affection behind a curtain - winged m. staff x reader
fluff, tension, strictly cutesy and weirdly awkward gift for @pearlescentparade + his followers
w. magical staff is thrown off guard by your constant persistence; thus his interest in piqued. determined to find out what you really want, he comes close to figuring you out. ...but not in a way that he expects. wk :: 3.4k a/n :: at the end
god, his eyebrow twitching, and out was a murmur.
he pinches the bridge of his nose, irritated by a dilemma. an obvious dilemma, but a catastrophe nonetheless. who knew a person could be the cause of his stress?
with the lengthy name of winged magical staff, or alternatively—wing, is a man full of deceit. phighters never knew it, nor did he do it with ill intent, but he was an incredible liar. take it as his icebreaker. he's witty, quick with words, and it was his life's work. and as his life's work, why would he ever shy away from it?
each vowel that came from his mouth was wrinkled with perfection. saying the exact string of syllables that people like to hear, minimal yet calculated body language, fake laughter and smiles... it was all flawlessly orchestrated.
so orchestrated, in fact, to the point where it became a subconscious for wing. it was complimentary to his life, and he finds himself lying in everyday conversations.
conversations that didn't pertain to his career, conversations that didn't need a fib. he's in awe, and realizes the drawback of the faulty lifestyle. lying became second nature.
'course, he found it unnecessary, but his mouth is faster than his brain. all he could do now is laugh it off and continue with his life, because what can you do? tell the truth and expose yourself as a pathological liar? he wouldn't get a job anywhere!
so there he stands, on the streets of crossroads, dangling between the liar's tongue and a hero's sincerity.
that is... until you came along.
**
the two of you met on a mere thursday, a day where wing was on "duty". something along the lines of collecting information from suspects through interrogations. but, nobody really knew that. to many, it looked like small talk and get-togethers rather than investigation. and that's how he likes it. or well, any "detective" would like it that way. the anonymity, the greatest cover-ups, it wasn't foreign to him. he was used to perfection, his motif of excellence.
but when interviewing you, it was honestly the most suspicious conversation he's ever had.
you kept dismissing questions, answering them as quickly as possible, and instead asked him some of your own.
questions such as where he got his clothes from, or what trends he was into, such mindless nonsense! he couldn't understand any of it.
'course if it was actually everyday conversation, he'd be more than willing to cooperate with your silly quirks, but it was all too convenient. suddenly asking about normal, or what can be perceived as normal, things right after being interviewed?
wing knew his methods of interviewing were slick, under the radar, but they could still guarantee a good response. responses that said a lot about an inphernals and be translated into data. but with responses like, "yeah... blue... anyway, what's your favorite this, do you like the cafe at that spot, did you like it when this thing was on air?" it was torture!
yet all he could do was smile and give answers he thought you'd like. despite his shock and irritation, the predetermined words already came out of his mouth. agreeing and giving half truths to everything you asked. if you were as suspicious as you came out to be, he couldn't bare anything to get found out. his precious work of keeping crossroads together would fall apart and he'd be, oh, so sad.
...or something along those lines.
nonetheless, he couldn't let you get too close. anyone who suspected him is someone he should stray away from, no matter their intention. even if you simply were interested in small topics related to him, what would you get out of it? it's a question he couldn't wrap his head around.
and it's also a question he'd have to dismiss until later. he's a busy man, and he has to focus on other knicks and knacks about his life. hopefully when he's all busy with work and miscellaneous jobs, he'd forget all about you for the greater good. **
he did not forget all about you.
wing shuffles through the loose notes in his bag and eventually finds what he's looking for. ah-hah! a note directly addressed for banhammer—signed cleanly with wing's signature. or well, his alias.
on the low, as young inphernals call it nowadays, wing is a promising man who always carries information with him. information that can help with solving crimes, mysteries, you name it. matter of fact, he helped a months-long case on a criminal by giving a vague tip to the station once and scurried away in triumph. justice well delivered, he thought that day.
so ever since then, he's been dropping tips here and there to banhammer. happily writing with passion and coming up with different alias to hide his true identity. winged magical staff, or also known as pearl, parade, escent in his notes, would never be figured out. a perfect plan!
in the midst of his extraordinary plan and scheming, he bumps into someone with a harsh shove.
"oh, gosh, i'm so sorry. i wasn't paying attention and--... ah."
maybe the inpherno is a small place after all.
