#fic: archenemies (or so he thought) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vicocaaisha · 6 months

Text

The Arrangement

Baek Harin x Reader Fic.

Sypnosis: Because of your father's social status, you were forced to marry the one and only Baek Harin. What happens if Harin caught you meeting up in secret with her archenemy?

Warnings: SMUT, mature scenes, stalking, choking. If you're a minor, stay away!

Your father laughed at Harin’s offer while you scoffed at her antics. What a ridiculous offer you thought to yourself.

“I’ll give you my blessing to marry my only daughter, heiress of all my running business” You stared at your father with a look of disbelief on your eyes.

“What?!” was all the word that you could say that time as you process this crazy mess you’re ending up with.

Baek Harin, the princess of your class. You didn’t like her because of the game she created during your first year. Although you are in grade A, you still didn’t like the fact that your other classmates were being bullied because of their status in the class. But what can you do? You didn’t have the guts to protest that her game is crazy. Especially since your father is good friends and in partnership with her family.

“I was looking for you, why aren’t you eating?” Doah snapped you out of your thoughts. Doah is your bestfriend out of the fake friend group you have with Harin and Dayeon. You’re only in a friend group with them because of your dad being close friends with their parents also. You didn’t want to disappoint your dad; who’s always out of town or in abroad attending some business meeting.

“I’m just finishing reading this.” You answered in a quiet manner even though she knows that you’re just avoiding the bullying commotion during lunch.

“You know, you won’t ever beat me in a quiz bee so stop studying and eat with me.” Doah tried to joke, which made you laugh because her being a nonchalant and posed person sucked at delivering jokes.

“Nice hearing you making a joke, Doah. But I don’t have an appetite to eat.” You replied.

“I brought you an onigiri; I made it. Please eat it, you haven’t eaten today.” Doah gave you the onigiri and a chocolate drink before leaving the library room.

You were seated in silence as you opened the wrapped onigiri. You looked at your watch. 40 more minutes. You really hate that your classmates are getting bullied, and you just watch or sit in silence while they are suffering. You hated being a bystander.

“Y/N.” a voice came out of nowhere that shocked you. As you look towards the door, you see Harin standing wearing her designer cardigan or whatever, but she looks pretty– no– wait. Why are you thinking this way, even though she looks good her attitude is something else.

“What?” Honestly, you had a crush on her when you first met her through your dad attending some party of his friends. She was there, she was the one who offered you to transfer school so that you two can get closer but things have changed. You despise her for this hierarchy game.

“Come to my penthouse tonight. I’m hosting a dinner party tonight since Mr. Seo wanted us to gather..” Harin said in her usual monotone voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You rolled your eyes and just continued reading.

It was a mistake coming here.

Your father is such a social climber. You didn’t even want to partake in any of their conversation because as usual, Baek Harin is the star of night. They are always asking her how’s our friendship or whatever.

“If only I had a son, I would definitely ask him to marry you, but sadly all of us only have daughters.” Your father said with a disappointment evident in his voice. You’re aware that your father didn’t like you at all, that's why he’s always leaving you on your own. It’s because of you being open about not wanting to inherit all of the business he has all over the world.

“Y/N is pretty and kind. I like her and I think there’s nothing wrong with me marrying a girl, right dad?” Harin said, looking directly at her dad as if she’s staring right through his soul, which her dad only nodded to and you noticed his discomfort.

“Y/N and I are already close. Plus, this will benefit our company if I marry Y/N.” Harin said with a glint of mischief in her voice. You just scoffed, disliking the topic. You can’t do much anyway, you’re the only child of your father.

Your father laughed at Harin’s offer while you scoffed at her antics. What a ridiculous offer you thought to yourself.

“I’ll give you my blessing to marry my only daughter, heiress of all my running business” You stared at your father with a look of disbelief on your eyes.

“What?!” was all the word that you could say that time as you process this crazy mess you’re ending up with.

“That’s a good arrangement then. We’ll further discuss this when both of you finish high school.” Your father said happily and while you can’t even comprehend what’s happening. You can’t oppose your father's wishes because he might disown you; Harin knows that, and she’s pushing you to your limits.

It has been a week since that dinner happened. You haven’t talked to your father since, and you’ve been avoiding all three of your so-called friends. During that week, there was a transfer student in your class who also has been bothering you to help her since she’s in grade F. She must have sensed your guilt about all this crappy game.

Lately, you have been meeting her too. Outside of the school and during night time. You learned from Suji that she wants to take down the game and you liked that, but the thought of Harin learning that you’re backstabbing her, especially now that you’re “engaged” with her might cost you your father’s trust and his business.

Little did you know all of those secret meetings, someone has been eyeing you.

You had just finished talking to Suji about her plan on taking down the game. You were now walking towards your house, listening to music. You're living on your own because your father was out of town again. Since you’re hidden from the media that you are a famous business man’s daughter, your house doesn’t have a security guard at all.

“Y/N” someone called you from afar as you were unlocking the door of your house.

Your heart dropped when you saw Harin walking towards you. What is she doing here? Does she know what you have been doing behind her back? Is she stalking you? So many questions flooded your mind and all you could do was stare at her.

“What have you been doing these past few nights, my fiancee?” She asked, still walking towards you and taking a puff from her cigar.

You tried to gain your composure and crossed your arms, “Are you stalking me?” you asked bravely.

“Do you think I’m playing some dumb games with you, Y/N?” she laughed maniacally and she is now in front of you.

“Whatever you're saying, Harin. Go home and leave me alone.” You said before trying to get into your house but suddenly you got yanked out by Harin.

“Have you been cheating on me? With that school trash?” Her gripped on you tighten. Here’s the problem, Harin never treated you this way. Even if she’s getting Dayeon get beat up on purpose by her dad or Doah getting eliminated from her competitions because they are getting on her nerves. Harin has always tolerated your angsty behaviour towards her, but tonight she’s different.

She got you pinned against the wall, “Harin– No! It’s not what it looks like.” you said as you struggled against her hold.

You felt Harin blow a breath on your neck, which tickled you but aroused you the most.

“Y/N, do you think I’m some dumb mouse you can use for your father’s gain?” She whispered through your ears.

“H-harin, I’m sorry. Please let me go, I swear I’m g-going to stop meeting with Suji.” You said as you were trembling.

“Will your father be happy once he learned what you were doing behind my back, my dear fiancee?” God, you are now regretting everything you’ve done. You should have stayed quiet, maybe, just maybe, your father’s hard work isn’t on the line.

“No– I swear, Harin! I’ll do everything, please!” You pleaded.

“Everything?” Harin was now eyeing you up and down, but you didn’t notice as your eyes were shut because of fear.

“Yes! Please, H-harin, forgive me.” That was all it took for Harin to kiss you. You can’t process what’s happening and all you could do was to moan, a loud one, when she kneed your core.

All of the pleasure you were feeling from riding her thigh were soon to be gone when she let go of you. You were out of breath, head feeling dizzy from what’s happening. You hated her guts and yet you’re here yearning for her touch? What has gone into your mind, you wondered.

“Your room. Now.” A demanding tone was all you heard that made you run into your room.

Anticipation and the ache at your core were all you felt while she was undressing you on your bed. You can’t contain your whimpers anymore every time she kissed a part of your skin, you were very sensitive.

“H-harin, I haven’t done this before…” You confessed with a sheepish smile as if she could see you in your room having the moonlight as your source of light.

“Even better.” was all she said before diving right to your buzzing core. Soft whimpers were coming right out of you, you’re trying to suppress your moans because of not being sure whether your maids are sleeping in or not.

She was marking you all over your neck, she might have felt the sense of owning you when you’re all marked up. She was thinking when you’re coming to class and Suji sees you with all of the hickeys she has given you, her jealousy is long gone now. She is your first and she wanted it to be your last.

Suddenly, without a warning Harin inserts a knuckle deep inside you. You gasp in pain, it definitely is your first time, and it doesn’t help that she has long fingers. All of this sensation is new to you because, hell, you didn’t even touch yourself before. You just ignored the feeling of arousal whenever you felt it.

“Feeling good?” You heard her say, but you only wince as she added another digit into your pussy. You can’t contain your moans anymore, which you tried to block by putting your left hand over your mouth.

She noticed it, she removed your hand and pinned both of your hands swiftly, “Let me hear it, baby.” was all you heard before moaning her name loud. The pain subsided and all you feel is pleasure.

“You’re so tight, love.” Harin is now staring at your fucked up face.

“A-hh! Mommy! R–ooh, right there!” You didn’t even notice that you let that word out of your mouth, either way, Harin liked it.

She held your waist tightly as she added another finger on your pussy. She is now getting rougher with you, with lust and jealousy she felt when she saw you secretly meeting up with that Suji girl.

“Were you asking Suji to fuck you like this? Do you think she can fuck you like this?” God, you didn’t even see Suji that way, you were just busy taking revenge on your so-called fiancee. You were so busy losing your mind with pleasure that you forgot to answer her question, and instead, she squeezed your throat and with that you were gasping for air.

“Answer me, Y/N-ah,” She was now fingering you faster and you felt like you’re going to pee or something.

“No! I only want you, m-mommy!” Satisfied with your answer, she rubbed your pussy as she felt you clenching on her fingers. She knew, you’re near from finishing.

“A–ah! Stop, please! I feel like I’m going to pee! Oooh!” But she didn’t stop and whispered, “That’s okay, love. Just let it go.”

Harin hits a spot that makes you climax. You held onto her clothes tight as you were cumming on her fingers. You can’t control the sounds you’re making anymore and you just sound incoherent. Harin hushes you and kisses you as she removes her fingers after your body relaxes.

Harin opened the night lamp beside your bed. You were almost knocked out. Your face being puffy and red, your messy hair, and hickeys all around your neck, Harin felt like she owns you now.

“I love you, Y/N. You’re mine and mine only.”

Hope you guys liked it!! First time writing a smut, lol. Please request! I'd like to practice my writing for school. I'll also do other characters from pyramid game!

#jang daah #baek harin #pyramid game #sung suji #pyramid game x reader #baek harin x reader #jang daah x reader #seo doah

496 notes · View notes

vultbae · 3 months

Text

water and oil ✩

tashi duncan x female reader blurb

↳ summary: the two female college tennis archenemies play against each other.

↳ warnings: angst, being closeted.

↳ notes: english is not my first language pookies! also, I couldn't believe there aren't almost any Tashi fics??? and happy pride! not proof-read btw

word count: 1.1k

An ear-piercing scream rips through the air, slicing through the ambient noise of the tennis court like a knife, instantly making your body freeze. Your chest aggressively compresses as you watch your lifetime opponent, Tashi Duncan, fall on her back and crumple to the ground in agony, hands clutching her injured knee as if trying to hold herself together.

Everything has diverted into penetrating silence, and you feel your racket gradually slipping from your fingers, the once-familiar weight slipping away unnoticed as you stare at Tashi Duncan with shock and a rigid, fast-pounding heart. Her face is a torturous portrayal of suffering, with knitted eyebrows and a constant audible sob escaping her lips.

You can't —or are incapable— of moving a muscle; they have locked themselves with a key you forgot where you placed. Instead, you stare with tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over but held back by sheer will. Suddenly, the sour mutterings from the crowd began to stab the thick fog of your shock. At first, the voices were just a faraway hum, but soon, the words became crystal clear.

"Why isn't she helping her?"

"Look at her—she doesn't even care. She will win by default."

"They hate each other; she won't help."

You are aware that the public perception of your rivalry with Tashi is intense, fueled by years of competitive clashes on and off the court. So, technically, they aren't wrong. You kind of hate each other, at least publicly. Even college recruiters had recognized early on that your rivalry was too severe to coexist on the same team—you for UCLA and Tashi for Stanford. You are polar opposites in playing style and temperament, each embodying traits that clash rather than complement.

While other tennis players in your age group get praised for their ability to work beautifully together, Tashi and you resemble more water and oil.

And water and oil don't mix.

Your heart sinks further as your gaze shifts from Tashi Duncan to the male figure now hysterically rushing onto the court. He is tall and good-looking, with blonde curls and an exaggerated expression of concern that you find melodramatic and infuriatingly genuine all at once. Recognition dawns upon you like a dark cloud—Art Donaldson, the young tennis promise Tashi had been talking to lately, also from Stanford.

The sight of Donaldson crossing onto the court, jumping over the net without hesitation, and acting like a wannabe hero stirs a mixture of sour emotions within your core—jealousy, resentment, and a deep sense of helplessness. Of course, it makes absolute sense Tashi Duncan is dating a handsome, talented tennis player from her same school... and guess what? He came to the rescue! You internally cringe at the horrid thought of everyone applauding him for caring for your girlfriend.

The crowd's accusatory murmurs continue behind your back. Your fists clench at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you follow Art Donaldson's silhouette kneeling beside Tashi's body with eyes filled with hostility and envy. You watch as he gently takes Tashi's hand in his, his facial expression softening as he murmurs charming words of reassurance to the girl deliriously in pain. You can't tolerate it. You stay there, still torn and immobilized, with your mind racing and endeavoring to decide what to do.

"Sometimes I wish I was a dude," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper in the quiet of Tashi's dimly lit college dorm. Tashi's fingers lightly brushed through your hair but abruptly stopped. "If I was that Patrick dude or the other blonde guy, my life would be ten times easier."

You heard her sigh.

"But you wouldn't be as good at tennis," Tashi softly replied, and you could tell she was avoiding conflict at all costs.

A beat.

"But I would have you," you said, turning your head to face Tashi, whose expression remained reflective and contradictory as she stared into the soft glow of the lamp lying on her night table. "I promise that's all that matters to me, Tash," you reassured.

Your eyes met, each with equal sorrow and frustration. Tashi broke eye contact first.

Tashi knew that picking arguments with Patrick was very easy, and she didn't have the urge to speak of anything else annexed from tennis and sex with him. You somehow managed to actively amuse her with conversations regarding your crusty dog back home, the food you have tried when you travel abroad, and everlasting anecdotes that provoke you to giggle and steal a genuine smile from Tashi's lips every single time.

And it wasn't too long after you exchanged your first words in private for her to realize she loved you. But not in a chummy way. Tashi romantically loved you.

But she never said it. Tashi just guessed you would assume she maniacally loved you, and you would satisfy yourself with that.

But the belief of Tashi loving you felt unimaginable in situations like this.

And now, the panorama of them together reflecting a couple straight out of a film—Art's concern etched on his face, Tashi's distress requiring attention—served as a stark, fucking bitter reminder of the captivating image they could market for years. They look perfect, they look—right.

So, why bother ruining Tashi's career? If her key to branding conquest is right there, kneeling next to her aching body in the form of a six-foot gorgeous tennis player.

In that rare moment of clarity, you make a sore, silent vow to honor your secret, to continue navigating the labyrinth of hidden tenderness and affection if Tashi doesn't decide to drop you after this.

But, as you are one intrusive thought away from stepping out of the court —or, better said, escape— Tashi's hazel orbs, flickering with anxiety and in between dried and brand-new tears, disembark on your outline. Internally, she wonders why you cry —at least as much as her, and you wish you could clarify is because you feel powerless. You are powerless.

Tashi stares one, five, fifteen, thirty seconds. She doesn't quit. You stare back. Encircling her, the Stanford medical team consoles her and provides instructions to which she doesn't pay attention. To her right side, and almost covering the view of her, the blonde guy starts to question what —or who— she is looking at.

You mouth, "I love you."

Tashi's eyes widen slightly in surprise, and you can see that little pout of hers appearing over her lips.

Art turns to track Tashi's gaze, falling over you.

And when he's not looking, Tashi mouths back.

"I love you too."

And that's what matters because no one else needs to know that water and oil can mix.

#tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan #challengers fic #challengers #x reader #fic #fanfic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers fanfic #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader

273 notes · View notes

sleepyfan-blog · 2 months

Text

Author's note: this is the next part of the bully(ing) Cato Sicarius fic. First Previous.

Next.

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: none

Summary: Cato escorts you out of quarantine.

Cato stepped into the room you’d been quarantining in for… You weren’t sure how long. They hadn’t given you a chronometer to track the time, and had given you nothing to do, other than fret and pray. You weren’t allowed to go through the endless stacks of paperwork that you knew awaited you. Not until they were certain that you were free of Chaos Corruption. You look up from where you’d been folding and unfolding the thin blanket that you’d been given in a desperate attempt to entertain yourself.

He was in one of his casual togas, the draping fabric accenting his handsome features and showing off a good amount of his well-muscled chest and both of his strong arms. He smiles down at you and murmurs “Brother-Librarian Alexius has checked your mind and soul for chaos corruption, finding you free of such taint. Not that I am surprised to find this. You are free to go, and I thought to collect you myself.” He offers you one large hand.

You take his offered hand, standing up and rushing over to him, hugging him tightly. “I had hoped that was true, and I have been so very bored while waiting for the quarantine to end. I understand why these procedures are in place, it’s just…”

“Grueling and annoying to go through them? I know how you feel. It’s standard procedure for Brothers to be checked over after a prolonged battle against the dreadful forces of Chaos. Not that those cowards could withstand the might of the Ultramarines.” Cato hummed, a viciously pleased smirk appearing on his face as he gently squeezed your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

You walked alongside Cato, silently grateful for the fact that he was moving slow enough that you didn’t have to half-jog to keep up with his much-longer strides. From the way he was moving and glancing at you… You hid a small grin before asking “Would you like to tell me about your exploits on this latest battlefield, captain? From what I saw of you dueling against what the world we were visiting had brought against you as a challenge… I imagine that only sheer numbers kept you away from Maccrage’s Honor for however long it took to purge the foul forces of The Archenemy.”

“There were many of them. Nothing that I and my brothers couldn’t handle of course, but they kept coming in wave after wave after wave of foolish idiots.” Cato rumbled, still smiling crookedly down at you.

You smile up at him, going up on your tiptoes and giving him a kiss on the shoulder, as that was the highest point that you could reach on one of your much-taller lovers. “I’m sure you fought well, my love.”

Cato preened at your praise and turned to look at you directly. He swept you up off of your feet, one arm supporting your back, the other supporting your knees as he kisses you on the lips until you are breathless, pulling back just far enough to purr “That I did.”

You giggle a little, leaning into his chest as you press kisses to his face and lips, murmuring “MY handsome, strong, brave beloved… I am lucky to have you protecting me.”

Cato’s grin widens further and he kisses you enthusiastically “That you are… and I am glad to have met you.”

You kiss him again, and are about to ask Cato if he'd like to escort you all the way to your room when his vox started buzzing.

The smirk slid off Cato's face and he sighed before answering in his typically gruff manner “Sicarius here. What is it?”

There was a several second long pause as whoever was on the other end of the line talked. You did your best not to listen to the other marine talk, though his voice sounded oddly familiar… And not in a good way.

Cato huffed unhappily and slowly set you down, stealing a distracted kiss as he folded his arms over his chest. The frown on his face became more pronounced “And this needed to be reported to me immediately because…?”

More talking followed from the other marine. You finally recognized his voice. It was that Sargeant who had brought you His concerns about you dating Demetrian. L-something… Leonidas? No. Leandros. From his markings, he is also a member of the second company, under both Cato and Demitri.

“... Fine. I'll come and deal with it. I'll be there in five minutes. Just… avoid pissing off the Inquisitor. Father has already been informed, yes? Good. Try not to fuck over another Brother before I get there. Hmm? Wouldn't want what happened the last time you spoke with an Inquisitor to happen again. You know what father thinks of them as an organization.” Cato's voice went low and rumbling. Almost threateNing.

