone else. He allowed you to show him the ropes; even if his father was the CEO and this company has been in his family for over four generations, he himself has never really been involved in what went on at the company.

His parents wanted him to enjoy his life and do whatever it was that he wanted to do before having him take on such an important and tiresome role. Mark was such an amazing listener and he seemed to be very eager to learn. He complimented you on how dedicated and how hard working you were and he was very grateful that his dad had someone working for him who cared for the success of their company as much as he did.

There was a point where you spent almost every minute that you were at work with Mark and you honestly weren’t complaining. You loved his presence and enjoyed how happy he made you. Although he wasn’t a man of many words, his actions spoke for him. He’d open every single door for you, pulled out your chairs, carried the things you would need for meetings, held your bag as you paid for coffee—hell, he even started to take over every bill that you had whether it was for food, drinks or just your necessities.

At first, you assumed that he was only being nice as a way to no verbally thank you for helping him out—but with the way he would look at you with a certain glint and sparkle in his eyes, and the way he would try and touch you every now and then, whether it was bringing back some of your hair behind your ear, pulling you on the inside as the two of you walked on the sidewalk or playfully poking your cheek if he noticed you falling asleep from how exhausted you were, people didn’t do that to just anybody.

It was obvious he felt comfortable around you and you knew it was a stretch to feel this way, but you were secretly hoping that he saw you as more than just a colleague. You knew you were screwed from the moment he was assigned to work under you—Mark had to be the handsomest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He had the most well-defined features; the prettiest brown eyes, a sharp and pointy nose, prominent cheek bones and the softest, heart shaped lips.

You’d find yourself staring at his lips during meetings or when the two of you would get lunch together and you always wondered what it would be like to feel them against yours. Only after a month, your partnership with Mark grew more flirtatious. He would always playfully tease you and make jokes in attempts to make you laugh when he could tell you were stressed; he also complemented you every single day about how beautiful he thought you were and how your laugh had to be the prettiest and most contagious sound in the world. You’d observe the way he would act around the other employees to see if the way he interacted with you was just him being friendly—but he hardly ever talked to anyone else unless he had to for business purposes.

It made you feel special in a sense that maybe—just maybe Mark had developed some kind of romantic feelings for you as you quickly did with him. One night, Mark took you out to dinner as a way to thank you for all you’ve done for him so far and the night went along perfectly. Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you and you found out that you had so much in common with the older boy. Your sense of humors were the exact same and you both were very generous when it came to helping out the less fortunate.

You didn’t think much of him offering to drop you home, you just assumed he wanted to make sure you made it in to your apartment safely. Once the two of you pulled up to your complex, he insisted on walking you to your door. You didn’t really expect anything once you were to reach the front door—you planned on thanking him for such an amazing night and for taking you home.

To your surprise, he tugged on your wrist and pulled you in to his chest before connecting your lips together in a sweet kiss. His lips were so soft and tasted like bubblegum—he lowered his hands to your waist while licking on your bottom lip, ultimately bringing it in between his teeth. The two of you made out for a couple of minutes until Mark abruptly pulled away. Right as you were about to whine at the loss of his lips against yours, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and giggled softly.

“I like you y/n—a lot more than I’d like to admit actually. If I’m being honest, I think it might be more than that. I’ve liked you from the minute my dad had me shadow you and if I’m being honest, I kind of hinted towards wanting to be partnered up with you because I witnessed how amazing your work ethic is and I’ve admired how intelligent and talented you are. I think my dad talks more highly about you than he does me and I can see why—you’re wonderful y/n. These last few weeks with you has been some of the best moments of my entire life. You make me so happy. I would have never thought that I would actually enjoy going to work as much as I do and it’s specifically because I want to see you. Would you—um—maybe want to be my girlfriend? I totally understand if you don’t want to and please don’t feel as if you have to reciprocate my same feelings because I’m going to be your boss or because you feel bad—“

You didn’t allow him to say anything else before you roughly smashed your lips back up against his. Now that you knew how it felt like to kiss him—something you’ve been dreaming about for quite some time now, you would never get enough of having his lips meld perfectly in unison with yours.

“I like you too Mark. You don’t understand how happy I am—I’m sure you’ve caught me stealing glances at you every now and then. I would doze off sometimes and dream about what it would be like to be the lucky girl who gets to love you and be loved by you. I would love to be your girlfriend. If you don’t have to go yet, did you maybe want to uh—come inside for some coffee?”

He beamed at you and nodded in excitement—it didn’t take a genius to know that coffee was not at all going to be involved in the nights festivities and he couldn’t care less. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t dreamt about being intimate with you and getting to see you naked and bare—writhing underneath him while begging him to do anything to soothe the fire building inside of you. It’s happened on many occasions and he isn’t embarrassed to say a lot of his wet dreams were caused by you. As soon as you both made your way inside, he pressed you up against the door and began leaving sloppy kisses on the expanse of your neck and chest while whispering sweet nothings against your jaw.

That entire night was spent relishing in your newfound relationship in your bed, in the shower, on the counter and up against your fridge. From that night on, the two of you were inseparable—it wasn’t much of a change from your usual time spent together other than him being even more clingy and touchier now that the two of you were a couple. Plus, you got to see him on the weekends which was a bonus—even if you spent almost ten hours a day every single day with him, it was never enough.

Both you and your boyfriend decided to keep your relationship a secret from everyone at the company to prevent people from talking negatively of you or assuming that you were only dating Mark for beneficial reasons which was far from the truth. You didn’t think it was possible for Mark to be an even more amazing boyfriend than he was a business partner, but he proved you wrong entirely. He was so shy and soft whenever it came to you.

Although he practically hovered over your tiny frame, the older boy would follow you around like a lost puppy. He would show up to your apartment every morning and take you with him to work so you didn’t have to worry about transportation. He would also wait until you were finished with work if he just so happened to end earlier that you did in order to take you home. If Mark was anything, it was extremely observant.

It took him less than a week to learn your coffee order, he’d purchase all kinds of things for you while he’d go grocery shopping, he would buy you bags and clothes that he thought would look amazing on you, he would write you cute little post it notes and stick it all around your desk and if you were to catch a cold or if you weren’t feeling all too well, he’d take off from work in order to help nurse you back to health—in more ways than one. You never thought you would ever be able to experience the love Mark was giving to you.

You’ve only ever been in two actual relationships before him. Other than that, you were the type of person who enjoyed to fool around. Whenever you and your friends would go out to clubs and bars, you’d find yourself getting drunk and taking someone home whose name you’d never got around to learning. If you were being honest, you never thought you would ever be in a long term relationship before.

Your parents divorced when you were only two years old and it seemed like most of the adults you were surrounded with just so happened to be divorced also. Love was a foreign word to you—you never believed love could exist. Everything you’ve seen in movies was fake; all these shows and books about men who would give their lives for their significant others, you thought it was complete and utter bullshit. You ended up breaking up with both your boyfriends because you were afraid of getting your heart broken.

It wasn’t like either of them really made you feel loved or genuinely cared for in the first place, so breaking up with them didn’t hurt as much as you expected to. That all changed the minute you found yourself falling in love with Mark. Time and time again, you told yourself you would never allow yourself to make such a stupid mistake—nor did you want to give your heart, mind, spirit and just yourself entirely away to someone who would only break your heart and leave you like it is the easiest thing do to.

For years, you’ve put up this barrier around your heart and kept every single person out of it. However, you didn’t know how he did it—but Mark knock down your walls and made you want to fall in love with him. Even before you really got to know him and how he was as a person, you know you could trust him. You wanted to give yourself a chance at love; it’s what you deserved. You couldn’t keep running away from something so good—or someone who obviously loved you more than life itself just because you didn’t want them to hurt you.

The way he took care of you—even if you weren’t necessarily aware of it; the way he looked at you with so much adoration and happiness, the way he would talk so highly about you to everyone he surrounded himself with made it all the more clear that you must have meant a lot to Mark and you weren’t going to let anything or anyone for that matter get in the way of experiencing what true love felt like. Not once in your relationship with Mark did you ever have to worry about getting hurt—you knew that man loved you with his entire being. He never failed to show you or tell you every single day and sometimes you had a hard time accepting that someone could love you so much in the way Mark evidently did.

Mark Tuan had to be the best thing that has ever happened to you and you were never going to take him for granted. He was the man you knew you wanted so badly to spend the rest of your life with—there was nobody in this world that you loved or could ever love more than you did with him. He captivated your heart in ways you didn’t believe was possible. Honestly, there were times where you felt as though he deserved better.

You didn’t think all that highly of yourself; sure you had a pretty high position at his company for someone who was only 21-years-old and you were obviously well educated, but you weren’t very sociable nor did you think you were as street smart as you were book smart. You also never considered yourself to be attractive; you’d stare at yourself in the mirror ever now and then and picked out a lot of your features that you didn’t like about yourself.

There were days that you thought everything about you was ugly; your teeth were crooked, your eyebrows were bushy, you had chubby cheeks, you were on the more curvy side—you had thick thighs, decent sized breasts and your butt was on the bigger side, but you also had big hips and your stomach wasn’t as flat as you wish it would be. On many occasions, you found yourself growing jealous of a few of the employees at the company because a lot of them were so pretty and had petite, dainty bodies.

No matter how many times your boyfriend would remind you on a daily basis that he thought your body was so beautiful and that he was completely obsessed with each and every curve, beauty mark and birth mark scattered along your skin, your insecurities never failed to get the best of you and you’d always tell yourself that he probably wanted someone with the body of a model. However, you would observe Mark just as much as he did with you; he never batted an eye at any other girl—even when he talked to one of your colleagues, he seemed so disinterested and it made your heart flutter.

You wanted nothing more than to be content with the fact that your boyfriend only had eyes for you, but it was only natural for you to feel as though you weren’t good enough for him. There was an insult on the tip of your tongue; you wanted to ask her what she had in mind and hoped that it was worse than your idea so she would look like a complete dumbass, but luckily—Mark beat you to it.

“Decent? I think you mean brilliant—and no Megan, I do not allow my personal affairs to conflict with my work ethic. I genuinely like y/n’s idea and I would support her even if we weren’t dating. Do you have any better ideas?”

You didn’t have to confess anything out loud; Mark could read your body language like it was a picture book. He knew you better than he knew himself and even better than you knew yourself. With the way you tightened your fists and clenched your jaw, he knew you were seconds away from reaching across the table and pulling on Megan’s hair and if he was telling the truth—he was all for it. Your boyfriend knew all about your ill-relationship with the older girl—he wasn’t blind. Your mood was always quick to change from excited and bubbly to quiet and visibly annoyed whenever she came around.

He wasn’t the kind of person to press you for information if you didn’t want to flat out tell him yourself. He did wish you would tell him though; he wanted to know everything that was bothering you or things that made you upset—if there was anything Mark loathed, it was seeing you sad. His sole purpose was to make sure you were constantly happy, healthy and living the best life possible.

As a CEO, he couldn’t fire her for the reason that she was tormenting you; there was no evidence. But as your boyfriend, he could use his title against her and he always used that to his advantage—to protect you. You had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing at the sight of her now defeated demeanor.

“No sir.” Mark sent you a cheeky wink before clapping his hands together and getting up from his seat.

“What does everyone else think about the radio station and television commercial ad idea?” Everyone around you nodded their heads in agreement and some even gave your boyfriend a thumbs up—you weren’t one to boast nor did you particularly find contentment in proving others wrong unless they deserved it and Megan definitely deserved the shade your boyfriend gave her.

“Good, then it’s settled. If anyone has any better ideas—then feel free to bring it to the next meeting. But until then, we’ll go along with what y/n pitched and take it from there. I have some phone calls I have to make, so I’ll be taking my leave. Good job everyone.” Mark bowed to the entire table and quickly made his way towards the door but not before walking over to you and gently squeezing your shoulder.

“No rush, but can you come to my office once you wrap things up here? I want to talk more about your idea.”

You nodded in agreement even if you knew that you and your boyfriend would only briefly go over what was brought up in the meeting before doing something you both shouldn’t do in a work environment. The meeting only lasted for a couple of minutes after Mark had left—all the employees in attendance were extremely supportive of what you came up with and you couldn’t have been more thrilled and grateful with their responses.

Right after you adjourned the meeting, you made a beeline for Mark’s office; not wanting anyone—specifically Megan to keep you from your boyfriend any longer. When you noticed her approaching, you quickened your pace and made sure she was no longer tailing you once you reached Mark’s door. You knocked gently and waited patiently for him to invite you in and as soon as he called out for you to enter, you made your way inside and gave him no time to process your movements before flopping on to his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. A soft giggle fell from his lips as he brought his hands down to your waist and held you tightly against his body.

“You’re amazing and I love you. Thank you baby.” His laughter filled the room—going straight to your chest and making warmth rise upon your cheeks. For someone who was only three years away from turning thirty, he had the most adorable, high pitched laugh that you knew could light up any room he was in.

“You’re the one whose amazing and I meant what I said—your idea is brilliant. Almost as brilliant as you my love. You never cease to amaze me. Did you see the look on Megan’s face when I indirectly called her out? That shit was priceless I wish I got it on camera. By the way—why didn’t you tell me about how she acts towards you earlier? I’m not stupid y/n, I know there must be some kind of animosity between the two of you and I know you’re not the cause of it. You know you can trust me with these things. What else does she do to you? Nobody treats my baby so unfairly and can expect me not to do anything about it.”

You brought your hand up to his cheek and cupped it ever so gently before placing a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. He smiled softly against your lips and stole a couple more kisses before leaning back in his chair in order to get a better look at you.