"ughhff... uuaahh..." you rub your shoulder where the collision was hit. for a soft looking guy, he hits hard. wonder how he is on the battlefield. "ow. no, really. it's fine... just a typical frid..... dd.... oh, oh!"
wing could only twitch a smile. he couldn't believe the person he'd been trying to ignore is now in front of him. what do you want? are you after him for realsies now?
"wow, wing! hi!!" your voice is excited as ever, reminiscent of the first time you two met. "sorry i haven't been seeing you as much-- or actually, i should say sorry for bumping into you. i was totally zoned out, just came from a party haha."
a party, hm?
this might be the first time you gave valuable intel on yourself. no quick one liners, no dodging questions... it was perfect. if all he had to do was catch you off guard by accidental touch, he would throw you into a wall by now. kidding! (mostly).
"it's okay, i should've been looking at the road." his grin turns into a warmer one, a smile that welcomes guests at the door with complimentaries. how kind. "you said a party? it's kind of early to be leaving." he says, taking in the sunny warmth on his face. it's not so cold either. "don't they usually end at dawn?"
his eyes were closed, but he could guess the frantic look from your face. your awkward ah's and uhm's alongside the shuffling of your clothes.
"hahaha, nahh... i'm the weird one who needed some fresh air. the party's still going though." your hands mess with the collar of your shirt, thumbs grazing the fabric. think it's polyester... or maybe cotton. you never pay attention to the tags. "too much booze, you know what i mean? felt like i was going to throw up."
can't handle liquor, presumably low energy person at gatherings... you've made yourself all too easy for him.
"ohh." he coos, tilting his head as his curiosity perks up. what could make a seemingly normal inphernal question someone like him? he wasn't obvious, every lie was perfectly crafted—it didn't make any sense. come to think of it, could he be overreacting? maybe he misremembered your interaction, read it too closely.
"your friends okay too? i mean, i've heard of a lot of parties where inphernals get in trouble. had to make a ton of calls one night." he laughs, but that is the truth. it was a tough night and he never wanted to hit the bed more than that day.
you almost sound surprised. "wow... you sound older when you talk like that. n-not saying that caring about others is only for old people— i mean, uh, how do i say this. you sound mature!"
".....mat...ure..?" wing could almost cringe at the awkward exchange, but he only chuckles. one that was made genuinely or not, it didn't matter when the sound overtook his body. "what-- haha, hahaha—" it's like a hiccup in his throat, and he feels the crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes.
you turn to him with a dumbfounded look, mouth slightly parted as you take in the sight. the embarrassment you previously had is now gone, nowhere to be seen. and instead, it's replaced with a continuation of his laughter. you're laughing with him!
"ah, haha, i'm so sorry. i don't— i don't know what came over me." he wipes a droopy eye, coughing as he regains his posture. "i just didn't expect you to say that. you said i sounded old??"
he hears your frantic excuses, words scrambling to find the right diction, and hands flailing around. given any other scenario, he'd find it obnoxious. it's just a mishap with some teasing, why make a big deal out of it?
however, instead of feeling bothered, he almost feels charmed.
"no, no! that's not what i- oh, wing! you're pulling my leg here." you softly punch him in the shoulder, getting a weak wince of pain. nothing serious of course, mere child's play. "i was trying to compliment you-- but it came out super duper wrong- and i... ugh. sorry. it sounds lame, i know."
wing rubs the area that you "injured" him, just to add to the flair. "it's okay, really. don't beat yourself over it."
"you're right..” you hum. "it's just been a long day- oh! right! my friends are doing alright, it's not like a rave in there. last time i checked, some inphernals were sober to look after the house."
"and if they're not?"
"well.... i'll be there." you rub the back of your head, awkwardly defending yourself. wing didn't want to pry, but parties are no joke. the crossroads is a busy hub, and even busier at night. especially if boombox was invited, oh no.
"b-but after i sit down. that reminds me- i came out here to rest but i ran into you, haha!"
he hums, your reaction gets more and more sensitive as time goes on. you didn't seem like such a nervous wreck prior, could it really be the fatigue? he couldn't have you passing out on the ground. wing may be a dashing liar, but he has empathy.
"then forgive me for making you stand for..." he pauses, and then thinks for a moment. the warmth on his face is dimmer now, and that's his cue for how long it's been. "nearly twenty minutes. here, i'll sit with you."