If Titus hadn't told you why and how he lost Captaincy of the second company, you would be very confused. As it was, worry churned through your body as Cato ended the vox-call and you ask “Anything I can do to hell?”

Cato looks at you for a moment or two before shaking his head “Try not to let the visiting Inquisitor or their retinue to get you alone. They… Really have not taken well to Father curtailing the power that they have wielded for so long, and…” he pulls you closer to him, bending over and pressing his forehead to yours “I would not put it past them to attempt petty sabotage of your diplomatic efforts. I need to sort out a minor issue.”

“Good luck, my love.” You murmur, gently squeezing one of his hands, kissing his fingertips. “I'm going to head to my office, try and deal with the mountain of paperwork awaiting me.”

Cato nods, giving you a brief kiss before rushing off. You sigh a little before returning to your own duties.

#cato Sicarius #warhammer 40k #my writing #reader insert #cato sicarius x reader #ultramarines

24 notes · View notes

avaantares · 3 months

Note

Re: your idea for that fic where Sparda comes back- any more details or thoughts on how he'd feel about Trish? 👀 I can only imagine how conflicted he'd feel, since she's a construct of Mundus, but has his wife's face, and is also a demon who protects humans, but acts Like That-- how do you think they'd react to each other? I can't imagine she'd be very happy in this situation either...

Ahahaha you have the best timing, because it's 1 AM and I just had a Thing happen and wound up on a 911 call and can't sleep because I'm still waiting for the adrenaline to clear my system, so I turned on my laptop to write and generally distract myself until my pulse rate drops to two digits (it's been almost an hour and it hasn't gone down yet) and lo, there was an Ask about a story! So I'm going to answer right now because it's something to do that isn't worrying about the Thing that just happened, but I apologize in advance if my writing is a little... uh... more jittery than usual. Because *I* sure am.

(For those unfamiliar with the above-referenced fic post, it's here.)

The first letdown would definitely be the worst. Sparda has been trapped in the underworld for decades, and his one thought the whole time has been returning home to his family (as he tells Nero). Then he finds out Red Grave has been destroyed -- and by his own son! -- and he's trying hard to stay calm, but some part of his mind has to be in a spiral because he knows Eva is only human and would be at risk, but can't bear to think that his son would be so irredeemable as to cause harm to come to his own mother, but he also can't imagine that if Eva were alive she would have allowed Vergil to become... whatever he's turned into that he's now destroying cities, and he just goes in ever-widening circles of panic.

He's also starting to process just how long it's been. Nero, his grandson, is already in his mid-to-late 20s (if I'm setting this post-CotFA, he'd be 26 or 27), so Sparda estimates he has likely been imprisoned for some 40 years or more. Human lifespans are short; even if she is alive, Eva could be in her 70s, in the sunset of her life.

And in the middle of all of this fretting and fear and denial, he looks up and he sees her. Eva, young and beautiful and alive, just as he left her. The joy and relief sweep everything else away for one moment...

...and then he feels it. This isn't Eva, but a demon wearing her beloved face. A creature tainted with the essence of Mundus, his archenemy and captor. To Sparda, she is the vilest form of blasphemy -- a mockery of his sainted wife.

(This is not lost on Trish, who has also had to process a little bit of guilt in regard to her resemblance to Eva. See also: CotFA chapter 8)

Sparda cannot tolerate Trish's existence, but he is not yet recovered enough to destroy her outright, which gives Nero and Lady a chance to intervene and keep him from doing any serious damage. Because Nero is the one who freed him (and he's not eager to fight his own descendant), Sparda respects his wishes and stands down, but he's infuriated and fully intends to deal with Trish once he has a better grasp on the present situation -- and has seen his sons, one of whom is apparently friendly with this abomination, according to Nero.

(Nero assumes that "Gramps" only attacked Trish because she's obviously a demon and he's an old demon hunter; he doesn't catch on to Sparda's identity just yet. Trish, for her part, keeps quiet because 1) she never actually met Sparda, assumed Mundus had killed him, and has no idea how the real Sparda could be here now, and 2) she doesn't want to say anything prematurely, since it might get back to Dante and raise his hopes, only to disappoint him if this turns out to be a mere copy of his father.)

Throughout the rest of their underworld mission, Sparda retains his antagonism toward Trish in much the same way that Vergil did, at first -- he can't bring himself to look at her and doesn't want anything to do with her, including working directly alongside her or listening to her suggestions. Though Dante's emotions are running wild after the reunion with his father, he does take a firm stand whenever Sparda lashes out at Trish; he's spent a lot more years of his life with Trish, and while Sparda may be his progenitor, Trish is his family.

Over time, as they continue their quest and ultimately work as a team to take down the semi-resurrected Mundus, Sparda will grudgingly acknowledge that Trish is not evil and respect her fierce loyalty to Dante. It definitely bothers him that Dante is so attached to Trish, because he still sees her as something inherently wrong, but he comes to terms with her existence and no longer feels the need to obliterate her. It still hurts him to look at her sometimes, though.

Though Dante insists she doesn't have to change for anyone, Trish recognizes how hard it is for Sparda to see the face of the woman he loved and has effectively just lost, and has not yet had time or space to grieve. She makes subtle changes to her appearance to set herself apart from Eva: Bold makeup. Statement jewelry. A new hairstyle. The odd splash of color in her hair or outfit. It seems to help, and in the end Sparda comes to regard her as something like Eva's radically disparate twin, rather than an inferior copy.

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

Eyyy, it's now 1:45 AM and my pulse rate is finally down to 98! Huzzah!

#devil may cry #dmc #fanfiction #my writing #in case anyone's worried: I'm okay; the 911 call was for someone else #it was unsettling and freaked me out a bit but I am fine apart from the aforementioned adrenaline spike

20 notes · View notes

kathrahender · 11 days

Text

Connected souls (Post Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows fic)

Yes, you read it well. Another fic idea, this time for Harry Potter!

After the war, Harry expected his life to get better. And it was supposed to be better. He was dating Ginny, his friends were alive, and Voldemort, his archenemy, was dead. Everything was supposed to be okay.

But it wasn't.

A few months after the end of the war, he woke up screaming at night, in the arms of Ginny. She wanted to calm him, but he couldn't calm down until she went downstairs to grab a glass of water. They thought it would be a one-time thing, but after a few days the same thing happened. And the next day. And the following day. It didn't stop. Eventually, Ginny, Ron and Hermione told Harry to go to a Mind Healer. At first he wasn't okay with it, but he decided to go because the pain he felt was almost unbearable (and because since the war he felt empty and apathetic).

He thought mind healing would help him, but it didn't work. Nor talking to the Mind Healer nor potions nor magic. Nothing mind healers used to help wizards/witches made him feel less empty or less apathetic. And since mind healing didn't work, Hermione told him to see a Muggle therapist too (obviously, a friend of her who wouldn't think he was insane). But that didn't work neither, and his friends tried to understand him, but Ginny, Ron and Hermione thought that he wasn't trying. For them, he should have overcomed the trauma of the war (after all, they did it, why Harry couldn't?). Because of their reaction, Harry decided to stay away from them. He didn't want to make their life hard nor want to be a burden.

Harry went to the muggle world, thinking that could help him better than other things. He stayed for a few months there, and he went to bars and had sex with different people. Not because he wanted to do those things, but because he wanted to feel something more than pain or emptiness. And he did feel something more than pain or emptiness. But it wasn't permanent. Every good feeling he felt vanished after a few minutes, and the apathy set in again.

One day, when he was in a bar, it was a surprise for him meeting Draco there. At first they didn't get along very well because of the whole Hogwarts rivalry thing- but after seeing Harry broken (a shell of the person he was before), Draco changed his opinion about him. He became his friend, and eventually his lover, and although he didn't mind about Harry waking up in the middle of the night screaming (it worried him, but he didn't get angry for it), Harry went away before he could become a burden to Draco.

When he was at his lowest point, after two years, Death appeared in front of him. Death told him there was only a person that could make the pain dissapear. Tom Riddle. The reason? The apathy he was feeling was because of the Horcrux, because his soul was so used to have the Horcrux that losing it kinda- broke his soul. And the only way of healing his soul was connecting it to Tom soul's again. And he also was the only option to overcome the trauma of the war.

When Death brought back Voldemort (as in making him be alive agin)- [in his Voldemort form, but a humanized version of him (with hair, nose, eyebrows and not pale as a snake). Btw I have to say this isn't a Tomarry/Harrymort fic] he discovered his enemy was also suffering because of their soul connection. And Harry prefered suffering rather than having to ease the pain of Voldemort.

That's why Voldemort & Harry's relationship was so bad at first. Voldemort wanted to stop his own suffering, not caring about Harry's suffering, and Harry decided to deal with his own suffering instead of easing Voldemort's suffering. One day, when Voldemort tried to force the connection of their souls, both of them were thrown away from the other, and Death told them that their soul connection had to be consented by both of them (like "Your souls can't connect if one of you doesn't approve")

Again and again Voldemort tried to convince Harry of giving up, but everytime he tried to force their connection, he got hurt for the "non-consent" of his actions. But eventually he didn't try to force the connection for himself. Eventually, he started to feel compassion towards Harry. Eventually, he started to care about his crying and he started to be concerned. Eventually, he wanted to force the connection because he couldn't stand Harry's suffering anymore. He didn't expect to have mercy on his enemy, but Harry was completely destroyed inside, not only because his soul was broken, but because his heart was also broken. And for some reason, seeing his enemy like that wasn't as funny as he thought it would be.

After failing a few times, he took a different approach. Instead of showing his strength and his """evilness""" in front of Harry, he tried to act calm. He acted sympathetic and kind (he didn't like to act "weak" in front of people but he would do anything to make Harry's pain disappear). And it worked. But it didn't work like he thought it would. Harry gave up and broke down, but while he was holding Harry in his arms, he felt everything Harry was feeling, and he noticed the pain he felt since he was brought back from hell was only a part of Harry's pain.

If the pain he felt when their souls weren't connected was a 5, the pain he felt with the connection was a 9-10. And he couldn't stop thinking about how that stupid selfless kid could hold back his pain for so long (because deep down he knew that pain wasn't just caused by the non-connection of their souls). He hugged Harry tighter and although he wasn't good with words, he tried to do his best to comfort Harry. And when Tom got away and asked him "Are you okay?" and Harry said "You're better at comforting people than I thought you would be" before letting go a laugh, for the first time in years, he knew Harry finally started to heal.

After the last scene- there is supposed to be a love story between Draco and Harry and a friendship/"platonic soulmate" relationship between Tom and Harry- but how do you do that it's up to whatever person who wants to write this AU.

#hp #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hp fic #hp fic idea #harry potter #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #ocs #hermione granger #ron weasley #ginny weasley #draco malfoy #hinny #drarry #soulmates #platonic soulmates

10 notes · View notes

myangelhaven · 1 year

Text

This is my recommendations of SUNGHOON fics! It will be updated once in a while for new stories I have read. Hopefully the links work (lemme know if it doesn't)

Credits to the authors!! All informations written are taken from the authors' post and has not been modified. Reminder that some fics are NOT for minors, so please read the key and avoid 18+ contents.

HAPPY READING!!

KEY

[❀]: fluff [𖤓]: angst [𖦹]: humour [☄]: sad [☾]:smut [⟡]:smau [✮]: my favs

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-----------SUNGHOON-----------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

ONESHOT

Hard thought! by @jaylaxies [☾]

Little secret by @luvyjwz [☾][fwb][cheating] 0.4k

you face a close call with your little secret, sunghoon.

They told me to by @soobnny [❀][bff2l][drunk confessions] 1.7k

sunghoon has a lot of things he wants to say to you, and it takes a couple drinks and a messy trip back home to finally say them

Two dim stars by @pookhee [❀][𖤓][☄][heartbreak][cheating][hurt/comfort] 1.8k NEW

in which you caught your boyfriend cheating and you meet a new star, one that shines brighter than the rest

Two is better than one by @jaeyunsz [☾][w/ jay]4.6k

your fuck buddy sunghoon has a hot roommate called jay so he might have offered jay to have a threesome with you.

Rain by @minghaoyoudoin [❀][☾][✮][e2l] 9.7k

Unlikely Likelihood of falling in love by @soobnny [❀][𖤓][✮][e2l][fakedating au] 14.5k

march was a strange month. for one, you’d manage to string yourself into fake dating the one person you hated in the campus - park sunghoon

SERIES

Behind the scenes by @liliansun [❀][𖤓][⟡][s2e][e2f][f2l][pining] 24 parts

Sunghoon was at the top of his game, staring in every major romance drama to hit the big screen. When he met you, he expected to watch you swoon over him like his previous co-stars, but you’re not so impressed when meeting in person. Modeling is looking at lot better than acting right about..now. ACTION!

The Jock by @jongseongsnudes [❀][brothers bff2l][the ending 😭][there's a soon-to-be sequel] 26.9k (5 parts)

“Everyone knows Park Sunghoon as the handsome, charming jock that all the girls want to be with and all the guys want to be. You however, know him as your brother’s cocky best friend who always finds ways to annoy you so how you end up pinned on the bed by him one night… is quite the story.”

Twitch rivals by @soobnny [❀][𖤓][⟡][✮][exes2lovers][e2l] 38 parts

nothing is worse than getting paired up with a stranger for twitch rivals 2022, except maybe being matched with your very competitive ex boyfriend park sunghoon.

Bed of lies by @svnoohe4rts [𖤓][☾][✮][fakedating au] 40k (4 parts)

to prove to his best friend that he could get any girl he wants, park sunghoon makes a bet. within the next 30 days, he has to make the next girl that walks into the room fall in love with him. sunghoon, however, hadn’t anticipated the feelings he would gain during those 30 days.

Stupid cupid by @yeongwonie [❀][𖤓][⟡][✮][e2l][slowburn] 50 parts

alone on valentine’s day, you decide to sign up for the student council’s fundraiser: a matchmaking survey, hoping to at least get a few laughs out of the whole ordeal. little do you know, park sunghoon (your archenemy since junior high) has the same idea. but it’s fine! your student body president, kim sunoo, would never tamper with the matching system, right?

Sorry, I'm am anti-romantic by @sankyeom [❀][⟡][s2l][fakedating au] 40 parts

after years of casual dating and never committing to relationships, your friends challenge you to fall in love. which is why you seek out park sunghoon, the campus heartbreaker, to pretend to break your heart. little do you know: his reputation is a complete lie.

My (accidental) demon roommate by @ddeonuism [❀][𖤓][⟡][✮][supernatural au] 61 parts

Sunghoon wasn’t expecting to be sent to the mortal world by his “father”, much less being forced into attending college (he’s a demon! why would he need to?!) and being accidentally summoned by a clueless human almost had him marching straight into Hell to have a word with its ruler. Only he couldn’t, because he was already bound to you by a fucking paper-cut sealing your contract which means he can’t just leave the mortal world without taking something of yours in return.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄more to come!⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

☆------------------enha masterlist------------------☆

#enha masterlist #sunghoon x reader #enha recs #sunghoon recs

64 notes · View notes

cerisesakurainspring · 7 months

Text

Kageyama Tobio / Hinata Shoyo

AU: Kageyama who suffers from achromatopsia meets Hinata.

~~A tinge of sun in a grayscale world~~

He stood somber at the edge of the street

His orbs stare distantly-

Into the dismal shades of grey

Devoid of hues; filled with dull shade visions

What’s crimson; what’s indigo?

To him, color was a mere concept

A distant notion

He only sees light and shadow

But then, in the backdrop of grey

A man stood aglow

In the night

As if the sun came to play

Trickled in warmth

Hair bathed in sunlight

A vibrant shade of orange

Warm like the sun; Sweet like tangerine

A surreal feeling; like his veil lifted

As if released from the confines of his grayscale world

For the first time

In the expanse of black and white

Was a man who stood aglow

Head luminously bright; like a glaring halo

Chatters of the crowd muted

As his heart bled

Color.

He was seeing color

From the man who stood aglow

His eyes focused solely

On the elusive lad whose hair a vivid hue

He wanted to touch his hair

Wanted to be close to it

But would the man permit?

His yearning gaze lay bare

The man who stood aglow

Took notice of his stare

A radiant smile on his supple lips

Brighter than the sun

He found himself drawn in

And he pushed his way,

Against the sea of grey

Towards the man who stood aglow

Each step echoing in his ears

Closer, he thought

Closer, he begged

The crowd moving like a swarm of fishes

In shades of bland hues

Except for the man who stood aglow

A beacon of hope

In a backdrop of grey

Though his thirst for color quenched

His hunger remained unsatiated

More.

He wanted more.

I am so tempted to expand this into a multi-chapter fiction, but I already have an ongoing AU project.

Also, I'm fearful of a writer's block. It's my absolute nemesis.

I've been on a writing streak, and my lone brain cell is nearing its extinction. I feel my archenemy slowly creeping in. 😩

Poem inspired by @ariosesae 's post. I know I said I can't do this concept justice, but I took on the challenge anyway 😅

This whole "summer/winter solstice" thing is giving me a plethora of ideas, but man, I don't have enough magic dust to bring them all to life.

I got the achromatopsia idea from the fact that winter solstice is the longest night of the year. It's symbolic of peak darkness, but it could also be representative of something physical. In this case Kageyama's inability to see colors.

Then there's sunshine, baby Hinata born on a summer solstice, bathing the world in golden sunlight. He is the epitome of jovial.

Their lives are intertwined. Hinata is the light Kageyama has been hoping for. The warm color in his monochromatic world. They're bound together. It doesn't have to be romantic. It can just be platonic.

Okay, damn there goes my rant. K, I'll go ponder under a rock on how to write this fic.

Do I even want to write it? Yes.

Do I have the artistic means and the time? Heck no lmao.

Maybe I'll write, but I'm feeling quite ambivalent on this one.

Be back in 250 business days.

#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu fic #hq fic #haikyuu poem #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #kageyama x hinata #karasuno

17 notes · View notes

catiecat1320 · 10 months

Text

New fic! For @eggseabutter (sorry for tagging you again)

Eggdad propaganda! It’s a 5+1 fic

Sometimes you find family in the most unexpected of places. You know what they say— keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Read Below 🔽

Dr. Ivo Robotnik was bored. Very bored.

But esteemed doctor, you ask, how does one such as you get bored? There’s still a world to conquer!

You see, conquest is only so entertaining. It’s no fun if there isn’t someone trying to stop you, is it? The terror of villagers tends to get tiring after a while, especially when they simply run and hide at his approach.

He mulled over his problem as he flew around aimlessly, having been testing his new aircraft. It’d definitely make things more interesting if there was someone to help out the other side. His evilness was exceeding his own expectations. There was too much of an imbalance.

He needed an enemy. An archenemy! Someone who was heroic and kind and brave and whatever they say heroes are like. Someone who’d be fun to mess with, someone who’d pose a challenge. Yes, yes. He just had to find someone.

Where was the only question…

A sharp scream, abruptly cut short, startled Robotnik out of his musing, causing him to pout. He looked around to find an unusual sight— a gaggle of kids, not older than twelve, had… what’s the word… ganged up on a little blue hedgehog and were carrying him, each one gripping a squirming limb, to somewhere undetermined.

Peculiar. It didn’t look very friendly to him, but maybe this was something children did now?