“I didn’t want to bother you with something I can handle on my own. I’m a big girl Mark and I don’t let shit like that bother me. I don’t know why she acts like this, I didn’t do anything to her—and I don’t want everyone here to think that I’m not capable of fighting my own battles and that I have to have my boyfriend use his power to fight them for me. I’m sure a lot of employees gossip to each other about our relationship—“

“Who cares what anyone says? Our relationship is nobody’s business but our own. I just—I’m sorry, hearing her try to make you seem so small—so incapable of great things pissed me the fuck off. You’re the hardest worker we have in this entire company and I’m not just saying that because you’re the love of my life. I’m saying it because I’ve watched you work your ass off for the last four years taking on overtime, flying all around the world to meet with and make business with all these important companies, staying up all night to study for exams only to come in the next morning like you weren’t exhausted at all. You are an ethereal being baby. You’re otherworldly and I just can’t stop looking at you in astonishment. I hope you know Megan and every other girl who acts that way towards you is just jealous of you and I don’t blame them. I mean, just look at you.”

The tears were hot as they built up at the brim of your eyelids. This happened almost every single day. Mark had a habit of going in to detail about the love he had for you and how wonderful he thought you were and you were never prepared to hear his complements and sweet words.

“I don’t know what they would be jealous about Mark. Like you said, look at me—“

“I am looking at you. I can’t seem to stop looking at you. All I ever want to do for the rest of my life is look at you and admire you for the extraordinary human being that you are. You are the most beautiful girl in the world, I’m being completely honest y/n. You are so fucking gorgeous, I can’t even form your beauty in to words. You’re honestly God’s favorite and definitely mine. I hate that you think so negatively about yourself when I think the world of you. I know there’s no such thing as a perfect person but damnit y/n, you come very close. I really don’t know what I did to deserve you—and yes, I know what you’re thinking and you can just get rid of the thought that you’re not good enough for me out of your mind completely. Y/n, you are the best thing to ever happen to me—I mean that wholeheartedly. All my life, I felt as though something was missing but I could never put my finger on it. When I met you, everything changed and it just clicked. You were my missing puzzle piece—you’ve brought so much love and light in to my life and I’m forever thankful for being blessed with you to be my person.”

You allowed the tears to fall from your eyelids and a small sob left your throat leading Mark to laugh against your jaw while bringing you closer to his chest. He began to run his fingers through your hair and left a few gentle kisses all around your face.

“God Mark, I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I would do it again and again—I would lead and fight an entire world war if it meant getting to be the person you love in each and every single lifetime. I can’t even—I know I tell you that I love you every single day but I can’t help to feel as though it’s not enough. I wish there was more I could say or do to show you just how much I truly, deeply and irrevocably love you, how you mean the entire world to me and how I would be completely nothing without you. I wish I could see myself the way you see me—from your point of view. I want to trust and believe in myself the way you do. I wish I could love myself, the way you love me. I’m trying to learn to love myself because I know you worry about me and I don’t want you to anymore. I want to make you proud Mark—“

“You do make me proud y/n—every single day. I know you want to keep us a secret for reasons I have yet to understand—I’m sure now it has to do with people like Megan, but you shouldn’t care about what anyone thinks about you other than yourself and me. I think you’re the most astounding person I have ever met. It’s okay if you never learn to love yourself baby—I love you enough for the both of us and I will spend the rest of my life reminding you just how much of a wonderful, amazing, beautiful both on the inside and out and extremely sexy woman you are.”

He stole a few sloppy kisses from the corner of your mouth and began grazing your cheek feather lightly.

“You don’t have to do anything more to prove your love for me, I feel it in my heart. You’re the reason it beats by the way. You keep my blood rushing and my veins pumping. I would give up anything and everything—this job, my family, my friends, hell I would even give up my PlayStation 5 for you and that says a lot baby. You’re all I could ever want and need in my life. Now, if you want to show me some gratitude for loving you so much and for being your backbone today, maybe you could help me fix the problem in my pants that you caused as soon as I saw you leave the bathroom this morning wearing this outfit. Did I tell you how breathtakingly beautiful and devastatingly sexy you look right now? You know what was so hard for me—well, other than my painfully hardened erection, but it was seeing you in this skirt and blouse—watching you tell everyone of your plans with so much confidence and observing the way all the men in there were looking at you with desire in their eyes and not being able to walk up to you and kiss you with all my energy. I would have fucked you right there on the table if I could. But now that we’re both on lunch break—I’m all for eating you out right now. Lunch with a view sounds amazing and I’m not talking about the cityscape babe.”

You playfully shoved him while attempting to get out of his embrace but he wasn’t having any of it and tightened his grip around your waist if it was even possible. “Mark, we can’t have sex right now, everyone is going to find out what we’re doing. You and I are not exactly the quietest people when we have sex—“

He gave you the most adorable pout before bringing his lips right under your ear and nibbling tenderly—trying to get a rise out of you. “Why not? We’ve made love in here many times y/n. I daydream about the multiple times I fucked in to you auto against this desk and against the window. The imprint of your breast on the glass is still in the back of my mind. Who cares if they hear? All the more better. I saw the way all the men would let their eyes linger on you a little too long. I think it’s time they are reminded that your bed is spoken for. It’ll also teach anyone in this building not to mess with you. Don’t try to talk me out of it, I know you’re a huge exhibitionist baby. There’s this one particular position that I wanted to try out if you’re okay with it. I’m going to need you to get on all fours and this blouse, as amazing as it looks on you, I want to see these pretty titties bounce for me. Get ready to sing my love—I’m going to make sure everyone on this floor knows whose the boss in more ways than one.”

I'm getting used to receiving Still getting good at not leaving I'ma love you even though I'm scared Learnin' to be grateful for myself You love my lips 'cause they say the Things we've always been afraid of I can feel it starting to subside Learnin' to believe in what is mine

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me (trust me) The way that you trust me (trust me) Ooh, 'cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view

I couldn't believe it Or see it for myself Know I be impatient But now I'm out here fallin', fallin' Frozen, slowly thawing, got me right I won't keep you waitin', waitin' All my baggage fadin' safely (baggage fadin') And if my eyes deceive me Won't let them stray too far away

I wanna love me (ooh) The way that you love me (ooh) Ooh, for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too I'd love to see me from your point of view I wanna trust me, ooh (trust me) The way that you trust me, baby (trust me) 'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do I'd love to see me from your point of view, yeah

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan got7

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themockingcrows · 3 years

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Doki Doki Grist Panic Ch. 4

Another chapter of my Magical Boy fic, sorry for such a long wait while I got my brain in order!

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802735/chapters/79562023

This chapter is sfw!

Soft, repetitive beeps were the first things Dave heard when he woke. The whirring of machinery, of a barely there fan spinning in a metal case. He’d know the sounds of technology anywhere, used to the hum and breath of his own computer tower in his room. Nothing was overheating, the room was a comfortable temperature, just warm enough to feel cozy where his skin touched itself at the crooks of his elbows and the backs of his legs. He was aware he was lying on his side, but it was so hard to wake up. Opening his eyes felt far too difficult, let alone moving his limbs. Dave settled for a fingertip stroking at what felt like a blanket or sheet beneath his body and sighed a breath exhaustedly.

It wasn’t fully dark in the room. He must have left his lamp on at the desk and taken a nap, or the door was open somewhat to let in light from the hallway and living room. He didn’t hear anything from the front room, Bro must be napping as well or doing something with his headphones on at his computer. Maybe dinner was cooking, or he was waiting for something to be delivered, indulging in his free time doing this or that. It was a comfortable silence. Dave blinked a few slow times before taking in the strange blue tone to the room’s light, cooler than his usual warm home light. Bulb change? Slowly he rubbed at his face and slid to his back, wanting to stare at the ceiling so he could come back to himself more and wake up properly.

This wasn’t his ceiling.

Instead of the textured white ceiling he was used to seeing for so many years, the ceiling was metallic and matte in color. The walls were matte as well, though at least they were white as his own were. Fat load of good it did him, considering the walls didn’t look familiar in the slightest either. Where WAS this place? This wasn’t his room, it wasn’t the living room for sure. Was it a friend’s house? A hospital?

Dave sat upright and lifted his hands to his throat, his face, a sudden feeling of breathlessness hitting him as he panicked. Breathless… It all came flooding back to him in a rush, mind swimming. The attack, the lack of air, choking, suffocating. But it still didn’t answer the question of where he was, nor what was happening. When he went to rock to his knees, Dave paused, feeling a tug of fabric at his waist and chest. That… didn’t make sense, his uniform wouldn’t do that, nor would his casual clothes. Instead of wearing either outfits, he was draped in a soft white material that was tied at the waist with a woven red cord, though he couldn’t guess what type of fabric it was. It was too soft to be linen, too sturdy to be cotton, and didn’t match anything he’d ever felt. Were it not such a mystery he’d probably even go to say it was quite comfortable.

… Where were his boxers?

Who had undressed him? Even the lack of transformation would be something of importance, he’d go back to his civilian clothes, not… whatever this was. When he finally managed to stand, the room span and he sank back down to sit for a moment on the edge of the bed with a grimace, taking it all in as his mind raced in circles like a penned dog. Dave realized that it wasn’t just the garment that was covering him either, but what looked and felt like strings of pearls and golden beads. They were settled around his neck as if wrapped specifically to make a draping effect over his chest and shoulders here and there, and clasped together at the ends behind his neck with what felt like a filigree hook. Someone had taken great care to dress him like this, but why? Who?

Panic rising in his throat like bitter bile, Dave stood slower this time and headed for the cracked doorway, surprised to find the room unguarded. Cameras? Or was there some other way he was being watched? Paranoia ate at him, but when he poked his head out into the blue toned hallway, he heard nothing but the same soft hum of machinery, felt the cool air blowing from unseen vents. Barefooted, he padded along down this hallway to the left of his room, prepared for any threat. ...Or. Well, as prepared as one could be while unarmed. Dave knew how to defend himself while unarmed well enough, but the desire to have a sword was strong. Maybe he should change before exploring further, get his powerup back and-

“You’re awake. I was wondering how long you were going to be unconscious for. So long as your brain waves were healthy and strong I wasn’t worried, at least. It’s fascinating how fragile humans are once you remove their air.”

Dave froze in place. He knew that voice, but the things it was saying weren’t making sense to his brain. John wouldn’t talk like that, but that was the first person that came to mind upon hearing that specific tone and cadence, the way it handled words as if they were fluid on one's tongue instead of just a thought. Swallowing and taking a deeper breath, he rolled his shoulders back and strode to the full end of the hallway and the room it opened into.

The space was massive. The hums were definitely computers, projecting screens and physical and digital keyboards everywhere, holograms and different moving charts and images dancing in the air. Each wall seemed to have some kind of a space background, stars and a moon, a view of the Earth like a peaceful screensaver. In the center of it all stood a figure with glowing eyes and gray skin, unfamiliar clothing and decoration adorning him, a serene look on his face. He looked calm, in control, but there was no hostility to be seen.

“You can come closer. I’m not interested in fighting you,” he said.

Dave frowned and strode closer, observing the different screens as he went, unable to read any of the angular text he saw. When he was a more reasonable distance from him, he finally talked.

“So you’re the one that brought me here.” It was John. Closer, he could see the shape of his eyes, his mouth, the way his hair sat on his head, his broad shoulders. The appearance had changed, but the core was definitely the same. His stomach churned sickly. He’d kissed this person. He’d been held by this person. He’d contemplated doing more with this person, and it was all a lie.

“You seem surprised and yet not surprised enough,” he said with a hint of a smile. It looked a little forced, stiff at the edges of his mouth as if the gesture were foreign to him. “Might I ask who you were expecting?”

“...Nobody specific,” Dave admitted, trying to keep his cool. “Where is here though? I assume you can at least tell me that.”

John lifted his foot and stomped downwards, forcing the ground to shimmer for a moment before it turned pitched black and then seemed to dissolve. The space pattern from the walls blended to the rest of the floor, leaving them seemingly free floating in space despite walking on solid ground.

“I’d thought it would be fairly obvious, but I suppose even someone like you might have been confused at first. Does this clarify things, then?”

Space. Dave knew Bro had gone before, he’d talked about it in the past, but never did he think he’d get to see it himself. Much less in a situation like this one. His fingers curled into the sides of the new draping clothing he wore, steeling himself as he stared directly down towards nothingness. If Earth was on the wall’s side, then they must be at an angle without even being able to feel it. Whatever technology was doing this was astounding.

A gray hand was suddenly touching his cheek, cold and lifeless feeling, and Dave jerked his head up and took a step backwards to put some distance between them again. The look in his eyes could peel paint, aggressively defiant as he’d been during battle, though this time with the added benefit of betrayal as well. This person had lied to him, led him on, played with his emotions. Made a fool of him. He was a moron. Of course he couldn’t have nice things like romance, they weren’t possible for someone with his kind of career. This just hammered that idea home even harder than before in a way that made tears sting in his eyes and threaten to show themselves.

He kept them down out of sheer spite.

“You hate me so much already,” John mused. “Not even a moment's hesitation before pulling back.”

“You’re not John.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not my John.”

“We are one in the same, Dave. Open your eyes to reality,” John said with a flourish of his arms, displaying himself in his entirety as if he hadn’t been seen properly before. “It doesn’t have to be so bad. Think of the possibilities you’re being afforded.”

“Possibilities? Don’t make me laugh,” he nearly spat. “My John might as well be dead now. I don’t care if you’re the same person, the John I gave a shit about wouldn’t be my enemy. I fell in love with a lie, but it was a wonderful lie, don’t even pretend to act like you’re remotely the same thing.”