"—wwhhhatt!! nono, it's okay! you don't need to--"
but before another anxious-ridden reply, wing drags you to a bench nearby. so convenient.
**
the breeze feels welcoming to the both of you. the afternoon drifting into evening, and the sun sleeping away.
it feels perfect. hanging out late with a familiar, with another warm body. some may say it brings comfort, reliability, and safety. and it's true, wing admits. while crossroads isn't a dangerous central hub, it still gets scary at night. or well, maybe that's just everywhere, he thinks.
however, instead of being comfortable, wing felt rather—uncomfortable.
sitting next to you had this unnerving tension, more than before. at first, the tension was one sided from wing and even then...it was mostly just uncertainty. but now, the anticipation made his mouth dry with questions.
why were you suddenly averting gazes and sitting further than expected? why did it seem like you were avoiding him? was it really that embarrassing for him to stay with you? it's getting dark! staying with a stranger who's alone at night isn't weird!
swallowing his pride and what he thinks (no, knows) is the just thing to do, he turns to you and pats your shoulder. you twitch as he opens his mouth to speak.
"...are you okay? i mean, to go back to your party. you look out of it." nice save.
he felt your nervous laughter rise in your throat, only to be cut short by a brief pause. a caesura.
"i'm okay, no really. it's just," you bite your lip, unsure of how to clarify. "how do i say this..."
"well, let's backtrack. what are you trying to sa--"
"—i've lied to you, wing."
his heart nearly stops, and his head perks up to see you. no, to see you.
he didn't expect you to give up and reveal your intentions so quickly. could it be guilt? for lying to a person you barely knew? it's a possibility, maybe you have really high morale. some inphernals break with little to no pressure, and maybe the kind gesture from him made a crack. something like, 'wow! this guy is actually nice and kind. i feel bad for lying to him because i know everything about him!'
though... that's a bit far fetched. so instead, he gulps and steadies his breathing.
"...uh. what do you mean?" is all he says.
you turn to face him, your gaze finally meeting his lashes. and you feel bothered, so bothered. the anxiety growing in your chest is giving out, and the vowels out of your mouth come undone.
huffing a breath, "i... i didn't come out here for fresh air. or well, i did-- but that's not the only reason."
wing nods slowly, not out of agreement, but more so confusion. he can't ever get a good impression on you, and this is making it worse. "okay.. then why?"
"i came-- i came out here to try and find you. i just got lucky and saw you as soon as i walked out the door."
try and find him? why?
so many questions, and not enough mouth movement to say them all. if he tried to, it'd look like he vomited sounds and that's embarrassing.
but why him? he's not a horrible liar. not even a bad liar. could it be the tips for banhammer? did he send in someone to find out who was giving the intel? oh, that'd be bad. he doesn't want too much attention on him.
"you needed to find me? for what?" he asks briefly. he says it quicker than expected, but his body is urging for your confession. he wants to know. his curiosity of the past few weeks-- the nagging ring in his ear, he wants it to stop. and this conversation could make it happen.
"because i wanted to..." here it is, the money shot! the showstopper, the great value of information, it's—
"i wanted to apologize to you."
what?
"huh?"
your smile is apparent, and you fidget with the ends of your shirt. "yeah, i wanted to say sorry for being really obnoxious when we first met. i shouldn't have been in your face like that... not cool of me."
"oh... no, i..." his lips are slightly parted, and he doesn't know what to say. for once, his head is empty and he's speechless.
"i was trying to... haha, get to know you. i wanted to try and be friends with you since, y'know. i thought you were kinda pretty. b-but not in a weird way, you looked... ah... approachable!"
pre...
pretty!!?
"what--" his hand flies to his mouth, covering it. your abrupt compliment wasn't something he could predict, and his words are faster than his mind. wing could understand the apology. you were invasive, that's no joke. and it's not like he hasn't been described as inviting before either. in fact, he aims to be called that. practically expects it at this point.
but you thinking he's simply pretty after all the (one sided) drama is-- is absurd!
wing isn't a complete loser when it comes to friendship, but he still finds it surprising. 'course, he'd never befriend a stranger on the spot. he's had his fair share of hangouts for "work", and a few laughs here and there... but could any of that be classified as true familiarity?
he thinks an outgoing person would disagree, saying it's not genuine and heartfelt. but when did wing and the word genuine go together? he knows that his natural talent (or more like a talent that wouldn't go away) could drive away any possible friends. who wants someone who could lie to you and speak it as truth? or, what wing thinks is worse, who wants to see him bare? vulnerable, nothing to hide behind. a raw image of his true self.