The doctor watched the strange procession, because why not. The kids hadn’t noticed him at all— at least, that’s what he thought… until the victim of this happening suddenly stared up at him with wide emerald eyes; terrified, pleading.

Robotnik was taken back by the direct eye contact, but he didn’t have the time to think about it. Nor did the boy, who peeled his gaze away with a strangled whimper. Right then, the older children stopped at their destination. Before he realized what was happening, the band tossed the hedgehog over the side of the cliff, leaving him only enough time to cry out before a loud splash announced his plunge into water, probably a lake, eliciting a cheer from the bullies above.

Something surged within the doctor right then— anger, perhaps. Heart over mind, he fired a few shots from his aircraft, scattering the mean bunch, before diving downward to check on the hedgehog.

He was not faring well. It was clear at once that little blue couldn’t swim, yet was making a pathetic attempt at it, splashing frantically and taking in enough water to rival a sinking ship.

That angry feeling grew stronger.

What kind of children would do something like this? Condemn another to what could very well be death?

A metal claw extended and caught the boy by the scruff, quelling his struggle, and pulled him back up to where the bullies stood just moments prior. As soon as he was let go, the hedgehog squirmed and coughed up water violently, gasping.

Robotnik hopped to the ground and knelt beside him, awkwardly patting between his back quills as the events that had transpired sank in (pun not intended). Oh Chaos, this is weird, he thought. What am I doing?

He wasn’t supposed to save people. That’s what heroes do. And he was a villain.

To make himself feel less uncomfortable, the doctor began to talk. He’d always been good at that. “You know, kid, you need to stand up for yourself. Get a weapon or something. Fight back” he rambled, and an image of the little hedgehog carting around a blaster made itself known in his mind’s eye, causing him to snort. “Okay, maybe a blaster’s a little extra. That’d definitely scare them off, though. It’d be funny to watch. Or— Ooo, maybe you could set up a trap. That’d be fun. Pit traps, net traps, cage traps, bear traps… the possibilities are endless! They step in the wrong place and BAM! Problem solved.”

The hedgehog peered at him curiously, emerald eyes tinged with what was probably horror, and Robotnik realized that he’d gone off on a tangent again. Oops. “Ahem. Uh, just something to think about.” He hoisted himself back up into his aircraft, settling comfortably.

Meeting the gaze of the wide-eyed boy as he lifted off the ground, Robotnik spoke in a hushed tone. “If anyone asks you, this whole saving-your-butt thing”— he waves his hand for extra effect— “never happened. Got it?”

The hedgehog blinked, then offered him a small grin in response, giving a playful salute as the doctor flew off, engine sputtering faintly.

And if anyone saw him smile at that gesture— no, you didn’t.

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #dr eggman #eggdad #THIS IS NOT A SHIP!!#IF YOU TAKE IT AS A SHIP FUCK YOU #*coughs* ahem #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #gift fic #CatieCatWorks #my enemy my family

27 notes · View notes

daybreak-tkler · 2 years

Text

❝To Save Seoul...❞

Lee(s): Superhero! Mark

Ler(s): Supervillain! Haechan

Small Synopsis: Mark has saved the city of Seoul countless times, he is their hero through and through. Can he be their savior once more when their fate rests in his ability to keep his lips sewn shut?

a/n: this was my wip that you may have previously known by it's former title "the giggle machine!" :D I hope you like this extra long fic, because I wanted to give back to you all! I just wanted to thank everyone who gave my fics a chance and loved them as well as the characters in them. I never would have thought after posting "Explorer" back in June that i'd get this much attention again like I did before when I wrote bts works and your continued support has carried me through the second half of 2022. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you, and I can't wait to see you all in 2023! Please like, reblog, scream at me in my asks and share this fic to all of your lee, ler and switch friends! Your love makes me more motivated to write!

also... the names of our hero/villain duo as well as their powers are all my own idea!

High above the buildings of Seoul, a hero waits wity baited breath. New Years eve was a day many cherished. It was the sign of new beginnings, a fueled desire to do even better in the next year than you had in this one. And most of all, it was a time where most liked to party; especially younger people. Our hero, SilverStorm was his name, knows better than anybody that on such a populated night... There was bound to be some villains lurking in the darkness and waiting to cause trouble.

SilverStorm, who was better known out of his persona as Mark Lee the writing major at college, gazes over the city from above, perched atop one of the many tall building's Seoul had to offer. The streets still bustled even in the darkest of nights. The neon signs that adorned the sides and fronts of buildings seem much more vibrant in the dusk, and they do a good job at illuminating the populated streets of college students and older adults who were clearly outside to have a drink or three. It was the last day of the year, after all. Mark sighs to himself, remembering what he had sacrificed in order to save the city. Renjun, his highschool crush and prettiest boy on campus, had invited him to go drinking with a few friends. Unfortunately, Mark knew what kind of trouble would be lurking around on such a busy evening.

So he had to opt out.

It was so annoying, Mark thought as he flew down from his perch to land on one of the shorter buildings below, because he knew that if he didn't go drinking with Renjun... Jaemin and Jeno would. Mark always got jealous whenever his crush hung around with those two. They were too into him! It irked Mark more than it probably should have. He dusted off his silver hero suit. It was a dull silver colour (so that he didn't shine too aggressively and get caught) and had angel-esque wings attached to its back, making him able to fly. He also had the same powers that most superhumans did.. super strength, super speed... that whole shebang. He wore a matching black and silver mask over his face and he had a hood to mask his raven hair - mainly to protect his identity from people.

He drifts down a bit further and peeks his head around the side of a taller building. They were nearby the college campus.. which means.. "Gotcha," he grunts as he spots his target. The Crimson Knight... his archenemy. He knew that the supervillain was around his age, and couldn't for the life of him ever figure out why anybody his own age would act so wild and chaotic. Mark squints his eyes to try and figure out where on Earth the villain could be heading. Then, it clicks. Zhong Chenle's New Year's party... of course! So many people their age would be attending that party, so the supervillain wanted to crash it..!

Not on his watch.

Quietly, he tries to keep up with the supervillain. He takes precaution, because he wasn't a huge fan of the idea of getting caught and fighting it out with the villain right now. Not when he still didn't know what Crimson Knight was planning. He follows the other man pretty far and it isn't until he makes it right to the window of Chenle's penthouse kitchen that he loses sight of the supervillain entirely. Mark firgures that he should stay alert for wherever the cunning villain had gone. He grips onto the deep ebony pipe that traveled down the side of the block of penthouses, hiding beside the clear glass window so that he wouldn't be spotted by any party-goers.

Zhong Chenle was a boy who was in his second year at college, a year below Mark, and he was stacked. Hence why he had the top penthouse nearby the campus, his parents bought it when he first arrived in Korea. Everybody on campus knew him and they all wanted to be his friend or have some form of relation with him. Mark didn't know much about the boy, personally. The only reason he knew him was through Renjun, who had been pleased to find another Chinese friend on campus.

Mark had been all but focused on Crimson Knight until he wasn't. In all honesty, he doesn't recall when he stopped looking out for the villain. He figures that it wouldn't be a crime to inconspicuously look through the window and see if he could spot Renjun... so he does. He looks around as much as he can from the kitchen window and that's when he sees it. "Son of a...!" Mark curses, much louder than he intended since some guy who was drinking a canned beer heard him and turned to gaze at the window. Luckily, he managed to duck in time. He waits for a moment before popping his head back up and cursing under his breath. Right there, in Chenle's massive lounge, was Renjun being chatted up by Jeno and Jaemin. Not only was he looking absolutely fine in those jeans, but he was blushing at the two as well!!

Mark couldn't believe his eyes at first, and he especially couldn't when Jeno (the really smiley guy that everyone loved) took Renjun's hand and playfully spun the shorter boy around. God dammit! Why couldn't that be Mark spinning Renjun around like that?! He couldn't stop staring at the three of them, presumably gazing at them flirting with one another. "Got the lover blues, hmm?~" a voice coos in his ear and he shrieks, ducking below the window again in panic. "Who the hell...?!" he turns to look in the direction the voice had come from.

But the next thing he knew, everything was black.

-🌃-

The superhero of Seoul wakes up again at least an hour later, head foggy and vision blurry. It takes a few long minutes for him to shake himself back to reality, and the first thing that helps with that is the fact that his arms are pinned up and outstretched either side of him. "Wh-Wha..?" he murmurs groggily. "Well, well, well!! Our powerful hero is finally back with us!! Did you have a nice nap, sweets?~" a familiar voice sings. Mark raises his head up, not initially noticing that his mask is pulled down and his hood is also down. "Crimson Knight..?" he asks under his breath.

"Wait.. Mark?! Mark is SilverStorm?" another familiar voice says in bewilderment. No way that he's here too..

Just as he suspected, Renjun and his other friends are all tied up behind the supervillain. The strangest part was... They certainly weren't tied the same way that Mark was. "Huh, who would've thought... I just had the impression that he was a loser lyricist that hated partying.." Chenle snickers from where he sits, arms behind his back and knees bound together so he couldn't escape, like the rest of his friends. Now that Mark was more awake, he could assess the situation better. Crimson Knight stood before him, in his signature long deep red coat. Behind thehe supervillain was Renjun, Jaemin, Jeno, Chenle and Chenle's boyfriend Jisung. They were all tied up. "What's the deal, Knight? Why tie them up too?" Mark asks with a scowl. The villain merely titters "Assess your own situation first, mister SilverStorm, then maybe you'll understand more~"

Mark skeptically looks around at his own predicament. His legs were outstretched before him, locked away like his wrists were. He was strapped to some sort of device that had a chart beside it. The little chart, he soon figures out, is a tracker with a little arrow that has five faces displayed in a row. At the moment, the arrow was pointing to the first face "Not Laughing". It was strange, but the last face was really what set the hero off in a panic. "Ka-Boom" with a picture of an explosion. "What the hell is this?" Mark queries with a glare.

"Why, I'm so glad you asked!~" the villain chirps. "This smart machine you've found yourself attached to is called "The Giggle Machine"! And it'll track your laughter through that microphone, following these five stages and then when it reaches stage five... everything goes boom!" Crimson Knight finally explains with the proudest grin Mark had ever seen. "Your friends are here to watch you fail and blow up the city!~"

Mark was confused... giggle machine?,, blow up the city? What was he talking about? "Wait I recognize that voice.. Oh that's totally the guy from Jisung's music class, he never attends! His name is like.. Haechan or something?" Chenle chimes in, clearly not at all concerned about what the supervillain had just said. Jisung nods his head in agreement "It's totally him but... LeLe we have more pressing matters!" he hisses to his shorter companion. Haechan rolls his eyes, seeing that Mark still wasn't getting it. "C'mon, Stormy, it's not that difficult! I'm gonna tickle you, duh! How else would you laugh up a storm for me? Hah! See what I did there?~" he turns around to his literal captive audience who just nod in fear of what a supervillain might do to them. "Super clever, dude," Jeno praises him with an awkward grin.

Mark immediately shakes his head, pulling on his trapped ankles with as much force as he could muster. Now that he thought about it, it was a little strange that his shoes had bern taken off. Haechan sits down on the floor with a wicked grin. The evening breeze was getting quite chilled atop the penhouse block. It was either that, or Mark was getting really nervous for some reason. He couldn't be that ticklish.. could he? His answer is given to him rather quickly as Haechan trails a finger down the black sock protecting his foot and his whole body twitches. "Awh.. tickle tickle tickle!!~" he teases as he sets off immediately to scrabbling at the bottoms of Mark's feet. "This is gonna sound really stupid but... Hold your breath, Mark! That should keep you from laughing!" Jaemin suggests from where he's trapped. The hero follows his instructions, taking a deep breath in and holding it. Haechan tuts "Y'know... it's only going to be all the more satisfying when you start laughing!" he smirks as he scratches all over the superhero's soles.

Never in his life had Mark needed to keep his lips sewn shut like this... it was surprisingly difficult when Haechan kept scribbling across his arches and squeezing his knees. He kept teasing him, too, "I know you're gonna break soon~" and the more he heard that phrase, the more he felt like he was going to give in. He can just about see behind the supervillain, that the captive audience was doing their best to escape to lend him a hand. Mark knew he was a goner the second Haechan's tanned fingers tickle his lower tummy. "Nohohohohot thehehehere, crap!" he curses as the laughter pours out of his mouth.. much to the satisfaction of the villain causing his tickly plight. "Plehehhehehease stohohohop ihihit!" Mark begs as Haechan returns to mercilessly scrabbling his soles. Out of the corner of his eye he could make out the chart from before. The green arrow was slowly moving away from the "Not Laughing" face and ticking towards the second face "Giggly Mess".

The hero didn't know how he could help himself, he was trapped and his powers couldn't get him out of this situation at all.. he was stuck, laughing at the hands of his archenemy until the city blew up. Because now that he had started to laugh, he just couldn't stop! It was part of Haechan's super power, he thinks, and damn if the villain wasn't a genius for setting all this up. "Ehehahhaha! Plehehheehase not my hihihihihihips!" he squirms in his restraints, earning a coo of faux sympathy from the villain. "Is Markie too ticklish there?~ Is he about to move the arrow to stage three already?~" the evil male meanly coos at him. He couldn't help himself! Especially as the villain trailed his skittering fingers up his sides, ticklishly wiggling them in the hollows of his underarms. He couldn't believe what was happening right now, was Haechan really going to win here? Was the whole city going to explode because Mark was too ticklish?

As the night continued on, Mark could tell that the arrow was getting dangerously close to the "Ka-Boom" face on the chart, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing and squeaking. The supervillain made sure to get every spot, wiggling and poking his fingers at every expanse of sensitivity. "Pleheheheehease! You dohohohon't wahahahaant thihis do you?" he genuinely begs the villain to stop the torture. Haechan evilly chuckles. "I would like nothing more... it'll be so satisfying~" he sings as he squeezes Mark's sides over and over, letting out a satisfied coo at every squeak and giggle. "Watching you squirm and writhe and having you be responsible for Seoul's destruction.... I couldn't be happier~"

The arrow ticks closer and closer... and as it does, distant voices cheer and scream, excited to start the new year's countdown and all hope seems lost as Mark helplessly laughs at his ribs being plucked. "Hey, Crimson Knight!" a voice from behind them calls out. Haechan spins around in confusion, allowing Mark to heave in a few breaths. "Huang? How did you even escape?!" the villain asks in confusion as Renjun stands tall before him. "Magic..~" the short man winks. "Mark! Oh, sorry, SilverStorm... Do us all a favor and send this guy to sleep!" Renjun snaps his fingers the superhero pulls at his limbs, he's suddenly free! He leaps up from where he was tied and, using his superpowers, sends the supervillain into a deep sleep. In the distance, the countdown has began as soon as Haechan grunts and its the floor.

"10! 9! 8! 7..!"

"Woohoo!!" Chenle excitedly cheers "That was so cool! I didn't know Renjun hyung was magic!!"

The shorter man bashfully smiles, shaking his head. "It was nothing... but uh..! Mark!" he quickly looks up and locks eyes with the hero. "Ticklish or not, you're still a cool hero," he grins. And just as the echoing voices yell "Happy New Year!" the smaller places a kiss on the hero's cheek, making Mark become flushed.

"That's cute n' all... but could you untie us so we can figure out what to do with Haechan?" Jaemin huffs out a laugh.

"Only if you guys pretend that you don't know my identity,"

#cute tickles #kpop tickling #tickle community #ticklefics #tickle #kpop tickle #tickling #tickle fantasy #nct tickle

39 notes · View notes

the-real-milo · 2 years

Text

Beauty, Terror, and Everything Inbetween

summary: hogwarts fight club mixed with some postwar ptsd and some bloodlust, emphasis on lust

word count: 3k

read on ao3!

check out my masterlist of fics, and join the taglist to be notified when i post!

Taglist: @mawofmeraxes @chimeraofchaos

Draco Malfoy’s lip was split open, his nose was dripping blood on his once-pristine tie, and his eyes were gleaming with a bloodlust Harry hadn’t seen in months. And, Harry thought, he had never looked better.

It was technically Ron’s idea to initiate Hogwarts’s first Fight Club. Having five brothers, he was used to disputes being settled with an arm wrestle or even a one-round pindown. So, when Ron and Dean were having a tiff over who got to eat the last blueberry scone at tea time, Ron suggested an arm wrestle. Winner takes the cake, literally. And, in that case, Ron took the cake. It was a simple affair, a one-and-done.

However, Seamus bet Ron that in any two out of three, his boyfriend would beat Ron’s ass. Ron, like a magical Marty McFly, could not withstand being called chicken and took the bet. The first bet started at one bronze knut. Of course, Hermione took care of the gambling mathematics, though she did so with plenty of disapproving glares at the boys. After Ron won his hard-earned knut, Neville challenged him and won Ron’s knut from there.

Susan Bones, at the Hufflepuff table, challenged Neville, but before Hermione could call the round (and, Hermione was judged to be the only person both smart enough and unbiased enough to be judge) Headmistress McGonagall shut the game down. Something about gambling or physical violence not being encouraged, Harry wasn’t really sure. He was sure that the last time all the houses had collaborated on something was for Dumbledore’s Army/ the war they had all been forced into.

So, when tea ended, Ron suggested everyone head up to the Room of Requirement to finish the Bones v. Longbottom stand-off. Everyone agreed, and when they found the room, there were bleachers and a wrestling ring waiting for them. Though Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors had come up to watch their respective champions, and a few curious Ravenclaws shuffled in, no Slytherins attended the first official match. Some people argued that they shouldn’t be invited at all, but Hermione lectured everyone with something boring about Germany after World War I, and either they understood or were too afraid to argue with her.

The next day, Malfoy showed up with Zabini. They stood in the back for all the matches, whispering to each other, and bet on nothing. Neither of them spoke to Harry, though Zabini gave him a polite nod on his way out.

One week, when there were few viewers left besides immediate friends of the fighters and, truthfully, even they had grown bored with the great sport of arm wrestling, someone suggested that they have “real” fights, though no one remembers who that was. Everyone In the room immediately shot down the idea, until Neville punched Ron (albeit, lightly) in the face, and Ron hit him back, and everyone was hooked. More people showed up, more money was bet, and more fun was had.

Harry was surprised with how fun the fighting was; he hadn’t lost a single match, though many had wanted to challenge the Chosen One. Beyond winning, though, it had been a long time since Harry did something for the fun of it - years, at least.

After a particularly good fight with Ginny, who didn’t hold punches like some of the others, Harry stepped outside the Room of Requirement for a breather only to see Malfoy leaning against the wall.

They stood quietly next to each other. Harry hadn’t talked to Malfoy since the war. The feud between them had seemingly fizzled out, and Harry didn’t know how to deal with Malfoy the person, rather than Malfoy the archenemy. Once you battle and kill the literal evilest person in the world, petty rivalries don’t seem so important.

“Do you enjoy beating up your friends?” Malfoy says stoically, unmoving from the wall.

Harry whips his head around to look at Malfoy, who seems nonchalant, but has tightly clenched, slightly shaking fists.

“It’s all in good fun.” Harry replies calmly, not matching Malfoy’s attitude. No one’s forcing him to be up here; Whatever problem he has, he can deal with on his own.

“Didn’t we all go through enough fighting?” Malfoy continues, “Aren’t you tired?”

Harry looks at Malfoy, really looks at him, for the first time since the war. He had dark circles under his eyes, and had lost weight in a way that made his cheeks look sunken in.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry replies, “But somehow, this helps. It’s… cathartic, in a way.” Malfoy looked up at Harry, at first in confusion, then in determination. He grabbed Harry by the wrist, and pulled him back into the Room of Requirement.