John sighed a little and rolled his head on his neck to stretch it before rubbing a few strands of hair behind his ear. “You’re really in denial, aren’t you. I’m the same John. I have the same feelings for you, those weren’t a lie. The only lie is that I’m not human. I’ve no intention of hurting you.”

“You fucking suffocated me!” Dave reminded him with a hiss.

“It was the quickest way to end the battle and sequester you away,” John shrugged. “Would you rather I have beaten you senseless with my hammer? It could be arranged now, if you’d prefer. But I’d dislike crushing your pretty face.”

Dave scowled and clenched his fists tight enough that he felt his nails cutting into his palms. “What do you want with me. Hurry this up, I’ve got places to be.”

“You talk as if you’re getting out of here easily,” John mused. “But since you’re here, I’ll go ahead and extend my offer formally.”

“Offer?”

“Yes,” John said, taking a step closer in an attempt to close the gap, though it renewed itself almost immediately when Dave backstepped again to keep distance between them. Frustrating, but fine, he’d deal with it. “I’d like for you to come back with me to my planet.”

“...Why.”

“Why? Because I like you, Dave. I enjoy your company. You are… special to me. I would enjoy keeping you by my side.”

“Cute words, but you still kidnapped my ass and dressed me up like some toy. You’re not exactly still on the boyfriend pedestal,” Dave pointed out. “Why not just find someone on your planet?”

“There’s nobody left for me there,” he said simply, flatly. “It’s why when I’m done here, I’d prefer to keep you with me. I’ve got the technology to make sure you adjust to our atmosphere once it’s restored, an-”

“Restored?”

John reached a practiced hand out to tap at a keyboard, bringing up a specific hologram of a ruined looking planet. Smaller screens lit up around it showing devastation, pollution, destruction both natural and man made. There was a distinct lack of life. “Restored. All it’ll take is enough grist, and my world can be restored to its former beauty. It’s not the same as Earth, there’s a lot different about it. But it’s beautiful in its own way, when it’s healthy and alive.”

“Why is it your job to fix your planet? If you’re the only one left, why not just live here? We have problems, yeah, but there’s plenty of roo-” Dave started, only to be interrupted.

“Because I’m it’s guardian,” John said simply. “I have a chance to save and restore it, to restore everything to how it was but better. I can fix things. I have that power, and I intend to use it. I just need grist from Earth, and my home will come back.”

“How much grist do you need…?” he asked, already having a sense before getting confirmation.

“All of it, preferably. I could work with less, but if I’m here already why not just drain the damned place and be done with it.”

Dave finally took a step forward aggressively.

“So that’s the entire plan? Destroy Earth, gain grist, revive a dead planet?”

“And have you at my side for the duration. You’d love my world, Dave. You’d be loved there. You wouldn’t have to risk your neck all the time as a guardian nobody is grateful to, either,” John explained, grin widening in an almost manic way. “Once I’m the one to restore things, everyone will realize they have a guardian with that power. That I’ll exist to them as more than a vague concept of right and wrong, that I’m a real person, and that I gave them their life back. It will be beautiful.”

The aggressive stance slackened somewhat as Dave shifted his weight back towards his heel.

“You’re crazy.”

“Am I? Or are you just not looking at the big picture clearly,” John said, pulling out his hammer from thin air with a shimmer. He was a guardian. They were the same, and yet, so obviously different in every way. John tossed the weapon easily in one hand, unbothered by its weight in the slightest, then pointed it at Dave before gesturing to the rest of the room. “I’m offering you a place by my side, an entire world. This is an easy choice, Dave. We were getting so close…”

“If I knew this side of you, I’d never have even called you a friend,” Dave said, trying not to flinch when the hammer swung down sharp enough it made stinging air snap against his face. “I’m a guardian of Earth, John. You know I’d never accept this kind of offer. I can’t let you do as you please. I’m offering you a hand again to join Earth, but that’s as far as this goes.”

“Fuck the Earth!” John shouted, eyes blazing. “It's time as the crown jewel of the milky way is over, Dave, open your eyes! Look at the writing on the wall! War, famine, pollution, greed. Your planet is going down the same path my planet did at first. It’s on its way out now. It’s dimming. Yet, it still has a chance to be useful. It can restart my planet, it can become a utopia, like it always had the potential to! A second chance!”

“And why the fuck should I let you kill my planet to restart yours? What makes all our lives inferior?” demanded Dave, jaw tense. This guy was crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy.

“It’s nothing personal, Dave. It’s just business. We can always work together to find another planet to restart yours the same way, another world chock full of grist for the taking. We could work together, even. Keep both our planets safe. It’d be great, it-”

“Isn’t going to ever happen.”

“Dave.”

“I’m not going to let you lay your fucking hands on anything of mine ever again. The Earth is off limits to your grist mining.”

“Dave, listen to me.”

“The offer to remain as a friend of the planet is on the table still, but from the sound of things you’re expecting more. It’s not going to happen. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Dave,” John said again, sounding pained. The grip on his hammer tightened with every word, face desperate and tense.

“Not now, not ever. This planet is my responsibility.”

“Dave, listen!” John shouted.

“I DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO A FUCKING THING YOU SAY WHEN YOU’RE TALKING SO NONCHALANTLY ABOUT KILLING ALL MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY!” Dave shouted right back, raising his fists into a fighting stance defensively, prepared for what might be coming from their outbursts.

John lifted his hammer high, eyes flaring like electricity. A dark breeze rushed through the room, jerking Dave’s clothes left and right, whipping his hair wildly. He prepared for breathlessness, he prepared for the hammer. For what may come.

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST DO AS I SAY?” John yelled, slamming the hammer Dave’s direction. It was a mistake. An accident, he’d try to tell himself. He would never hurt Dave, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t, yet him talking back like this, him refusing him, him refusing him the chance of fixing his world… it was just too much to handle, and he’d done the first thing that came to mind with the darkness.

The hammer struck true, but not on Dave, much to John’s anger and relief. Instead, it was struck and currently straining against a sword that he hadn’t seen before. It was white as marble, with a strange, almost conical looking crossguard. Solid as anything, with a hum of vibrant energy as Dave held John’s strike at bay. Gone were the white clothes, the beads, the pearls, in its place the familiar uniform and white hair John had seen so many times. The flashy red, the gears ticking in the air as he stared with piercing red eyes directly into John’s. No sign of yielding.

He hated that look.

He loved that look.

They strained against each other for a moment before Dave made a move, gears spinning wildly behind him as he slowed things down and surged forwards, sliding the hammer along the edge of the sword till he could flip the balance and send it away from him. Quickly, he angled his body and struck a blow across John’s middle, though it was far from a kill strike. Even now, Dave hesitated to kill some of his enemies, something that he knew would come back to bite him in the future in one way or another. He hoped that, possibly, there would be some way to save John from himself. To clear his heart, his mind. Somehow.

Maybe he could ask Bro, call a favor in from Dirk. Anything. There had to be a way.

As time sped back up, however, Dave knew he was out of time, metaphorically. Instead of attacking again, or preparing to intercept a second hammer strike, he instead clenched his hand over his heart and focused as hard as he could on home. He could picture it in his mind, the futon with Bro’s legs dangling over the end, the television, the wires crisscrossing the floor, food on the counter, smuppets and swords everywhere. The moon from the rooftop, the faint hint of stars in the light polluted sky, the heat of midday sun on the treated surface, waves in the air bouncing off the metallic surfaces of the industrial air conditioners. He could feel it so intensely he could have drawn it with his eyes closed.

Chest warm, Dave heard his heart ticking in his chest, the steady beat of the clock that he worked with. It ticked louder, louder, harder till it was all he could feel, all he could hear… and he was gone. John struck the empty space Dave had been standing in mere seconds after he flashed and disappeared from view. Growling in rage, dark wind wildly thrashing, he threw his head back and yelled wordlessly to the digital sea of stars above him.

This wasn’t over.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dave’s roof was exactly how he’d been imagining it. Comforting, welcoming, and entirely his own. Though relieved at his sudden arrival back on Earth, he couldn’t help but stare up at the sky to try and figure out which bright spot was a star and which might be John’s ship just beyond the atmosphere. He gripped his hand tight against his chest again, before finally glancing down towards his sword. This definitely was new, but what happened? Did he get gifted an upgrade, or had he unlocked it somehow on his own in a fit of panic? He gave it a twist swing, slicing the air cleanly with a vwip noise a few times before the door to the roof clanged open.

“Jesus fuck, kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. Where’ve you been? It’s like you disappeared!” Bro said, hurrying forward as Dave slowed his strikes to a halt. “I came soon as I felt it, but seriously, what gives?”

“Felt it? Felt what?” he asked, confused.

“The ping,” Bro said. At Dave’s continued look of confusion, he set a hand over his heart with a smirk. “I might not be a guardian anymore, but I’m sure as shit still tapped into the system somewhat, and just from bein’ who I am to you I’d feel it I’m sure. Felt when you disappeared… felt when you came back. Dirk no doubt felt it too, even if only a bit. Everyone must’ve felt somethin’, no matter how small, that changed.”

“Somethin’ sure as shit did change, did you see this thing?” Dave asked, hefting the sword up one handed to display to Bro lengthwise, offering it to him to hold and examine in the moonlight, white and all but glowing in its deadly way. “I don’t know what happened, one minute I was goin’ for my sword, the next this cropped out instead.”

“Nice. Solid as shit, too,” Bro judged by the weight. “This is a hell of an upgrade kid. ...I hope it didn’t cost you too much. You know how they are about their workers supplies.”

There was always a price. Be it in time, or be it in blood.

“I hope so too. I’ve got no idea, though. I didn’t hear Hephaestus at all, or see him or anything, just. New sword,” he explained as he took the weapon back, changing out of his uniform and into-

“What’s with the getup?” Bro asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Fucking-! Ugh. God damn creep changed my clothes while I was out cold. H- … Wait. Motherfucker, my phone!” he shouted, looking up towards the sky angrily. His phone was gone, his clothes, his everything was gone and it wasn’t like he could just ask for it back.

“There’s worse ways to lose a phone, kid. We’ll get you a new one,” Bro said with a shrug. “Come inside, already, before you get sucked back to space or wherever the fuck you were at. I’ll make Hot Pockets or somethin’ to celebrate.”

Dave smirked. “I survive a near death experience and you offer me Hot Pockets. My first time off-planet, and it’s Hot Pockets.”

“These are the garlic bread kind, and I’m willin’ to share.”

“...You drive a hard bargain.”

Bro clapped a hand on Dave’s shoulder. “We’ll try puzzlin’ out your powerup and talk while you eat. You can even change out of your weird drapey dress if you want.”

Dave shot another look at the sky as if daring John to react while he stood there more vulnerable, while he was with his guardian, but nothing came. He’d need to finish this. Maybe the Hot Pocket talk could include more strategy than anything else, a second head with more experience fighting off-planet threats to help him think of different options.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

As they started walking, Bro chuckled. “If you wanna call your boyfriend I’ll lend you my phone for a bit if you ask real nice.”

Dave’s stomach churned as they headed through the door, mouth suddenly full of bitter spit. “No thanks. That’s. ...I’ll tell you while I eat.”

#johndave #homestuck #john egbert #dave strider #my fic #my fic writing

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theodora3022 · 4 years

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The Outlaw Prince Part.1 (Fanasty AU Shigaraki Tomura x F!reader)

Summary: As the sovereign Queen, you must sign every execution order before the punishment is performed. This give the criminal a final chance to plead for their case. You would summon them into the castle, treat them like guests, and hear their final words. Your grandfather was the one that made this tradition, to show how he is a merciful ruler (he is not, he is only doing this to save his reputation of a being tyrant). If they have some small final wishes, like what kind of coffin they like or some money for their family, you will fulfill that. Always have mercy on the dying, even they are murderers or human traffickers. That is what Grandpapa told you. You seen your father did this many times, but this is the first time you host such an event. Unfortunately, this criminal seems to have peaked your interests.

Notes: You all seem to love Shigaraki, so here I am. Maybe yandere in second part? This has been stewing in my mind ever since I thought about that fantasy AU. The reader is still the new Sovereign Queen, this happens before she takes suitors. Of course I am not going to make Tomura a conventional Prince! I may or may not write a bit nsfw in the later chapters, but don’t get your hopes up lol. I planned three parts, but it could get out of hand and become a multi-chapter project...

The other fics can be found on my master list.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warnings: Swearing

This is the moment you dreaded ever since you put that ruby ring on. Signing death sentence warrants. You know it is going to come sooner or later, since you watched your father perform these duties, even accompanied him on several trials. It should not frighten you.

So why does this sense of unease have been plaguing you as of late?

Now you are sitting at your desk, studying the file of this unfortunate soul.

“Tomura Shigaraki, Crimes: attempt murder of one of the most renowned mercenaries, All might.” The stunt failed, and this man received the death sentence for it.

You had met All Might back when you were a princess and think of him as that caring uncle everyone wants. He once praised your sword techniques, leaving you flustered. Who would want such a wonderful man dead? Sociopaths, probably. That is what most criminals are, after all.

“Age:21”

He is about your age, although you cannot even begin to imagine what happened. What made a young man commit such immoral acts? There is more to this file, but you want to hear him firsthand without any prejudice. Shutting the folder, you massaged your temples and mentally prepared yourself for the trials. You received a messenger yesterday from the State Prison that they are transferring him here today. You are supposed to greet him in a few hours.

Grandpapa surely knows what he is getting his descendants into. Meeting criminals? Did he have too much time in his schedule? I know most of these people deserves death, but why do I have to be the final judge?