"yeah, i was trying to ask about what you liked and all-- but i thought about it, and i realized how rude i was. i had to say sorry or else you'd hate me forever." you giggle, eyes darting to the floor. out of shame, discomfort? wing couldn't tell right now.
but yes, it was rude. it was so, so rude. so incredibly rude, that it had him thinking about you for weeks! days, hours of him ignoring the thought of you. through countless interviews, a flashback to your head-strong attitude would appear. would you answer like this, would you push past him and pry, would you be okay with his face— stripped of its protective fiction?
...why was he so fixated on what could happen with you?
come to think of it, in the back of his mind, it was always you. he hates to utter it, but you're like a leech in his brain. unmoving, incapable of being moved. as if he enjoyed the thought of you, and never wanted the memory of you to end.
"i get it if you don't wanna hangout after this. i'm not hurt or anything, and i'm not mad at y--"
"—no, no, that- that's okay."
you blink, your words frozen with nerves.
"it's fine. i..."
he knows he should pull away. agree with you and walk off into the distance. to interview, collect intel, lie, pry, and do it all again.
there's no way someone out there would want to get to know the real winged magical staff. sure, he can say that he's a lesser evil and keeping criminals out of sight, but those lies pile up. sooner or later, he'll step on his own toes and see nobody alongside him. joking, passing drinks, going out to eat, all of that would be gone.
yet he can't help but rekindle the faith he had long ago. the hope that company would invite him, not scare him. wing wants to hide away, run away from it all, but with you...
he wants to try, just this time.
"i think hanging out with you is fun. you were... pushy at first, but i got a hunch that it wasn't intentional. you seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me."
your arms feel heavy, and you couldn't believe what you were hearing. after days of bracing yourself for clear rejection, you feel shocked. a relief of sorts, yes, but shock nonetheless.
"wait.. really? you don't have to lie to me--"
"—i'm not lying." he feels his tongue click. a sentence that was said too fast, too quick, and one that could give him away. all his hard work, all the cover-ups for any suspicion, and he's risking it all for you. a stupid, stupid inphernal like you. "i mean it."
"...oh. oh. okay. okay.. okay.....okay! well, if you really do," you practically spring back to life, like a fish back in water. your eyes light up, brighter than the slow sunset behind you, and it's radiant with energy. "i-i think you're fun to hang around with too! we can hangout whenever, i don't want you to feel pressured or anythin—"
he sighs, "it's alright, really. you don't need to worry." how many times has he said that now? wing should be a therapist by now.
"for real? oh. i mean-- yeah, pshh, of course. i, uh, are you free this..."
just before you could finish that sentence, your phone rings.
apologizing profusely, you pick up and out came a ruckus of sounds. an angry voice that's almost incomprehensible due to loud music. it sounds like the typical soundtrack on a radio.
you whine, and your eyes kept switching to the other line and to him. wing could only grin, and leaned away from your warmth. he didn't know when the two of you got so close.
"gotta go?" he says, almost like a whisper. but a giddy whisper.
"yeah, i'll be right there. i'm sorry for leaving, i thought you guys got my text-- i do have to go.. sorry wing-- okay, hold on!" you get up from your seat, brushing off your pants and looking off into the distance. the direction to where the party is, he assumes.
"don't apologize. i've been keeping you away from your party."
"wish you could've kept me away longer." you wink at him, only to get berated in your ear about drunk nonsense. something about... an inphernal stealing a house painting?
"...huh?"
"okay, ireallygottagonow, i'll see you next weekend, yeah??!" you give him one last look, a longing gaze, and then run off. almost tripping on the way, but off you went. scurrying off like you were late to a courthouse.
wing blanks out, and he's left unattended on a park bench. stranded, stripped away from a friend.
his new friend, to be exact.
a/n : can you tell the banner was made before i had wing's colors lmfao. thats hwo long it took to wrote this bruh ^^ i made that banner btw!! i got started on this fic in march and. barely finished it now. prob means i wont make a part 2 bc thats How Long it Took me but i'll see how things go also ive never wrote for phighting nor am i a mega fanatic for phighting ... i played it like five times ... so forgive me if some stuff is inaccurate