“We’re next.” Malfoy announced to the room, which was met with complaints by those occupying the waiting list.

“We’re next.” Harry confirmed, to which the complainers promptly shut up.

Malfoy dropped Harry’s wrist, and then stood in the middle of the ring, looking somewhat lost. Harry followed him up and removed his outer robe, which Malfoy copied. While Harry was wearing a Gryffindor sweater to combat the winter chill, Malfoy was in his usual posh dress, vest and all.

“Do you know how to form a fist?” Harry asked, quietly. Malfoy shook his head, eyes faced towards the floor of the ring.

Harry took Malfoy’s left hand, but Malfoy immediately went stiff and shook his head.

The dark mark, Harry thought to himself.

Without saying a word, he takes Malfoy’s right hand, and pushes down all his fingers, and cages the front two in with his thumb. Malfoy copies this himself with his left hand, and Harry nods his approval.

“Ready?” Hermione calls, after collecting all the bets for the round. Both boys nod, and the room counts down from three. On one, neither boys move.

“Come on,” Harry says, with a hint of a smile, “You know you want t-”

And Malfoy’s fist comes down on Harry’s cheek, much harder than he expected. Harry looks at him in shock, and Malfoy just shrugs, a new grin on his face. Harry matches the grin, and goes for Malfoy’s solar plexus. They continue trading blows without stopping until their three minutes are up, and Hermione blows her whistle. Both boys are breathing hard, but neither of them have any visible damage. Malfoy looks exhilarated, but after a couple of seconds he runs out of the ring to the trash can that just appeared in the corner of the room, and releases the majority of his stomach contents.

“Looks like Harry wins,” Hermione says lightly, and cheers go up from around the room.

Harry just makes his way over to Malfoy, who is shaking slightly in the corner, but is otherwise okay.

“Give me a second, and I’ll shake your hand like a proper good sport.” Malfoy says good-naturedly.

“That’s okay, mate” Harry grins, “You’ll have a chance when I beat you again.”

Malfoy chuckles, but then retches again into the trash bin. Harry is hesitant, but he slides onto the floor next to Malfoy and rubs his back lightly. He tenses up at first, but then melts into Harry’s touch. They sit like that for the rest of the day’s matches.

Hermione schedules Harry in to fight Malfoy once a week. Their second fight goes pretty much the same as the first, with Malfoy excavating his guts as soon as the time is up.

“If you want to have a chance at beating me, you have to take care of yourself.” Harry says to Draco, sitting beside him once again.

“I do!” Malfoy says crossly, but this is such an obvious lie that Harry does not feel the need to point it out.

“Tomorrow. 6am, Forbidden Forest. I need a jogging partner.”

Malfoy looks like he wants to protest, but he just shrugs his shoulders. Harry sighs, but doesn’t leave Malfoy’s side.

Harry gets to the forest at 6, fully expecting Malfoy to no-show, but he’s already there, the tips of his nose and ears already showing pink.

Malfoy gives Harry a small smile, makes Harry’s stomach do this funny flip-flopping thing that he decidedly ignores.

They start jogging together down Harry’s usual trail, and they almost fall into silence when Harry starts to recount the story of Aragog to Malfoy. He’s a good listener, asking engaging questions and making the appropriate reactions to Harry’s story. He then tells his own story, of an awful detention served in the forest. The two boys trade stories like this for the entire run, and they almost can’t believe it when it’s time to head back to the school for breakfast. When they get to the Great Hall, Draco makes to go to the Slytherin table when Harry asks, “Stay with me?”

Draco looks hesitant, but nods in agreement, and Harry gives him a grateful smile. They head to the Gryffindor table, where Hermione looks at Harry approvingly, and Ron is too busy eating to notice anything amiss.

At first, he just sits there, taking in the Gryffindors’ conversations. Harry stares at Draco until he picks up the nearest thing, a blueberry muffin, and puts it on his plate. He continues to watch Draco, who looks Harry in the eyes for every single bite he takes. Once the last of the muffin is gone, Harry awards Draco with a quick side-squeeze of a hug. Draco wasn’t expecting that, but he leans into it.

“Hey, when did Malfoy get here?” Ron asks, mouth half full.

Harry and Draco look at each other, and break out into laughter - neither of them note it, but it’s the first time they laugh together.

The sixth fight is the first one that Draco gets through without getting sick. At the end, he looks out of breath and completely soaked with sweat, but he stands tall.

“I’m proud of you,” Harry murmurs in his ear, and Draco blushes deeply as Harry is declared the winner once again.

Every day, they jog together, they eat meals together, and they learn more about each other than they have in the past seven years.

Their eighth and last year at Hogwarts is more than two-thirds over, and not everyone handles it well. The Slytherins throw nightly ragers that blend into one another, the parties bleeding over into one another until they’re indistinguishable. After a class ends, there’s always an inevitable straggler who sits in the classroom, staring at the familiar walls and imprinting them to memory.

Harry and Draco sometimes stay in the Forbidden Forest long past when they’re done jogging, and talk about their plans for the future.

“You know, I always wanted to be a healer,” Draco reveals one day, leaning against Harry as they sit before their favorite oak tree.

“Healer Malfoy,” Harry tries the title out on his tongue, and Draco smiles, those smiles that have become less of a rarity and more habit.

Harry doesn’t know what he’ll do after Hogwarts. Of course, Hermione has her twenty year plan, and Ron would follow her anywhere. When it had been time to study for Owls and to pick a career path, Harry was sure he would die in service to the wizarding world, but mostly Dumbledore. Now that Dumbledore was gone, and the war definitively over, Harry wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“You could become a Healer, with me!” Draco suggests one day, and Harry laughs at the idea. He never excelled at school, not really, not beyond what was expected, and he wouldn’t want to go into the career knowing he could be nothing more than average.

“You could stay here,” McGonagall suggests to him one day, but Harry knows that isn’t right either.

As Draco gets stronger, and the boys become more comfortable with one another, their fights become more brutal. They really let loose, their anger and frustration and confusion all coming out and being laid bare.

It’s the day of their last fight of the year, and they are the first to arrive at the Room of Requirement, just as they planned. They sit in the back of the empty bleachers, waiting.

“I guess this is it,” Harry says, somewhat awkwardly. He doesn’t know what to do. He never does, not when it counts.

Draco says nothing, and just sits there with Harry until the crowds appear. He’s been getting dangerously close to beating Harry, so the bets are more varied now, meaning more money for the winner.

Finally, the crowds arrive. Harry and Draco are the last fight of the day, and they watch the other matches together, still in silence.

“Talk to me, Draco,” Harry says almost pleadingly.

“I -” Draco swallows thickly. He doesn’t answer any further. He has that defensive sneer back on his face, the one he hasn’t shown since they were kids who had to be brave.

Harry doesn’t press him any further, but sneaks his hand into Draco’s when he’s sure everyone else is concentrating on the fight. Draco doesn’t hold Harry’s hand, not really, but he doesn’t let him go, either.

By the last match before theirs, though, Draco is gripping Harry’s hand so hard that it’s turned bone white.

When it’s their turn to fight, Draco lets go of Harry’s hand quickly, as if shocked that he’s still holding on. Draco walks up to the ring, back stiff, and ignores the cheers and taunts of the crowd. Harry does the same, solely focused on Draco. He’s not alright, Harry can tell that much. If only he knew how to fix it, he would, he would. But Harry’s not sure he can, anymore.

He’s about to call off the fight when Hermione starts the match and Draco throws a punch that hits him squarely in the cheekbone. And it stings. But Harry doesn’t move, just looks at Draco, worrying.

“Fight me, Potter,” Draco says, through gritted teeth, “It’s a fight. Hit me, for Salazar’s Sake!” By the end, Draco was shouting through a silent room.

“Why should I?” Harry asks, carefully. If Draco shows any hint of breaking, he’ll walk out, possibly dragging a kicking and screaming Draco behind him.

“I was told this was supposed to be cathartic,” And Draco grins, and it’s wild, and it’s terrifying, and it’s beautiful. “Give me your catharsis, Harry,”

And then the fight, the one they’ve been waiting for all their lives, finally starts. It’s not just fists, but hands and claws and teeth. Draco kicks at Harry’s shin, sending him to his knees. Harry looks up at him like he’s at the altar and Draco is his god, his beautiful god who is striking him down for all the sins he hasn’t committed yet. Harry pulls at Draco’s vest, dragging the boy down to his level, and reverse slams him to the ground. He cradles Draco’s head as they both fall and twists so that Draco is underneath him. Once Draco is pinned to the ground beneath him, Harry is able to land punch after punch before Draco is able to catch his arm and yank him down. Draco bites the muscle between Harry’s shoulder and when he is released, Harry can see the gleam of his own blood on Draco’s teeth.

The three minute timer rings unnoticed.

All their fears about the future, their bitterness, their repentance, their sorrow, is lost in the fight. Perhaps lost isn’t the right word - it’s shared between them, given as gifts and burdens that both boys are fighting to hold up, alone. Two Atlases, holding up the same world, learning to share the burden.

Finally, Harry collapses in a corner, Draco kneeling between his thighs and holding Harry’s face between his hands.

No one is declared a winner. The crowds shuffle out slowly, ushered by Hermione, who checks the boys quickly for concussions before exiting herself.

“I know what you did,” Draco pants, still holding onto Harry as if scared he’ll run away (which Harry does not possess the strength to do, even if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to, for the record.)

“It was going to be a surprise. Tonight. At my victory party.” Somehow, Harry manages a crooked grin, though it hurts to do so.

“You bought Malfoy Manor.” Harry had bought the mansion weeks ago, with the winnings from his weekly fights. He told no one, though less so because of the surprise factor and more so that he was scared Draco would reject it. Most people don’t want to live in their childhood home forever, but after being orphaned during the war, Harry figured Draco would want some semblance of his parents around him.

“For you. For us. I was thinking we could be … roommates, or something,” Harry managed to stutter out. Draco doesn’t say anything, so Harry continues, panicking.

“Or I could just, you could live alone? I don’t mean to force my way, I mean, it’s completely up to you. I just wanted to- “

Draco kisses Harry then, moving his hands from Harry’s cheekbones to his jaw to his neck. On Harry’s part, he can’t move much, or even sit up straight, but he kisses back with all the force he possesses. Harry can taste his own blood in Draco’s mouth, and it only pushes him further.

Maybe they’ve jumped off a cliff they can’t return from, but if so they both jumped too long ago to even regret the choice.

“You bought me a house.” Draco says, as soon as he’s able to separate himself from Harry.

“I bought you a house.” And they both laugh at the absurdity of it, the certainty and uncertainty baked into the action.

“Stay with me,” Draco whispers into Harry’s neck, and Harry nods and holds Draco tighter than he’s ever dared to before.

#drarry #draco x harry #draco malfoy #sad draco #drarry shitpost #harry potter #harry #harry x draco #angst #fanfiction #drarry fic recs #drarry fic #drarry masterlist #drarry smut recs #drarry smut #so much angst #why am i crying #harrry's a romantic motherfucker

26 notes · View notes

pretentiouswreckingball · 2 years

Text

✨🌱My year in fic 🌱✨

My dear friend @rollercoasterwords tag me on this so, thank you Rae 🤍 it supposed to be just one line for each fic but I don’t know if I can do that and since there’s nothing much because I’ve only been doing this for like, two days, let’s see what we can do.

September

Archenemies (or so he thought) | wolfstar + jegulus

“Regulus would agree with me” he mumbles like a petulant teenager, “he will not be pleased with the cat”.

And because Sirius’ life was mocking him by that point, where the black car stood moments ago, a young man he knew too well was looking back at him. A smug smile plastered all over his annoying face.

“Aw Sirius, you offended on my behalf? I’m touched” Regulus teased, hand on his heart.

October

Don’t threaten me with a good time | jegulus

“And the pranks, you weren’t mad about those?”

James gave him a playful glance even though he couldn’t see it. “You mean those didn’t count as flirting? Regulus, I’m possibly disappointed”

November

I think I like when it rains | jegulus + wolfstar + pandalily

Lily breaks the beignet in half and offers one side to Pandora.

“These are my favorites too,” she breathes out like it’s a secret and maybe it is.

Pandora holds her gaze with those bright eyes like she can see what Lily’s not saying, like she can see what it means. Pandora accepts the beignet, holding it carefully and then she smiles, a soft little thing tugging at her lips. It is dashing.

December

I didn’t start any of the ones mention below this month but since I haven’t finished them either, I’ll just dump them all in here lmao

Baby, it’s cold outside (wolfstar + jegulus The Holiday AU)

The plant flew through the air inches away from his face and crashed in the wall behind him.

The silence lasted for five seconds and then,

“Did you just throw a fucking succulent at me?”

It was well deserved, if you ask Regulus.

About time, scars and the brightest stars (About Time Wolfstar AU)

He talked and grinned and joke, and made himself so indispensable in Remus’ routine that the only way to get him out was to let him in. And at the tender age of 11, James carved his way into Remus’ inner world and never left.

Untitled wip (jegulus futuristic war au)

“You stained my boots,” Rodolphus sneers, taking a step back from the pool of blood near his feet.

Regulus barely holds back an eye roll and goes to the table where he uses the cloth to get rid of the red on the sword and his hands. The red bleeds into the white, turning it crimson.

“I’ll try to keep it less messy the next time I decapitate someone”

I don’t have many internet friends so, whoever wants to do it it’s welcome!! ✨

#my year in fic #fic: archenemies (or so he thought)#fic: don’t treathen me with a good time #fic: i think i like when it rains #jegulus #wolfstar #pandalily

9 notes · View notes

liminal-pr0xy · 2 years

Text

Okay so it's 1am but i finished reading fics and heard a song and had this thought so here's the best I got lmao

UTmv Superhero au

★★★★★★★

At the age of 16, his town was massacred and he was spared simply because he was visiting friends who lived in the main city. He searched through everything he was able to get his hands on, looking for a sign he wasn't the last one, looking for his family, looking for him.

He moved into his friend's house and stayed locked up in his borrowed, bare room for weeks after. His friend left food outside his door, never forcing him to move on, patient.

Losing your twin couldn't be easy and Dream wasn't sure life would get better. At least Ink was there, the albino artist made it a little better.

As soon as he turned 18, Dream enrolled into the city's hero academy. The heroes had failed his hometown so he dove into it, wanting to make sure no one would have to feel the hurt he had experienced.

Over the next 4 years, he'd honed his Gift and his body to be a great hero. It had come naturally and his Gift left people awestruck - being able to manipulate light constructs made of his emotions. He graduated near top of the class and set out under the hero name "Positivity."

He still missed his brother of course but being hero had helped ease the pain. Every person he saved helped mend the hole in his heart, helped put the life back in his golden eyes. He would still turn expecting his brother's purple-blue eyes but it hurt less and less after so long.

A villain rose up to fight him. Again. Again. Again. He quickly became known as "Negativity" due to his constant preference of fighting the hero Positivity. New, smaller villains started appearing with Negativity, lackies and henchmen. The Butcher, Moth, and Serialist were never seen without the other two. Vigilantes Splice and Code 422 were occasionally seen with Negativity too.

When his opponent became plural, Ink forced Dream to accept his help and a friend made in school joined in too. Ink, Blue, and Dream spent a lot of time together training so they'd be a fluid team. It paid off when Negativity had called for a retreat, single teal eye glaring at the trio. While the bad guys had managed to escape, minimal damage and injury and happened for the innocent people of the city.

★★★★★★★

Positivity had followed Negativity this fight, Splatter handling the smaller baddies with Stars' help. Positivity found himself shooting arrow after arrow at his archenemy as the villain made his way into an abandoned building. Positivity followed inside cautiously.

It was silent as he strode through the abandoned motel with peeling wallpaper and the smell of mold. His steps were light and his ears were straining to hear the other. Halfway down the second hall, he heard a commotion. Positivity quickly turned in the sound's direction, making his way quickly but quietly.

He paused outside the door, taking a deep breath before slamming the door open with his bow. He gawked, a strangled noise leaving him as he saw his...enemy?

The mask his archenemy wore was on the ground. There was a body in a puddle of blood. Tentacles of shadow were gone into a mess in the ground, like black paint staining dusty red. A scarred hand was pressed around a stab wound a the knife was left in.

He made eye contact and something clicked.

That face.

He knew that face.

It was all red and disfigured and scarred but Dream knew who that was.

Dream knew his brother's face.

"... Nighty?"

The single teal eye was confused before glaring.

The bow vanished into nothing.

"Nightmare..? Is..? I..." A hot tear fell down Dream's masked face.

"Why do you care, hero?" Negativity spat, making Dream flinch. "And you don't get to call me that. No one alive can say that name. I'll kill you-"

Dream stepped back and ripped off his mask as the villain suddenly started coming towards him, hoping Nightmare would see it. He closed his eyes and his back hit the wall and-

Gentle fingers traced his birthmark, a red blotchy spot on his cheek. They used to joke that their matching birthmarks were apples, Dream planned on getting an apple outline tattooed over it.

"... Dream..?" He opened his eyes to see tears falling from the other's eye. He couldn't trust his own voice not to break out in sobs so he only nodded. He was sure his face was twisting into that "ugly" cry he has, lips shaking and nose red.

The twins hugged each other, falling to the floor and crying into each other's shoulders.

Dream finally felt whole again.

★★★★★★★

Positivity = Dream (emotion constructs)

Stars (?) = Blue (?)

Negativity = Nightmare (tentacles/shadows)

The Butcher = Horror (something with his blade?)

Moth = Dust (?)

Serialist = Killer (copies Gifts by tasting blood?)

Splice = Cross (?)

Code 422 = Error (threads)

Splatter = Ink (creations to life)

If anyone wants to add to this or suggest something or change, go for it but tag me cus i wanna see

#utmv au #Dream sans #ink sans #human ish au #idk what to tag #nightmare sans #short story #uhhh #idk #pls

4 notes · View notes

phanboyo · 2 years

Text

Under the Skin, Behind the Eyes

*swoops in at the last minute with the first chapter of a new fic* Sorry it took so long, this month has been very hectic, but here's a fic based on @five-rivers 's prompt, "For centuries, the cult has anticipated the glorious rise of Lord Phantom. That time is at hand. All they need to bring him fully into the mortal world is the perfect sacrifice: Danny Fenton." featuring a bit of @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy 's prompt, "Jazz is beginning to think she might have psychic powers."

Content warning: contains kidnapping, violence, murder, thoughts of suicide and self harm, and disassociation

AO3

FFN

In the darkness of his room, Danny slowly opened his eyes. The amber glow of the streetlights outside seeped through the cracks in his curtains and made odd shadows out of the clothes and books and games littering his floor. Danny's room, no matter what state it was in, always served as a safe, comfortable space for him. It was a place he could escape from his nagging sister, or his crazy parents, a place away from the rest of the world, where he could just be alone, with his own thoughts, if he chose, or with friends if he preferred. He didn't realize how comfortable that privacy was until tonight.

As his eyes roamed the room, he saw nothing out of place, and he took a deep breath to try to calm himself. He couldn't remember the nightmare, but he felt the aftereffects, unsettled by something entirely unknown. He looked up at the glowing stars stuck to his ceiling to ground himself.