Cursing your grandfather under your breath, you decide to take a little nap before. Such an exhausting activity surely calls for a little rest prior, right?

As the third bell of the afternoon rang, you got up to stretch and yawn, then takes your time to the special dungeon. You had always disliked attendants trailing behind you, therefore you always traveled in the castle alone. Even if something were to happen, the sword in your skirt pocket can be put to use (That is one advantage of such elaborate crinolines). You are your most dependable protector, or so your grandfather said. So far the castle has been peaceful, thanks to the capable guards.

Even though you were supposed to treat them like guests, you cannot just let them occupy the regular guest rooms. Your grandpapa had built a special building in the northeast corner of the castle gardens, especially for this matter.

The door guards bowed to you as you stood in font of the metal gate, contemplating your mindset. Your father usually treated them like official business partners, cold and distant. That approach is prudent, but you want to do something different. You want them to open up to you, get to know them before you send them to their dooms. Maybe you can even get some wronged ones spared!

“This is the room, your majesty. Should I accompany you?” The steward of this building asks you nervously. Ah, your mind had wondered too far. You did not notice how you had followed him to the location.

“Thank you, but I’ll manage. You can sit on the other side of the glass and aid me if necessary.” You smile, though your tone is firm. This is a good chance to prove you are a competent monarch, interrogate a criminal alone.

The room was decently furnished, without a single unnecessary decoration. Except that big mirror that almost covers the entire wall, a mirror made with two-way glass, see through from the other side. Two armchairs, a little tea table in between and a couch.

There he is; the criminal you’re going to interrogate for the next month. He is sitting on the couch, with shackles on his wrists and ankles. His back is facing you, so you cannot see his appearance beside that messy blue hair.

“Finally here? Your Majesty? You certainly took your sweet time.” He did not come kiss your hand, as expected. Gods, how long has it been since he had a proper drink? Those chapped lips did not form within a day. Even with those scars, his crimson eyes still stood out as beautiful. Ignoring his mocking tone, you told the servants to bring tea and refreshments.

“Mr. Shigaraki. I am sure you know who I am, so I will skip the pleasantries. So, tell me about yourself.” Settling on one of the sofas, you start to caress the wooden handle of your sword. Even though this man is in tied in chains only long enough to just move around this room, the best thing to do it stay on your guard.

He laughs, almost sent a chill down your spine, but decides to take a set on the opposite sofa regardless. “Your country is an odd one.” Shigaraki studies you with that unsettling red gaze, with a grin on his lips. “The Queen has to have tea parties with criminals. Do you have nothing better to do?” That is when the maids brought the tea trays. She offers to come in to act as a chaperone, but you took the tea tray and assure her you are doing just fine.

“This is part of my duties. Sugar cube? Honey? Whichever you prefer.” Pouring yourself a cup of your favorite blend, you offer him some as well. Your mouth already started to water at the chocolate cake on the set.

Tomura is stunned, to say the least. He did not expect you to be so...friendly with a lowly criminal like him. He thought this is just another interrogation session, despite the guard had him bathed and dressed him in nice clothes. Sure, he knows this process, but he thought it was just a gesture of the ruling class to appear merciful.

Still, it would be rude to turn the invite from a beautiful lady like you.

He had heard about you before. A spoiled little girl who took the crown due to family tragedies. So why not indulge in some lighthearted conversations before meeting his end?

“...One teaspoon of honey.” Tomura wanted to add please at the end, then remembered the current situation. This tea sure smells good. When was the last time he drank such sophisticated beverage? He honestly cannot recall; it was such a long time ago...

The clear sound of fine porcelain landing in front of him woke Shigaraki from nostalgia. “So, mind introducing yourself, Sir?”

“You already read files about me.” “Maybe, but I want to hear your story from your lips.” You wonder whether it would be possible to let one of the guards apply lip balm on him, by force or otherwise. Taking a sip from the cup, Shigaraki begun to tell you about his hidden past.

“Despite my current situation, I was born to a high station. Although I am also the one who thrown all of it away. I abandoned my old name and took the current one. I have no family left, nothing to hold me back from my goals.” The tea is sweet, almost too sweet for his liking.

A noble fell from grace, then. You seen those kinds before, usually quite well-mannered, but bitter about how fate had treated them. At least you do not have to bear with profanities. You nod to signal him you are listening, stirring to dissolve the sugar cube. “So why would you kill Mr. Yagi? I personally would never do that, for example.”

Of course you would not. You are too good to even think about killing a hero like All Might. Girls born with golden spoons like you would never understand what peasants had to go through just for a mouthful of food.

“The current social order is crooked. Someone must fix it, by whatever means possible. Even if you were to kill me now, there’ still countless others like me. Have fun with them.” Putting down the cup, Tomura turns towards the small window on his right.

“Interesting. What is wrong with the current society?” Taking out a notebook, you begin to scribble with your pencil. “Do you think this continent should have anarchy?”

“Do you wish to give up your crown this badly? I thought you know better, little Queen. I guess I could tell you, you’re curious one.” Most people would spit on him as if Shigaraki is a rat from the sewers, forgotten who he was before descends to villainy. You are one of the few who shows compassion to him, fake or not. He wonders if this is your usual business attitude. Something in your knowledge hunger attitude, your glistening eyes makes him want to open up to you.

Kindness do come from least expected places.

“Those mercenaries, self-proclaimed heroes, disgusts me. They did the same thing as outlaws, taking lives. But they earn all those praises and adoration? Because of what? The f**king greater good.” Scratch the polite part, Shigaraki is clearly not above using swear words.

“Could you refrain from using vulgar language? You said you are of noble birth; you should know the proper protocol for talking to a monarch. Also, what is your place of birth? Which kingdom are you from?”

“I forsaken my status long ago, right now I’m nothing more then a lowlife. It is only fitting that I act like one. How about you tell me a bit about yourself, little Queen? It’s only fair, and I don’t have anyone to tell.” Cracking a wide smile, Shigaraki took amusement of how you shiver a little. Not so fearless after all, unlike the urban legends.

You do not see any harm in sharing whimsical details about yourself. Just treat him like those irritating distant cousins, you told yourself.

You start by how your grandpapa is a cruel tyrant, but you still love him dearly. How he taught you swordsmanship, riding, cooking simple meals, bandage minor wounds and make a fire in the wild. In between you offered Shigaraki some sweets on the tray, frowned when he only took a pretzel, the least sweet one.

That does not sound like a spoiled upbringing at all. That sounds like how an assassin or soldier was raised. One of his formal guards used to said how hard it was.

“Mr. Shigaraki? Are you feeling alright? Do I need to send for a physician?”

“You’re a funny girl. I think I will give you one clue of my past if you are so eager to learn. Others used to refer me as Tenko.” Shigaraki threw out the bait already, now it is time to wait and see if he can catch the big one. Even if he loses this gamble, this should provide him some entertainment in his final days. A fruitful endeavor either way. You wrote that name down, ready to do research on it.

The gentle knocks on the door reminds you it is time to wrap up this little chat. This is...a lot better than you expected. You cannot help but feel he is charming, in his own twisted, wicked way.

“Is there anything that can improve your stay? A change in meals, perhaps?” Putting the notebook back into your skirt pocket, you fetch up the tea tray and ask.

Look at you, being the good hostess, really care for Shigaraki like a guest. So nice and naïve, it would be a shame if some villain like him to take advantage of that.

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Jinxed-Part 1

Calum’s so used to fucking up that when a second chance comes his way he’s not sure what to do with it. Demon!Calum. Black!OC.

CW: 18+ Content (Smut), Blood, Gore, Violence, and Death mentions.

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_____________________________________

He wasn’t sent here to find companionship. He was here to wreck havoc, collect the souls that needed to be returned, find the ones that managed to escape the other Hunters. One such soul was proving difficult for Calum. He sat at the bar, just about every night, drinking whiskey straight. The bartenders were starting to recognize him. Always donned in his leather jacket and his dark curls always pushed back just a little from his forehead. All his intel was leading him here, at this bar. So he sat, and waited, and waited and sat.

Tonight is no different. The attire, all black from the beanie to the boots. The jacket was the only thing that distinguished him from staff. Tucked in his corner, Calum sipped at the glass. It didn’t taste like much to him anymore. His human form still taking perks from the previous demonic state. Alcohol truly had no effect on him and it all started to taste somewhat the same. Except for vodka and whiskey. And he couldn’t sip on just vodka at the bar. So he nurses his whiskey just like any other night.

Women approach his table, twirling hair, batting eyelashes. Calum wasn’t going to ignore them either. He smiled, flirted with some of them, went back to their place with some of them. He never made it a habit to do that. But he indulged himself. He let himself enjoy the visceral pull of his gut to be satisfied, even if it would never actually satisfied. Calum watches as the doors open, a group of girls walking in. Nothing about them reads highly distinctive. Yes, they’re attractive. But in the short skirts, and dresses, and high heels, they look like every other girl here.

There’s another girl that trails behind the main group, shirt hiding practically nothing of her bust. The black pants with a high thigh slit, revealing an assortment of tattoos on her upper thighs. That’s all Calum catches of her, besides the red undertone of her dark brown skin and high ponytail. As she disappears into the crowd, catching up the group Calum watches. Her smile is dazzling. But he thinks he shouldn’t get caught up tonight. Something in the air tells him he’ll find the guy tonight.

The night progresses, slowly, like watching the second hand of a clock go around. Maybe this asshat won’t show. Calum looks over the crowd, hoping he can spot that girl again. When his gaze does land on her, she’s at the bar. The guy he’s here to snatch up is leaning in mighty close. When she withdraws her arm from his touch once, Calum’s already pushing out of seat. When she steps back a second time from this guy, Calum barrels his way through the crowd. Everyone knows his human form. Everyone that should be scared of him does at least.

Approaching the bar, Calum smiles at the girl, sliding right up next to the asshole. “Tell me, miss,” he shouts, “is this asshole bothering you?”

She eyes him, unsure of what the hell is happening but she still nods. “He is,” she answers, watching the fear overtaking the creep’s face.

Calum smiles, taking the collar of their jacket into his fist. “Well, good thing he’s leaving. If you’d like, take a crack at him.”

The guy is stumbling over his words, pleading with her that he needs help. But she doesn’t feel for him. She doesn’t have it in her to punch this guy though. Even though he’s definitely a creep, she doesn’t have the heart. She shakes her head, looking down to the worn wood of the bar beneath the spill mat. “I-I can’t.”

Calum looks at his side profile. “You should thank her. Much too sweet to push your teeth in. Now, let’s apologize. And you and I, we’re going to have a little chat.”

At first, the only words the guy gets out are how she has to help him. But with a quick strike to the back of his knee from Calum, the man buckles and apologizes, holding himself by leaning into the sturdy bar. “I’m so sorry,” he rushes out.

Calum waste no time hauling the man up and dragging him out. She watches the dark man, in the black beanie haul out the creep, his feet literally dangling above the floor. That can’t be real, she thinks to herself, blinking as if to see straight. But she has to be seeing straight. She’s only one drink in for the night. She’s not that drunk. Not even drunk at all. But how the hell did he get over to her so fast? And how the hell was he able to carry that guy out like that?

She watches the door, like he’s going to walk back through them any moment. She saw him early, perched in the corner, sipping from a glass. She didn’t know what it was. But he just sipped occasionally. Was he security? She knew from her dad’s stories that sometimes bouncers had “drinks” but never actually drink so they could blend in when walking the dancefloor. But he never walked the dancefloor, at least not from what she could tell.

“Rubs, you okay?” Kourtney’s, Ruby’s friend, voice is clear over the bars of Cardi B’s mantra about money bags. Rubs, short for Ruby, though it was never really short. It was a name she used for herself. She never liked giving out her real name. She disliked it too much. Heard it too many times with anger and malicious intent behind it. So she makes sure she never hears it again.

“Yeah-yeah, I’m okay,” she breathes. But her gaze never leaves that door. “I’m just--feet hurt from all the dancing,” she says finally turning her gaze back to Kourtney. “I’m just going to chill here. If you want, I can hold you guys’ stuff.”

“You sure? It’s your birthday. C’mon, just dance. Cut loose.”

Her laughter falls out of her, watching her friend’s attempt to seduce her back to the dance floor by twerking in her face. Rubs taps Kourt’s ass a couple times before giving in. It is her birthday. And even though that creep had tried to sour her night, someone else had been right there to make it better. She watches that front door. Never lets her gaze fall too far from it. She’s dancing into a girl, she’s not sure who really. Ruby catches their perfume though and lets herself be pulled back into them.

She’s grinder deeper into the girl. Her knees aren’t hurting her, but she straightens back up, ass still clapping behind her when she catches the beanie covered head moving through the crowd. There’s no need to even try and apologize, to try and excuse herself. She just straightens up and shuffles through the bodies. No amount of excuse me’s are ever heard and people will still give her dirty looks for bumping into them.

As she clears the dance floor, she sees him settle back into his corner. At a high table just big enough for two. This is her chance. At the bar, she smiles. All the bartenders know it’s her birthday and she manages to squeeze a free drink for herself and the mysterious man. “Vodka cranberry and whatever he’s drinking up there,” she says nodding her head in his direction. The drinks come out a few moments later.

Before walking over to his table, she adjusts the shirt, pulling more of it up over her chest, situating the girls back into position. The chair scrapes against the floor and his dark eyes dance in shitty strobe lights of the club. He pretended not to notice her, but she saw her immediate bee line off the dance floor. She sets the drink down first before climbing into the seat across from next to him. He’s moved them so they both face the entire establishment. “What’s your name? Hawk or Eagle Eye?” she teases.