Danny jumped at a noise from the hall outside his door and immediately berated himself. He was fourteen, not a kid anymore. He could handle a nightmare. Deciding that it was obviously just Jazz or one of his parents getting a glass of water, Danny stubbornly laid his head back down and pulled up the covers, his back to the door. He clenched his eyes shut and tried to ignore the fact that his unsettled feeling hadn't gone away.

And so, Danny met his alarm clock's shrill greeting with annoyance and exhaustion. Whatever nightmare that had gripped him so tightly through the night as to bar him from true sleep was chased away by the light of the morning. With the light, there were no unfamiliar shadows or imagined unknown depths. His room was his again and he angrily got dressed for school.

The living room was filled with the scent of frankincense, which was never a good sign for his folks. Danny decided to skip breakfast and leave before they could catch him, in hopes that whatever had them worried might ease off by the time he got home. He yanked his backpack out from under a box of white sheets sitting on the couch and headed for the door.

"Oh, Danny!" called Jazz as she entered the room. "There you are!" she walked over to him and smiled, relief easing her shoulders as she met his eyes, which Danny promptly rolled.

"Do you need something?" he asked anyway.

She bit her lip and glanced to the box of linens on the couch. "Um, no, not..." She examined him again, looking somewhat distracted, but Danny wasn't really in the mood to ask. "No." she decided.

Danny nodded slowly, lamenting his family's weirdness. "Well," he said slowly, "I'm gonna go to school," he pointed to the door with his thumb.

"Oh, let me drive you!" She walked briskly to the bathroom to grab something from the counter, and with the door ajar Danny noticed that the mirror was covered by a white sheet.

Jazz plucked her keys from the hook on the wall, slung her bag over her shoulder and turned back to the door just in time to see it shut. "Danny!" she called after him.

_____

The school day progressed normally, with Danny mostly paying attention in class between doodles. Lunch was as unimpressive as ever, some sort of chunky brownish-gray sludge paired with dry baby carrots and a cream-colored cookie as hard as a hockey puck. Danny deemed the carrots safe enough.

"-even listening to me?" Danny looked up at Sam who was looking at him expectantly.

"Uh, yeah," Danny started, trying to play back in his mind the conversation he hadn't actually been listening to. "Occult holiday? Very cool."

Sam seemed to accept this answer well enough. "Yeah, well you only get an overlap of celestial phenomena like this once every few centuries."

Danny perked up at this "Oh are you talking about the Luceli comet tonight?" Danny had been in such a funk this morning he'd nearly forgotten.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yes. I knew you weren't paying attention."

"Get the future astronaut and the astrology nut on the same page and I'm out," Tucker said.

"I'm not an astrology nut Tucker, that's way too mainstream for me," Sam insisted.

"Yeah okay, don't act like you don't have your rising and moon and everything all mapped out," he said. It was about then that Danny checked back out of the conversation, having no idea what they were talking about.

Danny walked home after school, his shoulders sore from his backpack straps digging in, and his head empty. He was so tired. He couldn't wait to go up to his room, shut the door and collapse into bed. He hoped the incense didn't pervade the house enough to reach his room.

Danny was suddenly seized by a large arm locking around his thin body, easily picking him up to leave his feet kicking in the air. A cold piece of cloth was pressed forcefully to his face and Danny yelled through it, panicking. His head was yanked back into the chest of his attacker and the pressure of the hand against his face made his nose hurt.

Whatever the cloth was soaked in smelled astringent and oddly sweet, and before Danny could think to hold his breath his vision began to blur and his exhaustion overcame him.

_____

"-small, are you sure he'll have enough blood in 'im?"

Danny's whole body felt sore and heavy. His neck hurt and he could barely register the hard floor under his shoulder.

"Dolohov you idiot, did you even read the ritual? The amount of blood doesn't matter, it's only purpose is as a conduit for the life force."

Danny's mind felt cloudy. Were these people talking to his parents about their weird ghost stuff? It didn't sound like his parents. It didn't smell like frankincense or sage or lavender. It smelled like paint and burning pine.

"Well so-rry Masters, we can't all be college dropouts." The voice came through more clearly now.

"That wasn't my fault and you know it! Besides, I'll have my revenge on that dolt soon enough."

Danny fought through the fog and blinked his eyes open to a dim light. He moved to rub his eyes but found something tugging on his wrists.

"Ah, I think the little lamb is waking now."

Danny drew in a sharp breath and nearly coughed. He was in a large room, lit by many candles. He laid on his side with his ankles and wrists tied with a rough chord that scratched at his skin. Underneath him were scribbled lines, too dark to make out in the dim lighting. He saw a few men dressed in dark flowing clothing and white masks.

"Good, we can start the preparation." He felt a cold hand yank him up by the arm, and it was only then that he realized that he had been stripped of all his clothes, covered only by a white linen tied around his waist.

He couldn't find the strength in his legs to stand, but the man gripping his arm seemed to have no trouble holding him up. He peered at Danny's face, and Danny could make out gleaming dark eyes through the eye holes in the mask. "We'll need you quite sober for this, little lamb. Don't worry though, we won't draw it out too long."

Danny's heart hammered in his chest. Was this some sort of weird prank? It was definitely up his parents' alley. But that feeling of dread from the night before had returned in full force, pooling in the pit of his stomach, and he knew that this time it was real. "Wha-what are you gonna do t'me?" Danny's voice sounded terribly weak and raspy to his ears.

The man hummed. "You have the honor of being the world-opening sacrifice to the Tromeros Phantaezo, the great and powerful Lord of Death."

Danny's blood ran cold and he realized as his cheeks begun to cool that at some point he had started to cry.

"Brethren let us begin," called a deep voice from behind him. "We must have him prepared before Venus reaches its zenith."

With that another masked man came, reverently carrying an ornate silver bowl, addorned with engravings that gleamed like stars in the flickering candlelight. "To purify the vessel."

A fistfull of Danny's hair yanked his head back as the bowl was brought to his firmly closed mouth. It was warm against his lips and the smell wafting from it was of honey and sweet spices. "Drink" he was commanded.

When he refused to obey, his jaw was yanked open quite painfully, and he let out a cry as the sweet liquid filled his mouth, which was then promptly held shut by a sweaty hand. He stared angrily at the men in front of him through tears, and in his defiance another pinched Danny's nose, forcing him to swallow so he could breathe.

"C'mon little lamb, that wasn't so bad now was it?"

He distantly registered chanting behind him in some foreign tongue, and Danny tried to yank out of the cultist's grasp to no avail. "Let me go, you freaks!" Danny's throat felt thick and his voice sounded abnormally high and muddied.

The cultist in front of him grabbed his chin and looked into his eyes. "You should be honored, little lamb. The pain will be over soon enough. Shame you won't get to see the Lord of Death in all his glory as he makes this world his."

A wooden stick with a blackened end was dragged across Danny's forehead, uncomfortably warm. "Yew ash," a voice said, barely audible above the now constant chanting.

Danny was brought to kneel in the painted symbols on the ground, a cultist at his back with a fistful of dark hair. Another approached, a knife in his hand gleaming in the firelight.

"A life touched by Sight," he said as the chanting reached a crescendo, "given to open the door!"

The knife was plunged into Danny's chest, cold and hot as he was gripped with shock. He dimly registered the hot blood leaking down his stomach, seeping into his loincloth and dripping onto the floor. His vision swam and his hearing dimmed. He no longer felt a tension at his scalp and he collapsed to the stone floor in a heap.

His eyes fluttered, desperately trying to stay open, but they felt so heavy. He could barely make out a bright light in the shape of a man, a cold, otherworldly green instead of the warm yellow of the candles. A piercing screech hit his ears and it all went dark.

_____

Danny hadn't been expecting to wake. He hadn't thought too deeply about the existence of an afterlife before, but he was quite shocked to find consciousness at all. He felt a dull ache in his chest. He reached up to touch it, surprised to find his hands unbound. He looked quickly around the dark room, the sight that greeted him making his heart drop into his stomach.

Despite the lack of an obvious light source, he could see quite clearly the remnants of the ritual, as well as the still forms of black-clad, mask-wearing cultists laid all throughout the room. Their masks were no longer white.

Danny felt his stomach roiling at the stench of blood. He tried to retch, but all he had eaten today was a couple of dry baby carrots and spiced honey water. He found himself on all fours, staring at the concrete and trying to breathe deeply enough to calm his nerves. The smell was making it worse.

His eyes wandered over to his hands, which were dark up to the elbows, covered in blood. What happened?! The question repeated over and over in his mind, panicked, confused, and overwhelming.

He stood on shaking legs and looked around the room, trying hard not to look at the corpses littering the floor, still warm. I have to get out of here.

Danny spotted the door, stained with a large smear of blood at eye level, smeared down to meet a cultist leaning up against it as if crushed against it while trying to escape. A sob choked its way out of Danny's mouth as he lurched towards the door on shaking legs like those of a newborn doe.

Danny fumbled for the knob and tried to yank it open, sobs growing louder as he failed to pull against the dead weight at the bottom or the lock holding it closed. He yanked and pushed the handle desperately in rapid succession, irrationality taking hold, and suddenly fell through the door.

He landed hard on the other side and gasped. He turned and stared up at the door. It was still closed.

"... what..?" his voice was whispered, but deafening in the silence around him. He took deep breaths of blood-free air, trying to clear the snot and tears from his throat.

'Get up.'

The thought was so loud that Danny looked around, thinking someone else had said it. Finding himself alone, he took another deep breath and got up. The concrete was cold against his feet, but not uncomfortable.

He padded up the stairs at the end of the hall and pushed open the door, leading into a long hallway, dim moonlight streaking in from large spaces out windows. Could he just leave? Should he try to find his stuff, or find a phone and call the police?

'How do you think the police will react to find you covered in the blood of a dozen dead men with not a scratch on you?'

Danny jumped at the voice. "W-who's there?" he looked up and down the hallway and saw no one. It was silent, save for the beating of his own heart, much slower than he would have expected.

Danny's hand came up to his chest where he had been stabbed. He felt smooth skin underneath dried blood. Startled, he looked down at his body. He was still mostly naked, and covered in blood, but the voice was right, there wasn't a scratch on him.

He was suddenly very aware of the drying blood crumbling and flaking on his skin as he moved and felt an overwhelming urge to scrub it off. He walked silently down the hall, opening doors until he found a bathroom. Before he could think about the sense of his actions the bloodstained linen was in the wastebasket and Danny was standing under a stream of hot water, watching it turn rust red as it snaked its way towards the drain. He scrubbed his skin until it stung.

Danny stood in the shower perhaps longer than he should. He had no idea where he was or what time it was. If it weren't for the unfamiliar shower he was standing in and the shampoo that wasn't his, he would be thinking it had been some sort of crazy dream. But he could still feel a phantom of rough hands on his jaw, still smell the ghost of the sweet odor of chloroform, still feel the cold metal of a silver dagger push through his skin.

Danny pressed a hand to his chest, just over his heart. A second passed. Two. Three. Just as Danny started to panic, he felt a beat under his fingers. It was slow, but steady. He must have imagined it, then. There was no way he could have survived that. Was he crazy? Sane people didn't hear voices.

He did his best to shove that thought out of his mind, shutting off the water and grabbing an emerald green towel off the rack. After drying off, he rubbed at the fog on the mirror, looking at his expression. He looked normal, despite how different he felt.

Images of the ritual room flashed through his mind again in painful detail. His breath hitched and he held the eyes of his reflection, trying to ground himself and not really succeeding. He could hear the dripping off the shower faucet, steadier than his own breath.

"Did I kill those people?" He asked himself.

His reflection's eyes flashed a cold, otherworldly green. "No, I did," the echoey voice left his mouth without his input and Danny jumped back from the mirror, falling against the tub with a startled cry.

"Wha- oh, oh man I really am crazy." Danny's hands climbed into his hair, fingers pulling at the wet strands.

'I am not a hallucination.'

"Very reassuring," Danny responded hysterically, only vaguely aware that he was now talking to himself. "Sounds exactly like something a hallucination would say."

'I am Phantaezō.'

Danny froze. "Lord of Death?" His voice was small. Were his parents right about spirits being real all along? Did something happen during the ritual? Maybe it wasn't all in his head, but could he afford to entertain that possibility? If he was wrong it would only drive him further into madness.

'I'll prove it.'

Danny felt a chill run up his spine and suddenly he felt lighter. When did he stand up? He looked down to find that he was in fact not standing, but floating. Danny yelled. His eyes were glowing green in the mirror again.

"Stop it! Stop!" Danny yelled, clutching at his head and clenching his eyes shut. He felt his butt hit the floor again, cushioned by the plush yellow bath mat, and felt slight relief at the familiar return of weight to his body.

He thought of how he fell through the door to the hallway. Surely he couldn't just have imagined that. He stared at his hands, thinking about passing through the door. He felt a chill and his hands became translucent. He gasped and they flickered back to normal. He turned them over, staring.

"...What did you do to me?" he whispered.

'I saved you.'

How, Danny was about to ask, before his parents' constant distrust of spirits kicked in. "Why?"

The spirit was quiet for a long time, but Danny could feel its presence in his mind, cold but intense, burning like frostbite. Finally it spoke.

'They wanted me for their bidding, those foolish mortals thought they could control me, me.' The spirit paused. 'In their effort to hold me, they made a mistake trying to close the Door. If I hadn't latched onto a stable form I would have been torn.'

Danny was silent, trying to digest this. A god of death saved his life and possessed him in order to avoid being destroyed by cultists, whom it then killed using Danny's body.

"Why me?"

'You have touched death.'

Danny's breath caught in his throat as the Phantom pain of a dagger struck his chest. "Am I dead?"

The spirit paused. 'Not… anymore.'

Danny took a deep breath and pressed his hand to his heart, feeling for the slow beats to reassure him that the spirit was speaking truth. He was alive. He was possessed. What should he do? "Exorcism?" He ventured.

The spirit scoffed. 'As if any priest could remove me.'

Danny clapped a hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to say that aloud. He was posessed by some great god of death. Could a priest handle that? Twelve occultists who seemed to know what they were doing certainly couldn't. Maybe his parents could help, they knew about this kind of thing. His mind went back to the corpses lining the room. No. No, he wouldn't get them killed. He bit his lip. They were probably worried sick about him. He had no idea how long he'd been away. The change from day to night showed that it had been at least several hours since school ended, but for all he knew it could be days.

'Human?' the voice interrupted his thoughts.

"My name is Danny," he replied absently.

'Danny,' it said pointedly. 'If you build me a new Door I can leave.'

There was a way out? Danny stood. "Okay, how do I build this door then?" he asked eagerly. His thoughts then returned to the ritual, the cultist's voice echoing in his ears. "A life touched by sight given to open the door!" He slumped again, filling with an odd combination of rage and despair. "I won't kill anyone."

'I can take care of that,' it said.

Danny's eyes snapped up to the mirror. They were blue. He pointed at his reflection nevertheless. "No," he said forcefully, ignoring the shake in his muscles. "You are not killing anyone."

The spirit huffed a long sigh.

"Promise!" Danny demanded.

'You want me to promise?' it asked in amusement.

"Yes!" Danny exclaimed. "Swear!"

Danny resisted a flinch as his eyes swirled green. He watched his shoulders relax and a smile eased its way onto his face. A low, echoing chuckle oozed from his mouth. "How could you possibly stop me, little lamb?"

Danny was starting to really hate that nickname. His heart pounded in his chest and he felt a coolness wash over him that had nothing to do with the ghost inside of him.

"I'll kill myself."

His reflection tilted it's head, eyeing him curiously.

"I'll kill myself, and then you won't have a-a stable form to latch onto."

A hand came up to brush his lips as if in thought. The smile on his face became challenging. "What makes you think I couldn't just bring you back again?"

Danny's stomach dropped. Was he forced to be the puppet of some murderous evil spirit against his own will? Trapped with this demon in some sort of hell on earth? Surely there had to be some way out. Maybe he could destroy himself beyond repair. Surely even this thing had its limits.

"I-I'll throw myself in a wood chipper," Danny tried. "Jump into an inferno. Bury myself in concrete. Drag myself to the bottom of the ocean." Danny's breath hitched. "Launch my ashes into space."

His reflection examined him for a long moment. "You feel very strongly about this," it noted, amusement mixing with curiosity.

Danny nodded, his breath coming in and out more quickly than he'd realized. "Yes."

It stared at him for another long moment before seeming to make up its mind. "Alright," it said. "I won't kill anyone while I'm here."

Danny nodded. "Promise."

His reflection rolled its eyes. "I promise not to intentionally kill anyone while I'm here. Cross my heart and hope to, well," it smiled. "You know."

Danny took a shaky breath and turned away from the mirror, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, so how do I build this door?"

'Well, without some sacrifices to part the veil, it'll take a while. I suggest getting comfortable, we're in it for the long haul, kid.'

_____

It took Danny a while to find some clothes. The layout of the mansion (it could only be described as a mansion) was confusing, and the continuous green and gold color scheme that adorned the winding hallways didn't help. Phantom seemed to pick up on the layout much more quickly however, and let Danny know when he was backtracking or going in circles.

The fifth bedroom that Danny found was the largest so far, and the only one with clothes in the closet. Nearly all of them were suits, collared shirts, and slacks, and silken pajamas, but he found some sweatpants, which he cinched tightly at the waist, and a Green Bay Packers hoodie.

"That explains the decor," Danny muttered. "How crazy can you get?"

'Cultists, remember?' the spirit chimed.

"Your cult," Danny reminded him, pulling the hoodie on.

'I don't claim them,' he replied hotly. 'They tried to control me.'

Danny rolled his eyes. "Betrayal cuts deep, huh?"

The spirit made an offended noise. 'I was never affiliated with those misguided idiots!'

Danny rolled up the hems of the sweatpants to keep himself from tripping on them and felt tiny in the oversized clothes. "Yeah, okay ghost boy," he muttered as he began looking for shoes that could potentially fit him, but quickly gave up. If he couldn't find his stuff he might have to brave the world in sweatpants and socks.

'Ghost boy?' it asked incredulously. 'I am the Regnandi Sarruum Phantaezō, Lord of Death, defeater of Pariah Dark, conqueror of the Infinite Realms-'

"Okay, okay, touchy," Danny said. "Reggie, Sam, Phantom, whatever."

Phantom didn't grumble, per say, but Danny could feel his irritation, buzzing like static on a TV. 'You were not this impertinent before.'

Danny snorted. "Threatening to throw you in a wood grinder isn't impertinent?" His grin faded and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't think I have any more energy to deal with ridiculous things like threats of violence today."

'Sleep, then. There is much work to be done if I am to return to the Infinite Realms.'

Danny shook his head. “I wanna get this over with as soon as possible, I don’t want you here any longer than necessary. Danny shut the closet door. What do we need to get started?”

'Well, a lot of things. Raven feathers, silver, dead sea salt, highly conductive metals for energy relay, beta flos sanguinus-those will be vital if you're going to continue to be adamant about the whole "not killing anyone" thing-oh, and we'll need some explosives-'

"Explosives?!"

'We'll be punching a hole between dimensions, kid. Don't worry, explosives are easy to come by in this plane.'

"That's not what I was-" Danny huffed. "Okay, whatever. Explosives, sure. What's the, the beta floss?"

'Beta flos sanguine, a type of flower with special properties. Witch hunters tend to have them, do you know of any?'

"Do I know of any witch hunters?" Danny asked incredulously.

'Yes, they go from town to town with diverse weapons of torture, hunting-'

"I know what a witch hunter is!" Danny said, rolling his eyes. "It's not the 1600s anymore, witch hunters aren't a thing!"

Phantom seemed to consider this. 'I'll admit, it has been a while since I was last summoned, and news of your realm has been rather scant of late. Alright then, who fights against the creatures of darkness nowadays?'

"The creatures-" Danny shut his mouth before he could make another sarcastic remark and thought for a moment. Sam would probably call herself a creature of darkness, but that's probably not what Phantom was referring to. "Uh I dunno, priests?" Horror movies like The Exorcist and The Conjuring came to mind.

Phantom made a scornful noise. 'Doubtful they'd have such things. They don't know the first thing about the occult, or actual mechanisms of summoning and banishment. They merely rely on their paltry faith.'

Danny hummed as his mind went back to Sam. She definitely educated herself on the occult. It was one of the reasons she first became friends with him. Danny's mother made him wear a protective talisman to school after he came home with bruises courtesy of Dash. Sam saw it and immediately began to inundate him with talk of the occult and supernatural, which, much to her delight, he easily followed. She eventually realized that, despite the knowledge gained from his unusual upbringing, he had very little actual interest in the occult. By then, however, she had already deemed him a good friend and they had been ever since.

"I have a goth friend who's into gardening. She might know where to find rare occult flowers."

Phantom hummed. 'Yes, we'll have to give that a try. Best to do it quickly, the process to convert them for our purposes will take a couple months at the least.'

Danny's heart dropped as the reality of his situation began to sink in. He was stuck with a murderous spirit inside his head for months at the least. A spirit that had shown that it could take control of his body to some degree. What if it's intentions were more malicious than it was letting on? His parents always told him off the cunning and guile of evil spirits. He had stopped believing them in middle school, but now he had to wonder about the truth of it. Would this door they were preparing really rid him of Phantom? Or would it bring on the end of the world? Could Danny live with that? Would he live at all after this?

"How do I know I can trust you?" Danny asked, before amending his statement. "How do I know that this is actually going to send you back and not cause the apocalypse?"

Phantom tsked. 'You really don't know anything about the Infinite Realms, do you? Or multidimensional planar configuration?'

Danny paused. Multi what? "Uh, no. Can't say that I do," he said quietly.

'Well,' Phantom started, 'The Infinite Realms is unique in that it has all of the right physical properties and dimensional positioning to easily access a multitude of smaller planes, hence the name of "Infinite Realms."'

"Okay…?"

'It is much more vast than any other realm in existence. This is due in part because of the fluidity of what you call "ectoplasm," which makes up most of the dimension. It allows for great spatial manipulations and lends itself well to the creation or linking of pocket dimensions. Its size is also due its age, one of the two oldest realms known.'

"What's the other one?" Danny asked curiously.

'... Yours. ' Phantom said. 'They formed, near as we can tell, at the same time. More solid and stable elements of this dimension allowed for the elasticity of elements in ours, and vice versa. They are nearly opposite. Two sides of one coin. Impossibly different, but inherently linked.'

Danny listened now with rapt attention.

'It is for this reason that you can trust that I do not seek to destroy your realm. Only a fool would seek power at the cost of such imbalance. Chaos and destruction in your world would bring the same in mine.'

"... Oh," Danny said simply.

'Yes,' Phantom said, his voice taking on a softly melancholic tone, 'It's such a shame you will not have the honor of seeing its chaotic beauty.' His wistful tone became far away and nostalgic. 'The silvery green mists of the Far Fields that cling to you as you float through them, like a cold caress. The ringing sound of ectoplasmic winds through the barren zones, like the bow of a skillful player across enchanted strings, the soft glow of pertarials as you push energy through them, as if beaming in delight at your care…'

An odd feeling settled in Danny's chest as he spoke, a hiraeth that felt cool but comforting, aching but soft, certainly new, but distantly familiar in a way that was almost primordial.

"... It sounds lovely."

'It is.' Phantom said. 'And I would like to get back, so if you wouldn't mind getting a move on to wherever you're going to start this-'

"Oh, y-yes, right," Danny said, exiting the large room.

_____

Danny finally found the front door. He had searched every room he could find (which was rather a lot) but didn't find his backpack or clothes. They must have dumped them somewhere else. Danny opened the front door and was greeted by a cold wind, which would have normally chilled Danny to the bone. He didn't get so much as goosebumps. Normally this fact would have concerned him, but Danny was looking down at his feet, shod only in socks that were slightly too big for him. He looked out the door again at the woods in front of him. This small mansion appeared to be secluded. "Great," Danny muttered. "Nothing better than being lost in some creepy woods at night."

'Hey, you've got me,' Phantom said in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Ah yes, lucky me."

'Indeed!' Phantom exclaimed. 'Onward!'

Danny adjusted the leather bag on his shoulder, another thing he'd found in the house, to carry water, a flashlight, a little bit of food, and some cash he'd found, just in case. With a breath, Danny took a step outside. He could barely feel the stone walkway beneath his thick socks.

"Onward," Danny echoed.

____

After about twenty minutes of walking, Danny found a dirt road, which led, about forty minutes later, to a paved road. Danny found that the unfamiliar terrain was quite easy to see and navigate through, despite the night clouds dimming the already faint moonlight.

"Alright, now we're getting somewhere." Danny knew the positions of the stars pretty well, but not quite well enough to know exactly where he was. He started walking down the road in a northeast direction. "Hopefully someone will drive by and be willing to pick up a shady teenager on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere,"

'I wouldn't worry, you don't look like any shadowy wilderness spirit I've ever seen, ' Phantom reassured.

Danny rolled his eyes. "Thanks, but I was thinking more along the lines of 'mental asylum escapee,' or perhaps 'murderous delinquent.'"

Phantom gave a confused hum. 'But you've been very clear about your aversion to murder, you didn't change your mind did you?' he asked, a with a little too much excitement.

"No!" Danny said emphatically. "No murder." He put his face in his hands. "And here I am talking to a murderous voice in my head. Who wouldn't want to pick me up?"

'I'm sure someone will come along,' Phantom said.

About an hour later, Danny was considering taking a break, when a pair of distant headlights came into view. Eagerly, Danny stuck his thumb out into the road. "C'mon, c'mon."

The semi truck slowed to a stop next to him and Danny resisted the urge to cheer. The window rolled down and a man leaned over to get a look at him. He looked Danny up and down, lingering on his wet, dirty socks, before coming up to look Danny in the eyes again.

"Hey kid, you lost? It ain't safe out here this time 'a night."

Danny nodded. "Yeah, I don't know where I am, could you give me a ride?"

"Hop in," he said, pushing the door open and pulling back into the driver's side. Danny climbed up into the truck and sat in the large seat, smiling at the warm air blowing on his damp socks as the driver continued back down the road.

"How old are you, kid? You a runaway?" he asked, glancing at Danny out of the side of his eye.

Danny shook his head. "I'm fourteen."

"Fourteen," he repeated. "And what brought you to the middle 'a nowhere Wisconsin?"

So I'm in Wisconsin, Danny thought. That's only a few states over. Maybe his journey back home wouldn't be so long after all. "Cultists," Danny replied.

"Reaally?" the man responded dubiously.

"Yep."

"Cultists."

"Mhmm. Tied me up to sacrifice to a god of death." Danny said without a beat.

"Well you look pretty good for a sacrifice victim."

Danny shrugged. "What can I say, I'm a tough kid."

'Having a powerful otherworldly spirit with supernatural healing abilities on your side doesn't hurt,' Phantom said.

"Yeah, I'll bet you took them all out with your bare hands when you escaped," he said.

Danny's smile faltered as he remembered waking up in a dark room surrounded by corpses and covered in blood.

"... Yeah," he said quietly.

The driver glanced at him a little longer this time. "Alright, well, do you have a name?"

He nodded. "Danny."

The truck driver nodded too. "I'm Rick. Nice to meet'cha, Danny. You know, I've got a cousin named Danny, crazy fella, this one time we were rafting up in Quebec…"

Danny relaxed, watching the dark trees slide past the window and listening to Rick tell stories. He was a good storyteller, and he had a lot of them. Danny was exhausted, and with the smooth rumble of the truck and the warm air blowing through the vents, he easily fell asleep.

____

Danny was shook awake, and without a thought his hand shot up to grab the wrist of whomever had touched him.

"Whoa, easy tiger," said Rick, putting up his other hand placatingly. Danny let go of Rick's arm.

"S-sorry."

"'S okay," Rick said. "We're at a rest stop. Figured you might wanna take a bathroom break. Plus ya haven't actually told me where you're headed. You might need ta catch another ride."

Danny nodded and looked out the window. The sun was up, brightly lighting the rest stop, it looked about mid afternoon. He must've slept all through the morning. "Yeah," he nodded again. "Yeah, okay."

"Alright," Rick said, stepping out of the truck and stretching with a groan.

Danny hopped down and looked at the convenience store next to the stop. "Thanks for the ride, Rick."

"Sure thing kid, glad I found ya when I did." Rick crossed his arms. "Promise me you'll stay outta trouble, now."

Danny bit his lip. With Phantom in his head he was neck deep in trouble and he had a feeling this was only the beginning. "I'll try," he said.

Rick pursed his lips. "Alright alright, just, be safe, okay?"

Danny nodded.

"No, I mean it. You're in danger, you do whatever it takes to get yourself out okay?"

Danny hesitated.

"Listen," Rick said, "I know that sounds drastic, but I've been through some shit, and I've seen others go through worse. You don't deserve that, and letting yourself get hurt for someone else ain't right. It won't fix anything, okay?"

Danny stared at his sock-clad feet. Rick didn't get it. His situation was different. Rick didn't know what Danny was. Danny didn't even know what he was anymore. Just a ticking time bomb. A freak. A danger.

"Danny," Rick said gently and Danny looked up at him. Danny wouldn't ever see Rick again. He could just say yes and leave. Rick didn't know him. Rick was just some truck driver. He'd never know Danny was lying.

Danny took a breath and nodded. "I promise I'll be safe," he said.

Rick's shoulders fell slightly and the determined look in his eyes became sad.

He knew.

Danny looked away again and Rick let out a sigh. "I wish you luck on your travels, kid. Bright side of the tunnel is coming, I promise."

Danny nodded and with one last "Thanks," left Rick, walking toward the convenience store.

The convenience store was, in fact, very convenient. Not only did it have the usual snacks and drinks, but another section had car parts and accessories and a few pieces of clothing in sizes from medium to XXXL, a few t-shirts, sweaters, and safety vests. To Danny's delight, they even had boots.

The smallest they had was one size larger than Danny usually got, but he also grabbed a couple pairs of thick socks and hoped that would make up the difference. After purchasing them and throwing his dirty socks in the trash, Danny bought a small pepperoni pizza and found that he was ravenous.

'What is this food?' Phantom asked, 'It is quite delicious.'

"You can taste my food?!" Danny asked abruptly before slapping a hand over his mouth. He looked around the dining area, and saw that the few people there hadn't looked up from what they were doing.

'At the moment, we share a body. Most unfortunate. However, that means that, yes, I feel the same sensations you do.' Phantom supplied.

"Oh," Danny whispered. "This is called pizza and I'm gonna get another one."

'Excellent idea.'

After the second pizza Danny felt less like he was being eaten from the inside out, and found that he only had a couple dollars left. He decided to see if he could find anyone heading to Amity Park.

After asking three truckers, a pair of newlyweds, two skiers on their way to Quebec, and a mom juggling three restless children, he found a small group of musicians who were traveling to St. Louis and would be passing through.

"Sure kid, we can give you a ride. As long as you don't mind sitting next to the drums."

"I don't mind at all," Danny smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. Maybe he would be getting home today.

_____

The trip was bumpy without a seat belt, but the musicians were a great crowd. They were loud and friendly, and their frequent laughter lifted Danny's spirits and eased the ever-growing dread and anxiety that had been pooling in his chest since the previous morning. For a moment, Danny thought that maybe he could do this. Maybe his situation wasn't impossible.

"Amity Park, a nice place to live!" called Eric from the passengers seat. Danny perked up and stood on his knees to look over the other chairs and out the front window. The sky had darkened once again, but was lit brightly by the familiar city lights in the distance.

Mads slapped him hard on the back. "Here you are, Danny, home sweet home!"

"Check out those buildings!" Xan said, pointing at the network of Axion Labs facilities behind barbed wire, the letters glowing a cool blue in contrast to the warm yellow security light around the buildings. "Man, it must be cool to live here," they said.

"Yeah," Danny shrugged. He had never really thought about it before. It has always just been where he lived.

They pulled up to a gas station and everyone got out, stretching and sighing.

"You gonna be able to find your way from here?" Mads asked as Danny got out.

"Yeah, he smiled. Thanks for the ride. Good luck with your gig!"

"Thanks dude!" Eric said, waving as Danny began to walk away.

"Look us up when you get home!" Xan called.

Danny laughed. "I will!" He waved at them one more time and began to walk. He was only eight blocks away.

As he walked his hometown streets again an odd mixture of feelings churned within him. Despite the lateness of the hour and the potential dangers hidden by the nooks of shadow the streetlights couldn't reach, Danny felt comfortable and secure, finally being somewhere familiar. He felt excited with the anticipation of finally getting home, relieved that he'd finally made it after such an arduous journey, but he also felt… fear. His skin crawled, knowing that he was not just Danny anymore. He was bringing home something else. Something dangerous and unnatural, harboring a horrific creature, a wild animal that could strike at any moment, bringing unknown pains. Any harm brought by this demon would be on Danny's hands. Could he hide it? Could he truly pretend that he wasn't dangerous, that he wasn't tainted, taken, compromised? He felt like a liar and a traitor, because despite the fact that he hadn't even reached his front step, he knew that he would. He knew what he would say.

Nothing.

As Danny approached FentonWorks, he began to feel chill. Phantom buzzed at the back of his mind, a cold, anxious energy. He walked up the first step and was immediately bombarded by a yell so loud Danny could have sworn that the neighbors heard it.

'STOP!' Phantom yelled, and with a jerk Danny turned around, taking several steps away from the house without his input. It was so weird to feel your body move without telling it to.

"What?!" Danny yelled, before glancing around to ensure that no one had heard.

'What is this place?' Phantom asked.

Danny huffed, throwing his arms out in exasperation. "My house," he whispered harshly. "What's your problem?"

'Oh,' Phantom said, 'I thought you were- well, nevermind. It is warded. Please remove the sigils, they are very…' he paused. 'Uncomfortable.'

Danny rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're uncomfortable? Sure, sure, let me just take care of that for you."

Danny marched up the steps and ripped the protective talisman off the front door, tossing it in the bushes.

He tried the handle and it resisted. Locked. He didn't have his key. He juggled the handle again and again, frustration and exhaustion rising up within him.

'You can simply phase through the door,' Phantom said, amused.

"Shut up you-" Danny hissed, but then stopped as the lock clicked and the door swung open, a sliver of light casting Danny's shadow into the street.

"Danny?" Jack asked, a smile splitting his face. Danny's breath hitched at the watery look coming from his dad. "Danny!" Jack yelled, scooping Danny into a big hug. Danny felt the tension that had been building over the past two days melt in his dad's warm embrace.

After a few seconds Jack set Danny back on the ground, and he was pulled into another tight hug.

"Sweetie, we were so worried about you!" his mom said. She released him and began fussing over him, checking for injuries. "Where were you? Are you okay?" she asked.

He reached up to stop her frantic hands, her arms feeling so warm against his cold fingers. "Mom, I'm fine." He smiled weakly at her, trying to ease her worried expression. She hugged him again, only for a few seconds this time before letting go.

"Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry, whatever we did to upset you, we didn't- Danny we love you so much-"

Danny shook his head emphatically. "I know mom, it wasn't you or dad," he said, getting pulled into another hug.

"You know you can tell us anything, sweetie," Maddie whispered into his hair. Danny gripped her shirt tighter and he felt his throat become dry.

"Yeah, I know," he said.

After a few more seconds Maddie released him once again, and looked at him for a moment before rubbing at her eyes. "I'll go let the police know you came home," she said, walking into the kitchen.

Danny looked up at caught Jazz's gaze, staring at him from the stairs. Her eyes were wide and her fingers gripped the railing with white knuckles.

"So, Packers, eh Danny?" Jack asked. Danny didn't break eye contact with Jazz. "You know, an old friend of me and Maddie was a huge Packers fan in college. I wonder how he's doing."

She knows, Danny thought.

______

'There's no way she knows,' Phantom said as Danny pulled on his pajamas.

"I'm telling you, she knows," Danny said quietly. "Did you see the way she was looking at me?"

'You're being paranoid,' Phantom said. 'You look just as pathetically mortal as you did before, trust me.'

Danny shook his head and ran his hands through his hair. "No, she's always had some sort of sixth sense about this stuff. Weird stuff. Bad stuff."

'Met a lot of otherworldly spirits of death5 have you?' Phantom asked sarcastically.

"No," Danny huffed and sat on the bed. "It's just…" he bit his lip. "I think she knew I was gonna get kidnapped. She was acting weird that morning and-" he sighed. "Now that I think of it, it's not the first time she's been weirdly right about things."

Phantom didn't say anything for a long moment. "Phantom?" Danny asked.

'Get some sleep, kid.' Phantom sighed. 'We've got a lot of work to do.'

And so Danny laid in bed and stared at the familiar glowing star stickers on his ceiling. He was back in his old room, but it did not bring the same comforts as it once did. Here he could no longer hide from the chaotic things of the outside world. He could no longer sit in silence with his own thoughts. He could not relax with friends, knowing what danger he now posed to them. He could not be alone even in his own head. The darkness of his room reflected the newfound darkness in his mind, and in the darkness, Danny slept.

#phic phight 2022 #utsbte #fic #boyo makes stuff #boyo writes #gore #angst #au #tw suicide #I don't think this is what either prompters had in mind but the idea stuck in my head and I couldn't help myself #There were a few other prompts I wanted to write but I didn't have time :(#Maybe later....

60 notes · View notes

yuzukult · 3 years

Text

acquitted love || sjn & reader

title: acquitted love pairing: johnny suh x reader genre: fluff, angst, co-workers!au, lawyer!au, one-sided enemies to lovers word count: 8.7k warnings: some language/cursing, brief mentions of sex but there's no actual discussions or explicit conversations of the topic, but generally pg-13 prompt: you absolutely hate johnny suh. but when your boss pairs you two up together for one of the highest profile cases, you’re left working close with your enemy but he doesn’t seem to think that way of you. a/n: tada!! i wrote this for the @/ficscafe fic exchange event!! so @urlocalnctstan , hope you enjoy this !! i tried to write it according to what you put as your preferences, but honestly T_T it was so hard bc i was just not getting any ideas!! hopefully this is something you’d like :D enjoy !!

“God, isn’t he just… so attractive?”

Along with a click on your tongue, you feign a hit in Hyeri’s direction, whose reflexes have gotten so much faster in the past couple years of knowing you and it shows when she cowers underneath your arm. She gifts you that not-so-apologetic smile, full of mischievousness because she knows no matter how annoying she can be, you’ll still love her nonetheless.

“Why do you keep talking about Johnny? You know he’s banned as a topic of our conversations.”

Hyeri rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her white frilled blouse. You know that she doesn’t actually inhabit any romantic feelings for Johnny, but she has a problem of thinking without the usage of her brain when she sees a hot guy.

Not that you think Johnny is hot.