Calum twists his mouth up, pondering for a moment. “Close. It’s Calum.”

“Ruby,” she returns. Then it’s silent for a beat. “Look, I-I wanted to say thanks for earlier. That guy was a total creep. And you didn’t have to step in like that. But I really appreciate it. So I got you a drink. To say, thanks.”

He doesn’t call attention to the one already in his hand. His smile is genuine. “You’re welcome. And thanks.”

She watches the way he twirls his first drink in his hands, the rings sometimes softly clinking against the glass. The tattoos on his hands, they’re initials. She wants to ask, but she swallows that curiosity down. “If you want a dance, I’ll be somewhere down in there,” she offers and then slips from the seat. Doesn’t wait for Calum to confirm, or to say no. She disappears back into the thick of the crowd. Calum decides not to take her up on that offer but does offer to return the drink favor. Whenever she’s up for another one of course.

She dances for a while. Her smile big as she dances with the group she came in with. It’s a bit before she takes her herself back to the bar. He slips from his spot, second drink in hand this time. While at the bar, he learns it’s her birthday. “I feel terrible,” he teases. “Don’t have a present for you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll count the drink, Calum. Thanks.”

He nods, looks over the drink, nothing’s been tampered with it and then settles back at his perch. He watches her and her friends, even as they pile into the back of the Uber. He follows from a distance, watching as the all pile into one house. It’s probably not the smartest thing to follow her. But he has to make sure they get home safely. Especially since it’s her birthday.

When Calum returns to his apartment, he flicks on the TV, knowing nothing will be on. But it’s habit. It’s background noise. He feels bad if he please music this late, his neighbors need their sleep and he doesn’t want to be that asshole. So he settles for late night reruns of shows he knows almost too well and feels ashamed for knowing them as well as he does. Already sitting on the kitchen table is his list. More people that have bargained with the Devil and have forgotten that there is still a price to pay. It’s all ironic. His job is never done, their hope never seems to faltar until they see his face. Until they are forced to realize, time has run out.

___

It’s crazy to go back to that bar a few nights later. She knows it. She knows that she really shouldn’t be expecting Calum perched in that back corner, eyes catching everything. But when she walks in and actually sees him, she thinks there must be a payoff for being crazy sometimes. Because why else on earth would she have dragged herself nearly an hour across town just to get a glimpse of this guy?

There’s no beanie this time. But his hooded eyes and brown skin are more than enough to ease her worries. Calum spots her too, the second she cracks open the door, he notes her scent. That’s insane he thinks to be able to pick someone out of a crowd just by the way they smell. But he does it. Her hair is the same, braided on the sides, the top slicked back and it all leads to the ponytail. The ends are wavy this time instead of the sleek, straight look when they first met.

He shouldn’t be so delighted to see her. He should be telling himself to get up, slip onto the dancefloor before she has the chance to catch him and slip out the backdoor near the restrooms. Someone that comes back once will come back again--he’s learned that over his years. Though years feels much to short, much to finite for the time he’s been alive and serving. He was human once. He remembers the way it feels to feel so invincible.

She pauses at the bar, eyes still flicking up to meet his. Calum wonders if she knows. It would be impossible for her to know. He’s not in his other form. He’s never even hinted to it. All he did was save her from a creep. But she watches him, like he’s going to suddenly evaporate from existence. Not that Calum couldn’t zip away without being detected. But instead he sits perfectly still. She’s in jeans this time, her top black and sheer with a bralette beneath it. She’s in sneakers though, a style the resembles Keds.

Her climb into the chair is smoother this time. No chunky heels in the way. “It’s a shame you don’t have a drink yet,” Ruby smiles, sliding the glass towards him.

“Another thank you drink?” “No.” She’s not sure how to explain what the drinks means. Unsure on whether to call it a I think you’re cute drink or a I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m definitely flirting drink. Maybe it’s better undefined anyway. Maybe she doesn’t have to label everything to death. “It’s just a drink. Because I saw you empty handed.”

“Well, I think I should return the favor. What’s your poison?”

She gives a head shake no. “Nothing tonight. I drove over her.”

He scoffs. “They have a whole line of sodas. What’ll you have?”

“Sprite.”

He nods, slips of his chair and walks to the bar. It’s not a long wait until the fizzy clear drink is in his hands. He hands it to her before climbing back into the chair. “What brings you out tonight?”

The word ‘you’ dangles from lips. But she swallows it down with a sip of her drink. “Just out. What about you?”

“Just out too, I guess.” They sip on their drinks in a lull. It’s not awkward, shockingly. She takes in the cut of his jaw, the way his eyes are always moving over the crowd.

Words are falling over her lips before she can stop herself. “You’re not a bouncer, are you?” Calum shakes his head no. “So, are you like ex-military or something? Ex-law enforcement?”

He wonders what gives her that impression. But she must know someone that was for those to be her first guesses. He gives another shake no. “Where is the prefer not to say box?” he jokes, looking over to her.

“Fair, that’s fair. Only asked because my dad. He used to do something similar. Sit with his back to the wall, see all the exits. Ex-SWAT, but you never take the officer of the person. Just the badge and the gun.”

He wonders if she grew up with a lot of discipline. The thought really only crosses his mind when he notices the way she sits perfectly straight in her hair. Not a slouch or a curve in her back. “Sounds intense,” Calum offers.

She shrugs, going in for another sip. “At some point I think my brain just shut off. I always knew there was a chance he wasn’t coming home. I just didn’t compute it. Whenever he was in bed in the morning, it was great. But when he wasn’t, I never panicked. I just--kind of went on autopilot. Went to school, did work, played, did homework. Annoyed the shit of my younger sister. Just went about life.”

Calum reaches for the glass and swirls it around, taking a dramatic inhale. “Just making sure nothing is in that sprite. I watched them pour it too.”

Ruby laughs, eyes closing, reclining into the chair a bit more. “I know. Heavy for the club. Sorry.”

“Don’t.” The word falls just by itself at first. Nothing else. And then Calum sees the shift. How she sits back up straight. Was his tone harsh? He then adds on, “You don’t have to apologize.”

She nods, hiding in the glass. She can’t just ask to hook up with a guy, can she? She’s kind of used to it but not this sober. Calum can feel the tension build up. That there’s something she wants to say but can’t bring herself to say it. So instead he throws out a compliment, about her shoes. She laughs. “In all honesty, I had to drive nearly an hour out here. I wasn’t going to attempt to do that in heels. And I was too lazy to change out of them.”

“I thought you were just out?”

The heat of her cheeks makes her fan herself a little. Is she going to be this forward? She might as well, since she’s already put one foot in her mouth. What’s another one? “I might have driven all the way out here, in hopes to see you.”

Calum nearly chokes on his drink. An hour to potentially run into him? Calum’s always the chaser, always running after someone else. He’s never once stop to think about how nice it is to actually be persused just a little. She hands him a napkin, laughing at the wide eyes. “A shock I take it?”

“Sorry. But I hate to think you could’ve wasted that time and gas.”

Her eyes twinkle, the skin crinkling around her eyes just a little as the smug grin crosses her face. “But I didn’t.”

Turning to her, Calum thinks he’s done enough for tonight. Those people won’t disappear off the face of the earth. He can always find them tomorrow. He reaches out, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. “No, trust, you didn’t. I live three blocks from here.”

The walk to Calum’s place isn’t long. They keep mostly to themselves, talking about random things, Calum tells a story about the dinner they passed on the way when he got a face full of burger by accident. Ruby tells a story in rebuttal how she used to be a waitress and spilled coffee on someone once. As they reach the steps to his apartment, Ruby reaches out, nails scratching right at his scalp. Calum pauses his work at twisting the key, eyes closing. A small shiver runs down his spine.

Her tone is dripping with desire as she speaks, “Cat got your tongue.”

“No, but my tongue will have something else,” he quips.

There’s no wasted time when both of them cross the threshold. Calum pins Ruby to the wall, kissing across her jaw, fingers make quick work of her belt and pants. His fingers trail the band of her panties. His lips find her collarbone, sucking purple marks into the dark brown flesh. Her fingers dig into his shoulder beneath the leather jacket, before trailing back into his hair. The air is filled with her soft moans.

She works at getting his belt undone as his fingers trail down into the thin material of her underwear. Lace by the feel of it. She’s not quite soaked-- there’s some slickness there. Calum knows all too well what buttons to push though. He brings his hand back up, trailing over the hem of her shirt. She’s pulling his belt free from his jeans, shoving down the denim. Her fingers trace over the tops of his thighs.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Calum teases, pulling back from her. He slips the jacket over his arms, pulling the shirt up and over too.

Her eyes dart over the two tattoos right along his collarbones. She watches him pull his shoes off and toes hers off herself. His pants are the next to go as well. Her jeans are tight. She hates the way they catch sometimes around her hips and thighs. Before she can get them down to her knees, Calum takes both her wrist and pins them to the wall above her head.

Ruby huffs, hating the fact she can’t touch his skin, can’t pull him in close. She bucks and he presses down harder. He can’t press down too hard, or he’ll actually hurt her. “Relax,” he commands. “You’ll get a taste.”

A low growl escapes her throat, chest heaving as she tries to pull against his hold. God, he’s strong and that turns her on more. She clenches, squeezing to relieve the ache building. Both of them gaze at each other. He waits--she must say something. But her lips don’t so much as quirk. “Cat got your tongue?” Calum quips.

“Your mouth is doing a lot right now but it could be doing better things.”

Calum’s laugh is dry, more of a bark too. “My dear, I’m not the one who drove all this way.”

“You’ll be glad I did.”

“You’re almost too sure about that.”

She shakes her head, hair shaking with the movement as well. Calum runs his fingers through it of his free hand. The strands are soft and silky, the black a contrast to his skin. “I’m not being cocky about this.” His hand slides across her chest, over the scratchy material of her shirt before closing around her throat.

“I wonder if you’re a beggar.”

“Beg? For you? You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t that just make your cock twitch?”

So, she’s a brat. He likes a brat. A bit of a challenge. Most women he goes home with like one thing. To get straight to the point. But there’s something to Ruby, this sweet girl with a pointedness. Not quite socially awkward, but still reserved in a sense. But now here she is, pinned to his wall, throat tucked neatly under his palm. She doesn’t shy away from it, she doesn’t look away. She stares directly at him; she waits. There’s no fear.

“If you so much as think about lifting your arms from the wall, you’ll be sorry. Understood?” He adds a little more pressure to her throat, watches as her eyelids flutter.

She speaks, albeit in a whisper because of his hand. “Understood.”

Calum releases her wrist, and slowly peels his hand from her throat before sinking to his knees and tugging the jeans down and off her. Her thighs are soft in his hands, a prominent jiggle when he gives them a stern slap. A laugh falls from her throat. Calum looks up to see her eyes closed, arms still pressed into the wall.

He half-way expected her to grab his hair, disobeying his order. But then he thinks back to the bar. The way she snapped up straight when he told her not to apologize. She gets off on obeying. But enjoys the rile, seeing someone worked up. Her skin reddened from his palm. Ruby lets her knees buckles just a little when Calum kisses her thighs. He can see now a small wet spot forming at the crotch of her pink panties. He finds the mix match endearing. But doesn’t dwell too long before pulling them down her legs.

She glistens and all Calum wants is a taste. When his mouth connects, Ruby’s whole body relaxes. The apprehension finally cut. Though his tongue flicks at her clit and the pleasure courses through her. Her muscles tense. His large palm cups her ass, pushing her off the wall. The noises are sinful as Calum holds her closer to his tongue. Her pants bounce off the ceiling. A string of curses falling from her lips.

Her hands eventually fall from the wall. Her nails trailing over his shoulders but never daring to delve into his hair. He pulls from her core, tugging lightly on her clit before releasing it. “Scared to touch me now, sweetheart?”

Her only response is to grip his hair, pulling his mouth to meet her center. His laughter vibrates against her. A yelp falls from her lips at the sensation. Calum hums when her grip tightens. He’s always liked a little bit of pain. It’s always sparked a fire deep in his gut. So he doesn’t shy away from her harsh grip. A moan falls from her at a moment or two later Calum replies with his own. Her thighs are shaking in his hands. Ruby’s arched into the wall, to keep some balance. Calum can sense she’s wobbling. Wrapping his arms around her legs, he pushes her into the wall, legs thrown over his shoulder. Most of her weight now pressed up into the wall, but he helps keep her supported.

When she comes, it’s with a whine and a chorus of swears. Calum pulls away from her. She could keep herself up if she wanted, but instead Ruby lets herself slide down the wall. “Got anything else smart to say?” he questions.

His remarks earns him a shove to the shoulder with her foot. “I always have something smart to say.”

He captures her ankle, kissing the joint and the trails butterfly kisses up the inside of her calf. “I’d like to hear them.”

Ruby pulls her leg back and Calum watches as she pushes to her hands and knees, crawling, though the distance is short, to him. “I bet.”

Calum scoots back, butt sliding over the hardwood floor with ease. She follows. He scoots again, pushing to his knees. Would she actually crawl all the way to his bedroom? From his knees he stands, walking backwards. She follows, grinning. “What? This get you off to? Someone on their hands and knees for you?” Her voice is still breathy.

“If I said no, I would be a liar.”

They walk, and in Ruby’s case, crawl to the bedroom. Right outside the threshold, Calum extends his hand. She takes it, only a few pops can be hard as she straightens. “You didn’t hear anything.”

“Not a single sound.”

Up close, she can still see her mess on his face. It’s not easy, but she gets up on her tippy toes and swipes her tongue over his chin and lips. Calum holds her face with his hands, keeping her there as they kiss. Somewhere in the heated touches, her shirt and bra are discarded. The air feels different now. Electric but somehow a vortex spiraling her further and further down. Calum is the only thing that keeps her grounded, kissing his warm skin, biting at his muscles.Her arousal is leaking from her again, he can feel it.

He kisses up her shoulder, over the side of her neck. His breathe right in her ear. “Since you like being on your knees so much, why don’t you kneel for me, face down, ass up?”

Arching up, Ruby situates herself in the middle of the bed, ass up, face pressed down into the mattress. It’s a gorgeous sight, Calum thinks, tearing open the foil packet. He gives each of her cheeks a swat, watching as they turn red and bounce. “You hit hard,” she pants. Nerves strike his chest. Did he really hit too hard? “I like it.”

He exhales, slipping the latex over his cock and gives her another two swats. “Since you like it so much.”

Her laughter is muffled, but still audible. “Thank you.”

Calum lines himself up, slowly pushing into her. He’s used to always taking the intial thrust slow but Ruby settles back onto him. Clearly he is wasting too much time with being gentle. He gives her another swat to her right cheek and then another to the left. She doesn’t try to outpace Calum, though, occasionally she bounces back. He has none of that. He takes his hips into his hands, stilling her. Her arch never falters, face pressed harder and harder into the mattress by Calum’s sharp thrusts. Her hair, all too inviting. Calum reaches for the ends, just to play with it before finding the hold of the ponytail. He pulls her upward, her hissing is music to his ears.

“Fuck,” she sighs, arching more to keep the angle.

Her curses are matched by Calum’s own. “Look at that ass bounce for me,” he growls. He slows on purpose, just to give her another swat. But she can feel the fire in her gut. She is not in the business of playing too many games. Pressing herself back, she tries to encourage him to go faster again. All it does it make him slow until she’s fucking herself on his sock. “Such a good girl,” he mutters.

His hold is still wound around her hair. Her moans reach a higher pitch, beginning to sound like a bit of a whine. But her hips never slow. “God, fuck,” she sighs. Her orgasm falls over it, thighs shaking. She wants to collapse, to just give in. But she hears the way Calum groans, the quiet, ‘Oh shit’ he breathes and she pushes herself up. She knows one thing she wants more than sleep, his release.

Pressing back hard, she arches a little more. “Cum for me, Calum. You know you want to. You know you need it.”

Need it--what he needs is for her to never stop riding him like this. God, what he needs is her whines imprinted into his brain. “You gonna make me cum?” he returns. She says nothing, and needs not say anything as she snaps back and forth of his cock. “Oh my god,” he groans, letting go of her hair. His release is close. He can feel it in his toes, the way it’s knotting in his stomach. “Just like that, baby,” he breathes.

“That’s right,” she encourages. “Cum for me.” She can’t quite feel the start of his releases, but he hears it as he comes, the way his hips rut up. He holds her by her hips, buried deep inside her. His cry is a grunt that’s choked out towards the end.

Ruby finally lets herself fall into the bed, Calum’s weight mostly on top of her. He kisses down her spine before pulling out gently. She pushes herself up, laughing as she asks which way to the bathroom. Her clothes are everywhere after her trip to the bathroom. But she finds her underwear and jeans up front and walks back into the bedroom to find her bralette.

“Dressed already?” Calum’s spread on the bed, his boxers pulled back up over himself. But that’s all. Ruby doesn’t speak. It should be obvious that she can’t say. “You’re an hour from your house. It’s almost two in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assures, pulling the straps up.

“You have to walk three blocks just to get to your car. I’m not letting you do that. Not this late at night and definitely not by yourself.”

“What are you going to do? Walk back with me to my chair?”

“Yeah. In the morning.”

“That’s going to be awkward.” She doesn’t miss the eye roll. Somehow it stings. She knows it’s probably a better idea to just wait until morning.

“It won’t be awkward. Take those jeans off, put your shirt down and lay down.” Ruby tosses the shirt onto the chair in the corner of his room. Everyone has that chair where clothes, jackets, and junk are deposited. Shimmying down the jeans a second time tonight, she steps out of them, throwing them onto the chair too. As she settles onto the mattress, Calum brings the sheets up. He doesn’t miss that she wears her bra and panties still.

“I’m a side sleeper, so I’m not ignoring you I promise,” she laughs.

“Noted.” Sleep never finds Calum anymore. He’s never needs it anymore. But he lets himself fall into the springs, eyes closed. He lays, arms folded behind his head and keeps himself still. For the moment. It’s not too much longer that he can tell she’s asleep, the sheets move slower now. Her breathing deeper now.

This isn’t how these nights usually go. He’s never really brought someone over to his place. But he finds a certain spark of joy in having someone in bed next to him. Yes, they’re practically a stranger. But for the small moments before he slips out of the bed, it’s nice.

___ That would be the end of his story with Ruby if not for a week later, he runs into her. On her side of town. The girl he’s after is crafty. She’s changed her hair since they last time she was spotted. But he knows she hangs around the beauty salon as a nail technician. So he decided to make an consultation. He’s no stranger to a hair salon and isn’t afraid to use whatever means necessary. From the front entry, he can almost see clear to the back. There’s something behind part of the wall, he can’t see, but as the door chimes and he steps in, he figures once he gets into the ladies chair he can scope it out.

There’s a chorus of a welcome from the women working. Some ladies sit off to the side, waiting as well. He walks up to the front desk, smiling at the young girl there. “Hello, how are you?” she greets.

“Good. You?”

“Well. How can I help you today?”

“I have an appointment with Dione,” he answers. “Under Hood. Calum.”

She looks over the book and nods. “She’ll be with you in just a moment. Feel free to have a seat.”

Calum nods before walking over to the seating area, and plops down. From this angle he can see the nail area. Though it’s empty for the time being. But from the back, he spots Ruby, walking up front, someone behind her. He must’ve called her name because she looks up, brows pulled together in confusion. Her features soften after they settle on him. Of all the places the girl could be, he’s shocked. No, scratched that he’s floored.

He can’t help but think she’s gorgeous even in the black apron and crocs. He snorts, mostly to himself when he sees them. She turns back to client. They talk lowly and after she’s paid she turns back to Calum. “Well this is a surprise,” Ruby laughs. “How’d you find me?”

“I didn’t. I just needed a good stylist.” He could ask her. She’s sure to know everyone that comes through this salon. But before he can ask his name is called.

So he stands. But stops pulling Ruby in close. “Can you squeeze me in after this?”

“You know I do brows right?”

He grins. “Have you seen these caterpillar? I need it.”

“Yeah I can squeeze you in.” The hair consultation doesn’t take long. But he’s hoping that if he lingers just a little longer that she’ll show up. When it’s done, Ruby waves for him to follow. They walk down the corridor. She’ll have no questions no doubt. But he’s less concerned about that. He needs answers and fast.

Calum settles into the chair but Ruby doesn’t recline it. She studies him for a moment, brows knitting back together.“Do you really need your brows done or is this some sort of excuse?”

“In all honesty, I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Niq. I need to know when she comes in again, or if you know about were she hangs out.”

“Niq keeps to herself mostly. She works everyday the shop is open. She’s a good kid.”

They’re all good kids he thinks. They always are on the second or third leg. He can feel the sincerity off her. The concern. He wonders for a moment if she’s older than he figured. He aged her at about early twenties, the physical age his human form stopped aging. “Look, she’s in some trouble. I’m just trying to help her.”

Ruby’s features soften. She’s worried. Niq isn’t the type to be in major trouble. Granted, she doesn’t talk about her past. She just needed a place to lay low she said, make money to make ends meet. And that’s all she ever did. They didn’t hang out on the weekends but she never fussed with anyone. She never went out of her way to be spiteful. “She’s out getting lunch for us.”

“When will she be back? I really need to speak with her. Keep her out of trouble.” The words fall so easily. Calum doesn’t even have to think about what he’s saying. From the front, the door chimes. Ruby holds up a hand for him to stay seated and she peeks out the door. Niq stands at the door, bags and cup holders in her hand. Whatever trouble she’s in, Calum will surely help her out.

Ruby turns around. “That’s her. She just walked in. Should I get her to come back here?”

While Calum knows Niq to be evasive, she’s never been hostile. He shakes his head. “We’ll go up front, I’ll pay, like nothing happened. She knows who I am.”

“Okay. Is she gonna be alright? Like what’s going on?”

He keeps quiet, just stands from the seat and waves for her to walk first. He won’t answer her. She takes it as she’s better off not knowing. Her heart hammers in her chest when she starts to the front of the salon. What trouble had Niq gotten into to? Ruby knew gang violence was huge in the surrounding area. Had Niq gotten involved with the wrong guy? Was Calum connected? All her thoughts raced along with her heart but she tried to keep up appearances.

Niq smiles at Ruby and even at Calum. He nods in return, sliding Ruby a twenty. A silent conversation in nods occurs between Calum and Niq. He heads out the front door. He considers the possibility that Niq could try and bolt out the back door. So he pats his pockets, snaps his fingers and spins back around. Calum knows he hasn’t forgotten anything. But if he can keep his cover for just a wee bit longer, he can walk back into the salon without a single batting lash.

“Forget something?” Ruby asks.

“Keys,” is Calum’s simple reply, noting Niq shuffling towards the back of the salon. She’s making good distance before Calum figures he’ll have to be had.

Ruby feels the hairs on her arms stand up with Calum behind her. The air buzzes, she can feel it in her chest. Calum’s never going to catch her if Ruby is in the way. Niq won’t make it far. Ruby veers into the room to double check the seat for any sign of keys when something cracks, a deafening sound with a flash.

She turns around and Calum’s holding one hand up, something black wrapped around it. “So that’s where my whip went?”

Whip? What the hell is he doing with a whip?

“I’m not going back,” Niq hisses.

“On the contrary, I’ve got direct orders to take you back. DOA. So this is really your choice.” A swift yanks brings the whip and Niq closer to him. It burns as the handle leaves Niq’s hand. It burns her everytime she touches it, it knows who it belongs to. But she figured if Calum were so powerful to hold it, it would make her powerful too. And it did, minus the burns. Calum brings the hilt to his hand. Her flesh still melting into it.

Is this his idea of helping, Ruby wonders This can’t be it. If so, he’s got a fucked up idea of reality.

Niq figures this is her last shot of escape. The next time it won’t just be Calum. It will be him and the hounds. She knows if she faces them, there is no chance of being brought back alive. But she’d rather be brought back dead. “You’ll have to kill me,” she says and attempts to turn.

Another crack sounds around the salon, a stripe across her body. It burns, not even because of the poison leather, just the sting of her pride. Niq knows she fucked up, that she broke her word. But she really deserved a second shot at life. It wasn’t her time to go. She figured this would give her that second shot. She didn’t think Lucifer would take so strongly to a verbal agreement.

Calum would rather not kill her. She is, as Ruby called it, just a kid. She’s a got caught up. She was given a deal and when Calum discovered his whip missing, knew she had to be the one that had taken it. Always had sticky fingers. He was willing to let it go, but he wasn’t the one to call the shots. Lucifer demanded she be found and brought back. Scarred. To be made a lesson of.

Niq touches the blood, making sure it’s real and hers while collapsed onto the floor. Calum winds the whip back up, pulling out the bag from his jacket pocket. “You said you were going to help her?” Ruby snaps.

Calum walks past her, not even blinking at the punch she throws. It connects, even has some power behind it. “I am helping her,” he returns.

His tone is too even keeled. “This is not helping her!” She shrieks. She’s helpless as he lifts Niq over his shoulder. “I don’t know who you are. But this is kidnapping. I will call the police.”

“Call ‘em babe. “ He spins around. Eyes blacked over, a grin on his face. Ruby wishes she could wipe it off his plump lips. “And when they ask for a description of the man, tell them. not a man, not a who. But a what.” He tongue flicks out, forked like a snake. When he turns again, she notes a black tail, slender with a spear at the end. It waves as he pushes open the back doors.

Ruby doesn’t run into Calum after that. At first, she wants to confront him. Demand all the answers, even attempt to kick his ass for lying to her. She hangs around that bar. She drops by the apartment building only to find that he broke the lease and left. Every search on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter yields her nothing in the wake of a Calum Hood. It’s as if he isn’t even real. As if he didn’t exist for those two weeks to her. She knows he did though. He can’t escape without a trace. He has to exist somewhere, to somebody. Even if he paid everything in cash, there has to be something left. Something that will bite him in the ass.

Calum watches her. Sometimes from Lucifer’s viewing room. Other times from right outside her windows. He watches the way she combs through the internet, telephone books, leases to see if there is anything left. The number he used was from a burner phone, one anyone can get from a local gas shop or WalMart. He broke his lease, but it’s easy enough to forge legal documents after doing it for so many years. The thing is, he’s no stranger to a lie. There’s something in his gut that feels for her though.

Sure Niq might’ve been a good kid to them. But she broke a contract with Lucifer and it’s in Calum’s best interest not to question him too much. It’s not that he feels awful for having to use Ruby. But he feels something. Ruby cared. One of the few people in the last few decades that seems to give a shit about anyone. For fuck sake, she couldn't even hit the creep that was harassing her in the club.

Calum grins, thinking about the punch she landed on his ribs. No, it didn’t hurt but there was a fierceness behind it. In that moment, she probably didn’t care because all she was worried about was the girl. Calum can give Ruby that much, give her props on that she actually cares about people. He wishes he didn’t have to manipulate that. He wishes he could’ve let her still have that much--that giving a shit wouldn’t backfire on her.