No.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t think he’s at least an ounce of smokin’ hot.” She’s unraveled her arms by now, poking your shoulder incessantly to grasp onto your attention as you're tapping on the buttons of the copier machine. “I bet if you asked him out, he’d say yes.”

You briefly glare at Hyeri. “You realize that he and I don’t get along, right? He keeps finding stupid loopholes in the system to win his cases. He thinks with his heart, not his head, and sometimes, with whatever that thing was in his pants.” And, not to mention that he walks out the court with that big grin stretched from cheek to cheek, giving the ‘good news’ to your well-respected boss (who you desperately seek the approval of but that’s a different story for another time). And every single time, she gives him that nod of appreciation, that ‘nod of approval’ if you will, when it should be given to you and not to some asshole who fucks his way to victory.

“But he’s so hot—”

You narrow your eyes at your friend, and with a stern voice, you call out, “Hyeri.”

She shrugs. “Honestly, though, he’s hella smart. He’s got a job here, and works under your boss. It’s Park, Kim & Associates—notice how Park is first, because she’s a fucking genius. She only picks the intelligent ones to work under her. Why do you think I’m still working for Mr. Kim?”

Park Seohyun and Kim Gonghyun—one of the biggest lawyers in the region, decided to join together to build their own law firm from the ground up. They were both highly respected in their field; Kim Gonghyun spent years of his life being mentored by one of the most famous judges, and as for Park Seohyun, she was, simply put, admirable because of the obstacles she has overcome to make her dreams of working in law to be real. Being a woman, young, and beautiful, she’s had her fair share of encounters with people who disregard her potential, that is until she met Gonghyun—who, admittingly is an old man who seems like he’d be traditional, sexist, even, but he proves to also make people realize how wrong they are with their impression of him.

But, as Mr. Kim is getting older, he’s gotten a bit… lazy.

In fact, he’s been slacking so much that he’s gotten a new rep in the office—if he was your direct supervisor, or your supervisor was under him, you were on the side of the office where all the easier, uncomplicated cases were assigned. Which meant that there was a slight possibility that your talents and skills weren’t as sharp and exceptional as you thought they were.

And well, Hyeri works directly underneath Mr. Kim.

Hyeri doesn’t want a heavy workload, despite the fact that there’s a plethora of files on her desk, stacked up one onto another as tall as her PC tower, and they were all open and closed cases—needless to say that she didn’t mind it.

“Okay, but you got offered a position under Seohyun. Do you really think you’re not wasting your potential?”

Hyeri scoffs. “Never. At least, not now. I’m still in my twenties, I’d like to enjoy my youth while I can, for your information.”

You quirk a brow. “And does any of that pertain fucking Johnny? The hot guy, so you claim?”

She immediately has her hand covering your mouth and you scowl. “Shhhhh, he works here!”

You bite the flesh of her hand and Hyeri instantly retracts. “You think I don’t know my archenemy works here? He sits directly across from my office—I get the best view of the guy and I’m not even one of his fangirls.”

“You’re not gonna be one of those girls who claim they’re different because they don’t like him but then end up falling for him anyway… are you?”

Your hand goes up and Hyeri crouches down.

“Stop it.”

“Seriously though! It’s the classic e2l love story,” she has her hands gesturing in front of her like she’s making an imaginary rainbow, “Two lawyers, constantly butting heads, accept each other’s differences and learn to love—“

“The fuck is an ‘e2l’?”

“Enemies to lovers.”

“Are you high? Stop spitting nonsense.” This time, you’re waving the stack of papers that finish printing in front of her face. “Meet me for lunch later. But if you keep talking about my archenemy and I falling in love, you can kiss a free meal goodbye.”

Hyeri gasps.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Maybe. Just maybe, Hyeri might be a tiny smidge right when she says Johnny is handsome. Just a bit though, because she can’t get credit for something like that.

He’s dyed his hair this shade of brunette that sort of reminds you of roasted chestnuts on a cold, winter day, sitting inside of a cooker outside of your childhood home, baking along with some sweet potatoes your mom had gotten from a farmer’s market nearby. Johnny has this focused gaze attached to the screen of his monitor; there’s a dip in the fronts of his brows, lips tightened into a straight line, and constant switching back and forth from the computer while taking notes down in a book that’s laid open in front of him.

You wonder what’s running through his mind, or well, you’re more interested in what files he has sprawled out on top of his desk.

Truthfully, if it hadn’t been obvious enough, you weren’t quite a fan of Johnny Suh and it’s mostly due to his work ethic. He’d been notorious for his reputation of sleeping around—especially with the opposing side—so it’s hard to convince yourself that he didn’t win the case because of his actual capabilities, but it’s because he pulled some strings.

And Johnny doesn’t put much effort into denying it either.

Albeit deep down, you were a teeny bit envious of his confidence. He struts around the courtroom with ease, and when he presents his position, there’s no staggering in his voice—it’s always crisp and clean, weighted with nothing but credence, and never straying from his initial perspective. It’s never a lack of poise, it’s consistently the look he goes for; from the hand gestures and the furrowed brows, to the rhetorical questions in the end of certain statements that has the speculators and jury sitting at the edge of their seat, Johnny had a talent for performing in the courtroom, but that doesn’t mean anything when the way he gets to the success isn’t ethical.

Just at that moment, his eyes lift from the screen and meet yours.

There isn’t any hesitation when you scramble to grab the remote controller, and the shades drop over the windows instantaneously.

“Fuck,” you mutter underneath your breath, tossing the remote onto your desk and shaking your hands after. What if he thought you were admiring him? Maybe he didn’t see. Yeah. It was for a brief second, and with how close your offices were to each other, it would be common to accidentally lock eyes… right?

Interrupting your thoughts, the office phone rings and it nearly startles the living soul out of you. But before you reach for it, your head tilts to the side curiously because the extension number is familiar—it’s Park Seohyun’s, your boss.

What could she be calling for?

You don’t remember fucking something up—but to be fair, half the times, you never really know if you’ve actually fucked up until someone with steaming ears and a crimson face comes storming in. So… did you do something good? Again, you don’t think that’s right either, because other people would’ve made comments about it.

Deciding to swallow your nerves, you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Seohyun never fails to be bubbly, and you could never mimic her energy. You definitely had to be born with that kind of enthusiasm. “I have a favor. Hop into my office.”

Leaned back in her leather swivel chair, she had her fingers laced with each other while resting over her stomach. Johnny stands beside you (and you do your best to not look directly at him, especially after that weird staring thing), and you both feel like kids being lectured by parents from how still you are. Her office is huge, probably the size of both yours and Johnny’s combined; with ceiling to floor windows, cases of books that line the perimeter, not to mention the humongous ass couch that practically covers the other half of the room, and her desk was so wide, you estimate about four monitors would fit on there with still additional space for work. That wasn’t even the best part—the view of the city looks almost like a generic lockscreen of a Windows computer, and you’re not even sure why she goes home at night when she basically has a penthouse here.

“As you know, I have a favor.”

“Right,” Johnny retorts, mostly as a filler in the awkward silence. “So… what’s the favor?”

She pulls a box from her purse; square, black and made from a leather material with a lock pad stitched into it, something you’ve never seen before, and she slides the passcode in, then it pops the lid open. A key (a… very small one) sits in the velvety cushion, with nothing else occupying the space with it, and it looks comical. She uses this to open the very top drawer of her desk, and as she pulls using the handle, there’s another box inside, but this time, metal instead of leather, but still black.

What the fuck?

It seems Johnny shares the same thoughts, because he sneaks a glance over at you.

“You see,” Seohyun begins, pressing on the digital keys of the box until there’s a beep at the end and the case hisses open. “There’s a lot of security for this. Which means you understand the importance of it.”

Then, she picks up four manila envelopes and lies on the surface of her wooden top desk. “I have a family emergency to attend to this upcoming week. I’m boarding a flight tonight. So I’m leaving the Hwang v. Yoon case to the two of you.”

“Fuck—”

“The what?”

You and Johnny are sputtering out of shock. The Hwang v. Yoon case is the biggest case that the firm is involved in currently, and the only people involved in it have been Seohyun and Gonghyun. It’s been on every social media platform you could think of; from Facebook to Twitter, TikTok to Instagram—there’s even this weird website for emo/grunge teens or strange kids that like writing fanfic called Tumblr, and whatever that is, it’s discussed on there too.

“What about Gonghyun?”

Seohyun scoffs, closing the drawer and dropping the key back into her special box. Where do you even get a box like that? “He can’t handle this alone. So I’m kicking him off until I come back. I thought about letting the two of you work with him, but his ego is so inflated, it’ll get in the way of our chances of winning. It’s easier if it was just me and him, but seeing that things at home aren’t well, I’m going to need you two to step up to the plate.”

The room goes quiet. The only sounds you hear are the muffled noises of a typical bustling office outside the thick walls of Seohyun’s office, and at first, excitement rushes through your blood because Seohyun thought of you taking over a special, high profile case.

Albeit, another realization gets soaked up, and it’s that Johnny also came to mind, and that because it’s such an important case, the two of you would be… working… many… hours… together.

Maybe you should back out of it—but then again, this is such a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Imagine winning this— it wouldn’t be good for just the law firm, it’d be good for you too. Your name, in articles on these big fancy news websites, perhaps even on new channels, talking about how you, this amazing lawyer, won the Hwang v. Yoon case.

But then you’re snapped back into reality when Johnny leans over to take the envelopes from Seohyun.

If your name is on those platforms, so is Johnny’s.

God, this guy just ruins everything, doesn’t he?

“We’ll take care of it, Seohyun. You can trust us,” he says assuringly, a smile tugging on each corner of his lips with that dazzling gaze. “We’ll be at our best.”

Kiss ass.

If you had the option, you wouldn’t be spending your Saturday night here at work, in one of those conference rooms with a long table in the middle, a big projector that displays on the wall, and a random black leather loveseat couch that lines the one corner in case there’s too many occupants.

Especially since the person who’s accompanying you is Johnny Suh.

There’s probably a lot of people who would kill to be in your position (Hyeri being one of them), but you dread it. Not to be that person, but what’s so special about him anyway? What? He’s tall, has some muscles, long luscious hair that he can slick back with that sultry stare—wait, what?

“Alright, moving on…” From what? You guys just started? It’d been clear with Seohyun that the mornings would be dedicated to other cases, but nights would be considered overtime and where you’d zoom in your focus on Ms. Hwang’s justice. “Let’s take a look at the facts here.”

Johnny slips off his blazer, hanging it on the back of one of the chairs as you’re seated in another, leaning back comfortably with an arm resting on the table. He loosens the first few buttons of his dress shirt before folding up the sleeves, and that’s when you notice a little thing in the inner crook of his elbow—is that a fucking sunflower? Is that what he uses to reel girls in? That he’s soft enough to have a pretty little flower etched onto his gentle, silky and supple—

“Okay,” he says, interjecting into your thoughts with a laser pointer in his hand. He taps on the space bar of his laptop that mirrors what’s on his screen, but then, that’s when you realize what’s on the slides.

There’s a collage of pictures, mostly street, casually walking themed ones, but the common factor was that they were of Yoon Changmin, the man you guys were up against. They were all paparazzi-like photos, which begs the question, how did he get pics like this, and why did he get them?

“What’s the point of this?” you ask, voice laced with nothing but suspicion.

“We gotta get into the mind of the enemy.” You wanna get into the mind of your enemy, too.

You gesture to the one image of Changmin with an arm around his girlfriend and a finger up his nose. “Seems like he’s trying to reach inside of his head instead of us. These are just everyday pictures, Johnny. What’s that going to do for us?”

“Well,” he begins, turning to look at the wall of ‘evidence’. “You see—wait, holy shit.”

Freezing in the midst of reaching for your coffee, your head jolts in the direction of your partner. “What? What is it?”

“Holy shit,” he exclaims, “Hoooooooooly shit. Why didn’t I see this before? This changes everything.”

Furrowing your brows, you’ve given up getting your drink and dropped your hands onto the table. “Tell me, what is it?”

“This is a game changer.”

“Johnny,” you call out sternly, and his eyes link with yours before he instantly points to a particular picture with his red laser pointer.

“Look at that.” There’s pride saturated in his words, but when you look at what he’s indicating, your body slouches in disappointment.

Why the hell was he directing your attention onto Changmin’s thighs? Surely, there’s no denying that they were attractive—you recall that his alibi was at the gym that very night of the crime.

“What? He’s guilty for showing off his toothpick legs?” They were lean, you never said they were muscular.

“No,” he retorts, slightly irritated by your response as he rolls his eyes. “Look at his pants.”

“Okay…”

“They’re jean shorts.”

There’s a pregnant pause, but the expression on your face is so loud it can’t be hidden.

Johnny continues, “That’s a fashion crime.” He says it as if it’s an obvious fact known by many. “Not to mention that it’s fucking raw hem. He should be arrested.”

Suddenly, your opinion of him thinking too much with his heart dissipates because it seems like he’s thinking out of his ass instead. Did he win those cases out of pity? How did this guy even pass the bar? How about law school? How the hell did he even get into law school?

“I don’t think—”

“Listen, alright, just hear me out,” he’s got the palms of his hands resting flat on the surface of the table, doing his best to gain your full undivided attention. “Only assholes wear jean shorts. They flaunt that shit around like they own the place, but they’re horrendous pieces of clothing that should not be on a male’s body. I don’t care what you say, what your opinion is, because that is a fact.”

Puffing your cheeks, you feel at a loss. If Johnny is who you had to get this done, it feels like you’re not going to be finding much evidence any time soon.

“Okay, if… if that’s how you want to play it, then show me the evidence—other than those 2012 cut off denim shorts.”

He reaches over to hit his space bar again, then with a wink and a slide change, he leans closer to you and says with that deep, honeyed voice, “Gladly.”

You hate admitting when you’re wrong.

Ironically, you concede and will confess when you actually are, but it doesn’t mean that you enjoy it. For example, when Hyeri claims that the intern Mark had a crush on you, you quickly waved her off, stating something along the lines of, “I’m too intimidating; there’s better chances of him being scared of me than ever finding me attractive.” And then a week later, you owed Hyeri free lunch at that hip ramen place downtown because Mark had approached your desk that very morning with a bouquet of red roses flowers for you, a cheeky grin glued to his face with pools of hearts in his eyes, and ready to ask you on a date because it was the day after his internship had ended. Naturally, it wasn’t fun rejecting that poor college boy.

But, you won’t say you find Johnny interesting or handsome. Or that there’s potential when it came to possibly (just barely the slightest smidge) that you’d ever consider asking Johnny out. He’s your enemy here, you’ve mentioned that a multitude of times, and you stand firm on that very declaration, despite the fact that sometimes when he gets too close, your breath gets caught in your throat and you feel like you can’t get whatever’s lodged in out.

Albeit it’s not the whole “you guys are gonna end up together” comment that Hyeri makes and resulting in you denying it afterwards, it’s that Johnny might… be a decent lawyer.

He’s not the best one you’ve seen; the stupid revelation he had on the first day working on the case about the jean shorts is evidence for it, but it’s the days following that were slowly changing your perspective on him.

When you said, “He thinks too much with his heart more than with his head,” it was 100% correct.

When meeting with potential witnesses, you recognized that Johnny empathizes with people often; when they cry and start panicking from being overwhelmed, he's quick on his feet to put an arm around them, share reassuring words, and have them back to normal in record’s time.

And, well… you? You’re the one making them cry in the first place.

You don’t want to fully take the blame for being the cause of their tears, but people need to hear what’s happening, and the very detail that they can’t even handle this information probably means they’re not worthwhile as a key witness.

Johnny, of course, thinks otherwise.

He believes that these people should have a voice (although you’ve alluded that they might be more useless than helpful), and putting them on the stand with Yoon Changmin there would change the view of the jury to supporting Hwang Naeri.

“Listen, if we get these people to sign the form, we’d get witnesses and it’ll help Naeri,” Johnny claims, frantically moving his arms annoyingly as he talks, trying his best to express the gravity of the situation, “and maybe, maybe, money wouldn’t be how Changmin wins, but how he loses. We can’t have another person with jean shorts walking on the streets of our city like this—they deserve to go to prison.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Why does this always revert back to the jean shorts?”

“It always has to do with jean shorts,” he snaps back matter-of-factly. “Any straight guy wearing jean shorts with that much goddamn confidence has done some wrong in their lives.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure that the crimes he did are mainly the reason why he’s being prosecuted against.”

“Jean shorts are the windows to the soul.”

“I’m almost 100% sure that eyes are the windows to the soul, but whatever. If you genuinely believe that the women we met today would benefit our case, then… okay. Let’s bring them to the stand.”

On the contrary to you, Johnny doesn’t have a hard time convincing witnesses to testify. You see the way that he works; those kind eyes directed at the participants, the pools of chocolate were sweet, saturated in nothing but tenderness and warmth, then he does that weird thing where he reaches for their hands and cups them before the words that escapes from his lips are enough to swoon them to stand in front of a courtroom.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s a method to his so-called madness.

Aggression and bluntness don’t work, it seems, because when you’re the one attempting to convince these people to go against the man that had done them wrong, they’re less willing to do it. Something about ‘moving on,’ and ‘not wanting to relive those memories again,’ but if it was you, you’d want justice. Then again, not everyone is like you, and not everyone thinks like you, and spending this abundance of time with Johnny is slowly getting you to ease into that perspective.

So… the initial impression you had of him may have been wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re developing some feelings for him, just as Hyeri predicted.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

His abrupt personal question is enough to have the coffee spill into your mouth to slide down the ‘wrong throat�� because you’re choking, hand on your chest as you’re tackling to regain your breath again and Johnny only stares in disbelief, blinking blankly. “Are… are you okay?”

You glare at him through a hooded gaze. “Well,” you clear your throat once more. “Now, I am.”

“Cool.” He nods, retracting his hand so he could rub your back soothingly, deciding it’s best to stay away. “Are you going to answer my question?”

Quirking a brow, your head tilts slightly in puzzlement. “Why are you asking this?”

Johnny shrugs. “Isn’t it weird that we’ve hung out with each other for a whole week—stayed here for nights and we both don’t know anything about each other?”

Tapping your fingers against the wooden top table, you sigh. Maybe he’s got a point; after all, “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer,” right?

“No, I’m single.”

Johnny’s face suddenly brightens, ears perked, and his body straightens its posture in his seat at this revelation. “Oh, uh, I didn’t know that. You seemed busy in your personal life, so I, uh… was just wondering.” He looked anxious, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “I, um, I’m single too, by the way, in case you’re wondering.” You weren’t.

The plethora of cardboard and plastic boxes scattered across the table was a representation of the night. It’s been long, exhausting, and messy, mostly because it’s a Friday night, the hearing was on Monday, and the two of you were nowhere near close to having enough to present to the court. In fear of disappointing Seohyun, the two of you agreed to stay over the office for the weekend to cram work for the case. There’s no denying that the atmosphere is weirder on the weekends, especially since, well, no one really comes here on the weekends. Johnny had to use the bathroom earlier and ran into the cleaning lady and she nearly shit her pants because she didn’t think anyone was here, so she had music blasting in her headphones.

Johnny is… interesting. He makes you laugh—or well, want to laugh, but you don’t give him that sense of satisfaction—and he’s smart but in his own weird way. He’s not like the other lawyers you’ve met, or any of the law students you attended University with because he’s more lighthearted and free-spirited than the rest, taking life in strides instead of just overwhelming himself in the abundance of stress that work brings.

He’s entirely the opposite of you.

And maybe you could learn something from the guy, but there’s something in you that brews hatred toward him. Possibility that you resent how easy he makes being a lawyer seem when you’re struggling in your day-to-day life to make things work.

But it’s way too fucking hard when he’s just… like that.

Despite all of that, he’s very generous and kind toward you. On rough days, he delivers your coffee order, the one you always get because he remembers what you asked the intern to get for you the last time, and he’s good at identifying when you’re just having that kind of day. You eventually learn he has a photographic memory (fucking show off), so when he saw that crumpled napkin with scribbles of what you want in that dumb intern’s hand, it wasn’t hard to remember. Which, by the way, is how he’s able to get into the most prestigious school for undergrad, manage to pass the bar so easily, and get into law school effortlessly.

And knowing this information sort of angers you more.

You know this isn’t his fault—he’s been blessed with a trait that people desire, one that you also yearn for, but the lucky ones get handed a lot of things in life. You wonder if he’s the type of guy who wins girls easily after matching with them on dating sites because of this stupid ass ‘photographic memory.’ Does he sleep with them right after? Does it ever get serious?

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head. You shouldn’t even let these strange thoughts haunt you, especially when you don’t even like him.

He’s a spoiled brat who gets everything handed to him on a silver platter.

So you’re left counting the remaining days until the trial so you don’t ever have to work with Johnny Suh this closely again.

Okay, well, it’s evident that bad luck is glued to your side because after you win the Hwang v. Yoon case for your law firm with that asshole, Seohyun is so impressed. So goddamn impressed that she insists that all the high profile cases are to be given to both you and Johnny.

To work as a team.

Together.

Jesus, this is Hell for you.

Surely, the promotion and raise that came along with it was definitely a plus, but it has you wondering if it’s even worth it. He’s been your unspoken enemy since the first day, and although you think you’re pretty forthright about your hatred for this guy, he can’t seem to read social cues.

When you’re pushing the double doors into the conference room the two of you often spend working on cases in, you expect Johnny to be ready for another day. But strangely enough, Johnny doesn’t have his laptop out or any of the notebooks sprawled across the table.

“Um,” you slide the strap of your bag off your shoulder and onto the spare chair. “Did you come late or something?”

He takes in a deep breath like he’s been holding back something. “We need to talk.”

There’s worry inscribed into his features; from the crease in between his brows, to his pursed lips, and eyes soaked in concern, almost like he’s got bad news to share and it has your stomach in knots. Was it that the case was thrown out? It couldn’t be, right? You both worked hard, presented your stance to the point that the jury and the judge were in awe with your findings. Sure, you had to cover Johnny’s mouth right before he was about to go off in a tangent about jean shorts, but overall, it was a good win, a hard one to go back on and pull out the wrongs of it. So what was it?

“I’m quitting our partnership.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures to the room with his hands as if there’s anything out to reference. “This thing. Our work. The big profile cases. The famous stuff. I told Seohyun that I won’t be doing it anymore and she can revoke the promotion and the raise.”

You’re still not catching on. “… Why?” Was it something you did? Yeah, you weren’t a big fan of Johnny either, but were you so bad that he decided to not go through with the raise because of you?

“Because,” he pushes his blazer back, hands sliding into the front pockets of his navy blue trousers. “There’s a policy put into place. Those who are on the same cases cannot have any personal relations with each other that extend past friendships.”

“We’re not even friends?” With confusion written across your face, your head tilts to the side. “I’m not… I’m not catching on here.”

“I like you.”

Startled, the words you want to say are stolen out of your mouth. You’re left with a mixture of perturbation and bewilderment, uncertain where to go from there because Johnny asked for the removal of both a promotion and additional money that could be so good for his career… and it’s all because he has a crush on you?

“You quit the best thing that could’ve happened to you because you like me?”

“Yeah,” Johnny states calmly, sucking in his cheeks for a brief moment. “Ain’t that romantic?”

You scoff. “No. Absolutely not. You’re insane! Why would you do yourself dirty like that? Use your head, Johnny, you’re constantly thinking with that stupid heart of yours, and hate to break it to you, but it won’t get you anywhere.” Combing your hair with your fingers, you let out a sigh. “Go ask Seohyun for the position back. Say you made a mistake and—”

“I’m not asking her for the position back.”

Johnny doesn’t make any sense to you. “What? Why wouldn’t you do that?

“Because,” he laughs in disbelief, not because he thinks you’re funny. “I’m not going to force myself to work with a girl that I keep falling for. That’s self-inflicting, you realize that, right? You’re amazing, but you can seriously be so dense sometimes.”

“I’m dense? You just told one of the best law firms in the city that you don’t want to work on the important cases anymore because you have a stupid crush on your partner!”

“If we were on a team with more people, maybe it’d be different. But it’s just us two. You think I won’t fall any harder? That’s not easy. Every time I see you working, I swear I could be hopelessly in love with you one day.”

Your heart stops for a second.

This is Johnny Suh you were talking about here. One of the claimed best lawyers in your office, one of the most intelligent people that Hyeri has ever met, and Seohyun evidently backs this up because she’s given him so much recognition for his work. He’s the guy who worked with you to win the Hwang v. Yoon case, he’s the one who brought up the stupid jean shorts that seemed so far-fetched at the time, but they were a crucial detail everyone missed—it so happened that when Changmin bought those dumb shorts, there was evidence of at least one of his crimes in that store from the security cameras.

Any cis-gendered male who wears jean shorts can’t be trusted, according to Johnny.

And candidly speaking? You couldn’t even deny that. Your past two ex-boyfriends both wore jean shorts and the one cheated on you and the other one was caught money laundering.

“Listen,” he begins, interrupting your foggy thoughts. “I’m not asking you to tell me you like me back. I’m telling you because you should know, and that I can’t go on any further without letting you know. I’ll, uh, be in my office. Seohyun said she’d find a replacement for me.”

Hyeri is his replacement.

She’s great company and does a good job of helping you with whatever you need, but that was just it. Hyeri followed you, she never led with you, just as Johnny does. Agreeing with everything you say, mindlessly trailing behind everything you do—Hyeri was smart, but she couldn’t figure out how to think for herself when it came to these bigger cases because she’s never been given such a responsibility. But you couldn’t even blame her because it’s what she was told to do under Gonghyun.

“You said that you think Maeri snatched the bracelet?”

“No, I said if you watched the security video that the jewelry store submitted, it clearly shows that Maeri snatched the bracelet. Not that I ‘think.’ The proof is right there, Hyeri.”

She nods, resuming back to her work on the computer. Truthfully, Hyeri felt more like an assistant than a co-worker, someone to bounce ideas off of and to see from a different perspective. And as much as you hated Johnny, he had decent points. He had ways of making you put yourself into the shoes of people you never thought you were; although the guy was obnoxious, at least he actually was… good at his job.

Deciding you can’t take it anymore when Hyeri asks for the tenth time that hour about your beliefs rather than her own, you abruptly stand from your seat.

“Where are you going?”

“Out,” you reply shortly. “I’ll be back.”

It was just a spontaneous thought. It’s after hours, and although there are some people who stay behind to get some work done, you had your doubts that Johnny would still be here. He seems to have a better grip on that work/life balance thing people talked about (unlike yourself), but it didn’t hurt to check his office, right?

It’s a good thing you went with it. Because right across from yours, there’s Johnny.

There’s one single lamp that shines over the tabletop of his desk, and the other sources of light in his office are from his computer screen and the ones from the city skyline from behind him. It has him seemingly angelic like this, so serene, calm, and collected, only focused on what’s laid out in front of him. The sun has gone down, people have gone home, but Johnny remains, hardworking as always, despite your previous observations that he’s a lazy, unprofessional guy who gets everything handed down to him.

With a knock on his glass door, he flinches, head raising up and eyes meeting yours.

Were his eyes always this sparkly?

Opening the door, Johnny drops the pen in his hand and crosses his arms before leaning back in his seat. “What’s up?”

“You’re here late,” you state the obvious, and Johnny only nods in return, without a rebuttal in sight. “You aren’t normally here late. At least, before the Hwang v. Yoon case.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But Seohyun dropped something on my desk this morning. Wanted to work on it. What brings you here?”

Inhaling in a deep breath of courage, your hands bundle up into a fist by your side. “Please come back.”

Johnny raises a brow. “What?”

“Come back,” you reiterate, this time, it’s less tense and releases with ease. Caving in isn’t usually this effortless to you, but something about Johnny makes you feel… comfortable enough.“Come back and work with me again. Yes, I’m not supportive of how you do things—”

“Then let’s go out on a date.”

You freeze. Legs rooted into the floors of Johnny’s office, you’re left immobile and diffident on how to react next. It wasn’t what you were expecting, although you weren’t quite sure what you were hoping to anticipate, but it most definitely was not this.

“I—”

“I said my terms,” he retorts, shutting the book in front of him before shuffling up from his seat. He’s leaving, you realize, and Johnny’s ready to head home for the night and you’re not sure if you could handle an entire weekend with Hyeri here. “And, I meant what I said. One date, and if it really doesn’t work out, I’ll stay on the case.”

Chewing on your bottom lip anxiously, the next words that come out are out of character for you. “And… what if it does?”

A soft smile tugs from each corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll figure it out from there. Promise.”

This is… awkward. It shouldn’t be, but yet somehow, it remains awkward.

You’ve spent weeks with Johnny before, and those moments were in a room, in the middle of the night, and alone. Hours and hours were dedicated to work, yes, but it was just the two of you and nobody else.

So why is it so weird being in a five Michelin star restaurant with him?

Maybe it’s the atmosphere. The dim lights, the white clothed tables in lieu of the scratched up wooden one back at the law firm, and instead of leather seats, there’s a neutral beige chaise cushion for the dining chair, slightly less comfortable because it doesn’t recline like the one in your office. Instead of an array of photos and evidence disseminated in front of you, there’s a laminated menu with a multitude of options of what to have for dinner.

Johnny gets the steak with mashed potatoes and string beans, and you order something similar but seared salmon for the main protein. The waitress offers wine, babbling on about the age of the red, where the vineyard is located, and the dryness to sweetness—to be honest, you could care less; you’d rather have gin and sprite with a squirt of lime. A couple glasses of that and you can almost guarantee that the night would end with a deep slumber.

Oddly enough, Johnny seems nervous. Ever since he pulled up in his midnight black Audi in front of your apartment complex, he’s been acting strange. He keeps wiping his sweaty palms off the material of his trousers, occasionally swiping off the droplets that fall on the side of his face.

“Are you… okay?” you suddenly ask, adjusting your dress in your seat. Deciding to go with a black silk dress with a slit up the leg and your hair let down, it’s not a look you often sport but since you’re going on a date (one you haven’t been on in quite some time), you figured it would be nice to at least play the part.

“I’m, uh, honestly, I’ve never really asked a girl out before.”

You quirk a brow curiously. “What? You’re telling me you never asked a girl out before?”

He lets out a bashful laugh with a faint nod, making an attempt to swallow his nerves after. “Honestly, I’ve always been asked out and not the other way around. Not to sound like that guy, but I never really had to put effort into trying for girls. They kind of just…”

“—Throw themselves at you?”

He beams. “Yeah! Like that. I don’t really know how to react half the time, but it makes the whole dating scene a little bit easier.” Geez, he called you dense, but he’s over here acting clueless.

Either way, it feels like whatever opinion you had about Johnny remained true. He never had to try when it came to the dating scene, and you could only imagine what that means for work and the relationships he has with the women in your career field.

“Mm, does that usually happen with work too?”

Befuddled, Johnny leans back in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

With a shrug of your shoulders, you’re poking the meat of your salmon that falls off easily. After the first initial bite, the fish practically melts on impact when it touches the tip of your tongue, smooth like butter and bursting with flavor that couldn’t be described by any common person because it wouldn’t do the salmon justice. Johnny seemed to put a lot into this date, and you’re left pondering what the point of this was. Did he actually like you, or was he trying to get into your head? “Just seems like you get a lot of special treatment.”

“Are you jealous?”

“In what way?” you snap back.

“Are you jealous of me because I’m getting this so-called special treatment that you think I’ve always had, or were you jealous of the girls that seemingly got my attention?”

You’re left without anything to say.

It was a good observation he made because truthfully, you never saw it like that.

In actuality, you often saw Johnny as your rival. He climbed the ladder in the field with ease, and it wasn’t hard to quickly blame his success on the fact that he was a guy in a male dominated industry, but the fact that there’s a possible interpretation for your hatred may be from these feelings you might’ve been harboring for him this entire time… that can’t be it… right?

“I mean, look at where you are now,” you begin, trying to defend yourself. It can’t be true that the reason you’ve been bitter about Johnny was because of the girls that got his attention, and one of them not being you. “You got a high position from—”

“—From hard work,” Johnny interjects with his brows furrowed. “I didn’t get to where I was because I slept around, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I knew you sort of always hated me, but I’ve always admired you. I like your work ethic, I like your style, even though we’re both on opposite spectrums, I like the way you think and I wanted to know what it was like being partners with you. Getting to be on that case with you showed me more than just who you were as a lawyer, but who you were as a person. I like you, but I’m trying to put my finger on why you hate me so much.”

“So you noticed.” Sucking in your cheeks, your eyes trail elsewhere—from the fork that lays beside your plate, to the glass filled halfway with wine, to the little candle that sits in between the two of you that flickers the way he has your heart when he expresses once more how he feels about you.

“Yeah, of course I noticed. If you like someone, it’s kind to miss details like that about them. So… you really hated me because you thought I slept my way to the top, huh?”

“I mean…” shoulders dropping in exasperation, you run your fingers through your disheveled hair. “All those rumors—”

“Again, they’re just rumors. I worked hard to get here, you know. And I’m kind of offended that you thought of me that way.”

You scoff. “They’re rumors, Johnny, it’s kind of hard to ignore all the office gossip when that’s all you hear. Plus, it wasn’t hard to believe either, with the whole flirtatious act whenever you encounter anyone who’s breathing and has a vagina.”

“I wasn’t flirting.”

“You need a book for dummies that elaborates on what’s flirting or not, because Johnny Suh, whatever it is you do with your body language in front of that chick who sits by the front door.”

“You mean Siwoo? The pregnant one who’s married to her highschool sweetheart? Also, how do you not know our receptionist’s name?”

You throw your arms into the air. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

He tilts his head to the side, genuinely baffled. “Do you… not talk to anyone outside of Hyeri?”

Your silence answers his question.

“I… honestly, I don’t know if I should be offended or if I should be honored. You think I didn’t earn anything that I have now, you think that everything I have was handed to me. On one hand, it’s flattering that you think my looks and my bedroom skills could do that but at the same time… I’m offended because you think I’m incapable.”

“I never said you were incapable—”

“But you implied it.”

Hands falling onto your lap, it’s your turn to gulp. His words come shooting at you, but you’re without a shield to protect yourself, and with the new experience of working with Johnny, there comes the realization at times that Johnny is a hard worker. There are some things that he says and does that aren’t like the people you’ve encountered, and being put on new cases with Hyeri only proved it. He’s thoughtful in the sense that whenever you’d bring up your stance on something, he challenges you with what the defense might counter.

Johnny makes you want to be better. Not just against him, but to brush off the dust on your skills and enter into the battlefield of a courtroom to showcase them.

“Well, if you’re staying silent, I just want to say that I tried,” the crinkle in between your brows makes another appearance because Johnny is great at leaving you stunned and confused. “I really like you. I love how your head works, and I wanna be with someone like that but I also can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Why is it that when you’re in that conference room with him, you’re not afraid and never running out of things to say, but now you’re empty handed?

“I’ll pay for dinner. Grab you an Uber. I honestly thought I could overlook those things, and maybe your perspective for me has changed, but I could see it on your face. It’s the same.”

After that date with Johnny, his life turns back to normal.

Yours? Not so much.

Candidly speaking, part of you missed working with Johnny. You were wrong about him, so wrong, and even when you wanted to apologize at the dinner for what you thought of him, the pride in you was like a vicious plague that blackened your insides, preventing you from ever saying those words.

Oftentimes, you’d still be able to sneak a glimpse of him in his office with that same look on his face—full of concentration and nothing else in his mind other than the task at hand.

The cases you have with Hyeri entail a head like Johnny’s. Someone who could question you, to protest against your stance when there could be flaws in it. It feels like deja vu each time you think about it, each time you open a new case file and Hyeri sits there, perched in that seat beside yours, eyes sparkling with what you have in mind next, instead of what she has going on in hers.

Although you’ve tried convincing yourself that maybe, just maybe, what you feel for Johnny is purely professional but when you see him standing by the water cooler with a couple of your coworkers, eyes mimicking the moon crescents in the skies, replicating the ways his lips curl in elation—it was beginning hard to believe that it was all platonic feelings.

So maybe you should be bold for once. Pull off that exterior that displays you as someone who isn’t just independent and assiduous, but someone who’s stubborn and aggressive in getting what they want—and not in a good way.

This time, you’ll show it in a good way.

Or at least, you’ll try.

Johnny is a routine kind-of-guy—he grabs an iced americano every morning at the coffee shop downstairs at the edge of the street, he does his daily 11:00AM drop-by at the water cooler to refill his Hydroflask (which was his prized possession, by the way), and parked in the same exact spot in the parking garage of your building, despite there being an abundance of places he could choose.

That’s why you decide to stand by his car after work that day. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands shaking because it’s your turn to feel anxious. That blazer that once fit so comfortably in the morning suddenly feels tight and hot in the afternoon, and the weather hasn’t even changed. Your bag slung over your shoulder weighs ten times heavier than an hour ago, and you can’t stop your jaw from tightening.

Before your thoughts could spiral off all the possibilities of what the outcome may be when you tell Johnny how you feel, he’s already standing there, feet away from you with that dip in the fronts of his brows that you want to smoothen out the crinkles of with the pad of your thumb.

“Hi,” you greet, faint and peculiarly different from your other approaches. “Um, I just… was waiting for you.”

“Hey,” Johnny says back, the first few buttons of his shirt already unraveled, his blazer hung over his forearm and the sleeves are rolled up. “I see that. What’s up with you?”

“Um,” your leg was jittery, hard to control so you spat everything you had to say out as fast as you could before he could see right through you. “I just wanted to apologize. For everything. You’re admirable, kind, and I wish I inhabited those same characteristics you have. I think professionally, you’ve got great ideas, one that could be implemented into mine and what we did together for that case was just… yeah. We could do something big if we put our heads together.”

Johnny nods in agreement. The relationship between you two work-wise was obvious, he knew that much. “And what about… outside of that?”

“I like you,” you choked, barely getting the words out. “More than just coworkers, um, I guess, more than friends but I’m not really sure since you walked out on our first date,” inhaling in a deep breath of courage, you continue on, “and I don’t know how you feel now after I’m standing before you like this, asking for another chance and that I’m sorry.”

He stares at you blankly, and it leaves you unsure whether or not he accepts your apology. “You know why we ended that date early.”

“Well,” you start again, “can we… start over and try again? I promise I won’t tempt you to end the date early this time.”

And with that, there’s the signature smile that Johnny sports that swoons girls, makes their knees weak, and heart clench but this time… it’s just for you.

“I’d really like that.”

#ficscafe #nct fanfic #johnny x reader #johnny fanfic #johnny suh #johnny nct #nct 127 #nct 127 fanfic #suh johnny #gyukultfics #idk what else to tag #hopefully this does well :|

251 notes · View notes