He knows he’s an asshole. Just wishes he wasn’t an asshole to those that give a shit. He preferred being an asshole to those that deserved it. That’s his thing. Ruby didn’t deserve it. But he had a job. “Watching her again?” a voice hisses behind him.

Calum’s all too familiar with the high octave. “Just making sure she’s not potentially blowing any still usable covers.” It’s an easy enough lie.

“Oh, she’s nothing special. Even if she opens her mouth, she won’t a second time.”

His fingers curl into a fist. He won’t let that happen. Ruby is not someone that deserves damnation over him. “She won’t be a problem, my liege. I can assure it.”

“Be careful of her, Hood. I need your head on straight. Or it’ll be your head staring back at you. Now wouldn’t that be a sight? If only you’d be able to see it,” Luckifer laughs.

Calum watches him leave. It felt like a threat, but there is something in the laughter that makes Calum wonder just how serious Lucifer is about that.

___

Ruby groans when there’s a knock at her door. Having just settled for the next three episodes of her latest Netflix binge, she’s not pleased at the unplanned guest. As she gazes through the peephole her heart skips. That is most definitely not who her eyes are telling her is standing right behind her door. “Shit, no,” she whispers, pressing her forehead into the door. Maybe she can just avoid it.

“Your car’s parked outside. I can see your feet under the door.”

Hearing his voice reignites the anger in her. She thinks about the lies. The way Niq was limp over his shoulder. She unlatches the hook, swinging the door open. “You asshole. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Attempting to apologize.”

“You can’t apologize. Not for lying, not for using me.”

Calum holds his hands up. “I technically, can apologize. You just may or may not accept it.”

“Fucking asshole. Does it look like I care what you can technically do?”

He looks over her attire, the sweatpants, camisole, the silk scarf around the edges of her braids. It’s a new style after the ponytail. The chunky box braids still look good on her. She’s had them for two weeks now, he’d figured. He’s lost all track of time really in Hell. It’s not important there anyway. “Looks like you’re about to settle in for the evening.” He steps closer, the leather jacket rustles just a little. “Mind if I join?” It’s not truly a question as he slips inside. He knows he really shouldn’t be pressing his luck. But he really does need to apologize to her.

She stares at his once occupied space and nearly shouts. Instead she closes the door and continues to stare at all the chips in the paint. “You really need to get the fuck out of my house,” she sighs, whipping around. The braids fly up with her action.

Calum’s already settled into the cushions, boots slipped off, the jacket halfway down his arm. “What are you watching?”

“Get the hell out of my house.” Her voice is calm, though she pushes it out between her teeth.

“Can I just explain?”

“No, you can get the fuck out of my house!”

“Ruby, look, I-I know I was an asshole. I’m a Hunter. It’s my job. I don’t always like it. But I do what I must.”

“You could be blue, red, or purple, Calum. I don’t give a single fuck what your job is. I don’t care what you are, the truth is you lied to me. You used me and I don’t want to see your face eva’ ‘gain.”

“I apologize. You really didn’t deserve it.”

Her voice is nothing but a shout, a curdling cry in the air of her apartment, “Get the fuck out of my house!”

He doesn’t bother sliding his shoes on, just grabs them and turns the door on the knob. He pauses, goes to give it one last try, but she shoves his back. The only word leaving her lips is, “Out.” So Calum dares not push it and slips between the small crack of the not fully opened door. He leans against the wall, listening to her shout. He has half a mind to tell her be mindful of her neighbors. When the door across the hall creaks open, he apologizes.

“Sorry. I fucked up. She’ll be okay in a second.”

The elderly gentleman looks to Ruby’s apartment door. “Must’ve messed up real bad there. She been living across from me for four years and I ain’t ever heard so much as a peep from her, besides the occasional song.”

Calum nods, tossing his head back into the wall. “Yeah, yeah I did.”

“You apologize?”

“I did.”

“Well, sometimes that’s all you can do.” He can see the boots in his hands. “You can bother me for a seat, maybe even a cup of joe if you want to give her some time.”

Calum shakes his head. “Thank you though.”

The old man nods before giving a wobbly smile. “Try again ‘morrow, yeah?”

Calum likes the idea of hope. The idea that he might have a second chance at this. “Yeah. Tomorrow,” he whispers. The shouting has stopped, nothing left but a faint sniffle behind the sounds of talking. She’s probably started whatever show. There’s no fixing this. He tried, that’s all he could do. Not that he really deserves a second shot. But he had hope maybe, just maybe he could get it.

Calum did always feel hexed. Everything good that happened, he somehow always managed to fuck it up. He at first just blamed it on the universe, that time and fate had conspired against him. But he realized it was just him. He was always the asshole that managed to fuck up nice things. And his powers seemed to have struck again.

___

He’s not even supposed to be over on this side. He’s not even supposed to be in this state. But he takes the risk, just to make sure she’s okay. Calum tries to tell himself he’s only checking in so his cover isn’t blown. But there’s something else. He won’t admit. He refuses to admit the pain in his chest when he notices her leaving a date. It has to be a date. There’s no other reason for a sweater dress and heels. She’s tying the coat close as the door shuts behind her.

She looks good, finally wearing her natural hair out. It’s cut extremely short on the sides and back. The top straightened, but the ends curled just a little. He realizes then, it’s just a grown out and better styled version of his hair cut. The short looks really suits her face though, he thinks. It helps with her strong jaw line.

But something is wrong. From the porch of this classy bar, he can see the way she shuffles down the sidewalk. The guy is trying to catch up, shouts out her name. Calum appreciates the darkness and the drunkenness of most of the people here. He sets his drink down, arms resting onto the railing and lifts up. His descent is fast and if it weren’t for his demonic status the sharp landing in a crouch would surely break his ankles. The street is clear of cars, so Calum jogs across, catching up easily. “I thought we were having a good time together.” The closer he gets the more he realizes that is not a man.

He’s shocked for a second but that doesn’t stop the fact that this person is clearly pushing the boundaries. Ruby doesn’t slow, heels still clicking against the pavement. “Dinner was great, Tre. But I just--”

The last part of her sentence is cut off by the other woman’s retort. “You owe me!”

This stops Ruby in her tracks and Calum leans against the brick building, pulling out his phone. The blue light fades in his vision as he listens in. Just in case things do go south. “I don’t owe you anything. Not a goddamn thing. A date isn’t a ticket for sex. If you wanted a fuck, you should’ve just asked for one. I’m sure someone would’ve been okay with it you piece of shit.”

“I hate bitches like you. Y’all so stuck up. Just give me my money. All I’m looking for is a good fuck.”

There’s rustling; Ruby’s blood is boiling. And she hasn’t missed Calum’s figure still leaned up against the building. She throws the two twenties, enough to cover her half of the bill in Tre’s face. It falls to the ground. “Next time, open with that. Don’t pressure anyone into anything you cunt.”

“All y’all bitches are crazy. You not even worth it no how.” She picks the cash up and walks back towards the restaurant.

“I don’t need saving, Calum,” Ruby states.

He looks up. His smile is tight lipped, almost as if he’s too scared to actually look her in the eye. Thankfully Ruby doesn’t sound pissed. Just tired. He clears his throat. He should say something. Anything. Well, maybe not anything. He can’t risk sounding like an asshole again. “The haircut looks nice,” he finally speaks.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He gives just a curt nod before turning around. Ruby watches him, the jacket is longer this time. Goes down to his nearly the tops of his thighs. The boots are a little different, but he’s dressed in all black like usual.

“Traded in the leather jacket, huh?” She calls out to his retreading figure.

He stops, a small grin lifting his cheeks. “Too cold.”

She pulls her coat tighter around herself. “Used to warmer weather, I assume.”

He laughs. A genuine from the gut laugh. “Yeah you could call it that.”

She nods over her shoulder. There’s nothing but darkness cut by streetlights and storefronts. “What about a cup of coffee? Or tea? Whatever your heart desires.”

Maybe he hadn’t jinxed it. Maybe this is a second chance. He never gets them often. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” They walk in silence to an ice cream shop nearby. He gets nothing but does pay for hers. “Thanks. For being there.”

“Looks like you didn’t need me.”

She sets the spoon down. Takes note of the avoiding gaze and soft voice. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you feel remorse.”

This finally gets his gaze directed on her. “I’m an asshole. Not a psychopath.”

“Well,” she teases, voice tittering higher up.

“Okay, okay,” he huffs. “Maybe I deserve that. I also realize it’s creepy as fuck to be keeping tabs like this.”

“Creepy indeed.”

“Sorry. There’s no sane excuse.”

“There isn’t. But I guess if you’re lingering around this long, it might be for a reason.”

He twirls his rings around his fingers. It sounds insane when he goes to utter it over his lips. “Was really hoping you’d accept my apology.”

“You know me. Lover, not a fighter.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Got a mean left swing.”

“I deserve that, I guess.”

Calum wonders, looking at her downturn gaze if this is over, if he’s pushed his luck. He might have. But he’s glad that they are able to clear the air. They talk until closing and the air has dropped again in temperature. He walks her to her car, occasionally bumping her elbow. She huffs, before bumping his in return. At her car, she leans into the driver side door. “Where you headed?”

“Back.” Just one word. But there’s something in her gut that knows where back is. Back is below. Back is Hell. But she can’t bring herself to utter the words. “You know normal people run away. Most people find out someone’s not what they thought they were and they leave well alone.” There he goes again, sticking his foot in his mouth.

“Not most people, I guess. In this reality, monsters are all around us. They don’t need whips or horned tails. They speak with forked tongues and are just as human as me.”

It’s an honest and sometimes hard take to have, to know the veil between human and supernatural isn’t as thick as one thinks. “Is this like, over? Did I cross the creep line?” Calum’s never been this honest, this vulnerable.

“Cross the creep line, yes. But over, no. I know you mean well. Just next time you’re around, just send a quick message, snail mail or something. Don’t jump from the second story.”

Calum grins, it’s small. Nothing big. Just a quick upturn of his lips. “Thanks.”

Ruby looks out into the still night. She hasn’t reached for her car door so Calum doesn’t move from his spot. “Tiff doesn’t remember what happened at the shop. No one does. Why’s that?”

“Clean up,” Calum explains. “Crew told me that one person fled the scene before they could get there.”

“Guess you caught me. So why haven’t they track me down? Do the whole Men In Black erase thing?”

“I lied.” He says it so easily. Not even hardly a blink or the gaping second before the words gather. Just a simple fact.

“So you lied about me?”

“I fudged the numbers. Made an eight look more like a nine. It happens. My handwriting is shit.”

“Was I that special?” Her throat thumps. She can feel the pulsing in her neck. Her mouth dries a little. Would Calum lie to her right now?

“You are.”

“Aren’t you worried? Shouldn’t you be concerned about getting into trouble?”

Calum shrugs. “Boss man only knows that you saw me at the club. When clean up said that they were missing one, I went back to the shop, staked it out. Only one missing was you. Went back, said that I had found the missing one and covered our asses. Never mentioned you were in the shop.”

“Do you normally keep tabs on the women you take home?”

Calum quirks an eyebrow. “This a conversation best had over whiskey, don’t you think? I’d offer more ice cream but I think every shop in town is closed.”

Ruby runs her fingers over her key fob. She finds the button, eyes never faltering from Calum’s. The headlights blinked, the doors unlocking. She throws her head back, a gesture for him to hop in. “Luckily we’re on my side of town. Fifteen minutes out from my place, if you care to bum a ride.”

Calum half jogs, noticing the shiver that runs over Ruby. The night has gotten colder since they got ice cream. He’d rather her not freeze. The heat is blasting before she pulls out of the parking spot.

“I should probably explain what I do,” Calum starts, knee and leg bouncing a little in the passenger seat. How does he explain with words what he does? He prays it doesn’t scare her off.

“I don’t care,” Ruby says. “Honestly, I don’t.” That feels like too much knowing, too much weight if he dulvges it all to her. Some things are better left unknown she figures.

Calum nods. Not what he expected but he likes that she just accepts things for what they are. “Well, I don’t keep tabs. To answer your question. I just noticed you looking me up. So I had to tell Boss that it was nothing. And eventually, you stopped. But I really did want to apologize. You give a shit about people. You don’t run across that a lot. I did use you. And I wish I hadn’t. I wish I didn’t take advantage of that. I could I wish I didn’t have to take advantage of it and blame my job. But the truth is, I’m so used to people doing whatever to get over that I just thought you were like that. And you’re not.”

Ruby is silent. At least he recognized the wrong doing. At least he’s not a complete soulless asshole like many others out there. “What do you say if we start again?” Her question comes after a minute or two of silence.

“I’d like that.”

Inside Ruby’s apartment, she drops her coat and purse onto the couch. Calum watches her immediately head over to her dining room table. It’s a high table, pushed up against the wall next to a window. She grabs one of the barstools and moves it a foot or so away from the table. Calum grabs two and pulls them away. She grabs the corner of the table and looks over to Calum.

He grabs the other corner and lifts. Ruby realizes she’s not even helping as he pulls it out from the wall withouth having to drag it an inch. Pulled away from the wall, she moves two stools behind it into the gap. Her next stop is to the kitchen, grabbing whiskey glasses. “I like the mason jars better,” Calum says from behind her.

“Mason jars it is then”

“Don’t have whiskey. Will Hennessey do?”

“I’ll have to rectify that error later.”

Ruby pours two glasses and gives one to Calum. It clinks against the metal of his rings when he grasps it. He’s glad he didn’t take the jacket off or the beanie. She grabs a third glass and pours straight cranberry juice. She can forgo alcohol for the night. “All actors ready?” he teases, lips sealing around the screw top rim. The dark liquor is warm as it goes down.

“Ruby and Calum meeting at the bar, scene 1, take 2,” Ruby laughs.

Calum settles into one of the barstools behind her table, watching her in the kitchen. “We’re missing music,” he muses.

“My neighbors would kill me if I played club music this late. They’re all old. Let them rest.”

Calum decides he likes Ruby’s smile. Even the shy quiet ones. “Since you asked so nicely.” He looks away, taking another sip and hears her giggling. “This is serious,” he reprimands, still staring out into her living room.

The dark gray couch looks nice with bright yellow throw pillows. Her coffee able is black metal, a simple chic design. The entertainment stand is metal too. Her rug is black with dark gray trim. The art on her walls are of plants, a soft dark green but not distracting. He doesn’t miss the record player sitting on her bookshelf.

He’s tempted to spin a record. But when the glass lands on the table in front of him, he forgets about it. “Come here often?” Ruby asks, a tuft of laughter escaping her.

He grins behind the first glass before putting down onto the wooden table. It’s a pretty dark gray stain over the wood. She’s careful to slip a coaster under the glasses too, Calum notices. “First time around here actually.”

As Ruby climbs into the chair next to him, she laughs even more. “Well, let me show you a good time then. Name’s Ruby.”

“Calum,” he gets out over his fit of giggles. Ruby falls into his shoulder, the wool a little stratchy against her face. Her laughter spills from her lips too. “Tell me would you have really used that line with someone?”

“Hell no. It’s cheesy as hell.”

“Then why did you use it just now?”

She shrugs. “I figured why not. We were starting over. What harm would it cause to try it out?”

“A lot. Especially if this weren’t our first meeting.”

“Good thing it’s not.”

Soon Calum’s slipping out of coat, nursing one glass. He could have both. They’re not strong to him and he does feel bad since she poured both. “You don’t have to have both. I just--it fit the scene.”

He nods, slouching a little into the seat, arm thrown around the back of her chair. Ruby reclines back, head falling onto his shoulder again. He gently brushes over her shoulders. “Do you sleep?” The question falls before the yawn from Ruby’s lips.

“Technically, no I don’t need it. I do rest, I guess. But I don’t sleep like you’d think.”

“So I guess I don’t need to offer my couch to you then, huh?”

“I should probably get back.”

“You know where to find me though,” Ruby counters.

“I do. And I’ll send snail mail the next time I’m around.”

Calum keeps to his word and slips a letter under her door when she’s at work. So by night time, if she has the energy, she can call. The number is different at the bottom of each letter. But Calum’s always on the other end.

They meet sometimes for ice cream if it has to be a quick stop. Other times they might meet at her place, sipping a combination of alcohol and watching the latest episode of her shows. Those nights Calum stays, never terribly late. Just long enough into the morning that she knows he’s leaving. He makes sure to give warning of his departure.

“You really have completed the whole aesthetic,” Calum comments, refilling his glass. He won’t admit that he’s partial to the mason jars as cups. Instead he pokes fun at it.

“You leave my interior decoration alone. Lest we not forget the state your place was in,” Ruby shouts from the couch.

“It doesn’t count,” Calum counters. “It was temp. This is your home.”

“Fuck off. And hurry, I let ads play for you to you mess around. You’ve got thirty seconds left and I won’t pause.”

“Please leave my chocolate pretzels alone,” he huffs as he watches her grab a handful from his bowl.

“Whatcha gon’ do about it sweetheart?”

When weeks roll into months, and months roll into a year, it feels unreal. That somewhere in all this of the time he’s been blessed with a friend. He stays a little longer behind. His captures are no less perfect. But Lucifer is not necessarily pleased that he does take longer. But Calum’s doing his best to keep him at bay. He suspects it won’t be much longer before some sort of punishment will be dished out. There always is.

At her apartment door, he knocks. He thinks he should’ve brought a carnation to replace the last one he bought. Though he figures, she’ll be asleep in a couple hours and he can sneak out and find one. Before the door opens, he notes the change in the air--it feels warmer.

Ruby opens the door with shaky hands. Before Calum can ask what’s happening, someone else walks up behind him. Lucifer. Immediately, he can feel the shift happening, his blackened eyes taking over. “My liege,” he answers with a curt nod.

“Oh, if it’s not my favorite Hunter. Come in, come in,” he urges. Calum steps inside. If his heart still pumped the same, it would be racing in his chest. He steps in front of Ruby, watching as Lucifer strolls about, tail whipping about. That is not a good sign. “I love the decor. Very chic. The pops are color are divine, don’t you think?”

“It’s a wonderfully decorated home,” Calum returns.

With a dazzling smile behind pink lips, Lucifer points to Ruby. “She’s got a great eye. I’d hate for something to happen.”

Calum takes a step back, pushing her further into the door. A silent plea for her to run if she can take it. Ruby clings to his jacket. She doesn’t have to be told something is going to happen. She can feel it in her bones when his gaze lands on her again. “Is there an issue, sir?”

“An issue? Hm, yes. My issue is that my best Hunter is out here falling for a human.”

“It’s not like that. We are just--” Does he say it? Does it dare let the word cross his lips. “Friends, sir. Just friends.”

She exhales. They’ve never really labeled whatever this was. But she likes hearing him say it. Friends is nice. Lucifer hums again. “What a nice thing to say? But I don’t like is that your friend is messing with your work.”

“Sir, I am perfectly capable--” The sentence is not finished when Lucifer’s tail wraps around his throat.

“I don’t give a shit. I know you’re capable. Why the hell else would you have such an esteemed title? But we don’t get cozy with humans. There are rules for a reason. Understood?”

A choked, “Yes,” falls from Calum’s lips before the hold is released. He wants to reliate, lash out. But that’s frowned upon. Calum bites his tongue.

“Move for me.”

Calum doesn’t like that tone. That gleam in his eyes. Ruby’s the first person to listen to him, to give a shit about someone other than herself and even if Calum’s an asshole, she gave him a second shot. What she does not need is whatever Lucifer has planned up his sleeve. “My liege. With all due respect, she’s just human. She’s not worth it.” He winces a little as the words leave his lips. He doesn’t mean it like that. Doesn’t mean that she doesn’t hold value to him. But she is not worth Lucifer getting bent out of shape over.

“Oh, but she’s your friend. She is worth it. Now you will move, or I will move you.”

“Sir, please. I’ll leave with you right now, just please. Leave her out of this.”

“Don’t be silly, Calum. There’s no way to leave her out of it. She knows too much.”

He gets it now. This isn’t about Ruby. It never was. It was solely about him. She never had to open her mouth. She never had to slip up, say the wrong thing. All she had to do was get close. She had to witness once or twice his true form and it was over for him. There was a warning that had not been heeded.

There’s no way to trace a ghost. The fortunate thing for Lucifer here. It’ll be like Calum never existed. Though he hasn’t for a while now. This was just a shell. Still powerful but effectively empty. Calum’s flesh is temporary and what’s beneath cannot survive on the surface.

Calum takes a small step forward. Ruby holds onto his wrist. “I won’t tell a soul. I haven’t told anyone,” she pleads.

Calum’s chest caves. He hates the way it cracks. This isn’t about her. He pleads with Lucifer, but there’s no sympathy. He steps forward again, squeezing her hand one last time before their connection falls. “Calum, what-- No, please, I haven’t done anything.”

He speaks to her without looking away from Lucifer. “No, you haven’t. I have.”

It finally clicks. “Calum, no. He can’t. That’s not fair!”

When she finally steps forward, a black tail stops her. Calum. He can’t risk her getting in the way, getting hurt. The tip hurts, even though there’s no pressure behind it. It’s sharp just resting against her skin. Lucifer makes a circling motion with his finger and Calum closes his eyes as he spins. His tail drops and Ruby is frozen as he strips his leather jacket, pulling the beanie from his dark curls. He just shaved the sides down, she notices, the top still long. He peels his shirt over his head, dropped into a heap next to him.

Everything in her body is telling her to look away. But she can’t. His normal brown colored eyes are blacked out. Wings appear from his back, smoke billowing all around them. She wonders for a fleeting moment if the smoke alarm will sound. They are beautiful, black, with tufts of smoke blowing from the feather tip. He furls them, reaching into the pile of his clothes and brings out his whip. He drops to his knees and lifts the sacred leather whip up. It will soon no longer be his.

Ruby sinks against the wall, her eyes are swimming. “This can’t be happening,” she whispers. “You can’t do this!”

“Sweetheart, I can. And I will,” Lucifer grins, cracking the whip. A red welt appears across Calum’s chest. The only sign of pain is the muscle the jumps in his jaw. She pushes herself up to her knees. If she could plead to any god willing to listen, she would. But there’s no god here. The whip sounds again, an X appears in angry red across his chest.

Ruby crawls to him. Part of her brain remembers the last time she did this and she cracks a watery smile. Calum sees it, knows what she’s thinking. “Don’t you dare,” he threatens, clearing his throat.

“What? Telling me now is an inappropriate time to ask if someone on their hands and knees gets you off?”

Calum shakes his head with a quirk of his thick brow. “Very inappropriate time.”

Lucifer watches the exchange with a smile. “Well at least you two had some sort of history.”

No one pays him any mind. Calum focuses on her, the way her hair is still cut short on the sides and back. The curls on top are tighter now. She raises to a kneel on her knees in front of him, hands trembling as the cup his jaw. “You’re a good friend, you know? An asshole, but still a good guy.”

Another crack of the whip sounds in the room. The blow across the bone where wing meets Calum’s vertebrae. He tries not to groan, tries to swallow down the pain. But another blow comes and he buries his face into her shoulder. “I tried,” he whispers. “I’m hexed though. Jinxed, something.” Lucifer brings the whip down again, the bone is snapping, blood trickling down his back.

“No, you’re not hexed,” she whispers. “You’re a good guy.”

The final crack of the whip brings the last of the wing away from his spine. He lets out a grunt into her skin, arms winding around her dark flesh. The room is spinning for Calum. This is way worse he thinks. Having her here to witness. He wants to push her away, tell her to get out of here before it happens. But a larger part wants her in his arms. He wants someone to lean into.

“You-you shouldn’t be here for this,” he breathes. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the way she smells like pressed hair and a hint of apple. Maybe from her body wash.

“No, no, I’ve never left a man behind. I wasn’t raised that way. Dad’s Ex-SWAT remember.”

Lucifer brings another blow against the open wound. Calum lets himself cry out that time. She holds his head, forearms blocking it from the blows. She knows she could get hurt. It doesn’t matter. All she’s focused on is how Calum’s grip is loosening around her waist. “Tell me,” he pants. “Why Ruby?”

“Why the name?”

“Not your real one.”

Snot drops onto her lips. “No, it’s not. To make a long story short, my mom was abusive and manipulative. I hated the way she screamed my name. She always said it so nasty, like it was poison. So I had people call me Ruby. After my dad’s birthstone.”

It may not be solace. It may not bring her peace. “We sent her below,” Calum wheezes after another blow.

“Below? Like Below Hell?”

He gives a small nod. It’s hard against the tight squeeze of her forearms. Ruby kisses the top of his head. The whip falls to the floor before Lucifer hovers over Calum’s tail. He lets his tip hover, a warning for Calum of what’s to come. “We have our own sense of morals,” Lucifer interjects. “We’re not all bad.”

“Fuck off,” Calum spits. He turns his head, his lips brushing against the skin of her neck. “We are. We are bad.”

“No,” Ruby protests. “You’re not. You are not all bad, Calum.”

Lucifer drops his tail, point severing Calum’s. “Speak out of turn. This will be your final chance.”

Calum pushes himself up, it’s a slow process. But he does. “I had a sister. When you see her, on the other side, tell her I loved her. That I remembered everything she taught me.”

Ruby holds his face, cheeks squishing in the strong hold. “I will.”

“It’s gonna take you a few decades to meet her. But you’ll know her when you see her. Now, don’t watch this part.”

“Calum I can’t leave you.”

“You won’t be. Just close your eyes, face the wall. You’ll be right there. Just don’t watch.” He knows the gore, the shock that overtakes someone when the final blow is delivered. He can spare her that. He can do one last good thing. “Ruby, I’m not asking.” His breath is labored. “Don’t. Watch.”

Her eyes dark around his face, trying to remember the moles on his cheek, the way his nose sat, how plump his lips are. She kisses him, a short peck. Resting her forehead to his, she lets her tears fall. “I love you. I never said that. Didn’t know how you’d react.”

He takes his hand, curling it around hers, and motions for her to turn. “I love you.”

It’s a platonic love. A love that made Calum feel human again for just a little over a year and a half. He will go, remembering the way she laughed, and how to never drank coffee with no less than three sugars. He will go remembering that someone saw something more in him. Calum’s wasn’t looking for companionship. But he found something better.

She doesn’t turn fulling away, more like three quarters, eyes closed. But she reaches out her hand. He takes it. They give each other a squeeze. He won’t make a sound for her. It’s hard. His breathing already ragged. But he inhales once.

Ruby’s holding Calum’s hand one moment, squeezing with all her might. She can feel him squeezing back and then it feels like hours. She’s waiting for it go limp, praying to every god that something changes this outcome. The pressure disappears and then so does his warmth. Nothing just dust settling into her palm. A sob pierces her chest, scratches over her lips and when she turns, there’s nothing but his shirt and jacket left. Not even dust is left but the little that she clutches in her hands.

Ruby cries, clutching his t-shirt in the middle of her living room. If she could go back, and tell herself not to go into that bar again, looking for Calum, she would. She would in a heartbeat.

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